Learning lessons in Colombia

“Colombian government regulations require foreigners to provide proof of onward travel before boarding international flights.” We learn this crucial information from the impolite budget airline’s hostess as we attempt to check in, just 2hrs before departure. We proceed to frantically run between two opposing LAX terminals to access the (expensive) wireless internet and dodgy up a fake receipt from the captain who ultimately ends up taking us from Colombia to Panama a week later. Its accepted and we’re on our backpacking journey through Central America with adrenaline charged grins and 10 minutes to spare.

Bad coffee, uncomfortable sleep on a Florida airport floor and Juan’s favourite sound of kids screaming accompanies us until we eventually find ourselves stepping off the plane and into the wall of humidity that is Cartagena, a historic old town once a Spanish stronghold on the Caribbean coast.

Cartagena's old town

We thought we had a decent hold on the Spanish language prior to landing in Colombia but to our dismay we soon learn how much we still need to learn. The lovely fruit ladies, all dressed up to trap silly tourist like ourselves, were too hard to avoid. After asking the price all we could grasp from the response was "tres" – three in Spanish. So while fumbling with the exchange rate in our heads and the hundreds of thousands in our wallet we hand over tres mil (3,000) each. Turns out she actually said trescientos (300) and we just paid enough for two whole watermelons each, but only got a slice.

Lesson two was the importance of "no" taught forcefully by two Colombian women trying to massage our hands. “No gracias” faded away as we melting into allowing them to massage us hands. Then legs, shoulders and back. We were massage raped, led to trust them and at our weakest (most relaxed) and bam they sprung the price on us. 50,000peso's each! That’s over twice a nights accommodation, ridiculous. Alas after much miscommunication and a proud Colombian tour guide translating we end up parting with 25,000peso’s a piece. Turns out that’s still 3 times the going rate.

Cartagena Salsa

Feeling a little defeated we sulk home with our tails between our legs.

A new day a new dawn and a day relaxing on the beach followed by watching the salsa dancing in the main square with a cold cerveza was just what we needed. Now we were getting into the swing of the Caribbean life.

Taganga sunset

With a few days to kill before sailing to Panama we decide to hop on a four hour bus ride east and arrive in Taganga to a absolutely stunning sunset on the beach, complemented perfectly with 70c beers and the most delicious fried potato maize thing stuffed with cheese and topped with guac for under a buck. Something we frequented often. To top it off we decide to “splurge” on a $10.50 steak at La Case De Felipe, highly recommended by Josh and Emma, it certainly didn’t disappoint!

Learning to barter we end up on a snorkel trip to the beautiful playa concha in the Tayrona national park for 30% off. Snorkling and 4 hrs on the beach was more than enough to paint dave a new shade of lobster, Whistler moon tan just didn’t cut it.

Drowned rats back at the Minca hostel

Taking the advice of two excessively tall travelers we move from that awesome hostel to another must do. Minca, high up in the mountains behind Santa Marta, a lush nature wonderland. Just 45mins inland (longer if your insane cabbie slides into another car - and blocks the road for 45mins while arguing), it is a stark contrast to the bustling dusty city streets of Santa Marta. With just one night to play in the hills we rush out on a 1hr hike to an incredible waterfall near an organic coffee farm. Half an hour in we realize we’ve forgotten our new waterproof rain jackets and it starts to pour! We push on and the rain subsides as we arrive at the two cascading waterfalls, greeted by delicious organic coffee, the friendly locals and the intoxicating beauty of the region. Just as we decide to leave the rain returns and brings its unwelcome friends thunder and lightning. With thunder crashing at our feet and a curious toad running on Juan’s foot in the confusing we walk/jog back to the hostel in the clouds looking like drowned rats but still smiling ear to ear.

Pozo Azul

A touch lit dinner (as the power was lost in the storm) with some new found friends and an early night was on the cards, ready for a bright and early adventure to Pozo Azul (blue pools) at 7am. Our walk to the is accompanied by 3 loyal dogs and clear skys. Though the pools turned out to be brown we still got a dose of excitement as our four legged friends decided to ward off a passing Colombian motorcyclist. The man hastily stops and starts hurling Spanish abuse at us, waving at the dogs and blaming us. We blurt out “no perro” meaning ‘no dog’ – evidently our Spanish needs a little work.

We reluctantly leave Minca and return to Cartagena to meet our future Captain Fritz. An hour passes trying to follow his directions and we ultimately end up eating at the restaurant next to our hostel, an awesome dinner for less than $20 total, we felt guilty for splurging even though we could spend more on maccas at home. Everything's relative when traveling on a budget.

There’s more for a later date. Floating in mud and some surprise guests!