Updates

Hey, just a heads up that my computer has a virus and every time I try to upload photos the internet shuts down, so I'll update in 2 weeks once I'm home in Australia and have access to another computer.

So sorry!

Cali

15-21 January 2014

Here in Cali it is blessedly cooler than in Cartagena, but in the city there is not much to do, except go out for Salsa at night. It is the Salsa capital of Colombia. The music here is great. I especially liked the live band that my hostel 'El Viajero' hosted. They have a way of creating music that's impossible to sit still to. You have to get up and dance!

Leaving Cali


21 January, 2014

Well, I missed my flight to Ecuador yesterday. I got a taxi to the bus terminal so I could catch a bus to the airport, only to be told that the bus (which costs COP5000) only ran until 8pm and I'd have to catch a taxi (I shared with two other ladies and it still cost COP25000). The ladies had heaps of luggage, and the driver put it in the middle seat. For some reason, after only two minutes of driving, the ladies decided that they couldn't possibly spend the 20 minute drive to the airport seperated by two boxes, so they made the driver stop and re-arrange the luggage so they could sit together. *grumble grumble!*

Once at the airport I was told that I had missed the deadline for checking in my heavy luggage, so even though the plane was still on the tarmac I had to either leave my luggage behind or pay for another flight. Argh! So I went and paid another COP225000 penalty for changing my flight, then went up to the airport hotel so I could sleep, only to discover that the damn hotel was fully booked out. So I had to take a taxi back to Cali (COP50000) and pay for another night in Hostel El Viajero (COP24000). All in all, an expensive mistake to make.

At least I had a great yarn (chat) with the taxi driver on the way back to the city, although I can't say I enjoyed the first half of the journey, because of the smell. I think there's a waste treatment plant near the airport, because the first 10 minutes back to town was permeated with a truly horrific odor (and all the windows were open because it was so bloody hot!)

And I think there's a conspiracy to stop tourists from sending postcards in Colombia. I spent 2 hours walking around Cali on a wild goose chase looking for a post office, and I asked for directions in book stores, stationary stores, express post stores, courier offices, and even asked policemen and vendors on the street, and every time I got a different location, and when I got there....nothing...nada...zip! In my extra day in Cali caused by my poor time management skills, I went to the mall, assured there was a post office there. Same deal. Spent one hour wandering around following false information from the information office and the express post office. Gah! I resigned myself to sending my Colombian postcards from Ecuador. I was annoyed, because my mum has a thing for collecting postage stamps, and I really wanted to send her a Colombian stamped postcard! *sigh*

On my second arrival at the airport, I stood in line for 10 minutes to check in my bags, only for the lady at the counter to tell me that I should have waited in the line on the opposite side of the barrier because the bags reached the plane faster from that line. I was right there, and she indeed could have processed my bag, but nooooooo, she had to send me to the other line to wait for 45 minutes while I watched her process other people while I stood with my heavy bags and got stared at by everyone because I was practically the only white person in the airport. The children especially had no shame. At least I got to look at interesting bling. I swear, bling looks so much better on darker skinned women. I think more than half of them had diamontes on their tops and pants, and a large majority had large, sparkly jewellery on. If I tried to wear that stuff I'd just look ridiculous....or cheap.

(Sorry about lack of pictures! My computer keeps shutting down the webpage when I try to upload them. Will try to use hostel computer when I have access to one to give you all a visual of my journey!)

Cartagena

11 January 2014

Cartagena is a tourist city, plain and simple. For that reason the restaurants, shops and general atmosphere cater for westerners. But it still has charm. It has several beaches and harbour fronts, but my favourite place is the Old City, an antiquated area surrounded by an old colonial fort wall. Inside the city the buildings have high ceilings, wooden floors, and terrace balconies dripping with hanging vines and flowers. It feels like a European outpost.

It's possible to rent electric scooters to drive around the old city and around the top of the wall as well. There are plenty of outside stalls and wares laid out on blankets within the walls as locals sell their hand-made creations to tourists (for an elevated price I suspect).

At least the water here is safe to drink from the tap. It was a real pain having to buy water all the time in Santa Marta.

I wish I'd booked my hostel well in advance here, because all the good ones were taken. At least the one I'm at now (Iguana's Hostel) has air conditioning on as long as someone is in the dorm room. At my last one it was only turned on at night. And here, air con is a must for a comfortable rest.

New part of Cartagena

The Old City behind the Wall

The Starlight Square

The Moonlight Square

The food quarter

Hanging Lights Square

 

Tayrona National Park

8 January 2014

Well, this was an interesting day...

I was lucky to get a bus straight away to the park, only COP6000, but I wasn't prepared to sit next to a man who was sweating onto me and snorting as his nose ran every five seconds for the hour-long journey. When we got to the entrance at 10am there was already a huge queue to buy a pass into the park. At high season the price is COP37500, and even though there were only 15 people in front of me, it was almost 40 mins of waiting to pay. I don't know what they were doing in that cashier box, but being efficient wasn't one of them! Me and the foreigners around me had a nice little bitch about South American customer service.

Once out of line I jumped on the first available bus that drove me 10 mins up the road to the start of the walking track. I could have walked it, but it was too bloody hot and the bus had air conditioning. I think it may have been a tour bus, because I didn't have to pay...whoops. Oh well.

The walk took the better part of an hour (I was walking pretty quickly). The first half was pretty hot because I was far from the beach and there was no breeze. Just oppressive jungle heat. Ugh! I saw heaps of little ant parades (mostly because they were all carrying bits of leaves 10 times bigger than themselves and it looked weird seeing the mast on the jungle floor moving by itself!). I also saw monkeys (did you know they sound like really loud crickets? They make a staccato chirping sound!) and one really big tropical rat (think the size of a wombat...or a very large house cat. Ewwww!).

There were several beaches in the last stretch of the walk, mostly too dangerous to swim. There were rip tides everywhere and hidden rocks. I came to the second-to-last beach to swim. It was great. Small, with granular sand like rock salt (best exfoliation my feet have had in ages!), and the wáter was neck-high only 2 metres out in the waves. And the waves were perfect for relaxation; what my mum calls 'hump waves'. They don't break. They just lift you up and down gently and break on the sand. I got a lot of stares because I was the whitest person on the beach. Curse my Irish heritage! The swim suits here are so colourful and come in weird and wonderful shapes! I think I better buy a few to take home because they sell nothing like them in Australia, and that's unusual because we are a beach country. But then again I am in the carribean... 

It's funny, but there seems to be an abundance of women here with no compunction about wearing g-string bathers, and also an over-abundance of women with posteriors so huge that their bathing bottoms don't cover anything. I know one particular American friend of mine who would be in heaven. He loves big booties.

The last beach is the biggest, and the safest place to swim because it's so shallow and calm. But I'm glad I stopped at my beach. I prefer deep wáter and 'hump waves'.

The walk back was hard. It was mostly down-hill towards the end, but it was hotter than midday! It was like all the heat took all day to settle in the jungle. It was the kind of heat that I just had to stand helplessly in because there was no escape. My whole body was throbbing, and my hands swelled up to twice their normal size. My head felt like it was steaming, and I drank about a litre of wáter before I realised that it wasn't cooling me down, but making me feel sick because I drank too fast. Waaaah! I should have taken the damn horse ride back!

Luck was with me again back at the start point. Straight on a bus back to the entrance (COP2000) and then straight on an air-conditioned bus back to Santa Marta (COP6000).

Back in Santa Marta I had the best cold shower of my life, then went out for dinner. I can recommend La Canoa (The Canoe) in Calle 18 to anyone. I had glazed pork tenderloin with caramelized onions, baby tomatoes, mushrooms and thin slices of potato. I ate so slowly because I was in heaven. I also ordered a large mango juice, which was way larger than I thought. I had to take some with me when I left!

When people approach me on the street asking for something my knee-jerk reaction is to say 'no' and think get the hell away from me! A homeless dude was eating his dinner and walking along like a drunk person, and he actually asked me for a sip of my juice! My germophobe sensibilities were horrified and I quickly hurried away, but after a few minutes to think I realised 'I'm full, and he's just finished eating and is probably thirsty', so I doubled back and gave him the whole glass. The hell I was gonna share it with him! Ugh!

On the way back, I saw a dance group practising a traditional dance for an upcoming festival in the church square. I love how kids always get in the way without realising it, and no one has the heart to tell them off. A toddler wandered into the middle of the dancers, looking around in awe, and messed up the dance totally. The choreographer yelled at the dancers, who pointed helplessly at the kid. He called out for a parent to come get him, and no one even moved! A dancer had to lead him away and sit him down on the stairs. Useless parents. I hate it when they don't control and take care of their own bloody offspring!

Santa Marta

2 January 2014

 

Minca, Colombia

This was the only fun I've had in or near Santa Marta. I met a group of three English girls, one Dutch guy and one Swiss guy at my hostel (Masaya) and we all took a Jeep out to the tiny village of Minca. There are a few hostels there with great views of the jungle, and two waterfalls between 40 mins and 1 hour walk from the town. We (Didi, Holly, Rahael (English), Peter (Dutch), Mark (Swiss) and me) walked for an hour to the falls. It was nearly all uphill on the way, and we were all sweating and being eaten alive. What a day to forget bug spray!

Our bag straps were dripping with sweat, and half of us were walking in thongs (flip-flops) on the rough dirt road. Occassionally a bike would pass us. I would Yell 'cheaters!!!' for not braving the heat and the hills like us. Hehe. Lucky most of them only spoke Spanish.

The wáter at the falls was freezing, but oh so welcome. I managed to rip my shirt in half trying to get it off after I got it soaking wet, so I had to walk back in a towel. Actually, I ended up walking around Santa Marta in a towel buying food for dinner (which later gave me food poisoning). I think the locals thought I was really weird. I got stares.

Sadly, my plan to go with Didi and Holly to Parque Tayrona the next day was squashed when I threw up all night. Oh well. They'll be visiting Sydney around the time I get back from overseas, so we'll catch up then. They are really excited about Mardi Gras for some reason...

As the rest of my trip has been full of vomiting, hot sleepless nights, hostel food thieves and staring locals, Minca is, so far, my only good memory of this place. Apparently Cartagena (my next stop) is even hotter. I just might cry!

 

 

Guatavita

31 December 2013


Guatavita is a small town about 2.5 hours away from Bogota (actually, if you have a crazy bus driver like I did it's more like 2 hours. The town is all white walls and and old curved tile roofs. Don't go on a weekday, especially not new years eve, because it will be a ghost town! There's not much there except for the view - a lake 20km long and mountains in the background.













 The actual Laguna de Guatavita is famed as the site where El Dorado was, or near (the mythical city of gold). But all I saw was a great view and a very green lake. Pretty, but I'd have liked to see it without a guide monologuing for half an hour about it.




 One interesting thing I saw was a cow. It had an actual nose ring with a rope tied to it! The poor thing literally gets pulled around by the nose. It also did this crazy contortionist thing so it could lick its own behind. I've never seen a cow do that!