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Published: March 4th 2010
Smoke from somewhere up in the village rises to meet the clouds that are beginning to roll over the tree-laden but somehow perpetually chocolate orange coloured mountains that surround me - as though autumn has somehow found its permanant home in a tiny part of this ever lush green country.
Forgive me - my poetic license must be approaching expiry by now! I suppose that the inability to interract sufficiently in the predominant language of the area pushes me into crevices of metaphor that would otherwise remain, rightfully, undiscovered.
It's 1708 and I'm sitting in the bar of the hostel, listening to music that doesn't really fit the surroundings, electricity cables point my eyes towards the small bay that is Taganga. The humidity of the area is like nothing that I've ever known before. It's odd that the heat is not so much the problem as the humidity...
OK, it's a bit later now - sorry, I got chatting.
Waking this morning on the bus was quite an experience. I think that I woke just before it got light but woke properly at around 6.30 am. The sun was coming up and all around me was vegetation
that was totally alien. It was just so weird to wake in a zone that was obviously totally different to that which I'd left. The soil was sandier. Rows and rows of oversized plants or undersized trees. Grey, grey sky. But most noticeably, I was FREEZING! The fleece didn't really do it - next time I'll take another layer.
A quick trip to the (not particularly pleasant by this time) toilets confirmed that it was only the atmosphere in the main part of the bus that was sub-zero. Outside was going to be super-humid.
Arriving at Santa Marta bus terminal was a bit of a shock. We were dropped at what looked to be a dirt road with nothing really around but a concrete building. Fortunately, following everybody else led me to the main body of the terminal which was actually quite large (had a cash machine and everything).
All around, cleaners were sprinkling what smelled / looked like sand soaked in parafin on the floor and then sweeping it up. It brought the terracotta tiles up a treat but also made them fairly slippy to walk on.
I found the taxi rank and jumped in the
Divanga in Taganga #2
No, really, this one is the receptionnearest one (was way too hot to jump in anything but the nearest one). As we set off, I regretted it. The taxi had no meter, and checking the environment, it looked a lot like this was a cab that had been picked up off a scrapheap and just about made it onto the road.
I did my best to make conversation with the driver but as we drove further and further away from what seemed like civilization, I got worried. Where were we going. We were going up dirt tracks, up the sides of mountains. And it occurred to me that I'd done something stupid - this guy could take me anywhere. I was a tinsy whinsy bit bricking it. I saw that there was a concrete slab of a building which was a police station at the side of the road. Fortunately, here the local number for the police is written on the side of the station. I surreptitiously tapped the number into my phone.
I kept saying to the driver "is this Taganga?" and he kept smiling and saying "no, a bit further yet".
Finally we rounded a bend and, far below us was a beautiful sight
- the small fishing town of Taganga, and the beautiful bay that it occupies.
Only really the first front couple of blocks of Taganga are paved in any way. The rest is dirt road. And my hostel is about 3 blocks back from the seafront.
The driver pulled up outside a concrete block and said something along the lines of "that's your hostel". Oh God, what had I let myself in for?
But opening the front gate, the place was an oasis of calm and serenity. Two blue pools, hammocks, thatched shaded areas.
The staff were really welcoming but explained that my room would take a while. I hooked up to the WiFi and let the nearest and dearest know that I'd arrived safely.
Soon enough my room was ready and I headed down to the tourist office which is one block down (stopping at the local shop for some water). Stray dogs run amok here - in fairness, Colombia's not a great place if you're not good with stray dogs. They're everywhere.
Having picked up some information on the area (Tayrona Park, La Ciudad Perdida, how to get to Santa Marta), I headed into Taganga itself. Taganga
is odd because it's totally tourist driven - you see shed loads of gringos and virtually everybody that you run into speaks English to some extent - a world away from Bucaramanga, that's for sure.
The village itself is a sleepy fishing village. Some famous Colombian footballer (with big hair, apparently) lives in the area and was getting out of a boat as I took coffee and 3 diminuitive croissants for breakfast. Caused quite a stir, but I didn't have my camera....sorry.
It takes about 15 minutes to walk the length of the beachfront (at a VERY leisurely stroll), so satisfied that I'd gone as far as I could without too much exertion, I retraced my footsteps back to the hostel, stopping on the way to pick up information about the Ciudad Perdida tour.
About that, I've had loads of responses and EVERYBODY (apart from Anita) says to do it. I need more "NO"s please - just to even up the score 😉 But seriously, thanks for the responses...it's not too late to vote! Keep'em coming!
A brief stop at the hostel to pick up my guide book and I decided to head into Santa Marta
proper. It was a bit late to be heading to Tayrona (which I plan to do tomorrow). There is a "bus" every 5 minutes, they say. I found one immediately and paid my 1.200 COP for the into town. The bus itself seated 12 but we managed to squeeze in 16 (although that did include a couple of people hanging on for dear life and, effectively, riding outside).
We got to Santa Marta and it was bigger than I expected. I realised that I had no idea where to get off. I asked a lady sitting next to me if we were heading anywhere near the beach and she confirmed that we were. Seemed as good a place as any to go.
The beach in Santa Marta is not partiularly long and not particularly wide. Huge cargo ships cut the horizon and head to the far end of the beach. The sand is dark (other than at the far end, near the soon-to-be-completed Marina where things seem a bit cleaner). I'd bought my swimming gear with me but the water really wasn't so appealing.
I walked the seafront taking photos. The weather wasn't great - lots of
cloud cover. Somewhere along the road, I came across what I (at first) thought was an accident - a car with lots of, what appeared to be, black bin liners covering the windows. I realised that there were cameras attached to the car in various places and it seemed that they were filming something. Seemed to draw a bit of a crowd so maybe they actors were famous.
I continued the stroll along the bay and, eventually, doubled back on myself and tried to find something to eat. I found a place with people sitting outside (for a change). I noticed a girl sitting on her own scribbling in a diary - a sure sign of a loan diner. So I introduced myself and it turns out that she was from around London way in the middle of a round the world tour. I took a steak but it was pretty ropey, to be honest. I can't remember the name of the place but I wish I could to warn you off it. Apparently the fish was very good, though.
Cat (that's the name of the girl I had lunch with) and I wandered around Santa Marta looking
for a bar. No matter who we asked, nobody could point us in the right direction. Eventually we found a restauant on the seafront with an outside bit. Tens of teenage police officers patrolled the area and I realised that we were probably sat opposite the court building. After a couple of beers Cat and I parted ways and I took a cab back to the hostel (10.000 COP).
And that's it, really, for today. I started to write this 2 and half hours ago but I got chatting to a couple who'd just finished the Ciudad Perdida tour - again, totally recommended it (but seemed a bit haggard from the experience 😉
A couple of beers. A couple of Mojitos. And you're up to date.
Like I said, going to try to do the Tayrona National Park tomorrow - it will be good training should I end up doing La Ciudad Perdida....and Monica recommends it...and, as we know, Monica is never wrong.
Hasta luego amigos
Ooops, almost forgot to give you details of the hostel where I'm staying. It's
The Divanga Hostel
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anita
non-member comment
NO NO NO hahhah
Thanks for naming and shaming me LOL ...