Being back on the island of Aruba was great. We had a free night before returning to the states the next morning, so I suggested to Tiffany that we go out for the evening, enjoy a lobster dinner, margaritas, and dancing. Since the evening at Hassan’s relatives home when Tiffany came outside and sat on the floor, leaning back against my legs, I hadn’t been able to resist the idea of intimacy.

“I’d love that, Eric. What kind of place?”

“I spent a great deal of time in Mexico during my youth. Let’s see if there’s a club or restaurant with a Spanish flavor. This is a Dutch island, but being off the coast of Venezuela, there’s bound to be something here.”

I walked to the lobby and spoke to one of the clerks, inquiring if she had any suggestions.

“You should go to the club, La Cantina. You’ll think you’re in Mexico. They have a wonderful terrace out back, and the best steak and grilled seafood you’ll find on the Island. They serve only Argentine beef; there’s even a Mariachi band!”

I asked for directions.

“Just say La Cantina to any of the drivers along the curb by the entrance. They’ll take you for a reasonable fee. You’ll find it convenient when you’re ready to return, because others linger in front awaiting fares.”

“What did you learn?” Tiffany asked when I knocked on the door of her room.

“There’s a place called La Cantina that sounds ideal,” I said. “How much time do you need to get ready?”

“Give me half an hour.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes when she emerged from her room wearing yet another outfit I hadn’t seen during the trip to Yemen. This time, it was a very provocative Canary cocktail dress accented by a Canary Poa flung across her shoulders.

“You look stunning.”

“You said ‘dinner and dancing,’ so I dressed for the occasion. I’m eager to get there!”

As our driver neared La Cantina, the sight of the club rekindled fond memories of Mexico, not run down like much of Havana looked after decades of neglect. Built like a hacienda, it was a much larger place than I expected to find on Aruba.