Coca-Cola celebrates another milestone this year in Aruba. As you can see from the bottle below, the beloved elixir has been bottled on the island since 1949.

You can see that shapely bottle is sweating in the breeze there at Charlie’s Bar. Only an ice-cold container will do that and there’s no other way to consume this beverage. Let’s take a closer look at the banner.

They do a great job bottling Coke on the island. The flavor is perfect, as is the carbonation. The bubbles are a necessity, and plenty of them are required. I won’t have it any other way and have been known to fire off nasty letters to any bottler I suspect of not producing the product as intended. Yes, I am the judge of such efforts and rule accordingly.

Bon dia.

Here in Aruba, there are several “natural bridges.” They are natural stone bridges which have been undermined by the constant wave action of the Caribbean pounding against the shore. The largest of them collapsed in 2004. Immediately beside the site of that one, is a smaller one, somewhat interesting to view. More interesting to me, was the discovery of this display case in the gift shop at the Natural Bridge site.

That’s right, it’s full of Coca-Cola memorabilia. I’ve been in and out of this place at least a dozen times, yet never noticed this before. How could that be? Perhaps it is new. I asked but did not receive a good explanation. Either way, it is chock full of various items from Coca-Cola, and I suggested they move it forward so that visitors might better gaze up on the treasures therein.

If you come to Aruba, visit the natural bridge, and happen to stop in for an ice-cold Coca-Cola, don’t miss this little museum. There’s also a number of other things on view, including money from around the world, various trinkets to be bought, and a few tasty food items.

Bon dia from Aruba.

Coca-Cola can still be had in the 8 oz. bottles here in Aruba. There is a local bottling company and they strictly adhere to the formula. The Coca-Cola is perfectly refreshing, wonderfully effervescent, and never too sweet. Here’s a look at the local bottles.

Here on one happy island, that’s a happy sight. This bottle was photographed at the world famous Charlie’s Bar, my local and place of mystery and intrigue. Don’t forget, enjoy Coca-Cola ICE COLD. That’s the way it’s meant to be served.

My oldest brother once said, “You have to have a truck to tote your stuff.” He was right. I’ve always owned a pickup, typically a Chevrolet Silverado. Over the years I’ve had both new and used and they’ve never let me down. They were there to tote my stuff, other people’s stuff, business stuff, and stuff that belonged to someone I didn’t even know.

More than the utility value is the simple pleasure of heading down the road with an ice-cold Coca-Cola in your hand, the radio on, and your favorite person in the passenger seat. This is as American as Ben Franklin, the Grand Canyon, and the Stars and Stripes. I know they burn too much fuel. I know they’re big and clunky. I know all the reasons why some people think they’re the root of evil. That is until they need one. Then they’re on the phone looking for a pal with a set of keys to something with capacity to haul and horsepower.

There are ways to drive your truck responsibly and burn the least amount of fuel. Coast up to those red lights, set the cruise control on 68, and don’t jump from stop sign to stop sign. Make sensible trips by combining your tasks. Go shopping with your pal so you take advantage of all that cargo space. These methods all work. They also help to make the road a safer, friendlier place.

So life is full of contradictions. No surprise there. The pickup is one of those. But its so much fun and so darn useful that we’re stuck with it until something better comes along.

I was in Doylestown, Pennyslvania, USA a couple of nights ago for a book signing. I always arrive early so there’s plenty of time to check out the local scene. I walked around the corner from the bookstore and found this small shop selling snacks. Inside I found Coca-Cola in glass bottles that are reproductions of the first bottles, the ones that came before the distinctive, bodaciously curvy one. Here’s a look:

Yes, that’s the real thing. I popped the top on this and guzzled. It was so good that I drank two.

During my book signing, I met dozens of people interested in my new novel, An Island Away. It’s a real pleasure meeting readers. They have great recommendations for other books and provide insight into stories they’ve read. This helps me become a better writer. After all, the readers are the customers. Talking to them directly gives you the chance to hear their thoughts.

With all the talk these days about how no one reads, you would think we’re headed for the dark ages. Not so. There were hundreds of people through the bookstore that night. There was an 8 year old who had illustrated her grandmother’s book there as well. Good for them! The younger the better when it comes to books and reading.

Reading, like ice-cold Coca Cola, is the real thing.

It’s been a while since I wrote a post about Coca-Cola. Therefore, take a look at the Stop & Go snack stand located in Oranjestaad, Aruba.

This place was built using a steel shipping container that normally would be carrying cargo back and forth between someplace else and Aruba. Now it is a great place to stop in for an ice-cold Coca-Cola. They sell other soft drinks, pastechi, as well as other little snacks. It is located behind the Renaissance Mall in downtown Oranjestaad, across the street from Chez Matilde. You can’t miss it.

From time to time, I borrow a table at the various places inside the mall and do some writing there. People passing through serve as inspiration for characters. Then, after I’ve cranked out about two thousand words, I’ll head out to the Stop & Go for a refresco as my Spanish-speaking friends would say. In the heat of the Aruba afternoon, an ice-cold Coca-Cola is just the thing to refresh and renew.

There are literally hundreds of tiny snack shops scattered about the island of Aruba. For a guy who loves road food (actually all kinds of food except for seafood), this is good and bad. It’s good because whenever or wherever you have an urge to boost the cholesterol level you’re free to pull in and load up. It’s bad because the cholesterol level pegs in the red zone and the belt continues to get shorter. (Wish I had one of those extensions like they have on airplanes.)

 The Sabor “snack shack” is only a few minutes drive from my house. It happens to be on the main road which has me passing it most every time I head out. It also happens to be located immediately adjacent to a nice guy who does some fine aluminum gates and fences if you happen to need that kind of thing at your own place. Anyway, I wheel in here from time to time for the local cuisine which they call “criollo” but I’m not sure that it is anything like “creole.” They sell “pastechi” which are sort of like giant empanadas, little sandwiches made to order, and cold drinks. The lady working here has a smile for all of us, including this unshaven, sloppy-looking writer who speaks some modicum of Spanish and Papiamento.

You didn’t think I was going to skip a chance to enjoy an ICE-COLD Coca-Cola did you? Of course not! Feeling refreshed, I’m ready to head back to the pens and paper and crank out another couple or three thousand words on the current novel, Under A Blue Flag.

You may have noticed the title of this post involved the term, “Part 1.” Slow by slow, I’ll put up some more of my favorite joints like this. I have to warn you. They’re not for the culinarily timid. The food is hearty even if it is not good for your heart. Don’t forget: Prepay the cardiologist and SAVE BIG TIME!

And I just remembered the rum shops. I have to get those posts up, too.

So, a couple of nights ago, my wife and I go to one of the bars at the Marriot Hotel here in Aruba. I never actually had a drink in this hotel despite all my years on the island. We promptly take a seat and the bartender comes over to take our order. The bartender’s name was Angus. He makes our drinks, which were excellent by the way, and we get to chatting. He’s a man of some years and relates how he used to work at the Bushiri Resort which is now nothing more than a ruin. Anyway, this was his first job in the hospitality industry. He worked well into the night and usually skipped supper. But on his way home, he would stop by an all night place on the road leading up from Balashi to Santa Cruz, where he lives. The place was, and is, called Shahai. There he would get an ice-cream that he would eat before finally heading home to bed. I said, “Angus, I think I know that joint.” After I described it, he said, “That’s it.” Here’s a photo.

I never bought an ice-cream here, but I have had more than a few ICE-COLD Coca-Cola’s as the sign proclaims. Well, we chatted the hours away with Angus and several other people at the bar, which is one of my favorite things to do. Can’t wait to swing back to Shahai and see if they still have ice-cream.

Don’t forget, ENJOY your Coca-Cola, ICE COLD no matter where you are, Aruba or Antarctica or points in between.

I couldn’t resist the opportunity to post this one. I was on my way to Aruba, flying the friendly skies of American Airlines. They have been my transportation provider of choice for years now, especially to Aruba. On the first leg of the flight, we took off at six in the morning. Naturally, breakfast was served. Here’s a look at what we enjoyed:

In the first place, that omelet was perfect, the eggs fluffy, not dry nor runny. The potatoes were cooked exactly right. The salsa added a bit of zing to an otherwise average breakfast option. The fruit was also perfectly ripe, ready to be eaten with sweet goodness and nutrition. Then, there was a bagel, not the greatest one I’ve had, but considering it came from an airplane galley re-heater, was just fine.

Hence, the result can be seen below:

Yes, mom, I ate everything. If my wife hadn’t closely guarded her plate, I would have eaten hers, too. That makes her angry, so I don’t risk it much anymore.

People like to complain about airline food, and I understand the urge to whine, especially if they remember the good old days. However, consider that the food must be prepared mostly ahead of the flight, re-heated in a galley the size of a closet, and served in conditions that are less than ideal. Add to these challenges, the fact that the primary responsibility of flight attendants is for YOUR SAFETY and you’re left with a situation that leaves much to be desired in the culinary department. Nonetheless, my belly is full, and after wrangling my cat through security, I’ll sleep well on the balance of this flight.

Then, on the second segment, the one that takes me from Miami to Aruba, there is only one thing to do. That’s right, enjoy an ICE-COLD Coca Cola at 35,000 feet.

It’s the real thing no matter what your altitude, latitude, or attitude. So put your seat back, relax, and enjoy flight. We’ll be there in no time. And where we’re going is literally, “Paradise, but not for amateurs,” if I may quote from my own book. Are you ready?

Here’s a photo from a corner in Slatington, Pennsylvania, USA. I’m not sure what the name of this place is, either Kurt’s Korner or Homeslate Sports Bar. Kurt’s has the sign above, but Homeslate shows up on the Coca-Cola painting on the wall.

Doesn’t matter. I’ve driven past this place about three hundred thousand times in my life. Okay, not that many but I grew up a couple of towns away and this place was frequently on my route to somewhere else, especially when fuel was cheap. Ah, those were the days, sometimes.

As might be gleaned from the name of the town, Slatington was once surrounded by slate quarries. It was a prosperous business for a while, especially before the advent of asphalt shingles. All those roofs of a  growing America needed something to keep the rain off of our ancestors. Of course, nothing lasts forever. The slate pits filled with water after they were abandoned.

I’ve been known to crisscross the northeast United States in search of such places. Sometimes I find people who were alive during the glory days of these old-time industries. They love to chat about the past. Often times they explain unique solutions to everyday living that were actually commonplace in an age before computers and modern appliances.

As mentioned before, I’m going to start photographing these people and writing down as much of what I learn from them as is practical. At the moment, I can’t remember where, but various historians are taking oral histories from people in order to build a record of the past that is from many more first-hand sources. It seems like I’m duplicating their efforts. Nonetheless, why not? In the first place, those who have gone before me deserve a record of their accomplishments. Second, who knows what comes of such writing? I remember my early days in Aruba. Plenty of people told me stories about the island and their lives. Then, some years later, I was writing An Island Away. If not for the people I met there, the story would never have come about.

Just like the Coca-Cola tagline, my thinking is that life… “It’s the real thing.”