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Published: July 13th 2010
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Kyle ... or being so jet-lagged that you leave your passports on the plane, or drowning in your own sweat, or being eaten alive by sandflies, or being grossly overcharged for looking too white, too new, too... well, gringo. Even though Tourism Colombia´s slogan is not entirely accurate, the problems we have faced so far have only caused minor discomfort (and itching) and on the whole we´ve had a great start to our South American adventures.
After an uncomfortable, but uneventful flight to Bógota we spent our two-hour stopover huddled together for body warmth in the tin shed they call El Dorado airport. We dressed for
Caribeño temperatures rather than Bógota´s chilly 13 degrees. We also witnessed mass confusion at the boarding gate as Avianca tried to bump passengers onto a flight the next day as our flight was overbooked. Tahlei had read that this is a common Avianca occurence. Thankfully we were able to board our flight
sin problemas and touched down an hour later in sticky Cartagena. Sticky is an understatement; the air is thick and heavy and it´s like breathing water even at midnight. As we waited for our
mochilas to come around Tahlei realised she´d
left a folder containing our passports on the plane. Luckily it´s a tiny airport and the groundstaff quickly got hold of it. Crisis averted.
Tourism Colombia´s slogan is obviously targeted at people´s misconceptions of the country, and we weren´t free of these ourselves. One of these was that we would have to fight tooth and nail to get a decent priced taxi into the centre of town, but turns out it was a fixed price, and our amateurish bargaining skills would have to wait. We were also worried about safely finding a place to stay so late at night and in a part of town the guidebook described as unsafe, dirty and rundown. The only real problem is that the area is so popular and the first few places we tried were fully booked. In the end we stayed at Hostel San Roque on Calle Media Luna. They only had an airconditioned room left which was a bit expensive for us but also welcome as the humidity hit us like a ton of bricks. First thing the next morning we moved down the road to Hostel Marlin where the rooms were cheaper, non-airconditioned and much smaller, but they did
provide breakfast, free internet and a nice common area.
We spent our first day wandering around the historical centre of Cartagena, enjoying the colonial architecture and trying to acclimatise. The big walls surrounding the old centre may have been a good idea defensively, but the Spanish obviously didn´t care about ventilation. Not even a slight breath of wind can be felt while walking down the narrow streets.
From our first bog entry you can gather than food is a very important aspect of our travel experiences, and our first day definitely didn´t disappoint. Our first taste of Colombia was some street food -
arepas. It´s like an
empanada/pasty but made of cornmeal and filled with
huevo or
pollo. Yum. For lunch we had a
menú corriente- their version of a
menú del dia- for a measly 2.50euro (the more expensive of the two options we found). It usually consists of a soup to start then a choice of a number of meat dishes accompanied but rice, beans, fried plantain and salad. Again, yum.
Having lived a beachless existence in Madrid for so long we were desperate to get to the beach and get wet, so the very
next morning we got up early (not by choice - jetlag) and set out for Playa Blanca, the best beach in the region. Looking back it doesn´t surprise me that 99.9%!o(MISSING)f people reach Playa Blanca by boat, but we decided to be intrepid and take a combination of bus, ferry and
colectivo. This already complicated journey was made even more difficult by the fact that the aforementioned
colectivos didn´t actually exist (thank you guidebook) and we were expected to ride on the back of motorbikes with our 12 kilos packs for 45 minutes over very rough terrain. Luckily it didn´t come to this as we were picked up by a very lovely family from Bógota who were visiting the beach for the day. They were extremely accommodating, especially considering they had one son in the back, another sitting on grandma´s lap up front, mum and a baby squashed as far over to one side as possible, then us nursing all our packs trying not to scratch any of the upholstry that we´d already left mud all over. Two weeks ago I would never have said that I´d get into a strange persons car in the Colombian jungle, but it
was airconditioned. However complicated the journey was we only paid 10%!o(MISSING)f what other people pay to get to Playa Blanca. Win.
Whatever we saved on the trip there we lost again to a crazy old lady called Margarita who saw us coming from a mile off. Her accommodation was cheap enough - 2 euro to pitch our tent on the sand, but the ridiculous food prices was where she caught us out. We only found out the next day after talking to some other, more seasoned, travellers that she was charging us four times what she was charging them.
Before we even got the chance to sleep in our very expensive, barely used tent, one of the mangy island dogs decided to get rid of that new tent smell by pissing on it. He aimed so well that he shot through the mesh window and onto my brand new sleeping mat, that now hopefully only smells of shampoo and hand sanitiser rather than dog piss. We slept in hammocks that night, which is what most people do anyway.
Feeling both literally and figuratively pissed on we decided to try our luck up the north end of
the beach where there are less tourists and everything seems a bit more laid back. We stayed in beachside hammocks at AB Restaurant and Camping, where the lady who ran it, Marta, seemed relatively normal for an island person, even though she looked like Forrest Whittaker. When I say restaurant I mean plastic tables and chairs on the sand under thatched roof huts. Here the prices were right, the fish was fresh amd the beer was surprisingly cold for a place with no electricity. There was hardly any bottled water on the island but plenty of
Aguila brand beer, which was fine by me.
The hammocks were so close to the water that the usually soothing sound of lapping waves became a monotonous, overpowering noise that made it difficult to get to sleep. I fell asleep easily once the sound was drowned out by an enormous storm that rolled in that night. The two nights I slept in a hammock were two of the best nights sleep I´ve had in a long time, and Tahlei said I didn´t snore. I need to get one.
When it wasn´t storming the beach was very nice. As the name suggests the sand was white, and it was so fine that we´re still trying to get it out of our stuff. It´s not the most peaceful beach as you´re constantly hassled to buy necklaces, fruit,
coco loco, massages, banana boat rides... The cries of
amigo, amigo get tiring after a while.
With no friendly family offering a lift home we decided to head back to Cartagena the normal way, by boat. Halfway back we stopped at a jetty where the local kids were diving for coins that the passengers threw into the dirty brown water of the harbour.
Amigo, amigo, una moneda! One of the things that we´ve noticed since being here is that it´s as though we don´t speak their language. It´s a stretch to say they speak Spanish. I think that only goes for up here in the north - we could understand the family from Bógota perfectly. Up here it´s a very African population and they speak very differently.
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bob watson
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amigo amigo
Sounds like your adventure started as soon as you boarded the plane.You probably timed it well concidering Madrid will be going off for weeks after the world cup.Happy travels Bob.