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Published: July 23rd 2010
Tahlei It´s been quite a while since our last entry. Just a few short days ago we were thinking how nothing has gone wrong for us lately, and we therefore had no stories to tell. Generally having a good time does not for an interesting blog make. However all of a sudden we were hit by a streak of bad luck and the last couple of days nothing has been going our way, so now we´ll have plenty to say! But I´ll start with the good bits.
We left Cartagena in a smaller and slower than expected bus to Santa Marta, and from there got a taxi to Taganga, a little fishing village turned gringo and hippie hangout. It is in a beautiful setting in a little bay surrounded by green mountains. We got our first view from the taxi as it rounded the headland seperating Taganga from Santa Marta. My mind was quickly taken off the view though - the taxi driver stopped to give a few coins to some guys who were clearing a little landslide from the road, and one of them reached into my open window and tried to grab my purse off my lap.
Thankfully it was attached to my wrist so our money was safe, but he wasn´t going to go empty handed. As the taxi pulled away he quickly snatched something from my pocket - a packet of tissues. Cheeky bugger.
We directed the taxi driver to a hostel out of the guidebook and were pretty happy with our choice. Moramar Hostel has a lovely leafy courtyard, a kitchen, hammocks, big common areas, a parrot, and nice staff. The second night there we stayed in a nicer room that was quite big and comfy with private bathroom, although a private bathroom in these parts is usually not very private at all. We´re talking a curtain seperating it from the bedroom, maybe a door if you´re lucky, but never a full wall. Not so private for the person you´re sharing with! Everywhere we go and every different culture we visit I collect ideas of different architechtural or design features that one day I plan to combine somehow into an eclectic, but perfect, house. While the not-so-private bathroom won´t be making the cut, the open-air roof-top shower is definitely going on the list. I like having a view while washing my hair.
Our full day in Taganga was spent at Playa Grande, one beach around from Taganga. It was not really
grande at all, but despite its modest size it had all the services you could possible need - snorkels, canoes, paddle boats, banana boat rides, deck chairs taking up all the shade, food, beers, icecream... they weren´t quite as pushy as at Playa Blanca, but still...
On our return to the hostel we realised we had gotten badly sunburnt and that we needed to get away from the beach. Our guidebook had a very small section on a little town called Minca up in the mountains of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta that sounded just perfect - an escape from the coast and the heat. We had barely any information on the place and calling the two accommodation options in the guidebook resulted in one disconnected number and one no-answer, but we decided to give it a shot anyway.
Transport to Minca consists of one beaten up old red car that we squished into with a young girl and an old lady who got in first and made sure she had plenty of room while Kyle and I were
basically sitting on each other. The road, if you could call it that, was not quite as bad as the one to Playa Blanca, but it wasn´t far off. We bounced up into the mountains for about half an hour, stopping for a while behind two trucks that had become entangled and blocked the road, and eventually made it to Minca. The first hotel we tried was deserted, which explained the disconnected number, so we had one chance left. Unfortunately Sans Souci was 1km out of town, up further into the mountains, so we had to haul out packs up there. Up in the mountains it was slightly cooler but no less humid so we were pretty damn sweaty by the time we got there. It was worth it - the place is a secluded house with pretty gardens and an amazing view down the valley to Santa Marta and the Caribbean coast. It had a swimming pool, mango trees, a friendly dog called Rufus and plenty of hammocks. It´s run by a lovely German guy called Chris. We ended up staying there three nights and had a lovely, relaxing time.
Each day we did a walk, two of
which were to waterfalls. Kyle always thinks that waterfalls are overrated but I think that if you can swim at them then it´s worthwhile. One waterfall was on private property and one the way there we passed two little kids playing with baby machetes on the side of the road. The little boy was eager to remind is that we had to pay to access the waterfall. I wasn´t going to argue with him!
Another walk we did was to a coffee
finca further up in the mountains - an hour and a halfs brisk walk further up to be exact. The place was quiet because its not harvest season but there was an old guy called Jorge pottering about and he gave us a thorough tour of the place and explained all the processes. It was quite interesting I thought and I could understand his Spanish perfectly which was a nice change. Apart from the coffee processes he also told us about the local area; about the fifteen different indigenous tribes in the mountains and how evangelicals are now banned from going up there and converting them, about how in the oast the people on the
finca went
through some tough times when the area was full of drugs cultivators and FARC and paramilitaries but how they´ve been free of them for about 8 years now. The mountain range itself is amazing - from the coast it rises up in 50km to 5,800 metre snow-capped peaks, though we didn´t see them because they are almost perpetually covered in cloud. You can imagine it´s a very wild place.
On all our walks around Minca we were accompanied by Rufus, and I think he was sad when we finally left. He was a funny dog with a penchant for avocados. He would sniff them out on the roadside (the whole area is full of avocado trees as well as mango trees - heaven) and hoe into them with gusto. He liked to eat grass too.
I must make mention of an attack of journal envy that I suffered while at Sans Souci. Now I´m quite proud of my travel journal and anyone who has seen it will understand why, but a girl that we met called Nicky put me to shame I think. Hers was full of beautiful, detailed illustrations of her travels. A picture says a thousand words
and I really wish I could draw like that. The lack of postcards in this country doesn´t help matters either, as I usually stick a lot of them in my journal. And I´d like to send some too, but alas, I haven´t seen a single one yet.
After three wonderful days in Minca we went down to Santa Marta where things started to go awry. To start with there had been a lot of rain and the streets were flooded - I don´t think they have any drainage - and the drains were emitting disgusting smells. We stayed one night in Santa Marta just to get our stuff together before getting an overnight bus away from the coast. We contemplated Tyrona National Park but decided against it because we were over the beach and mosquitos and humidity.
Buying the bus tickets turned into a mission because the ATM at the bus station, that we´d used a few days before, was out of order, forcing us to take a taxi to a shopping centre and then back to the bus station. The taxi wasn´t expensive but we hate wasting money like that. At least the overnight bus tickets were
cheaper than expected. As we were walking back to our hotel to kill a few hours in the hammocks before our bus ride Kyle had to dodge some kids fighting in the street, and in the process somehow smashed his head on a concrete door frame. He might have given himself a slight concussion because he was slightly woozy all afternoon.
The overnight bus was pretty comfy, for a bus, and we arrived in Bucaramanga the next morning having managed a few hours sleep. Our plan was to stay a night in a nearby town of Girón, but unfortunately the accommodation options were limited to a seriously overpriced place or complete dives. At this stage Kyle also started feeling feverish and light-headed so we did what little sight-seeing we could before heading back to Bucaramanga. Girón was a beautiful town though - all white-washed colonial houses and leafy plazas. I´m glad we at least got to see it.
On the minibus back to Bucaramanga they forgot to tell us where to get off so we missed our stop by ages and had to get off and get another bus back. Another waste of money. Then we jumped on
a big bus to San Gil, another two and a half hours away. The bus trip took us through the amazing valley of the Chicamocha river with big mountains all around. Poor feverish Kyle slept through most of it. Once in San Gil Kyle sat in the plaza with our stuff while I checked out accommodation options. We chose El Dorado hostel, mainly because it wasn´t too far up the hill. The people there were really friendly and it seemed like a cool place to stay, but after a couple of hours we realised that Kyle was not going to be able to get any rest there, what with the gaps in the walls between our room and the common room and a party planned for that night. So we moved to a hotel down by the river where it was quiet. We were the only non-Colombians there. All the gringos definitely stick to the backpacker hostels. Thankfully El Dorado didn´t charge us the whole night, just a nominal fee to make up the room again, but still, another waste of money.
The place that we moved to, El Viajero, is very nice with a leafy courtyard, very nice
staff and our bathroom has a view over the river. It´d want to be nice seeing as we´ve been here four nights. On the second day of Kyle´s feverish sickness we went to the medical clinic - turns out he´s got Dengue fever (classic). Don´t worry too much, he´s doing OK, there´s nothing much to do for it except rest and drink lots of liquids. How ironic that I´m the one who´s been totally ravished by mosquitos while Kyle has only had a few bites, yet he´s the one who comes down with Dengue. So the last few days have been ones of blood tests and pharmacies, and for Kyle lots and lots of time spent in bed -
reposo completo - while I play nurse Tahlei. Kyle was very brave with the blood tests because he hates needles, but he went white as a ghost when the nurse suggested that they take his temperature internally (accompanied by a gesture with her finger). Thankfully it didn´t come to that. To make matters worse San Gil is an adventure sports capital and we were planning on going rafting or kayaking or parapenting or other such things. We´re hoping that Kyle will feel better tomorrow.
So the last few days haven´t been the best. I´ve walked the length and breadth of San Gil while Kyle has become well acquianted with the four walls of our hotel room. Today however, Kyle sent me out to do something so we´re not
both wasting time. So I´m writing this blog in the little town of Barichara that I´m visiting on a day trip. This has to be one of the most beautiful towns I´ve ever visited. Like Girón it´s all white colonial houses and a big, leafy plaza at the centre, but I think it´s even nicer than Girón. All the doors and window frames are painted green or blue, there´s lots of artisan shops and cafes, and stunning views of the mountains. There´s also many beautiful boutique hotels and I can imagine it gets quite busy on weekends, but today it´s quiet and peaceful. It´s just a shame that Kyle can´t experience it with me.
Hopefully our next blog entry will be unmarred by illness. Fingers crossed Kyle is better tomorrow. There´s too much to do - no time to be sick!
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Niki
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Still jealous
Hey Taswa, sounds like you have been visiting some very beautiful places. And even the crappy Kyle sickness doesn't reduce my jealousy any. You should find a postcard somwhere and send it to me please. The whole time you've been away you haven't sent me even one measly postcard!! Hope Kyle feels better soon and you keep having adventures. I have to live vicariously through you you see. No life and all that. Love you!!