There were hosepipes and scaffolding and a notice said on shore “no smoking on deck!” It was scrub country, with sand and a few wiry bushes. A row of gasometers lined the top of the hill. There was a smell of oil in the air. We hired a taxi (after some refusals and “too high”s) to take us into the city.

There were lots of wind pumps, like in Australia, and the houses had iron roofs but the ground was too rocky and there was something else that was different, something hidden but there. We got to the city and we got out. Then we heard a siren, I thought it was the police, but our driver said it was at the Pontoon Bridge. All the cars ran off and so did the people, first one lane closed then the other then the bridge chugged open. To let the one tug pass, you block traffic for 10 minutes!

We saw shops on the key – floating counters! They bring their fruit in boats and sell it from the boats! We looked in souvenir shops but they only had junk. I bought a Curaçao pennant and Mandy bought a doll. It was very hot and mopping our thirsts up. Mum looked at some Omegas to replace her other one in vain. We went on top of an old fort (now a hotel) to see some ships go by, we saw one see-sawing in the water very much, so it must have been rough.

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