Santa Marta - beach time
The journey from Minca to the coast between Santa Marta and Palomino was surprisingly easy, which is always a pleasant surprise. A collectivo van to the town, then a public bus to Rancho Relaxo, a hostel near the beach, which came highly recommended.
We've said before that hostels' volunteer staff can make or break an experience and it soon became very clear that the volunteer staff didn't give a toss; they were too 'relaxo'd' by the use of various substances to bother talking to guests or to clear up the rubbish strewn over the site (including from the toilet bins) or to tell us when our communal dinner was ready, so it was cold by the time we discovered it. On the second night, one of the volunteers ate one of our vegetarian dinners, so we had one between us...time to go, despite our booking for 4 nights. Shame, as the setting was beautiful, there were white turkeys strolling around, making an impressive booming sound, a pig with an adorable litter of piglets (though we were sure that they would meet the same fate as Harriet was destined for), technicolour lizards and a tame, unclipped and free lovebird called Jimmy, plus Mowgli the Jungle Cat. There were also some staff members who were great, but they the ones who were more involved with maintenance than interaction with guests. Our friends had stayed for a week over Christmas and loved it, as the crew then was fab.
Booming turkeys
Jimmy finishing off our lunch (just before landing on Anna's shoulder and pooping down her back!)
Protective mum with her eight piglets
Soooo cute - bet this is what Harriet looked like at this age
Mowgli the Jungle Cat chasing a snake
Fruit-eating woodpecker in the grounds
Big shame.... we checked out the next morning and found a hostel, Brisa Tranquila, on the beach, and booked a room in a beach hut, with three bamboo walls, the fourth being just a curtain. Very Cath Kidston decor, on the Caribe coast of Colombia!
Our little beach hut with a sea view at Brisa Tranquila
Inside - just a mattress and a little safe - snug!
Our view.... Not too shabby
Just as we were checking in we spotted Sebastian and Melinda,our friends from Salento! Like us, they were staying for 4 nights - Happy coincidence.
Sebastian playing with a kitten (though it look like he's torturing it!) and Melinda
Funky shower block at Brisa Tranquila
Kitten sleeping on our backpack in the beach hut
View from our favourite spot on the beach.... Idyllic
It was great to just sit, chat, read, eat and drink, with nothing more taxing than to choose which beach table to sit at.
One day we exerted ourselves and walked along the beach to the river, where we soaked in the bath-warm water until we pickled.
On the walk to the river
Anna and Sebastian deep in discussion in the balmy river ('you get out first', 'no, you')
And the walk back....
We enjoyed our few days chilling here with our friends. We had hoped to visit Mompox, a colonial town on the Magdalena River over Easter, but were finding it very difficult to book accommodation. We then read that the celebrations there over Semana Santa were the second largest in Colombia, so we decided to return to the beach for the holiday.
Road safety Colombian Style - the road to Valledupar
The bus journey from Santa Marta to Valledupar was one of our worst yet. A fairly small bus, there were four crew: the driver and three others - why that many was a mystery. They spent most of the incredibly hot, hugely uncomfortable 6 hour journey joking around, then tormenting each other. Then, as we pulled up at a stop, one of them leapt from the bus, punched 2 men at the bus stop full in the face, then climbed back on shouting at the bus driver to put his foot down. We couldn't believe our eyes, asking each other 'What just happened?' They'd all been looking out from the bus for someone or something, for a while, so we wondered if he had a score to settle. Scary. The driver, meanwhile, was sleazing over a young woman passenger sitting next to him on the front seat, wiping the rivulets of sweat running down her face with his hand.... Yuk. What a journey. Then, just as with great relief we saw the signs to Valledupar, just 3kms away, the bus was pulled over by several armed policemen and women.... Oh no, pleeeeease.... We were all summoned from the bus and told to cross the road, where we filed into a small marquee lined with several police, and sat on chairs facing a screen. Various costumed people, from blue and yellow birds to robots, greeted us, shaking our hands, before a priest arrived and addressed the baffled audience. It was a road safety awareness session, imploring people to be careful on the roads during Semana Santa, Easter Holy Week, which was approaching. The mayor and a senior policeman also spoke and we were all given pens, and religious pendants to keep us safe. Unfortunately, we'd left our camera on the bus (ironically, the driver, who could well have done with a reminder about road safety, stayed on board) so we couldn't join in the photo opps with the police and poor people sweating in 30 degrees C plus heat inside their bizarre fluffy nylon fancy dress costumes.
To keep us safe on the roads!
Never mind the crazy bus drivers who go way too fast, overtake on double yellow lines on blind bends while talking to passengers and crew or on their mobile phones ! An occupational hazard of travelling in Central and South America.
Mural in our hostel depicting local indigenous people
We'd listened to tales from other travellers who had visited the Lost City (La Cuidad Perdida) for example, a three day hike through land inhabited by indigeous people, who are offended by their sacred sites being treated as a tick-box exercise and being photographed without their permission as they go about their daily life. A traveller we met in Salento told us that it was simultaneously her best and worst experience in Colombia, as the countryside and hike were stunning, but it was obvious that the local people did not welcome them, even leaping from paths to hide when they spotted a tourist. Similarly, we chose not to visit the desert way up in the north-eastern corner of Colombia: Guajira, where the desert meets the sea. We had heard and read that there is a severe shortage of water for the local people, children are dying of dehydration and starvation and that local children beg tourists for water. Travellers we'd met who had been there related such stories and some were traumatised by a sense of hopelessness that they could do nothing for these people and that the Colombian government's intervention in the area was woefully inadequate and dismissive. Some shops in northern Colombia sell camera straps woven by the Guajira people and the proceeds help to supply water to them. Travelling is a political act and we do what we can to avoid offence and to support sustainable and culturally sensitive tourism.
Arhuaco man
At last we arrived at our hostel, in a very dodgy area, it turned out. The staff were lovely and very informed and helpful, but the hostel was scuzzy and a man sang and shouted loudly and drunkenly, unseen, in the yard next door. We left the next day for a new hostel/hotel in a safer area of town, in a very affordable, clean, nicely decorated air-con room with private bathroom (Hostal Mizare Valledupar, highly recommended). We usually avoid air-con, but the heat in Valledupar was intense. It felt dangerous: stinging and inescapable, at around 38-39 degrees C, so we took cabs instead of walking most of the time.
Statue in the old town
The church in the central square, old town
Arab bakery.....
....where we ate a delicious brunch of pitta, olives, hummus, cheese and spinach pastries
Local bathing spot, low water level due to lack of rain
On our first afternoon we visited the local balenario, or bathing spot, apparently usually very quiet, but so crowded that day as it was a national holiday, the Monday before Good Friday: music blared from every food stall and group of Colombians having a great time.
Sign on a tree at the bathing spot: 'the best inheritance we can leave our children is to know love and a planet where they can live'
The war on bugs
Bloody annoyingly, I had been suffering for some weeks with what had to be more than travellers' diarrhoea. Analysing all my symptoms (which now included joint pain and severe fatigue) on the Internet, all pointed to parasites, yuk, bugs squatting,, rent-free and breeding in my belly. Eviction time! So, at last we visited a pharmacist and bought a cure-all anti-parasite medication. At the equivalent of £10 for 6 tablets - a 3 day course, we wondered how Colombians afford it. Much of our time in Valledupar was therefore spent in or close to the room, while I recovered, drinking smoothies made by nurse Alan, containing stuff that parasites apparently hate, and, fortunately, I love!
Iguana who lived on the roof outside our room
Thankfully, we did manage to see a bit of Valledupar, in the world outside our room. Valledupar is the home of vallenato, Colombia's traditional accordion music and there is a stylised statue of the instrument in the town and an annual festival, but, weirdly, we were unable to find any live concerts when we were there. We heard it everywhere, though.
On our last day there, feeling much better due to the drinks and drugs, we took a collectivo to a local beauty spot. On the way there, talking with the driver and the other passengers, they all insisted that we went on to Atanquez, a little village where artisans sell their woven mochilas (shoulder bags) and then see La Mina, the bathing spot on the river, on the way back - they would not accept any other plan! It turned out to be a fun and interesting day.
Mochilas of wool, cotton and fique, a cactus fibre, in the shop in Atanquez
Woollen mochilas on the left, colourful cactus fibre (fique) on the right
The craftswomen, from the Kankuamo indigenous people, were friendly and funny. They explained the significance of the designs on the bags: ranging from natural themes: the sea and the mountains, the paths taken by the horses, ears of corn, to the esoteric: the spider spinning the universe into existence and the one we chose (yes, I know that we vowed not to buy anything, but these are so special and... We can carry it on our shoulder, it doesn't need to be packed in our microscopic backpacks....) represents the stairway to heaven - beautiful (cue Led Zep track).
More Arhuaco and Kankuamo mochilas
The spider which weaves the universe - this mochila is woven so finely that it holds water
This pic was actually taken a while afterwards at the beach - Alan has become obsessed with bags and asks people if he can photograph theirs if he spots a particularly fine or unusual one - luckily, it always elicits a positive response!
What's great about these bags is that almost everyone has one - men and women, old and young and they last them for years. Every street stall has the vendor's mochila hanging up and they are used for all occasions - it's not unusual to see a trendy young woman out dressed to kill, skimpy top, tight jeans with killer heels, with her mochila over her shoulder.
The friendly collectivo driver suggested that he could wait for us while eating his lunch in his home village of Atanquez, then take us to La Mina, then drive us back to Valledupar, for a very reasonable cost, so we took advantage of his kind offer.
Small boy swimming against the current at La Mina
We swam in the refreshing river, a great way to cool off. A fantastic day.
A truly maaaaa-vellous spot
Nearly naked Nurse Alan, kicking back after his shift, our new mochila in the foreground
Back at the beach for Semana Santa
After a few days in gringo-free Valledupar, we returned to the very touristy beach between Santa Marta and Palomino, a bigger resort town, which we didn't visit, preferring the (usually) more laid-back vibe. Another few days in a beach hut, with our hijo viajero or 'travelling son' - so many people thought he was our offspring - who had returned from the desert (sounds biblical!) and the sweet and hilarious kittens for company. We decided not to visit Tayrona National Park, a reserve a couple of kilometres away, as we'd heard that it was not much different from where we were staying, it's expensive to enter, eat and stay there, is very crowded and people rarely see animals due to the crowds. No, gracias.
Our lovely 'son' Sebastian - we did a good job!
The hostel was jam-packed with both gringos and Colombians on Easter holiday. The staff had overbooked, which resulted in a bun-fight over a hammock in the middle of the night, and a woman from Bogota threatening to kill the staff! Happy Holy Week.
The hammock accommodation at Brisa Tranquila - too close for comfort, but the cheapest option
Luckily for us we had booked a bijou beach hat (sic)
Kitten bundle in our bed
There was great excitement about a local festival on Good Friday. The DJ from a very popular band from Bogota, Bomba Estereo, was due to perform, plus other bands and DJs, also local bands playing traditional music, stalls, crafts, surf competition, beer - sounded great, so we forked out the equivalent of £10 each per ticket. This doesn't sound much by European standards, but in Colombia it's a fortune.
Doesn't look like he thinks much of the music either! (Prefers reggae)
Turns out it was all DJ's playing very loud and distorted, crap music, no live bands, a couple of face-painting stalls and overpriced beer. One of the speakers blew very early on, so the music was tinny and bass-heavy. We left after an hour, leaving our 'son' there to play with kids his own age and walked to the river, which was full of Colombian families enjoying their Easter break. Great fun. Sebastian joined us quite soon after, also unimpressed with the festival. Shame, it could have been good. Passing the festival ground on the way back from the river a group of young Colombians standing outside spotted our wristbands and literally ripped them from us when we said we were not going back in. Good that they were used after all.
Now that's what I call a grass skirt
That's one way of getting the cool-box to the other side
Carrying the chairs back across the river at the end of a very busy day
Semana Santa by the beach - Colombian holidaymakers in the river
Our final day at the beach, with hostel worker, Diana (a marine biologist by profession) on her day off and her gorgeous pitbull, Acai (you can tell Seb is not a dog-lover)
Delicious breakfast at a beach shack - discovered on our last day..... Big shame
Boggling array of fruits to choose from for juice, some we'd never heard of
We chose: zapote, mango, and lulo mixed with maracuya (left to right). Deliciosos
Seb, Acai, Alan and Diana on the stunning beach
Acai demolishing a coconut, her toy of choice
Decent local covers band playing on the beach one night... Nice, and very atmospheric
So, finally, Easter week and our time at the beach was over. We enjoyed a relaxing, fun time, with good company and great surroundings and didn't miss Easter eggs once.... Well, maybe once, when we talked about Lindt bunnies.....
This post's recipe is a tasty, very comforting dish from the local women who cooked it for us for breakfast at Rancho Relaxo, and taught to us by the lovely Estella, who found the whole thing hilarious, had never heard of blogs, had no intention of looking at ours, and didn't trust computers. She explained that it is a very popular dish with campesinos because all the ingredients can be found easily on the mountain. We tried to narrow her down on quantities, but failed amid much giggling from Estella - why would we need amounts? The best we can do is this:
Cayeye-samario de Santa Marta
Ingredients
Tomatoes
Onions
Green bananas
Butter
Quesito costeño (local cheese, best equivalent = feta)
Method
Gently cook the banana(s)
Add a little water and some butter
Mix to a textured mash, leaving some bigger bits
Chop the tomato, onion (and some red chilli if you like) until softened
Mix with the banana
Crumble or grate the cheese on top
Serve with arepas (see previous post) and scrambled egg and, of course, a sprinkling of hot sauce
Next post: Mompox, colonial town on the River Magdalena, beloved of Gabriel Garcia Marquez
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