Hammock Time

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Day 90

We are quickly learning that in Colombia things cost twice as much and take twice as long as expected... so our 3 hour trip to Santa Marta takes 6 hours and costs double what we were told by our hotel. Other passengers in the minivan are business people, and they get pretty irate about being late for meetings and have a fight with the driver, which is such an awkward moment that I get the giggles, especially when the drives threatens to stop and let everyone off. Oh and the 6 hour trip does not include a stop for the toilet...

When we arrive at the oasis that is the dreamer hostel we are just so glad... the lovely owner ushers us inside where we are greeted by a lovely pool, onsite Italian restaurant and bar (it is one of those Hotel California style hostels where you think you may never leave). And relax....... we make some new friends, (Rigo, Peta, Nick and Sylvie) over dinner at the Italian restaurant and turn in for the night.

Day 91

Unfortunately I wake up feeling ill and spend the day in bed, while Si lazes by the pool. I feel better in the evening and when Peta, Nick and Rigo invite us out, we agree (if anything to prove to ourselves that we can leave the hostel voluntarily). After a terrifying taxi ride (70miles an hour in town, car horn blaring to get other cars out of the way), we arrive shaken and stirred at our gay-friendly club which is in the middle of nowhere. Rigo swiftly takes over and negotiates us into the place... which is an open air small club (lucky as it is soooo hot), full of local people. We get stared at a lot, but after Rigo introduces us to Aguadiente (a local sugar cane and aniseed liquor) we are soon all doing text book disco dancing to the cheesy pop. Rigo tells us that there is going to be a strip show later on, and Si’s face is a picture (images of a sort of Colombian full monty flash through his mind), but I assure him that we can leave before it starts. Suddenly a show starts and I can see Si looking for the exit, but he soon perks up when it becomes clear there is no male nudity and the show includes 3 gorgeous Colombian girls in bikinis start shaking their thang (like a polaroid picture) on the stage...

Day 92

We awake to another scorchio day and head to the house where Simon Bolivar died (liberator of a lot of South America). It is pretty cool and we skulk around in the few bits of shade for about an hour, taking in the room where he died and the onsite modern art museum, until the sun saps all our strength and we decide to spend the rest of the day within 1cm radius of the hostel swimming pool.

Day 93

The hostel offers a trip to Minca in the mountains – to some water falls and pools that you can swim in and so we decide to go. A combination of very bad roads, and a snotty American, make me feel queasy, and after our guides get lost and have to do a 100 point turn on the thinnest road you have ever seen, I start to question why we took the trip in the first place. But with the sun shining we eventually take a path and walk to the water falls... which are pretty but not the spectacle we were expecting. As the sun goes behind clouds, I can see Si and the Colombian couple we are with (Orlando and Maria) trying to work out what we are going to do for the 5 hours we have agreed to spend there. Si and I try the water which is like ice and decide to chill on a rock and play Yahtzee whilst Orlando gently wraps a shivering Maria in a towel. A couple of local families turn up and we watch as they jump into the water from some high rocks... Si obviously has to have a go, and so we brave the water and have a nice swim round. After 2 hours we are starving (the smells from the food being cooked by a local family don’t help) and I say to Orlando that we are hungry (in my best Spanish) and are relieved that they also want to leave earlier than planned. We make our way back to the minibus having a stilted spanglish chat and get a lift to the local village to have lunch. Si's hair has got a bit bushy and so back in Santa Marta we head to a local salon to get it cut, armed with the spanish phrases for, 'I want this much off,' and ' not too short please.' The woman proceeds to put his hair in a side parting (1950's style) and to give him the sort of cut she would probably want her son to have. All the time I can see Si's face in the mirror looking panicked, but as we are both powerless to stop what is happening, I get the giggles and have to leave the salon. Once it is dry and the side parting is brushed out it doesn't look too bad...

Day 94 - 95

We get an early start to head to Tayrona national park. We catch the local bus, pay our entrance fee and on another smaller bus we meet 2 Phillipes and a Lady (apparently a popular name in Medellin) and agree to walk with them. Being probably ten years younger than us, they set off at a startling pace and within 5 minutes Si and I are both sweating cobs. The 40minute trek takes us through the jungle and across a beach until we reach the first beach camp Arrecifes. We are heading to the next camp (Capo de San Juan – where Rigo, Peta and Nick are) and so are gutted to be told that it is ‘full, full, full – everything... tent, hammock, cabin’ by a park ranger. So we reluctantly book hammocks in Arrecifes, and then head to Capo for the rest of the day. The 2 Phillipes and Lady decide to have a rest at Arrecifes (think they regret their original pace) and so Si and I push on alone... every time we think we are lost, a random guy (usually with a horse) appears and reassures us we are going the right way. After about an hour we arrive at Capo and it is picture postcard lovely. We decide to ask again about accommodation and put our names down for a hammock, before stripping off and running into the sea to cool down. Long story short, turns out we do get our hammocks after all (slightly peeved we have already booked and paid for 2 more, but glad to be staying in such a lovely place), and we meet up with Rigo, Peta and Nick on the beach... Have a lovely evening drinking beer and having a laugh (funny moment when I leave the table and come back to find a real life cockerel sat in my seat)... First night in a hammock is strange, but I sleep better than Si, who gets up at 5am to take photos of the sunset (luckily he only makes a half-hearted attempt to wake me up as I am sleeping like a baby). Next day is spent alternating between floating in the sea and chilling on the beach, before we start our trek back to the park entrance. Arrive back at Dreamers Hostel and a group of 6 of us go out for a slap up fish dinner and drinks in Santa Marta.

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