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.
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