Colombia’s Caribbean Coast – The Tourist Life

Tayrona National Park, Santa Marta
The park is one of the touristy areas to see on the coast, a huge park which you can either trek from end to end in eight hours in one day, or do four hours, stay over and walk back the next morning. With my laziness and lack of fitness in mind, I decided in the morning I would do the four hours through the park to one of the beaches, stay over and walk back the following morning. Minutes later I’d booked a hostel just outside the park and off I went to catch the bus.
The hostel was cool, the bar and hang-out area was basically outside with a little shelter. I ended up getting “pally” with the other guests and staff, and stayed up until pretty late, drinking cocktails plus beers and playing a card game called “king or scum”. I was hopeless.

The next morning I’m up early to get a head start on the trek. I have a real sore head, the first time in a while, not the state to be preparing for a long trek. Excited for my breakfast burrito, I am saddened to learn the cooking equipment is broken and have to settle for muesli… definitely not the hangover cure I had in mind.

As I’m waiting for the bus to the park, two other guests from the hostel are also waiting, we end up walking the first hour of the trek together when the strangest thing happens. Despite Tayrona park being a huge tourist attraction, by 10am I’ve seen no other trekkers. I look behind to see two girls aren’t far behind. It’s Emily & Michelle from Minca, two of the girls I saw the amazing sun rise with. I was never great at maths, or school, or education in general, but fair to say the chances were pretty slim. They were also planning on staying the night so I joined them.

When we get to the beach at around 1pm we find we’re practically alone, we hire hammocks and chill out for a while. The next six hours consist of nothing but sunbathing, swimming in the sea, reading and chatting. There is literally nothing else to do, bliss.

Once darkness sets in, there are thunderstorms in the distance over the sea. For weeks now I’ve been trying to capture a video of one of the many incredible lightning storms which occur so frequently here. Today I hit the jackpot, check out this bad boy:

Luckily, there is one tiny restaurant on the beach, I order pescado and quite literally get a huge, whole fish. As there’s nothing to do, we sleep at around 9pm. Laying in a hammock listening to the waves crash against the beach is about as tranquil as it gets.
I sleep pretty well, the next morning, I see a guy on one of the nearby hammocks putting toothpaste on his legs. I can over exaggerate sometimes, but he must have had 15-20 mosquito bites, now covered in spots of toothpaste, on each leg. I feel for him, but, serves him right for a. sleeping uncovered on a hammock on the beach and b. not wearing deet on uncovered skin whilst sleeping on a hammock on the beach…

Some things never change
After the trek back, I say my goodbyes and get back to the hostel to shower and move on to the next stop. It is here where I do a classic, epic fail at next level proportions. I rest my large backpack on a post whilst showering, once I get out of the shower, I accidentally knock the pack and it falls over the platform. Typically, this is no ordinary hostel, the shower facilities are sat at the top of a steep hill. Here’s a perspective of the height:

I helplessly watch as my backpack rolls over and over, at an agonisingly slow pace, toward the bottom of the hill. Like in a children’s cartoon, it comes to a stop half way down, but as if it weighed one ounce too much, the momentum takes over and it continues to roll, right to the bottom. I have no choice but to basically crawl down to fetch it. By the time I get to it and start crawling back up the steep incline, some girl using the shower facilities sees me, god knows what was going through her mind. I left a lot behind in England, my clumsiness however, will clearly follow me around forever.

Palomino
Another recommendation I heard from people in Minca and others before it is a town called Palomino. I was told it has a pretty impressive beach. I figure I have time and as it isn’t too far away, why the hell not. Another long bus ride and I turn up at the hostel.
Again, something odd happens. As I’m checking into the hostel, I hear voices shouting my name. As I look over, I see three girls I met at the Casas Viejas hostel in Minca. Again the odds must have been short but whatevs. It’s great to see them but I was ready to spend some time on my own to basically do screw-all. After some beers and a catch up, I disappear off for some food. It turns out I wasn’t the only unhappy volunteer in Minca.
I spend the next day on the beach, reading, sunbathing, napping, and looking for somewhere to volunteer in a week or so. Palomino is tiny, the beach is great but there’s very little here. I realise I prefer places with more space, streets to roam, different bars/cafes/restaurants to try etc. I do eat a great chicken burger here though, with freshly made, fried potato chips (crisps, as I used to call them).

That evening whilst in bed, I have one of my worst hostel experiences yet. On the bunk above is the loudest most aggressive snoring I’ve possibly ever heard, it sounded like a chainsaw. I imagine some fat, drunk bloke is the culprit, only to find the next morning it isn’t a huge bloke, or even a bloke at all, but one of the girls I met in Minca. Best of all? She’s tiny! How such a tiny woman can make such a racket, I’ll never know.

The next day I spend more time on the beach, have my first ever ceviche, and spend the evening playing cards with the Minca girls and some other hostel guests.
I also managed to find what I think is the perfect volunteering opportunity, although I’ve said that before. One of my travel goals is to spend at least two to four weeks, or longer, in one place, so I can settle for a while, make friends, and experience living in a different city.

What do I find? A family living 45 mins from Medellin are going on vacation for a month and want someone to live in their house and feed their dogs whilst they are away. Yes, I know, simples hey? I immediately apply. This is perfect, I can wake up, feed the dogs and then get the rest of the day to myself to explore Medellin properly. What’s more, I GET MY OWN HOUSE, A FULL HOUSE, WITHOUT SPENDING A £. This will be amazing after being used to sharing hostels with 4-10 other people each night.

Incredibly, the host replies to my application within minutes and gives me his number to discuss the details on WhatsApp. We agree, and he accepts my request to trial the idea for two weeks, rather than committing to the whole month up front. I’m looking forward to having a routine again since quitting work. I spend the next few days thinking about what I can achieve whilst in Medellin.

I decide I should see Cartagena whilst I’m up on the North coast of Colombia. Another frequent recommendation from travellers and friends I’ve made so far.

Cartagena
Cartagena, the fifth largest city in Colombia, is an extremely popular destination for both international and Colombian tourists due to it’s vibrancy and location on the coast. This means two things, it’s extremely hot (I likey), and, for Colombia, very expensive (me no likey).

The next day, I join the Minca girls on the bus as they are heading to Baranquillo, which is on the way to Cartagena. This ends up being my worst bus journey yet. The journey is supposed to be 5-6 hours. Along the way, we are stopped at Police stops on four separate occasions. Yes, four! Each time, cops enter the bus, check people’s bags, rummage in the over-head storage and remove all bags from the external storage hold to check them too. Each stop takes around 30 mins. The police really do have control around here. Then there was the traffic, adding more journey time, along with two bus changes.
But the strangest part? A Colombian sat nearby who is carrying three chickens, alive. Yep. He has the chickens wrapped in cardboard and tied up to stop them from moving, and keeps them in the overhead luggage area. They squirm every now and again as confused passengers look around for the source of the noise. This is a new one for me.
After leaving the Palomino hostel at 10am, I finally check into my in Cartagena hostel at 8pm – what a day.

In the room, I get chatting to two girls who also just checked-in, we agree to go out for some food. One of the girls, Emily, seems like fun and has some interesting conversation. The other girl, who’s name I forget, spends a lot of time moaning about being ill and is just generally negative. Funny how different people can be from one another and how much you can learn about someone’s personality in just an hour. This reminds me of two relevant expressions “you never have a second chance to make a first impression”, yet you should, “never judge a book by its cover”.

Luckily, the moany women goes home as she isn’t feeling well. This ever so slightly strenghthens my perception of the correlation between negative mindset and ill health, or, the idea that “you are what you think you are”.

Emily and I decide to grab a drink somewhere, get caught in an extremely aggressive downfall of rain, which leads to us going to another bar, where some Colombian girl gives us free tickets to a nearby nightclub – why the hell not? Here, this happens:

I pay the most for a drink during my time in Colombia, 15,000 Pesos, almost £4 for a bottle of beer. I nearly cry. We dance for a few hours and head back.

That night, a repeat of the snoring fiasco happened. Oddly, again it was a woman, but this one was pretty “well-built” and very, very drunk. So drunk that when we walked into the dorm, her friend was removing her bra and getting her into PJ’s, destroyed…

The next day, I checkout for a change of scene and find some place different to stay. I spend the day aimlessly wondering around Cartagena.I also took to TripAdviser to see where is good to eat, number one of out 648 restaurants is a place called Beer & Laundry. Without reading any reviews I check it out. This place has a great concept. As the name suggests, you can take your laundry to be washed whilst drinking beer and eating their amazing pizzas. I love finding places like this, where someone creates a solution for a problem they once experienced.

After finding out Emily & Michelle are also here, I join them on a free walking tour. I’m starting to get worried about my extreme inability to concentrate for more than 15 mins. Honestly, I’m not sure I paid undivided attention even for five minutes. I gave it chance but left for a bar 40 mins into the two hour tour. I’ve always been easily distracted, but this was taking the biscuit. To my (slight) defence, the guide was simply reeling off a list of facts, names, dates, events, all in an extremely mundane, unengaging manor (at least in my opinion)…

I’ve been told by many to go on as many free walking tours as possible when in a new place to learn about it’s history, culture and get to know the area. I decide I will try one more walking tour, and it better be good.
Anyhow, leaving the tour early paid off, I saw a beautiful sunset.

That evening, I realised how beautiful Cartagena was. I’m not sure how I was so blind to it until now.

I then sat in a local square, watching the entertainment unfold whilst drinking beer and writing my blog post on Minca. Later I return to the hostel and have some drinks in the bar, it’s only then I realise that my hostel’s bar is the same one Emily and I spent a few hours in the night before, where we received free nightclub tickets. My brain is broken. Is it all of the alcohol, the heat, the coffee, or just me being me?

I get distracted by a Gabriel García Márquez quote on the wall of the hostel bar, which translates in English to:
“It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams”. Love it!
I then went for a walk and again found Emily & Michelle with two other guys from their hostel, Adam & Pietra, who were also at the Mundo Nuevo hostel in Minca, a day after I had left. We all went to see some live music and danced till around 3:30am.

Girls had free entry into the club, not sexist at all…

Not a great start to the next day as my bad Spanish results in a communication barrier with the breakfast lady, who, misunderstands me and orders me something other than the free breakfast which is included, I have to pay £2.50 – not happy.

I continue to wander around, trying various coffees from a list of recommendations I got from a local working in a bar. I get lost again and as I’m in a world of my own, as per usual, some guy stood near a street stall shouts something at me, I notice he’s selling hats and without even looking at him I say “No, gracias”. I’m so used to the locals trying to sell me tourist stuff. Turns out, it’s Adam who I met yesterday. Another example of my embarrassingly poor attention and this time, it’s borderline racism. We all go for crepes for lunch, and I say a final goodbye to Emily & Michelle for the 4th time!

I later try to buy beer and am told that the government have banned alcohol for the day because of an election – would never happen in England… I decide it’s a good idea for a detox and resist buying anything from the supermarket.

Fail 1
That evening, I have the best meal for weeks at a restaurant called Stefano’s Bistro. Teriyaki rice with chicken, beef, chorizo, topped with sesame seeds – amazeballs and moderately priced.. They also do a speciality homemade coconut lemonade, immensely tasty.

After hearing so many stories of fellow travellers having their phones, tablets, laptops stolen, I’ve been extremely careful to keep my belongings safe over the last seven weeks or so. But, I didn’t pay enough attention to one of my acknowledged and proven weaknesses: clumsiness! I only go and spill my latte on my laptop. It was then I discovered a flaw in the Asus Chromebook, you can’t remove the battery without having the right tools to hand. The result? A wet, sticky laptop that I can’t properly power off. Early night for me.

This time I get the free breakfast, take my washing to Beer & Laundry, and head off to the market to find a laptop repair shop. Somehow, I manage to communicate with the guy using a mixture of “Spanglish” and Google Translate. He opens the laptop and cleans the residue, it doesn’t appear to be wet so he tries to turn it on, despite me asking him not to, nothing. After a while, I ask him to leave the laptop open, that way I can leave it in my always-on-aircon dormitory for 24 hours to try and further dry it out. A last ditch attempt at saving having to buy a new laptop…

The rest of the day is spent visiting various cafe’s and a hotel which has a tomb inside the bar. There is a story here, something about the hotel used to be a hospital and then a church and something about a girl who fell in love with the priest and then died of rabies, apparently it’s her tomb. Pretty unique I guess.

 Fail 2