Return to Bonaire: Full Circle

The long international flight from Amsterdam to Bonaire flew by.
I honestly can't remember the last time I said that about any flight, much less a long international leg.

Seeing those rich blue waters as the plane descended toward the runway had us flat-out giddy with excitement despite little to no sleep, and descending the stairs onto the tarmac, it was hard to describe our return as anything less than than a warm, welcoming hug from the island.

In fairness, that may have simply been the intense heat after a few months of being various levels of chilly to outright cold—but Bonaire has always felt like coming home to us, and this was no different. For those of you that are new here, Jen and I first visited Bonaire 23 years ago (wow) as our first-ever vacation together.

At the time, neither of us had ever really been on a big trip or vacation, much less as a couple—and while I booked it because it happened to be at the top of the "Top 10 Snorkeling Destinations in the World" list, we also had very limited prior connection to the ocean. Didn't stop us from falling head over heels in love (both with each other and with Bonaire/the ocean) during that trip, and it almost immediately repainted everything we knew our future dreams to be.

Suddenly our goal-setting and daydreaming had an iconic image to go along with it. Our early shared goals of "I want to be happy" suddenly had a backdrop to aspire toward - and as we conceived of and wrote out our individual and shared goals (of wanting to live on an island or on a boat anchored off of one) - the imagery in our minds was very clearly this desert island surrounded by marine park.

Even a decade later as we island-hopped through the Caribbean on svKarma, we often found ourselves unintentionally comparing almost every island we visited to Bonaire.

Spending the second half of COVID “trapped” here on the boat led to us filling our time renovating an old oceanfront condo, and Bonaire is now what we picture as "Home" (though technically, we mean our "future home" rather than someplace we left from before our travels).

Fair to say that at this point, returning to Bonaire feels like far more than just a warm welcome—it feels like returning to something sacred, something from our early history that somehow helped shape everything that followed.

We pulled out our cards for entry and walked toward Flamingo Airport with memories fluttering (and peeling off layers like molting crabs, shedding the chaos of our European trip with every step toward the open air terminal).

We had checked our bags for the first time on this extended trip (carry-ons that were already too heavy and barely able to be closed when we first left Tahiti - but now well over whatever weight limit was allowed by TUI Airlines carryon limits), so we passed by the official with a resounding “Bon Dia!!” and headed for the carousel to grab our bags.

Or so we thought.
We found ourselves (very impatiently) waiting for almost an hour and a half before the first bags came rolling by. We aren’t typically surprised or bothered by delays like this - “island time” is more than second nature to us at this point.

Maybe it was the last couple months in the bustling cities of Europe, or maybe it was the fact that we knew there was only one plane at this airport, sitting with only a few hundred meters of open tarmac between us and that plane... that made the extended wait almost painful.

No doubt we could have all just walked out there and helped unload the bags in a fraction of the time, and the sweltering heat/sauna inside the open-air baggage claim area wasn’t helping—but if we’re honest... in reality, we were just incredibly excited to get “home” and simply couldn’t contain our eagerness to get to the ocean and truly settle in one place for the first time in months.

We had arranged for a ride, and the taxi/driver had dropped off and picked up a few other people during the delay, but somehow she was waiting with smiles for us to walk out with our bags. A few minutes later we were driving in Bonaire traffic (two other cars on the road), while being more than slightly distracted by the familiar glow of the ocean beside us.

We bid our driver goodbye and stared for a while into the blue before heading inside and playing the game of seeing what you can remember—and what feels different—about a home you haven’t seen for 3½ years.

A mirror was missing, our eyes immediately went to small projects and touch-ups that are needed, and we paused just long enough to consider turning on the air conditioner before throwing the doors open to allow the ocean view and the salty breeze to flood in.

The smiles on our faces were more than enough proof of how deeply we were breathing and how amazing it felt to be here.

Our future plans may be unwritten, but we’re excited to stay here for a while and recharge and figure out our next steps/next phase.
Now... where did we stash away our fins and masks/snorkels?!