The True Locals of Aruba
Field Notes: Oranjestad, Aruba
Date: December 10-20, 2020
Walked through Oranjestad, past the bright Dutch-style buildings, the smell of salt in the air, and the sound of tourists bargaining at market stalls. But the real locals here? The iguanas. They’re everywhere. Sunning themselves on seawalls, sprawled across sidewalks, perched on tree branches like they’re waiting for a meeting to start. And if you’re not careful, they’ll literally drop in on you.
Iguanas are expert climbers, but gravity still applies. I was warned they can hit you on the head if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can attest to this warning too, during my stay I saw so many iguanas plummet, not because something was wrong but because they’re clumsy as hell. More dangerous than freaking coconuts. Watched one lose its balance mid-stretch, tumbling down onto a café awning before scrambling away like nothing happened. No apology, no shame.
This iguana right here dropped straight from our table umbrella, landed like it owned the place, and went straight for my fruit bowl. He didn’t ask, didn’t care, and as you can see, felt absolutely no remorse.
Anywho…The green iguana (Iguana iguana) dominates Aruba, though they’re not always green. Most are grayish-brown, blending perfectly into the dusty, sunbaked terrain. Their spiky backs, long tails, and slightly judgmental expressions make them look ancient, like tiny dinosaurs that never got the extinction memo.
Spent time watching one draped lazily over a tree branch, motionless except for the occasional tail flick. Iguanas are solar-powered without the heat of the sun, they slow down, absorbing warmth before they can move. But when they do move, it’s fast. One minute they’re basking, the next they’re launching off ledges, sometimes straight into the ocean. Iguanas are surprisingly good swimmers, using their tails to propel through the water like tiny reptilian torpedoes.
Watching them roam Oranjestad, moving between tourists, traffic, and the occasional miscalculated leap, it’s clear they’re not just part of the landscape. They are the landscape. And they’ll probably outlast us all.
