Archive | October, 2012

Because, sometimes you end up on an empty luxury bus smuggling contraband in Colombia! *UPDATED*

9 Oct

We last left off with a post about leaving the Guajira Peninsula. This Peninsula was incredibly impactful for the both of us and we still aren’t quite sure what we just experienced. It was at once both fascinating and incredibly offensive. Quite beautiful really. It was a place both R and I won’t ever forget and it probably won’t be the same in a few years due to the steady increase in tourism and outside culture. After experiencing this very unique Colombian Caribbean, we decided it was time to get serious and find us some work; leading us to the land of fincas, Minca.

Minca was of particular interest to us because 1.) we knew someone who would be willing to give us a job and 2.) it is close to the hot place to grow coffee, begonias, and contraband. Even with its proximity to contraband fincas, it is an incredibly safe place to visit as many tourists who stay in Taganga and Santa Marta visit it for the awesome waterfalls and vistas. We decided to go check it out and see if we felt good about volunteering with a gentleman named Oscar on his hostel/farm, even though he was a bit reluctant to tell us exactly what kind of finca he worked.

Before we set off to Minca we gave Oscar a quick call to see if he would share more about what he was organic farming and how we felt about staying with him. I was not in the mood to talk to him so R decided to be the big gal and give him a jingle. After talking to him for five minutes and only getting three sentences exchanged (there were a lot of long, drawn-out pauses) we decided to stay at another location in order to keep our freedom and make the decision after checking out the surroundings. We camped at this adorable Spanish couple’s hostel called Loma Linda. They not only have the most adorable kitten and dog in the world, they also have two breathtaking views: one of the ocean and the other of the Sierra Nevadas. We quickly agreed on a price, set up tent and hiked to Pozo Azul to jump into some nice cool waterfalls.

At the falls we ran into a fellow mountain-stater (who also happened to be a chemist) and he recommended a three-hour hike up the mountain to a nice little town with a great hostel that recently had some nearby fields burned (by the US DEA). We thought it sounded like a nice hike so decided to wake at sunrise to begin the hike before the heat set in. Turns out when our friend gave us directions he didn’t give them so clearly!

The hike started out like all of our usual hikes: gathering the local dogs who feel like going for a walk. The dog who stuck with us the longest was a great companion. If there was any motor bike or car driving too fast, he would start charging the wheels in attempts to slow them down. He even got so close to taking one motorcyclist out he got scolded by R! He was a sweetheart, though, and even caught a bird and gave it away to his mamasita. During the middle of the hike we came up to a nondescript building in the jungle just off to the side of the dirt path with an entire grip of men in camo, all carrying giant rifles. This was about 45 minutes away from the local police in Minca, where we noticed them spending their days sanding and repainting the local swing set. We are still not sure if it could be something to do with the paramilitary… but at any rate they were nice gentlemen who calmed their dog from starting a fight with our new buddy.

After hiking up a mountain for three hours and realizing that we had gone the wrong way we stopped at a little bar perched on the edge of the mountain cliff. It wasn’t open for business, but the woman cleaning was blaring romantic Spanish music and the view was breathtaking. We took it all in, from the sweeping jungle to the burnt patches of fields that led away to the other valleys. We decided that instead of staying up in Minca with Oscar we would instead head down the mountain to see if we could possibly get a job at The Dreamer hostel that we had been staying at the previous two days. Turns out that they were looking for some bartenders and we could work as temps until the 11th of October.

The job has been great so far. On the first day our amazing Australian couple we met in Panama City showed up and we have spent many fun nights with them! We have done laundry, read books in hammocks, taken a swim in the heat of the day, gone on day trips to the surrounding villages, and have visited many beaches! One day in particular was incredibly eventful and inspired the title of this blog:

It began with an interesting night of sleep. I was awoken by an Aussie in search of peanut butter, followed by the loudest cat-fight I have yet heard outside my window, only to then wake again to 7am construction hammering next door to our hostel! I gave up on the idea of sleeping and decided that my offer from the previous night to go surfing with two Ecuadorians sounded like a great plan. After waking R (not surprisingly, she was able to sleep through the hammering) we decided to eat breaky and head out with the two brothers. We first went to a popular Colombian beach resort called Buritaca. It was interesting, full of restaurants and people, but the water wasn’t very clean and there wasn’t a wave to surf. Clearly no reason to stay, so we jumped on a motorbike and headed to Playa Flamenca.

Playa Flamenca was gorgeous! It looked just like Tayrona but was completely empty of people and had one of the best waves I have ever ridden! Just getting to this beach we walked through a beautiful property full of palms and coconut trees, hidden back from the road and requiring us to ask permission before we sauntered through. The brothers let me borrow their board and I was able to ride a few waves before we had to rush back to work.

R and I decided that we would try to ride with whichever car passed us first, either hitchhiking home or taking the bus. Well, the moment we got to the road a bus honked at us to see if we needed a ride. We signaled yes and quickly ran to the door and stated our price to Santa Marta. He waved us on, agreeing to the low price we had stated without flinching. We have become so accustomed to bartering his agreement instantly threw us into a success shock! Then we walked aboard and realized there were no other customers anywhere, and we had just stepped onto a super sweet luxury bus. In fact, it was the nicest bus the two of us have been on since traveling in Latin America. We both thought hmm weird but it is still a clearly labeled bus, he is headed exactly where we are headed, and maybe he is picking up his people in Santa Marta to go on to another part of the country (so then our bus fare is just like extra bonus for his time transferring the bus)?

Then as we were sitting chatting about how lovely our day had been our bus driver pulled over and opened the cabin. He then proceeded to shove boxes under the seats in front and around us. R and I just looked at each other and said WTF in our heads, but otherwise the boxes and bags looked normal and he was so calm, so we burst into a wave of giggles. It all made sense, however, when we pulled up to a police checkpoint a few minutes later and a guard came aboard to check the cabin. He broke into a huge smile when he saw us sitting by ourselves on the bus, and we chatted with him and bonded over the fact that we were all Americans; he left with that huge smile still on his face and very little of the bus searched. The bus driver gave us an appreciative nod and then proceeded to take us to Santa Marta.

We are still not sure what was under the seats in front of us, but we got home safe and sound in comfort! He dropped us at the edge of town and we are still wondering if all of these incidents are only more exciting due to our over-active imaginations. In any case, we have been sure to read each situation before we commit to it, and we have walked away from any situations we didn’t feel 100% about. Colombia is not a dangerous drug den full of trouble like the media tells the world, but there are some circumstances that make us ponder what exactly is the nature of some business around these parts.

We are working our last night at the hostel here in Santa Marta and then are headed to the Colombia vs Paraguay game in Barranquilla on Friday where we will scout out my future boyfriend!

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One long camping trip

2 Oct

We are officially not sleeping on our mats on the sand tonight. We also cooked carrots tonight, which is both good in that it was a change from the non-refrigerated raw foods we have been eating for the past week and a half, and bad since H is not a huge fan of carrots in the first place and I have been insisting that they are one of the few veggies that can be eaten raw (since they can be peeled without requiring washing). I think if we have one more meal with carrots tomorrow she may just start throwing them at me instead…

We left Cartagena in a daze of romance and excitement so that we could explore up the remaining Caribbean coast of Colombia. We are trying to operate in the time frame of being back near Cartagena by the 12th of October in order to attend the Colombia vs Paraguay fútbol match (we have to scout out H’s future boyfriend so we know who we are looking for when we are strolling about further south in our journeys). This means that we are trying to balance both the desire to see some things further east while also leaving the perfect amount of time to either work for a moment before the game or simply show up a day or two before the match. Decisions… We are making an effort to get better at them.

After a bit of a late start we scooted out of Cartagena and headed for Santa Marta. Unfortunately I had not planned (this is quite typical for us these days, I’m working on it!) very well and we had no idea where we wanted to stay the night. Suggestions had been that Santa Marta is a good base of operations for the rest of the Colombian Caribbean coast, but the city itself has no particular draw. In my head this meant that we should just push past the town and not waste our time/$$ somewhere we really didn’t want to be. I therefore reasoned that we would have to see the local gringo trail stop at some point, so why not right away? Plus (in my head and not at all in reality) it was on the way to the rest of the coast!

First stop: Taganga.

Taganga is exactly what you would imagine a stop on the gringo trail to be. We were quite unprepared for it, actually. After spending most of the month of September in Panama City working or strolling in Cartagena away from the large crush of tourists we walked right into a nest of them. Taganga is pretty, yes. But it is also filled to capacity with foreigners, SCUBA diving hawkers, drug dealers, street jewelry makers, and every variety of strung out local/tourist you can imagine. Much like Bocas del Toro, if you are looking for a party and some exciting gringos to kick it with, there is something every night and the dealers will cater to your preferences as requested for an enhanced fee.

There is also a 25 minute walk just at the end of the beach which will take you up around a cliff to a much larger and prettier beach, Playa Grande. As with most gringo trails, this path is only to be used during daylight hours as the creepers come out at night to take extra money off the remaining tourists as soon as the police are off duty. But sunsets are pleasant, there is a row of eating places, and the (currently since it is off season) empty lodging is quirky.

We left our large bags here so we could explore the rest of the coast without all the weight we normally carry. This is my silly mistake, since Taganga is not only out of the way, but also not assessable to people with luggage except by taxi. *sigh*

Second stop: Parque Tayrona.

Breathtaking. This place is magical. Mind you, hiking into Parque Tayrona is not a skip down a windswept hill. It is a stroll up and down boulders, in a windless jungle, and/or along a shade-less beach in a humid heat that feels like it is threatening to melt off your skin. Plus, we hiked in 5 days worth of food, our camping gear, water, and ourselves in the blistering heat and were therefore slightly delirious upon arrival at the last beach along the accessible coast (which also happened to be for nudists) where we had intended to camp for free. It turns out that this secret had gotten out already, and the park guards sitting at the end politely informed us that anyone caught camping outside of the designated areas after sunset would be removed from the park. So we turned about (yes, we did partake in the nudist beach before returning… We had dragged ourselves all the way out there for a reason!) and decided to make camp at the closest spot to where we were at the moment, Cabo San Juan.

So. Extraordinarily. Beautiful. Really! It was a great place for H to start to get to know her camera better and for me to sit and stare at everything around me. This particular camp spot is also very busy, but once you get around the little bolder and onto the nudist beach there is stretches of beach and ocean for swimming, nude or clothed as you prefer. We spent all together an entire day at this location, and could have spent much more if it hadn’t been the most expensive location in the park. We had negotiated ourselves a deal, but even still it was time to backtrack down the path to more reasonable accommodations.

We stayed at the most wonderful location between Bukaru and Arrecifes, but neither of us can remember the name of the location. It’s not the huge Don Ramon with landscaped campgrounds, but it is in between the Paraiso grounds, and the awkward camp next to the bakery (with the most tasty chocolate bread every morning). But we cannot remember the name of the location, just that the owner, Alfredo, has had it in his family for over 100 years. Alfredo was amazing, and invited us to just move in with him permanently. His proposal was all the more tempting since he showered us in gifts of coco and tinto without asking anything in return… It was such a sweet life out there, waking to sunrise and sweet coffee and watching for the drug smugglers on our porch by night.

From here we hiked up to Pueblito, an archeological site that is semi re-inhabited (or so it seems). The hike is a boulder hopping experience that is a fun challenge. Pueblito itself is interesting, but the journey there is the real reason to go.

We are still surprised we left. But we (and by we, I mean H – most likely to do with the hair) had been seriously searched on the way into the park (as in, every container opened, tent unrolled, clothes strewn about) and we didn’t want to over-stay our payment and have to pay more or some such nonsense.

Third Stop: Costeño Beach.

H just got older and to celebrate we thought it might be nice for her to have the opportunity to surf the Caribbean for the first time. The waves were fickle from what I understand. But there was some wonderfully entertaining company and good laughter for hours. We met some great Aussies, an adorable Danish, cute Canadians, but most importantly two hilarious Irishmen. It was some good craic! It turns out the reason we haven’t met many Irish on our trip so far is because there aren’t many of them left on the isle and those that travel are in Colombia? Their humor was fantastic and so lightning quick that I often found myself laughing after the conversation had already turned. To make the day even more special, we had a wonderful Mexican dinner, which was a great break from our raw foods diet.

From here we explored Quebrada Valencia, a large cascade that tumbles into different pools in granite until it comes to rest in a large, deep pool at the base. It was good for a bit of rock scrambling and bathing. Plus on the way back to the surfing beach we were met with an epic thunderstorm that soaked us through and cooled everything off.

But we left the day of the planned full moon party. I am sure it turned out well for all involved, but we were keen to head to the desert to enjoy the moonlight.

Fourth Stop: Cabo de la Vela.

Cabo de la Vela is a strange place. Like the unexpected wilderness mixed with unique people (who will sing and dance down the beach to a song they are writing) thrown in with a dash of old school trade-my-goats-for-a-wife culture. We stayed in a local’s house; well, one of his houses. He has 3 wives (he is good with goats, so it seems) and we stayed at the house of his first wife. We set up tent right in their sleeping area, which is a large lean-to on the sand from which they hang their hammocks at night. They have 2 hammocks that they were using, one for the mother and her newborn and one for the dad (when he is staying with this wife) and the other 3 kids to share.

We stayed there with an adorable Russian/Chilean couple we met on the way, and together we rambled about the peninsula. There was incredibly limited fresh water, but as we were told: they have gas, salt, fish, goats, and wind, you just can’t have everything. This meant that not only were we limited as to where we could look for water to filter for our uses, but we were not able to shower while melting in the desert. Good news is that the super salty ocean is never far away.

The sunsets up there were absolutely stunning, and the beaches are well worth the visit, even if you feel like you are evaporating into nothing in the desert on the walk out there. I have been so throughly baked that my once ginger hair (which was originally dark brown to not draw attention, see how well that plan worked out!) is now strawberry blonde and all of my arm hair is bright blonde. In about 3 days. Madness.

After days of no shower, lack of potable water, and dry heat we packed up and headed back to the humid Caribbean we have grown so found of. There are 5 shuttles in and out of town, the last leaving at 05:00 (that is correct, it is the last shuttle, leaving before sunrise, they leave every half hour starting at 03:00) but we left with our local host in the middle of the group at 04:30. On our way back to the main road we saw illegal turtle smuggling that brought tears to our eyes, people crammed in top of luggage so tightly they moved as one unit, women breast-feeding to keep their babies asleep, goats tossed from bicycles to trucks as though they were nothing more than a suitcase, men purchasing and collecting these goats on the side of the road (possibly to buy a woman?), and a seemingly endless sunrise over cactus and desert trees. The peninsula is really quite unique…

And now, finally, we have collected our bags and are in Santa Marta, showered and relaxing by our hostel’s (The Dreamer) pool. Heading to Minca tomorrow, maybe to work on another finca (we hear talk of this being the coffee/pot/cocaine growing area of the country)? So maybe to visit and then run before any drama we don’t want a part of can occur?

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