A large part of the attraction of Colombia for me was that it is not overrun with tourists. It was seriously dangerous in the 1980's and 1990's, and the word has been slow to get out - at least in America - that it is okay to go back to Colombia. I was told that there was little tourist infrastructure and few people who spoke English, so you could see a "real" country.
It is all true. But ...
From Medellin, I flew to Santa Marta, a Colombian beach resort on the Caribbean and the second oldest permanent settlement in the Western Hemisphere. Billed as a lovely colonial city, it is a fairly poor crumbling colonial city. It is also in the middle of a serious drought and there is no water in the city. Fortunately, my apartment building had a swimming pool on the rooftop terrace and running water from 6 to 9 in the morning, 12 to 2 in the afternoon, and 6 to 11 in the evening.
Every day when I look at my phone, the weather forecast is the exact same - possibility of thunderstorms. Totally unhelpful. The weather has been so different every day. It is always hot and humid, but most days there is a blazing sun and other days it is overcast. On Monday, my Spanish class was not until 3 in the afternoon. Earlier, there really was a thunderstorm. The rain came down in buckets and there was no time gap between the lightning and thunder. It was right on top of us. I looked out the window and the streets had turned to rivers. I had no idea how I would get to class.
The geography around Santa Marta is interesting and varied, so it is the jumping off point for several excursions. Santa Marta is essentially a desert but the Sierra Nevadas de Santa Marta are just to the south and in places, the mountains come right to the Caribbean. The villages in the Sierras are much cooler and greener, while the desert to the east is even drier. If you continue as far as you can to the east, you come to Punta Gallinas, the place that is farthest north in South America. It is supposed to be spectacular with salt flats, mountains, and beautiful beaches, but it proved too daunting to try to get there. No roads, no water, no electricity. Hmm... Be careful what you wish for. A little infrastructure would be nice.
So I signed up for a day trip to Minca, a reputedly quaint village in the Sierras with a spectacular waterfall followed by a visit to Taganga, the next beach over which is a scuba hub. The agent told me that the bus would pick me up at my apartment at 8. The night before, someone called and told me to meet at the marina at 7:30. I insisted on being picked up at my apartment (although I do not insist well in Spanish). At 6:30 AM someone else called and said something about the marina, which by the way, was only a few blocks from my apartment but I had no idea where exactly to go. At 7:30 she called again and asked where I was and I told her I was at my apartment. So I got picked up ... by a van full of Colombians on vacation with a guide who was very difficult to understand.
We drove to Minca and had breakfast before heading to Pozo Azul, the "waterfall." It was about a twenty minute hike each way on rutted road, but you could cheat and take a mototaxi. Pozo Azul looked like a stream running over rocks to me with nothing resembling the blue pool I had read about. But the Colombians loved it. Go figure.
Then we drove to Taganga where we had a lunch at a beach front restaurant. When I noticed that they were washing the dishes in a bucket out back (remember, no running water), I passed on lunch even though it was cooked. Fried, in fact, as most foods in Colombia are.
We took a boat to the beach that had snorkeling. You had to swim pretty far out and the water didn't look all that great to me. I've snorkeled in Hawaii and the Galapagos. What was the chance that the Colombian hot spot would be impressive? I bagged it and hung out on the beach.
In the end, I enjoyed the tour as I got to speak to several Colombians vacationers, most visiting for a long weekend from Bogota. But their idea of a great excursion was not the same as mine. This was their idea: transportation in a van, breakfast, lunch, boat ride, and snorkeling gear - for something under $20. Be careful what you wish for ...
Nonetheless, I decided to go to Parque Tayrona on my last day in Santa Marta. It is a national park on the coast with several spectacular beaches. No roads through it, so you have to hike two hours in and two hours out. I had heard only good things from everyone about Parque Tayrona and I thought, it would be like going to Sacramento and skipping Yosemite which I think is about the most beautiful place on earth. So I signed up for a tour. They would pick me up at 7:30 at the marina. Sounds familiar. But this time the agent drew me a picture of exactly where to meet. Okay, I'll do this.
Not half an hour later, the agent called back and told me to meet at the marina at 6:40. Great. But I got there at 6:40 and there was someone there who seemed to be in charge. Some time after 7, another guy came over and took charge. He started making phone calls - although I have no idea to whom. I had the agent's cellular number, so he called and woke her which, of course, accomplished nothing. And then at 7:15 an air conditioned tourist bus appeared.
When we got to the trailhead in Parque Tayrona, the guide told us where to go, and then brought up the rear. It was kind of like hiking to Nevada Falls in Yosemite - one trail so you can't get lost. After we all got to the first lookout point, the guide gave us more instructions and then he raced on ahead to catch the fast walkers. First you will come to someone selling coconuts and you go straight, he said. Then you will come to someone selling orange juice and you turn right. Make sure you don't go left there. Okay.
After about twenty minutes, there was a sign that said: 20% of the route. Five minute later, another sign said: 40 % of the route. Then there were no more signs. The group had spread out so for long portions, it felt like I was alone in the jungle. And it was a jungle. Sure enough, I got to the people selling coconuts. A man with a machete chopping them off the trees and a woman with a machete chopping them to eat. A while late I came to a clearing and sure enough, a woman with a huge metal juicer squeezing fresh orange juice. So I turned right.
We passed several beaches that were beautiful but too dangerous to swim in. The we got to La Piscina (the swimming pool) and I thought, that was a short two hours. Too short. I kept walking and came to another sign.
It was a full two hour hike and it was worth it. We really were swimming in a remote and beautiful Caribbean beach. And if you want to stay overnight, you can rent a tent or a hammock. They even had a restaurant and you could go to the bathroom or take a shower for only one thousand pesos (thirty six cents).
It turned out that there were alternatives to the two hour hike out. You could ride a horse or take a boat back to ... Taganga. I know where that is. I took the boat ride and got to see the beach side of the park. The mountains come right up to the sea here, so it was like riding along Big Sur. Really beautiful.
So be careful what you wish for; wishes come true. Unspoiled, nontouristy country? Yes, but you have to hike hours to see any of it, if you can get there at all. Living and touring like a Colombian? Sure, but there is no water and the sights might not be as impressive as you expected. Live in a place where no one speaks English? You got it. And it is very frustrating at times.
So I am taking a break from heat and humidity and I flew to Bogota, a large city of eight million high in the Andes. When I got off the plane, my phone said that it was raining. But my eyes saw blue skies and a perfect day. Who writes the weather forecasts in Colombia?
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