It was a beautiful day at the Curacao Marriott, and an hour-long massage had been booked for me at the spa. When I arrived at the spa, I was delighted to hear that my massage would take place right on the beach. How fabulous!
I followed my masseuse, who carried a large pile of towels, across the property. I assumed we'd be going to a secluded cabana somewhere, but as we continued walking, I found we were headed toward the side of the resort where my room was -- and there was certainly no cabana there. We approached a sunlit area with a few ineffectual bushes and a gazebo-like structure (above) where I understand weddings are often held. Weddings, as in, declaring your love for all to see in public. We entered the gazebo and I examined the roof and sides. There were no shades, no blinds; there was absolutely no privacy. People were lying on the beach (and even on the deck) on three sides of the gazebo, and the fourth side faced the open ocean, where resort guests were swimming and playing paddleball. I pretended this was normal to me for as long as I could.
It was only after she had covered the table with towels and said, "Okay, lie on your stomach facing this way," that I blurted out, "Um, I don't have any clothes on under this robe, you know, right?"