Cartagena

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After a non-eventful bus ride, we arrived in Cartagena in the early evening and took a taxi to the Casa Vienna, a basic yet functional hostel. We were still in a group of 3 as we hadn’t heard from Myles and presumed he was still learning Spanish back in Taganga. We found a restaurant, had some dinner and booked a day trip for the following day and went to sleep.

The day trip was to a mud volcano, where you bathe in the mud in the crater. You strip down to your underwear/swimwear, climb the 20m volcano and then get helped into the crater by local men who then massage you in the mud…and then you pay for the privilege. Now I’m not sure if it was the thought of being massaged by men or simply because it was a new experience, but Andy literally dived straight into the mud pool, fully immersing himself in thick slimy mud and putting to one side his Australian masculinity. Andy wont even put sun cream on another guys back, so it was an amazing transformation of character to see him in a pool of mud, with a harem of masseurs rubbing his semi-naked body. I always knew there was something funny about him!!

Emy wasn’t shy in getting in on the action either - she was definitely after the massage - and after her escapades with Omar on the Lost City Trek, this should have come as no surprise! Then I went in. Slightly dubious about the situation, and understandably so after a rather unusual experience involving a massage and a man in Sri Lanka 2 years ago! Seeing no harm had come to the other two, I climbed down the ladder and into the thick mud. The guys ’massaged’ your arms, back and legs…nothing dodgy…and then pushed you to one side allowing you to socialise with the other bathers, whilst they groped the next person entering the pool. You could stand up straight, completely suspended in the mud, a very weird sensation and an overall strange experience. It was funny to see everyone’s reactions to it, and also how different they looked when covered in mud. When Andy emerged for the first time he looked like something out of the ‘living dead’ and was probably the closest resemblance to a living corpse I will ever see.

From there we had to walk down a path to a lake where we were to wash ourselves clean…or at least that was what I thought. In the lake were a gathering of women who were only too happy to help remove mud from your hair, ears, eyes etc…and even made you remove your underwear, hand it to them for rinsing before putting them back on. It was funny looking across at everyone else trying to cover their modesty…well all except Emy, who was only too happy to give the crowd an eyeful, which put a sizeable smile on the face of Andy! It was the first time in about 24 years (I’m 27) that I have been bathed by an older woman…and I hope I don’t have to go another 24 years before it happens again!

We got back to the hostel that afternoon to find a new arrival in our dorm. I was sitting on my bed sorting some bits out and who was to walk through the door, but northern Danny, a random meeting requiring a double take on both our parts. He had been in Medellin and was travelling in the opposite direction to us, so we thought our paths would cross at some point, but probably not in such a random circumstance. We chatted about the last couple of weeks, had a couple of beers and cooked a curry, something the 2 English lads had been missing…and something the 2 Australians were more than happy eating!

The next day we had arranged to go on a boat trip around the Rosario Islands and spend the afternoon on Playa Blanca, all in the Caribbean. The boat was supposed to leave at 09:00, but as we are in South America, that was more like 09:45. We were seated on the top deck, the sun was already beating down and the 4 of us were in good spirits. We all seemed to be in a similar mood, and I just knew it was going to be a very good day. After about 10 minutes, it was decided that the first beer of the day was due and surprisingly there were no complaints, apart from Emy who thought it inappropriate to drink at such an early hour…and she claims to be Australian! There was a glint in the boys’ eyes and after the first sip, which again tasted good, it was decided that a game would ensue…the game of drink your age! This really isn’t a complicated game and didn‘t take a genius to think up the rules, you just have to consume the number of drinks that corresponds to the age of the participant, which would have been a great game had I been 8 and not 27! Andy was due 25 drinks and northern Danny 26 and a fine pace was set, finishing drink 6 by the time we docked at the first port of call. Between beers, we had been able to observe the stunning scenery, taking in the small islands that litter this part of the Caribbean. With its turquoise blue sea it really felt as though you were sailing in a postcard - I will definitely be holidaying in the Caribbean at some point in the future!
The boat docked and Andy and Emy went to the aquarium to watch some fish swim around, leaving the two Danny’s on the beach. We went for a quick snorkel before using the time more wisely, reducing the deficit on Andy, the youngster, by having another cerveza. We had a portion of lobster for the equivalent of £2 and re-boarded the boat with a smile on our faces, looking forward to the lunch that awaited us on Playa Blanca, a white sandy beach popular with day trippers. From afar the island looked stunning, and close up it didn’t look too bad either, although straight away we were accosted by hawkers trying to sell us anything that we would have absolutely no use for, which got very annoying. The lunch was again deep fried fish of some description, and again far from amazing, so we bolted that down and proceeded to enjoy the couple of hours we had been allotted there by sunbathing, swimming and taking a short break from the drinking. It was a nice place but overly touristy and not somewhere I’d bother with again. There must be hundreds of islands like that in the Caribbean, so my advice would be to find one slightly more secluded and enjoy the company of the people you want to be around!

Our intention for the boat ride home was to reduce the number of beers we would need to drink that evening, which we had selected as Emy’s birthday night (which wasn’t until the next week when we would all split up) and meant we had to put a good shift into the 2 hour ride home. Emy had finally begun drinking by this point, which added an extra person in the round and meant I could wait another person before having to negotiate the rolling waves and wobbly limbs on my way to the bar. The journey back was a good one, with a spectacular sunset, a lot of laughs and a tally of 8 beers consumed. The photos by this point were becoming questionable and we disembarked with high expectations for the evening, all requiring about 9 more drinks to achieve their targets. We went for a pizza, had a couple more drinks at the hostel and walked into town (all of 100 metres), where their was a mass congregation of gringos in the main square. Introductions were made and travel stories swapped, before different groups decided on different events for the evening, of which ours consisted of heading into a bar packed full of local, trying our best to sit in the corner and look inconspicuous. This didn’t exactly work and within minutes I was up dancing salsa with a poor young female, treading on her toes and dancing out of sync, much to the amusement of the locals. My intentions to learn had been completely honourable, however it wasn’t exactly conducive with the 27 beers I had now successfully consumed and after a couple more beers…for some reason…I took myself home to bed around 05.30 and slept like a baby!

The next day I was hung-over! I went for dinner in the evening.

The day after I explored the walled Old Town with northern Danny, a quaint little place consisting of a lattice of similar looking roads, full of colonial white washed buildings alongside tiny shops selling a range of products, from designer clothes to plastic containers. It would have been easy to spend all morning there, but it was so hot that we called an end to the exploring and relaxed in the garden of a café and had…you guessed it, a beer. We went for a pleasant lunch in a seafood restaurant before heading back to the hostel where I had to pack my bags before taking a taxi to the bus terminal, where I was to catch the overnight bus, 13 hours to Medellin. I said my second goodbye of my trip to northern Danny, although this time it is for good…or at least until I catch up with him back in Blighty.

Cartagena didn’t leave too much of an impression on me, especially considering the hype I had heard about it. Sure it was pleasant enough and worth a visit, but I don’t think you really need more than 3 or 4 nights there. The day trips away from town mean it’s a pretty good place to be based, but apart from the Old Town, there really wasn’t a great deal to keep me there.

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