Caribbean Horns

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Day 86

After a boat ride in torrential rain, 3 flights and a short stop in Panama we arrive late in the night to Cartagena in northern Colombia on the Caribbean coast. Taxi pick up takes us straight to our hotel near the old part of town and we fall asleep in our air conditioned room. However not sure if it is the consequence of spending the last few days on a floating lodge or a side effect of the malaria pills but we both have nightmares were we think we have been stranded on a raft in the darkness and are surrounded by water and caiman.

Day 87

After a great breakfast of scrambled egg mixed with corn (seriously good) we head out to explore the town and boy it’s hot. So hot that we are now using factor 50 sunscreen. Now most of our travels through South America have been hassle free from the usual street hawkers that you sometimes get in tourist areas. Cartagena being an extremely pretty colonial town with great sense of atmosphere is an exception and has abundance of people trying to sell you anything from a Panama hat to a snow cone (the latter looks particularly appealing in the heat) and their selling techniques involve spotting the gringo and making a direct beeline shouting ‘hey amigo..amigo you want’. Another slightly annoying thing is the car horns which taxi drivers use as if their life depended on it, and it was a form of breathing. With 8 in every 10 cars being a taxi it becomes hard to ignore the noise as every taxi that goes past us slows down and beeps thinking we need a lift.

Anyway once you work out the best way to express ‘no gracias’ the town becomes an amazing place to wander and get lost. Lots of music and exotic food smells coming from every bar or house which you pass and so much activity it almost makes you dizzy. We visit a Spanish inquisition museum where we cringe at the various instruments of death and torture (and I pose with a creepy executioner dummy). After a short while of hiding in the air conditioned museum we head for some cold beers before Em gets any ideas of using the museum artefacts on me.

Day 88

Wake in our 10th floor room to the sounds of Cartagena which is basically loud music from some oversized speakers positioned directly outside our hotel, interspersed with the continuous car horns. This starts about 7am and continues till late in the night. Our morning culture trip involves visiting the nearby Spanish fort which is the largest built in the Americas by the Spanish. Again it is sooo hot and we stagger around seeking shadow whilst listening to our audio guide (budget restrictions mean we have to share). After listening to the various battle stories I very quickly (much to Em’s annoyance) begin to assume the role of Captain Richard Sharpe in charge of the 95th Rifles.

Our hotel is situated just outside the walls of the touristy old town and has a slightly edgy feel to it, (plus at night none of the street lights work) but we decide we should get to know our little local neighborhood and pop to one of the cafes for some lunch. The owner is very friendly and speaks to us through the medium of football player names. However when we come to leave we are missing the bag that was hanging on Em’s chair and we suspect a nimble fingered sixty year old who had been hovering nearby “looking at ice creams.” How he managed to steal it from right under our noses we have no idea but at least there was nothing expensive or important in the bag, just our guide book and some water. In my defense I was distracted by the champion’s league quarter final between Spurs and Real Madrid on TV in the cafe. Not sure what Em’s excuse is.....

Oh well it looks like we will be guideless for the remainder of our trip. So to cheer ourselves up we reserve a table at a nice fish restaurant for the evening and head over to the modern art gallery.

Day 89

Today we head to the beach. Now being in the Caribbean there are lots of nice beaches and islands and hundreds of companies offering boat tours. The hard thing is trying to understand the best company/tour to do, after some hefty research we decide not to go the Rosario Islands due to the some pretty damning reviews on trip advisor and head to Playa Blanca. We tried to book this the day before at the port but as soon as we approach the area we are verbally attacked by lots of tour operators basically selling the same thing. The fast Spanish combined with the midday sun makes us dizzy and we hastily retreat without booking anything. Second option is we try to book through the hotel who are very helpful but don’t speak any Spanish. Over the next few hours the price increases 3 times and we are still not exactly sure where we are going. In the end we decide to brave the port again and this time armed with the Spanish dictionary we finally get what we want – a lift to and from Playa Blanca.

The speed boat sets off at a slow pace but as soon as it is out of the port the captain increases the throttle and we are very quickly jumping over the waves as the young girls in the family behind us scream in terror. After about 40 mins we arrive at a deserted beach and are told that boat we come back to pick us up at 2.30pm. The beach looks pretty stunning and it is exactly what you expect from the Caribbean, green/blue water, white sand and hammocks between trees. The first half hour is spent politely declining the women who want to massage us, their selling technique is to poke us and just stare at us until we feel so uncomfortable that we agree to a massage. However we are English and like our personal space too much so we win in the end. The rest of the day is spent lounging and swimming around when it gets too hot - it really is a hard life.

At 2.30pm we patiently wait for the boat and start to get the fear that they have forgotten about us, but we relax when we see the boat at 3pm. With no family on board the driver really let’s loose and it feels like the boat actually jumps about a metre out of the water each time it hits a wave. Back on dry land we head for to the old town for some drinks followed by crepes for dinner.

Next stop Santa Marta further up the coast.

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