Sun 23 May
Taganga
(Montaigne)
This being Sunday, it meant it was a Doctor Who day. There was no Formula One.
In the evening Le Lambadour cooked for us for the last time. It was a blinder. While we had been treated before to merely excellent pasta, this time around was something different. A full on meal, based on rice, with two sauces. I can’t remember their flavours, but I do remember their awesomeness. It was a true taste sensation and it was an honour to eat it.
Monday, 22 November 2010
I Wake up Just to Go Back to Sleep
Sat 22 May
Taganga
I woke up, surfed the net, ate breakfast, intended to watch a Champions League match, but ended up sleeping for almost the whole day. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to do it.
I wander into town and meet up with Craig and Joe. We have pizza for dinner and then meet up with the rest of the gang. We sit in the hostel and totally fail to go out and do anything.
Taganga
I woke up, surfed the net, ate breakfast, intended to watch a Champions League match, but ended up sleeping for almost the whole day. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to do it.
I wander into town and meet up with Craig and Joe. We have pizza for dinner and then meet up with the rest of the gang. We sit in the hostel and totally fail to go out and do anything.
Cocktail Time, a Summer's Tune, a Whole Night's Holiday
Fri 21 May
Taganga
Didn’t do much in the morning. I went down to the beach in the afternoon for a sunbathe. It was pretty hot at first though it became cooler later on. While we were there some random Aussies came along and invited us to a party they were having at a house they were renting further along the bay. Seemed like a good way to spend the evening. Of course being Aussies they were inviting everyone they could find. And being Aussies they had board shorts with the Australian flag on it. This is essential, standard wear for being Australian.
Dinner was once again cooked by our resident chef Lambadour. I say once again as he cooked for us once before, though I think I forgot to note it. Either way he’s no slouch in the kitchen and he did a great job.
Then we headed off to the house party. The place was jumping with pretty much the entire tourist population of Taganga. Everyone was having fun. Flip flops were lost. There was a swimming pool on the roof. Tunes were played. Apparently the police were searching people as the left, looking for drugs. They obviously didn’t realise that by the time people were going home, they wouldn’t have any drugs on them. I got to bed at about 4.30.
Taganga
Didn’t do much in the morning. I went down to the beach in the afternoon for a sunbathe. It was pretty hot at first though it became cooler later on. While we were there some random Aussies came along and invited us to a party they were having at a house they were renting further along the bay. Seemed like a good way to spend the evening. Of course being Aussies they were inviting everyone they could find. And being Aussies they had board shorts with the Australian flag on it. This is essential, standard wear for being Australian.
Dinner was once again cooked by our resident chef Lambadour. I say once again as he cooked for us once before, though I think I forgot to note it. Either way he’s no slouch in the kitchen and he did a great job.
Then we headed off to the house party. The place was jumping with pretty much the entire tourist population of Taganga. Everyone was having fun. Flip flops were lost. There was a swimming pool on the roof. Tunes were played. Apparently the police were searching people as the left, looking for drugs. They obviously didn’t realise that by the time people were going home, they wouldn’t have any drugs on them. I got to bed at about 4.30.
Thursday, 18 November 2010
We’ll Find Our Own Way Home Somehow
Thursday 20 May
Tayrona National Park – Taganga
I had exactly one week left in South America. It would have been bad if I didn’t know I would have Hammersmith to go back to, and all that it means to me.
We woke up fairly early, there are no curtains on hammocks. We had breakfast, a swim, and lunch. I wondered to myself if this was the same Colombian jungle that Papillon travelled through during one of his escapes. I checked later and found that it was close enough – Guajira was just a bit further up the coast. Our paths had actually already crossed: he was held in prisons in Santa Marta and Barranquilla.
The others wanted to go back by land as it was cheaper. The boat was more convenient and expensive so I decided on that option. It was equally bumpy and wet as the trip over here. It was just as well I went by myself – the van that the others found only had enough room for them and even then it was an extreme squash.
Once back home I surfed the web and did stuff like that. In the evening we had a meal at Casa Felipe, the best restaurant in town. We had a few drinks and then headed off to bed early – I didn’t get much sleep in Tayrona.
Tayrona National Park – Taganga
I had exactly one week left in South America. It would have been bad if I didn’t know I would have Hammersmith to go back to, and all that it means to me.
We woke up fairly early, there are no curtains on hammocks. We had breakfast, a swim, and lunch. I wondered to myself if this was the same Colombian jungle that Papillon travelled through during one of his escapes. I checked later and found that it was close enough – Guajira was just a bit further up the coast. Our paths had actually already crossed: he was held in prisons in Santa Marta and Barranquilla.
The others wanted to go back by land as it was cheaper. The boat was more convenient and expensive so I decided on that option. It was equally bumpy and wet as the trip over here. It was just as well I went by myself – the van that the others found only had enough room for them and even then it was an extreme squash.
Once back home I surfed the web and did stuff like that. In the evening we had a meal at Casa Felipe, the best restaurant in town. We had a few drinks and then headed off to bed early – I didn’t get much sleep in Tayrona.
In the Jungle
Wednesday 19 May
Taganga – Tayrona National Park
We had decided to go to Tayrona National Park. It is a jungle further up the Caribbean coast to the west, famed for its beauty and untouched nature. It also contains the Ciudad Perdida – the “Lost City” – which, thankfully, has since been found, otherwise it wouldn’t be much of a tourist attraction. However it takes six days to trek to the lost city and none of us had the time available for that. So we decided to go to the jungle for one night.
We arranged transport with some random local and ate breakfast. We came back to find our man, only to discover that he had decided to take some other people off somewhere to do something else. Presumably there was more money in it for him. We managed to find alternative transport from a man with a boat who took us along the coast. It took a while – a couple of hours I think – and the ride was pretty bumpy with the people at the front getting a good washing.
We arrived at the beach and it looked like paradise. All there was, was sea, sand, palm trees and jungle. There was one hut on a rock that held some hammocks. Immediately this beach was in the running for most awesome beach in the world. My previous two contenders were Paradise beach in Uluwatu, Bali, Indonesia, and Long Beach, Perhentian Islands, Malaysia. Goa gets an honourable mention for Palolem and Arambol beaches. But none of them could beat this place for lack of visible shoreline habitation.
As soon as we landed a woman came and made us pay our national park entry fee. We then set off and found the place where they deal with all the hammocks and reserved ours. It turns out that we should have received a wristband when we paid the entrance fee but that didn’t happen. We explained the situation to the rather over-dressed park warden (think full-on Bavarian military in green with additional gold ropey things from the shoulder) and he seemed to understand, though it probably helped that a group of aggressive chavs that were in the same situation caused a lot of problems for themselves by getting shouty and took the heat away from us.
Back from the shore and in a large clearing in the jungle there was a large area that consisted of a camping ground, a large hut with loads of hammocks, a basic restaurant and a shop selling snacks and booze. That was all there was, so we got busy and jumped in the sea. We spent the afternoon on the beach, swimming in the Caribbean and sunbathing.
After sunset we had drinks and dinner in the restaurant, playing cards and music with each other. La Lambadour dressed up as a Portuguese waiter, which was the first and last time he wore more than underpants for the entire time I knew him.
Eventually we made it back to the hammocks as the last – and probably the drunkest – people to go to bed. We may have annoyed some people.
Taganga – Tayrona National Park
We had decided to go to Tayrona National Park. It is a jungle further up the Caribbean coast to the west, famed for its beauty and untouched nature. It also contains the Ciudad Perdida – the “Lost City” – which, thankfully, has since been found, otherwise it wouldn’t be much of a tourist attraction. However it takes six days to trek to the lost city and none of us had the time available for that. So we decided to go to the jungle for one night.
We arranged transport with some random local and ate breakfast. We came back to find our man, only to discover that he had decided to take some other people off somewhere to do something else. Presumably there was more money in it for him. We managed to find alternative transport from a man with a boat who took us along the coast. It took a while – a couple of hours I think – and the ride was pretty bumpy with the people at the front getting a good washing.
We arrived at the beach and it looked like paradise. All there was, was sea, sand, palm trees and jungle. There was one hut on a rock that held some hammocks. Immediately this beach was in the running for most awesome beach in the world. My previous two contenders were Paradise beach in Uluwatu, Bali, Indonesia, and Long Beach, Perhentian Islands, Malaysia. Goa gets an honourable mention for Palolem and Arambol beaches. But none of them could beat this place for lack of visible shoreline habitation.
As soon as we landed a woman came and made us pay our national park entry fee. We then set off and found the place where they deal with all the hammocks and reserved ours. It turns out that we should have received a wristband when we paid the entrance fee but that didn’t happen. We explained the situation to the rather over-dressed park warden (think full-on Bavarian military in green with additional gold ropey things from the shoulder) and he seemed to understand, though it probably helped that a group of aggressive chavs that were in the same situation caused a lot of problems for themselves by getting shouty and took the heat away from us.
Back from the shore and in a large clearing in the jungle there was a large area that consisted of a camping ground, a large hut with loads of hammocks, a basic restaurant and a shop selling snacks and booze. That was all there was, so we got busy and jumped in the sea. We spent the afternoon on the beach, swimming in the Caribbean and sunbathing.
After sunset we had drinks and dinner in the restaurant, playing cards and music with each other. La Lambadour dressed up as a Portuguese waiter, which was the first and last time he wore more than underpants for the entire time I knew him.
Eventually we made it back to the hammocks as the last – and probably the drunkest – people to go to bed. We may have annoyed some people.
Float on
Tuesday 18 May
Taganga
I was sneezing a lot this morning. How you can get a cold when it’s 35 degrees most of the time is a mystery to me. Thankfully it cleared up by the afternoon. Love me and leave me, why don’t you, random cold virus. I thought we had something.
I watched more grand prix in the morning. This must be very interesting for you to read. I think it’s only my mum that reads this. If you’re reading this and you’re not my mum, please let me know. Particularly if you’ve read every post. That’s top quality commitment. Or, as other people call it, stalking.
In the afternoon I seemed to have lost everyone so I spent it productively lying on a lilo in the practically deserted swimming pool in the hostel. I dozed in and out of sleep as I tried to deal with my constant tiredness. It was probably the closest I could get to being in a womb. That’s an unusual thought.
Later on I met up with the guys and we ended up watching The Shawshank Redemption at the hostel, which was projected on to the wall by the swimming pool. Its soporific nature helped me to sleep through about a third of it. It had been a very taxing day after all. Though most of the other guys fell asleep at some point as well. After it finished I was pretty sure I was going to go straight to bed.
But no! On came the music, out came the drinks and we all had a mini party in the hostel. It was pretty hardcore and lasted until the early hours. We all had a lot of fun. Sometimes the unexpected parties are the best.
Taganga
I was sneezing a lot this morning. How you can get a cold when it’s 35 degrees most of the time is a mystery to me. Thankfully it cleared up by the afternoon. Love me and leave me, why don’t you, random cold virus. I thought we had something.
I watched more grand prix in the morning. This must be very interesting for you to read. I think it’s only my mum that reads this. If you’re reading this and you’re not my mum, please let me know. Particularly if you’ve read every post. That’s top quality commitment. Or, as other people call it, stalking.
In the afternoon I seemed to have lost everyone so I spent it productively lying on a lilo in the practically deserted swimming pool in the hostel. I dozed in and out of sleep as I tried to deal with my constant tiredness. It was probably the closest I could get to being in a womb. That’s an unusual thought.
Later on I met up with the guys and we ended up watching The Shawshank Redemption at the hostel, which was projected on to the wall by the swimming pool. Its soporific nature helped me to sleep through about a third of it. It had been a very taxing day after all. Though most of the other guys fell asleep at some point as well. After it finished I was pretty sure I was going to go straight to bed.
But no! On came the music, out came the drinks and we all had a mini party in the hostel. It was pretty hardcore and lasted until the early hours. We all had a lot of fun. Sometimes the unexpected parties are the best.
Monday, 15 November 2010
I Fought the Law
Monday 17 May
Taganga
…and the law didn’t win. But before that…
Not much happened during the daytime today. I watched qualifying. I watched Doctor Who. I went for a sunbathe on the beach. I found the other guys when I was out shopping. We went for dinner and then afterwards went for a drink at the Mirador – a bar slightly up the hillside, overlooking the bay.
It was a pretty cool bar, we started talking to some Kiwi girls and had a few drinks. As we walked back to the hostel we started talking about how a few people we had met had been stopped by the police a lot and had a lot of hassle from them, and how we hadn’t experienced that at all. We had only finished making that point when a moped pulled up beside us and a cop got out and wanted to search us.
Luckily I didn’t have anything on me but we knew that one of the others in our group had a small bit of weed on him. So we knew what was coming. After emptying our pockets and going through the contents they found the weed.
Luckily a few days ago we were talking about this with another traveller. He had told us two important facts. The first is that in Colombia it is actually legal to carry five grams of cocaine and twenty-five grams of weed. Yes, you read that correctly. Twenty-five grams. The second fact was that if the cops stop you, you should always demand to speak to the British Embassy (or whichever country you think you come from). The one thing you don’t do is agree to a bribe.
So the cop took the weed and asked for the guy’s name. He only gave his first name. For some reason the cop thought this was enough. There was some talk in Spanish. He toyed with some handcuffs, presumably to scare us. There was another cop there. Some more talk. Eventually he said “immediate deportation”.
We said that we wanted to speak to the British Embassy. Luckily my Spanish stretched just about far enough. Quiero hablar Embajado Británico. It wasn’t quite right but it was close enough.
There was some more talk in Spanish. The cop pretended to talk into his walkie talkie again. Strangely, there didn’t seem to be anyone on the other end. More waiting. We told him that we wanted to speak to the British Embassy again, just in case he wasn’t sure.
“OK”, he said after a while. “Two thousand dollars.” Obviously an invisible judge had corrected him on his sentencing. What kind of system is it when the judiciary is run by ghosts? I was also wondering where anyone would get two thousand dollars from in the middle of the night in a town with no banks and a country where the cash machines don’t give out dollars. Apparently this wasn’t an issue for the cops. They really need to rethink their bribery tactics.
We still wanted to speak to the British Embassy. Again there was more talking in Spanish, and the people on the other end of the walkie talkie remained curiously silent. More waiting. More talking. More requests to speak to the British Embassy.
Fast forward a few minutes with more of the same. Then apropos of nothing it was “OK, you can go. Es illegal in Colombia,” he said, in case we weren’t sure. “Gracias,” we said, as we walked away.
When we got back to the hostel we rolled up a bit fat Colombian carrot* and spoke of the old country.
*I didn’t inhale, obviously.
Taganga
…and the law didn’t win. But before that…
Not much happened during the daytime today. I watched qualifying. I watched Doctor Who. I went for a sunbathe on the beach. I found the other guys when I was out shopping. We went for dinner and then afterwards went for a drink at the Mirador – a bar slightly up the hillside, overlooking the bay.
It was a pretty cool bar, we started talking to some Kiwi girls and had a few drinks. As we walked back to the hostel we started talking about how a few people we had met had been stopped by the police a lot and had a lot of hassle from them, and how we hadn’t experienced that at all. We had only finished making that point when a moped pulled up beside us and a cop got out and wanted to search us.
Luckily I didn’t have anything on me but we knew that one of the others in our group had a small bit of weed on him. So we knew what was coming. After emptying our pockets and going through the contents they found the weed.
Luckily a few days ago we were talking about this with another traveller. He had told us two important facts. The first is that in Colombia it is actually legal to carry five grams of cocaine and twenty-five grams of weed. Yes, you read that correctly. Twenty-five grams. The second fact was that if the cops stop you, you should always demand to speak to the British Embassy (or whichever country you think you come from). The one thing you don’t do is agree to a bribe.
So the cop took the weed and asked for the guy’s name. He only gave his first name. For some reason the cop thought this was enough. There was some talk in Spanish. He toyed with some handcuffs, presumably to scare us. There was another cop there. Some more talk. Eventually he said “immediate deportation”.
We said that we wanted to speak to the British Embassy. Luckily my Spanish stretched just about far enough. Quiero hablar Embajado Británico. It wasn’t quite right but it was close enough.
There was some more talk in Spanish. The cop pretended to talk into his walkie talkie again. Strangely, there didn’t seem to be anyone on the other end. More waiting. We told him that we wanted to speak to the British Embassy again, just in case he wasn’t sure.
“OK”, he said after a while. “Two thousand dollars.” Obviously an invisible judge had corrected him on his sentencing. What kind of system is it when the judiciary is run by ghosts? I was also wondering where anyone would get two thousand dollars from in the middle of the night in a town with no banks and a country where the cash machines don’t give out dollars. Apparently this wasn’t an issue for the cops. They really need to rethink their bribery tactics.
We still wanted to speak to the British Embassy. Again there was more talking in Spanish, and the people on the other end of the walkie talkie remained curiously silent. More waiting. More talking. More requests to speak to the British Embassy.
Fast forward a few minutes with more of the same. Then apropos of nothing it was “OK, you can go. Es illegal in Colombia,” he said, in case we weren’t sure. “Gracias,” we said, as we walked away.
When we got back to the hostel we rolled up a bit fat Colombian carrot* and spoke of the old country.
*I didn’t inhale, obviously.
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