By Diane Rommel Here’s the thing: I love Aruba. When I was a kid, normal New Jersey grandparents went on vacation in Tampa or Ocean City (NJ or DE, a distinction without much of a difference, beyond the fact that the former is dry and the latter is absolutely not). My grandmother, on the other hand, went to Aruba, a 69-square-mile island in the Leeward Antilles that is closer to Venezuela than Jamaica by 600 miles. On a clear day, you can see South America’s coastline from Aruba’s beach. Culturally and linguistically — not to mention from a Dutch cheese perspective — Aruba shares deep connecti…