Inside the tiny Caribbean island that's the smallest nation to enter the World Cup - with exquisite beaches, exotic bird life, and the best cocktails in the region

The odds of Curacao winning the FIFA World Cup are 2,500 to 1, longer than those for any country in the tournament’s history.

But already they are champions of sorts. Because never has such a small country, both by population and size, qualified for the finals.

Curacao (pronounced cure-uhsow) has a population of 158,000 – not far off that of Oxford – and is 38 miles long and up to eight miles wide. 

It’s part of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, albeit strictly self-governing, and sits 40 miles off Venezuela in the Caribbean Sea near two other Dutch islands, Aruba and Bonaire.

The opening of the Queen Juliana Bridge in 1974 in its charming capital, Willemstad, was a big deal and, so, too, was the day in 1634 when the Dutch arrived and built the fort, the walls of which still stand.

But now it’s gone football crazy. Billboards proclaim ‘one island, one dream’; ‘the wait is over’ and ‘the day has come’. 

The whole island is over the moon, Gary – and rightly so.

When Curacao plays mighty Germany in its opening match on June 14 in Houston, every man, woman and child – plus, I dare say, the resident iguanas, of which there are many – will be glued to TVs supporting the Blue Wave, as the team is known.

‘The island is like a village and yet we will be participating at the greatest sporting event on earth,’ says Magali Gorre, who has special reasons for feeling elated.

Mrs Gorre is the mother of Kenji Gorre, the team’s speedy winger. What’s more, Mrs Gorre’s husband – Kenji’s father – is Dean Gorre, the team’s assistant coach. 

‘We don’t have a chance on paper – but the ball is round, so anything can happen,’ says Mr Gorre, a former professional footballer.

To reach Curacao from the UK requires a hop to Amsterdam and a ten-hour KLM flight, but you are rewarded with exquisite beaches, inspired restaurants and exotic bird life – including the Venezuelan troupial, known as the turpial, which has a bright orange underbelly and white swatches on its wings. 

I meet the Gorres at Sandals Royal Curacao in the island’s south-east, where we are staying. It’s huge, with 361 rooms, 11 restaurants and 13 bars. 

It’s our first experience of an all-inclusive Sandals, and what a joy it is never having to sign for drinks, nor hesitate going for seconds at the buffet (and always giving in to temptation when presented with the dessert menu). 

Our room comes with the use of a Mini Cooper for half a day – quite a perk. We drive the length of the island, ending up at Kleine Knip, a fabulous little beach, where the water is so clear you don’t need goggles to admire the fish. 

Also included is dinner at a restaurant outside the resort. We opt for Sal, where I’m served the best margarita I’ve ever had in the Caribbean.

Being south of the hurricane corridor, Curacao is arid and nothing much grows locally. Food is imported, mainly from Venezuelan traders, to the floating market in Willemstad.

This is a terrific town with colourful colonial buildings on either side of the harbour that remind me of Bergen in Norway. There’s also the oldest surviving synagogue in the Americas, its sand-covered floor symbolising 40 years of wandering in the desert. 

Exploring Willemstad on Thursday evenings during ‘Punda Vibes’ is essential. You get the full flavour of the island, with bars and restaurants spilling on to streets, as well as live music and fireworks. 

It’s a celebratory vibe, and I can only imagine the delirium later this month if the boys from the Blue Wave somehow pull off a miracle and defeat Germany. The island has my support, that’s for sure.