Curaçao. There where I was born.
There where the ground is too hard to grow your roots, but once you do they can never be unrooted.
There where there is always plenty of food.
Where a neighborhood raises a child, knows your secrets and acts like they don’t.
There where it’s so small you can travel it in a day, but get lost for weeks.
Where the beaches are made by nature and the rocks breathe the history of our magic.
There is even a place where you can hear a giant breathe…
It’s an island full of diversity that sometimes unifies us, while other days it divides.
Our history, build on salt and blood.
A mix of Jewish ancestry, European adventurers and African diaspora that makes us proud while it still hurts.
We are an island emancipating. Released from a colonialism that blew over the west long after it was (supposed to be) gone.
We are a young nation with a future so bright as our sun, but as dark as our oceans for we are afraid of what we are incapable of.
We’ve had them all. We have a history that reads like a book.
We look forward to your visit but not yet sure of what we have to offer.
We are old, we are new, we are (at least) 42 nations combined on a special kind of rock.