The man and boy joined in the thronging crowd of tourists, sight-seers, and bargain hunters.
“Four big cruise ships in, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said. “That’s why Curaçao is really hopping today.”
They stopped at several shops. Both kept an eye out for Derek, and Biff’s uncle made several inquiries of shopkeepers. No luck. “Let’s acquaint you with this fabulous city first, Biff,” he said. “Then back to the hotel for a powwow on our next move.”
Biff looked over some German cameras in El Globo on Heerenstraat. He was delighted with the store run by Juluis Penha on Breedestraat. This store sold dolls from all over. He bought a Dutch doll for Monica. It was dressed in traditional Dutch clothes—wooden shoes, a gaily colored frock, and a stiff winged hat. He found a Swiss watch at Spritzer and Fuhrmann, and was surprised at how inexpensive it was. He bought it for his brother Ted and smiled as he thought of Ted’s face when he saw it.
As they walked along, Uncle Charlie kept up a running fire of conversation, giving Biff a good picture of life in Curaçao.
“All the houses are different colors, Uncle Charlie. Why is that?” Biff asked.
Each house was distinct from the other, even if its color varied by only a shade. Some were light pink, others darker pink. There were bright green-painted houses, and light green ones. Others were different shades of blue and yellow.
Uncle Charlie chuckled before replying.
“Don’t know how true this story is, Biff, but here’s the natives’ explanation of why the houses here are so gaily colored. Many years ago, all the houses here were whitewashed. It seems the unrelieved glare of all the white houses hurt the governor’s eyes. So, being a powerful man who knew what he wanted, he ordered the houses to be painted the colors of their owners’ choices. Simple as that.”
“If you’re a governor,” Biff replied, laughing.