Medellin

Medellin has a great name along the backpacker trail and rightfully so.  Night buses on the other hand have a very different reputation.  Night buses in Central and South America are beyond cold.  It’s not uncommon to see people sporting huge jackets and blankets in an attempt to combat the excessive air conditioning on a twelve hour bus ride.  Having learned my lesson last summer in Guatemala, Meredith and I piled on all the clothes we could before boarding the bus from Santa Marta to Medellin.  While I was still cold the ride was tolerable.  Across the aisle Meredith was taking off layers as she sweated out a fever.  Poor girl was pretty beat by the time we made it to the terminal.

When we got out of the taxi at the Pit Stop Hostel, Meredith was ready for a proper bed and immediately crashed on the couch.  We arrived on Sunday morning around 10am to backpackers still going from the night before.  Among them was our friend Tom who we’d met in Cartagena.  Medellin is known as a party town with beautiful women, but it’s a great city all around.  It’s the only city in Colombia with a metro system, making it very easy to get around.  There are lots of parks and green space, which are widely used by locals.  I spent almost a week there taking it all in.  Here are some highlights:  

-        Our first full day in Medellin was a complete failure.  The streets aren’t on a grid and it’s very easy to get turned around.  Meredith and I spent the entire day lost.  We had planned on visiting a few sites around the city, but couldn’t find any of them.  To make matters worse it was a holiday so nothing was open.  It was good practice for Tuesday though (also known as Day One 3.0)

-        Once you do figure out your way around there’s a lot to do in the city.  Our first outing was to the botanical garden.  It’s pretty, but there’s not too much to see.  I was especially excited about the squirrels and birds, but Meredith was not impressed.  She wanted to see a monkey, but a statue was the best we could do.

 

-        On Tuesday night we went out for Leroy’s 24^th birthday.  A local recommended that we go to El Eslabon, a salsa club in the city center.  There were some amazing dancers there.  Unfortunately we were not among them.  We still had a great time making fools of ourselves on the dance floor.

 

-        Wednesday afternoon we ventured out from the hostel around 3pm for food.  On the way we were stopped by a local TV station who asked Al to do an endorsement for them.  I still haven’t seen the final footage, but it was good fun watching Al try to string some sentences together after a late night.

-        Throughout Medellin there are sculptors by Fernando Botero, a Colombian artist, known for his “exaggerated proportions.”  The majority of them are in Parque Botero and they make great photo ops. 

-        After posing with the statues Meredith and I sampled the local beverage of oysters with miscellaneous mixers. I went for tomato juice, while Meredith had brandy and milk.  I know oysters, brandy and milk sounds disgusting, but it was actually quite delicious. You can hardly taste the oysters.

-        Medellin is a huge city with a population of almost 4 million.  Despite its size, it’s very easy to get away from all the hustle.  Thursday afternoon Meredith, the Aussies and I took the cable car up to Parque Arvi, which is less than an hour outside of town.  We were ill prepared for numerous hikes that are available and opted to grab lunch instead. 

-        And finally, Medellin is not complete without the infamous Pablo Escobar. Post to come. 

Parque Tayrona

To get to Tayrona National Park you can either hike or take a boat from Taganga.  Our plan was to hike the two hours in then take the boat back before heading to Medellin.  Meredith and I left some unessential items at the hostel in Taganga so our packs wouldn’t be too heavy.  They were still by no means small.  Overall it was a very manageable hike especially under the coverage of the jungle.  Things started to get a little more difficult when the trail took us along the beach with no protection from the noon sun.  Plus sand makes for difficult hiking conditions.  Despite the challenge the scenery was beautiful and I had a great time climbing the boulders along the way.  

After a quick stop for lunch we arrived in Cabo San Juan de la Guia, the most popular of the sleeping options in Parque Tayrona.  The set up is very similar to a summer camp with tents on the lawn, collections of hammocks under mosquito nets (where we slept), set hours for the dining hall, and lights out at midnight.   

Meredith and I spent the first day on the beach after the morning hike.  While the beaches are beautiful the strong currents and rip tides make them dangerous to swim in.  As I’m not the best of swimmers I opted to stay on the beach while Meredith played in the water.

Since we didn’t have time to do the Lost City trek (a six day hike), the next day we did the hike up to El Pueblito (only three hours).  LP warned that it was difficult, but worthwhile.  They weren’t lying.  The ascent was an almost two hour scramble over boulders.  Some were large enough that we had to boost and pull each other over them.  When we finally arrived we were covered in sweat and well worn from back to back days of hiking.  As for El Pueblito, it was not worth the trek.  There is very little evidence that 2,000 people used to live there other than a clearing in the jungle and a few carvings in rocks.  As we stood atop the hill Meredith looked down and her only response was “Pathetic.”   

 

In the end we had a good laugh with another girl from Canada who had finished the hike with us.  Our hard work climbing up meant the walk down was very easy and we got to enjoy the scenery.

The rest of the day and following morning were fairly quiet.  Meredith was starting to get sick so she retired to the hammock early each night.  I imagine being sick in a hammock is not fun, but our upcoming accommodations weren’t very promising either; fifteen hours on a night bus to Medellin. 

The Taganga Time Warp

At some point in Cartagena our friend Steve-O had the brilliant idea of renting bikes and riding along the coast to Taganga instead of taking the bus.  Meredith and I researched this idea, but ultimately it didn’t work out.  Probably saved our lives, I sincerely doubt we would have made it on our own.  It’s only four hours from Cartagena to Taganga, but it stands out as one of the more memorable bus rides I’ve had in South America.  The trip consisted of our driver playing chicken with oncoming traffic, deciding whether or not to pass cars on the two lane road, and regularly pushing motorbikes to the shoulder.  Add to this the Colombian child crying as his brother bounced an empty plastic Coca Cola bottle off his head in the seat in front of us.  At this point all we could really do was laugh and hope we made it to Taganga in one piece.

After a safe arrival we checked into the hostel, headed down to the beach for sunset, and met some of the Aussies from Portobelo.  The following day the remainder of the group made the journey to Taganga.  With the group reunited we spent the weekend in a blur of Nicaraguan rum, roasted chicken, dancing at Sensation, and after parties at the Jewish hostel.  We were officially trapped in the Taganga Time Warp.  

Sunday offered a much needed day of recovery and rest.  By this point I was feeling pretty beat and missed the comforts of the States.  I wanted nothing more than to be in my queen bed, eating Chipotle and watching Netflix.  Instead we were in a hostel with hot dorm rooms, unreliable water and electricity, and a constant blare of music from the neighbors.  Meredith wanted air conditioning and our friend Al wanted to call in a noise complaint on our obnoxiously loud neighbors.  Although Colombia with the Aussies was a great time, it had definitely taken its toll. 

That evening Meredith started her Open Water PADI course at the Octopus Dive Center, though watching poorly made diving videos was probably the last thing she wanted to be doing.  I felt the same way Monday as we walked down to the dive center at 8am.  I was essentially asleep until the moment I hit the water with my diving gear.  My instructor, Felipe, had a great sense of humor even 40 feet under water, which definitely helped shake me from of my stupor.  My first lesson was buoyancy, which involved numerous hovering exercises, swimming through a hula hoop, and head stands.  Second was navigation.  This involved using a compass to navigate a line, square and triangle underwater.  Since this didn’t take very long there was plenty of time to explore the reef afterward.  

Tuesday was my second and final day of diving.  The first dive of the day was deep water, which goes to 30 meters or roughly 100 feet.  At this depth nitrogen narcosis equivalent to 12 cocktails kicks in.  Everyone reacts differently, but essentially it’s like being drunk under water.  To measure the effects we did a series of timed tasks on the boat that we repeated at 30 meters.  Felipe also had me spell the president's name backwards, identify a piece of fruit (I had absolutely no idea what it was), do some math problems and identify colors.  At that depth red and orange appear brown or green.  Due to the high pressure we could only stay under for about 30 minutes.  When we surfaced Felipe told us the fruit was a tomato.  No wonder I couldn’t identify it, tomatoes are vegetables (I know technically they’re fruit, but I still default veggie).

The third dive was drift, which is diving with the current.  Finally was a night dive.  We boarded the boat as the sun set.  Diving at night is quite different than during the day.  You can only see as far your flashlight and different animals are awake.  Coral expands to take in nutrients.  By far my favorite part was turning off flashlights and waving our hands through the water to see the bioluminescent plankton.  Wherever the water is agitated they spark like hundreds of tiny green stars.  When it was finally time to surface I spent most of the time looking down to watch the trail of light behind us.  

The following day was Meredith last day of diving.  I spent the morning arranging our transportation to Tayrona National Park for that afternoon.  A truck was scheduled to pick us up around 3pm and drive us the hour to the park, which would hopefully give us enough time to hike in before sunset.  Meredith and I waited, but our driver never showed.  The manager at the hostel told us he had gotten in trouble dropping off the group before us because he wasn’t supposed to be working and had to pay someone off.  The next day he told us it was actually because the park was closing early, but I’m not sure I believe him.  Either way 8am the next morning we piled into a Bronco and made our way to Tayrona National Park. 

Cartagena

After our six day voyage Meredith and I set foot on solid ground in Cartagena, our first encounter with Colombia.  When we arrived customs was absolutely nonexistent.  Half an hour after docking a small boat arrived to collect our passports.  We would get them back later that evening from our captain at a bar across the street from our hostel.  Meredith and I crossed in Colombia without ever seeing a customs agent and no one questioning what we had brought with us. 

Despite its reputation the streets of Colombia are not paved with cocaine nor are there dangers hiding around every corner.  My first impression of Cartagena was actually very similar to Casco Viejo in Panama City; cobble stone streets, well maintained neighborhoods with buildings exuding that colonial charm.  Police are abundant, but that doesn’t set Colombia apart from other South American countries. 

Meredith and I spent the first day walking around the city, looking for the local market, and taking pictures.  Overall I very mellow introduction to Colombia.  We stayed at Media Luna, the unofficial meeting point of those traveling from Portobelo, so it was nice to see some familiar faces.  

Besides wandering the city and catching up on everyone’s sailing experiences all of our activities in Cartagena were consolidated into one day.  In the morning we visited El Tumo, a mud volcano an hour outside of town.  I’m still not sure how it qualifies as a volcano being filled with mud instead of lava, but it was an interesting experience.  The mud is incredibly buoyant, but difficult to maneuver in.  Tourists are pushed through the mud by men who work there offering massages. 

After El Tumo we arrived back at the hostel and immediately got on a bus to the Under 20 World Cup, which is taking place in Colombia.  Our Miller Lite sponsored party bus was fully stocked with MGD for the ride.  Classy, I know. 

When we arrived to the stadium the energy was high.  I had been to a couple of games in Argentina and was excited for Meredith to experience soccer in South America.  This however was not the case.  By the end of the game even the Brits agreed that England vs. Mexico was the most boring soccer match of all time.  Instead of staying for the second game the party bus regrouped and we headed back to the hostel.  After a few days in Cartagena we were ready to move to a less expensive city.  A friend had recommended diving in Taganga so we rallied the troops and headed east. 

Fantasy Voyage

When I first started thinking about this trip I planned on only visiting Colombia and Ecuador.  Panama wasn’t added to the roster until Meredith told me about a six day sailing trip her cousin had taken years earlier between Panama and Colombia.  Last summer I traveled with a teacher who did the same voyage.  While I have heard great things about the trip I was nervous since I get sea sick; very sea sick actually.  In the end the risk of spending a couple of days in a Dramamine-induced stupor was well worth the opportunity of sailing through the Caribbean.  

There are numerous ships that make the passage between Panama and Colombia.  Meredith and I signed on for the Fantasy, a 55 foot Ketch complete with pirate flag, sailing from Portobelo to Cartagena.   

We arrived in Portobelo, a small town five hours by bus from Panama City, the day before we were scheduled to set sail.  There’s not much to do in Portobelo other visit the black Jesus statue in the church, make a monkey friend, try to escape from said monkey friend, explore the ruins, pretend to be Captain Morgan, and try to remember you’re in Panama despite the fact that everyone else is from Australia. 

After a fun filled day in Portobelo, Meredith and I boarded the Fantasy seven hours behind schedule.  The journey wouldn’t have been complete without our fellow shipmates.  The lineup includes:

Debbie and Wayne: Our captain and her husband/our mechanic

Lorena: Our cook

Tomas, Romain, Fabien (aka Muscles): The Frenchies

Mel and Carl: The British couple

Frances and Marco: The German couple

When we finally boarded the ship most of us were tired after an afternoon of waiting, while the Frenchies were extra intoxicated after the extra rally time at the bar.  By this point I was good and drugged with every motion sickness medicine I could get my hands on.  I hoped with a steady stream of Dramamine and transdermal motion sickness patch I could outmatch the ocean.  

Turns out the ocean always wins.  Within an hour we had hit a storm.  Within two hours I was keeled over in the bathroom.  I spent the night outside despite the rain, but felt great when I woke up in the morning.  It probably helps that by the next morning we had docked in San Blas, a chain of 365 Caribbean islands complete with crystal clear water, ship wrecks, and white sand beaches. 

We spent the first day swimming and lounging on the six-man inflatable raft the Frenchies brought, dubbed “The Joy Machine” (they also brought Super Soakers that they proceeded to fill with rum and shoot into each others’ mouths).  That night the Kuna (local islanders) prepared us a lobster dinner on a small island and the water guns were replaced with rum-filled coconuts, better known as Coco Loco.  

 The next two days passed in a similar fashion.  The second night the Judy Mae docked next to the Fantasy and we joined forces with another group of backpackers (Australian of course) from Portobelo.  We made our way to a deserted island for a bonfire and cookout.  It was fairly ridiculous, but a very enjoyable evening.  

 

The following morning Marco, Mel, Carl, Lorena and I went snorkeling at a ship wreck.  Highlights include a manta ray, sting ray, and nurse shark sightings.  Unfortunately that afternoon marked the end of the Caribbean Paradise portion of the journey.  The next leg: 40+ hours of straight sailing to Cartagena. 

It was a somewhat surreal experience being in the middle of the Caribbean with no land, let alone another soul in sight.  I spent the majority of our 40 hour passage reading and praying that the great weather would hold (and it did).  Surprisingly the weather was the least of our worries.  The morning after we set sail for Cartagena we woke to the news that we were out of drinking water.  Debbie was confident that we could survive the remaining 30 hours on beer and soda, but I was less than excited by this prospect.    

By the time we hit land around 11am the next morning we were more than ready to be off the boat.  Marco had been particularly sick the entire time, and hadn’t moved let alone eaten in two days.  Mel was still upset about the water.  I really wanted to brush my teeth and wash my hair.  It was time for the Fantasy Voyage to be done.  Overall it was a great adventure.  Not always easy, but the good ones never are.