Ever since I listened to the audiobook of the novel Caribee by Julian Stockwin, where I learned about the fictional Royal Navy Captain Thomas Kydd, I have harboured a curiosity about Curaçao, a Dutch possession close to the Venezuelan coast.

My first task is to discover whether a little-known naval action between the French and the British actually took place, or whether it was a figment of Mr Stockwin’s imagination. More of that in a minute.

Curaçao is the “C” of the ABC group of islands which formed part of the Netherlands Antilles which, at one time, incorporated three other islands, including Sint Maarten, which we would visit later in our cruise. The other two are Aruba and Bonaire. We will catch up with “A” later but, I am afraid, “B” is not included in our itinerary this time around.

All of the ABC islands are situated in the southern Caribbean Sea and boast, pretty much, all-year-round sunshine. The obvious bonus is that they are outside the recognised Hurricane Belt so, whilst I cannot guarantee you endless sunshine — it does need to rain sometimes — you can almost be sure of being wind-free. From a meteorological point of view anyway.

Another curiosity relating to this smallest of nations is that they are off to the FIFA World Cup in North America later this year, when they will become the tiniest country, so far, to compete at a World Cup Finals. Well done and good luck.

Right, what did we find out about Captain Kydd’s unsuccessful foray to undermine a French privateer nest? In short, it wasn’t real. I think the uncovering of the French HQ was a made-up storyline, although most entertaining, but there was actually a Royal Navy assault on the island, featuring many of the true-life ships and characters from the novel. Alas, no HMS L’Aurore or her feisty crew — they must have been somewhere else that day.

I am not sure about the purpose of the raid on 1 January 1807. It doesn’t mention the French in a piece I found. What it does state, however, is that the incursion was led by Captain Charles Brisbane, later Governor of St Vincent, who also took charge of the novel’s action and, indeed, it was as swift as the story suggests.

The daring thrust into the Dutch-held island only consisted of four frigates, including the legendary HMS Arethusa. They duped the defenders into thinking they were friendly by shooting along the Sint Anna Bay channel, under a flag of truce, connecting the sea to the well-defended natural harbour, the Schottegat.

It was a cunning move by Brisbane, knowing that the Dutch, who in effect were French proxies, would have been befuddled with drink whilst celebrating the incoming year. Once in the harbour they ran up their true colours and threatened to blow the Willemstad defences, including the impressive Fort Amsterdam, to smithereens.

The Dutch weren’t all real big fans of Bonaparte and his cronies, so probably didn’t really need a second invitation to surrender. The action started around midnight on 31 December and was decisively complete by midday on 1 January. I wonder how well-equipped our present Royal Navy would be to carry out such a daring action.

Now, contemporary historical notes describe the island’s capital as replicating a small piece of the Netherlands in a tropical climate. Even today, this is very much to the fore. You can easily recognise the shoreline where Brisbane and Kydd would have strolled after their incredible move against the Batavian Empire, the French name for the Dutch colonies around the world.

Discovering Willemstad and the Trolley Train

On leaving the port we discovered an empty road train waiting. The name of our morning conveyance was, rather unimaginatively, the Trolley Train Curaçao. It had our name written all over it.

It cost US$25 a head for a 75-minute journey and, what is more, we could pay by card. That saved us searching out an ATM where there would be a fair old chance we would only be able to get the local currency, Caribbean guilders, only actually used in Curaçao. We opted to get on board as it was a great way to discover the lay of the land.

We had to wait a while for it to fill the carriages, but not long, and we were soon on our way.

Two complaints, I am afraid: the speakers were not wired up as well as they could have been and the commentary was not always clear, but we got by enough to work out what we were going to do later. Slightly more concerning was the exhaust being belched out of the tractor unit. One could almost taste it. It was so thick that it needed chewing. Nothing a good service wouldn’t sort out.

It was most informative and we learned that the small nation has a very proactive approach to heritage building preservation. We were shown the splendid edifices of grand villas and mansions that would have been here in the time of Charles Brisbane.

It seems quite incongruous, but Curaçao is a Dutch country with its residents treated no differently from their counterparts in Amsterdam. As a result, they are very much a part of the European Union. Much EU investment has made this a most welcome place to visit.

We stopped for a photo opportunity at an early 20th-century home, a mansion named “Bolo de Batrei”, also known as “The Wedding Cake House”. It was constructed in 1917 as a wedding gift for a lucky couple, Deborah Rebecca Maduro, affectionately known as Shon Ita (Sanskrit for Blood — doesn’t sound that affectionate to me), and Henry da Costa Gomes.

It gets its name from the fact that it is shaped like a symmetrical and tiered wedding cake with a plastered Rococo façade. It is quite a sight.

It was commissioned by Henry’s father and was completed on the day of their wedding, 6 June. I don’t think there would be too many people who would doubt me when I say it was probably the society wedding of the year in Curaçao.

Despite this, though, they seem to have been quite successful in keeping their lives private. I can’t find any records relating to the length of marriage or how many children they had. Both bride and groom came from very wealthy backgrounds, both fathers seemingly very prominent in Curaçao’s mercantile world.

Got me to thinking what Jane and I received for our wedding presents. I think we were gifted a couple of toasters and some posh crockery. Perhaps we have managed to mislay the mansion along the way — after all, it will be forty years next year.

Not sure all that Rococo stuff would have gone down that well where we lived upon our marriage. Just imagine decorative leaves and scrolls on our small semi-detached.
On returning to our pick-up point, Jane observed that she didn’t think the experience was worth as much as 25 bucks each — maybe 25 between us. I did point out that we did get complimentary carbon monoxide poisoning, though.

From here, we wandered into the town itself. Unlike our previous stops, it appears that Willemstad, at least, does actually have a transport policy. The town was originally constructed to a grid system, clearly still visible today, and many areas are given over to pedestrian access only.

The sidewalks are very wide and walking through these areas really does have an amazing continental feel about it. It is strange how it feels like you are strolling through Amsterdam suburbs whilst, at the same time, you are promenading on the French Riviera.

Can I also applaud the town’s policy on accessibility, especially for the visually impaired? All of the kerbs, which seemed to be without exception, were painted white. That meant that all differences in level were very easy to spot and, I have to say, I felt most comfortable walking around without fear of falling off the pavement edge. Street furniture was kept to an absolute minimum.

I do wonder why it is beyond the wit of our own authorities to provide such basics.
In a previous world, when we politically aligned to Europe, it is now hard to believe, but we would have had the right to live here without restriction. How marvellous would that be — just hop on a plane and stay for as long as you like. It is also different now. Still, we are now in charge of our own destiny all over again, just look at our unmatched Royal Navy.

The Swinging Old Lady and Final Curiosities

One of the most magnificent engineering projects of the late nineteenth century, especially in the Caribbean, is the awesome Queen Emma Bridge. It is a pontoon-style structure and links one side of the Schottegat to the other, Punda to Otrobanda.

It doesn’t stop there. It is designed to open and close to allow marine vessels through into the inner harbour. This is a great pub quiz question: where would you find “The Swinging Old Lady”, the bridge’s nickname?

We were just pondering a coffee when we heard an alarm go off. This caused movement around us and, so as not to miss out, we followed the throng. It soon became apparent that the bridge was swinging open.

It is a great shame as we had only crossed it minutes earlier and those who were in the process of crossing have to stay on as it slowly swings open for a waiting boat to pass through. Maybe, next time we visit, I might well be able to mount “The Swinging Old Lady” and enjoy everything the experience has to offer.

Even though it is now free to cross the bridge, there was a time, from 1901 until 1934, when a two-cent toll was levied. Even this is caveated by a curiosity. If you decided to go across barefoot, you would not be charged. I have no idea why.

If anyone knows why this was the case, I would love to be informed — I can’t find any reason for this. It sounds like a good way to end up with a verruca.

I have another theory as well. Given that we are talking Dutch nationals here, I am thinking clogs might damage the surface of the walkway. Therefore, in a bid to preserve the deck, pedestrians were encouraged to remove their shoes with a financial incentive.

Of course, whatever you do, there will always be a class divide. Whilst many would be happy to save a couple of cents per crossing, others only wanted to show off their wealth by crossing complete with footwear. I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe I have ever heard of a more bizarre tolling strategy.

Find Out More
Queen Emma Bridge: https://www.curacao.com
Captain Thomas Kydd: https://www.julianstockwin.com
Trolley Train Curacao: https://www.trolleytraincuracao.com

White Cane Ratings ©
Trolley Train Curacao: good, hard seats - 🦯 🦯 🦯 (3)
Queen Emma Bridge: excellent, well worth it - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (5)
Willemstad Town: very good, some well-marked steps - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)