So, long ago when I read in our guide book about Colombia's beaches I became a little disappointed. Beaches in Santa Marta and Cartagena weren't known for their cleanliness and so I had ruled out swimming in the Caribbean. (They're generally littered with glass and garbage as the culture here has never been taught why garbage cans and sanitation departments are good for everyone's salud. Actually when walking down the street it's impossible to find a garbage can but it's normal to see everyone just toss their crap on the sidewalk right in front of you.)
But then I heard of Parque Tayrona. It is a national park. Not free to get into, not situated in the city, and there seems to be a bit more awareness of litter there so the beaches are supposed to be some of the most beautiful beaches one will see. After we mentioned to Mark's cousin we wanted to see it he more than insisted we go. "¡Muy lindo! ¡Muy MUY lindo!" With his energetic advertising for the park we decided we would go and after schlepping through the wilderness to the Lost City we decided what better way to reward ourselves.
After the Lost City we hung out in Santa Marta for two days at my insistence while my broken feet healed. I had planned on three but after Mark got really grumpy and threatened to send me home on my own we headed out. We rode the mini-bus and arrived at the entrance, paid our fee, and rode a really old gas-guzzling Chevy down a road to the beginning of the trails. I had decided I would be more positive for this 1/2 of our Colombia trip. No more mopey me! This is an adventure! It lasted about 10 minutes until I realized that I had tricked myself into believing that what I thought of 'national park' is not what Colombians think of national park.
In the guide books it says that after the road you can walk down a trail to Cañaveral, or go left and further down to Arrecifes, or the good swimming at La Piscina, or even further where the gringos go, Cabo San Juan la Guía. We headed left to Arricifes and we found...more mud. More f*cking mud. We were hiking again! I hadn't packed as light as I should have if I knew we woud be tromping through more mud. I tried to keep quiet and not-so-mopey until I fell. I announced that the first place we'd reach would be the place we would stay.
We arrived at Arricifes, ate crappy over-priced sandwiches and booked two hammocks for one night. It was pretty expensive but I was glad to be done. Or so I thought. We relaxed in our hammocks for a bit, changed in the nice bathrooms, and headed to the beach. We arrived to find absolutely no one there. Immediately we knew that everyone knew something we didn't know. Up ahead we saw 'with-it' Colombians walking, so we followed. And followed. All this beautiful beach and you can't even swim at it, the currents are way too dangerous. I wasn't going to try either, I've never seen waves breaking as fast or loud in my life.
We finally arrived at what seemed like a nice little bay. Not much sand but who cares! We settled against a fallen palm tree. Mark broke out his giant book and I tested the waters. Only to be immediately knocked down and dragged along the bottom burning my ass on the Caribbean sand. We continued on. After more hiking and scrambling over rocks and yes, mud, we arrived at La Piscina. Ah! Here it is. The beach you can swim at! We dipped in only so far as the waters seemed slightly peligro here as well. We hung out wondering how hiking through jungle just to get to the beach is relaxing.
At the end of the day we had an over-priced but better tasting dinner. We tried to sleep with a bunch of young, weed-smoking Colombians yelling around us because apparently people laying in hammocks at night doesn't mean that you should, if not lower your voice, at least not yell. As soon as I did fall asleep a horse wandered up to the cabaña and began to eat out of the garbage, keeping me up.
The next day we had breakfast and headed out to Cabo where hopefully we would have a better time. I'll leave out the details but basically we hiked some more and arrived to find a restaurant and a beautiful bay. Our choices were hammocks literally hung like sardines in a can all along the restaurant or hammocks across the beach atop a pile of rocks. Though beautiful it was way more expensive and way further from the bathrooms so we went for the hammocks in the restaurant.
Immediately I didn't feel well so I laid down thinking I just needed a breather. Mark went off to hike to another set of old rocks that are really historic blah blah blah. I was happy to send him off on his own and I'm sure that he was thrilled himself. As I laid there trying to rest I could hear the tide changing and people laughing and screaming with glee and frolicking in the water. I wanted to go so bad. I was here! At Parque Tayrona! But what was this? I felt queasy and do I have a fever?
2 hours passed and Mark returned. He glanced down at me, felt my forehead, and handed me a large bottle of water. I did indeed have a fever and no thank you I don't think I'll be joining you for lunch. I hoped that I would at least get a nice tropical fruit juice but the restaurant didn't serve juice. They didn't serve juice, they only served a few hours a day when they turned their generator on, we were packed like sardines in hammocks without nets, the bathrooms were disgusting. All for only 1 peso less than the really nice place from the night before. (allbeit I did get sick from the really nice place)
I spent the entire day laid up in my hammock trying not to get sick and chugging water. Eventually in the evening Mark got me out of the hammock and I sipped a warm Coke. I went back to my hammock and didn't arise until the next morning.
We decided to cut our trip short as neither of us had slept well for two days now and for all this relaxing we were supposed to be doing we both felt exhausted. We hiked to the midway point where I let myself had a plate of fruit salad and a juice, the first things I'd eaten in twenty-four hours. We walked for another hour through trails of mud back out to the road. I was digging deep for energy and Mark wasn't feeling to well himself.
We finally reached the asphalt road that we had taken the gas-guzzling Chevy down. This time there was no transport the way back and we started walking. What should have been an hour of a long but pretty walk turned into an 1/2 of us walking, 10 minutes of me sitting with my head between my knees, 5 minutes of me puking up my fruit salad and juice, and about another 1/2 hour of walking.
We were both thrilled when we finally reached the exit. Soon after the bus back to Santa Marta arrived. On the way back the National Police stopped us and made everyone get off the bus. They inspected our (as in Mark and I) bags while the head guy chatted us up telling us he had a friend who lives in New Jersey and that we probably got sick from drinking the water. (Not possible as we only drank bottled water but one does wonder: when you're eating from restaurants that only turn their generators on to serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner what happens to the refridgeration all the other times???)
We checked back into our usual Hostel in Santa Marta, showered, attempted to sleep, and took turns desecrating the bathroom as now Mark is sick as well. Ah...
But then I heard of Parque Tayrona. It is a national park. Not free to get into, not situated in the city, and there seems to be a bit more awareness of litter there so the beaches are supposed to be some of the most beautiful beaches one will see. After we mentioned to Mark's cousin we wanted to see it he more than insisted we go. "¡Muy lindo! ¡Muy MUY lindo!" With his energetic advertising for the park we decided we would go and after schlepping through the wilderness to the Lost City we decided what better way to reward ourselves.
After the Lost City we hung out in Santa Marta for two days at my insistence while my broken feet healed. I had planned on three but after Mark got really grumpy and threatened to send me home on my own we headed out. We rode the mini-bus and arrived at the entrance, paid our fee, and rode a really old gas-guzzling Chevy down a road to the beginning of the trails. I had decided I would be more positive for this 1/2 of our Colombia trip. No more mopey me! This is an adventure! It lasted about 10 minutes until I realized that I had tricked myself into believing that what I thought of 'national park' is not what Colombians think of national park.
In the guide books it says that after the road you can walk down a trail to Cañaveral, or go left and further down to Arrecifes, or the good swimming at La Piscina, or even further where the gringos go, Cabo San Juan la Guía. We headed left to Arricifes and we found...more mud. More f*cking mud. We were hiking again! I hadn't packed as light as I should have if I knew we woud be tromping through more mud. I tried to keep quiet and not-so-mopey until I fell. I announced that the first place we'd reach would be the place we would stay.
We arrived at Arricifes, ate crappy over-priced sandwiches and booked two hammocks for one night. It was pretty expensive but I was glad to be done. Or so I thought. We relaxed in our hammocks for a bit, changed in the nice bathrooms, and headed to the beach. We arrived to find absolutely no one there. Immediately we knew that everyone knew something we didn't know. Up ahead we saw 'with-it' Colombians walking, so we followed. And followed. All this beautiful beach and you can't even swim at it, the currents are way too dangerous. I wasn't going to try either, I've never seen waves breaking as fast or loud in my life.
We finally arrived at what seemed like a nice little bay. Not much sand but who cares! We settled against a fallen palm tree. Mark broke out his giant book and I tested the waters. Only to be immediately knocked down and dragged along the bottom burning my ass on the Caribbean sand. We continued on. After more hiking and scrambling over rocks and yes, mud, we arrived at La Piscina. Ah! Here it is. The beach you can swim at! We dipped in only so far as the waters seemed slightly peligro here as well. We hung out wondering how hiking through jungle just to get to the beach is relaxing.
At the end of the day we had an over-priced but better tasting dinner. We tried to sleep with a bunch of young, weed-smoking Colombians yelling around us because apparently people laying in hammocks at night doesn't mean that you should, if not lower your voice, at least not yell. As soon as I did fall asleep a horse wandered up to the cabaña and began to eat out of the garbage, keeping me up.
The next day we had breakfast and headed out to Cabo where hopefully we would have a better time. I'll leave out the details but basically we hiked some more and arrived to find a restaurant and a beautiful bay. Our choices were hammocks literally hung like sardines in a can all along the restaurant or hammocks across the beach atop a pile of rocks. Though beautiful it was way more expensive and way further from the bathrooms so we went for the hammocks in the restaurant.
Immediately I didn't feel well so I laid down thinking I just needed a breather. Mark went off to hike to another set of old rocks that are really historic blah blah blah. I was happy to send him off on his own and I'm sure that he was thrilled himself. As I laid there trying to rest I could hear the tide changing and people laughing and screaming with glee and frolicking in the water. I wanted to go so bad. I was here! At Parque Tayrona! But what was this? I felt queasy and do I have a fever?
2 hours passed and Mark returned. He glanced down at me, felt my forehead, and handed me a large bottle of water. I did indeed have a fever and no thank you I don't think I'll be joining you for lunch. I hoped that I would at least get a nice tropical fruit juice but the restaurant didn't serve juice. They didn't serve juice, they only served a few hours a day when they turned their generator on, we were packed like sardines in hammocks without nets, the bathrooms were disgusting. All for only 1 peso less than the really nice place from the night before. (allbeit I did get sick from the really nice place)
I spent the entire day laid up in my hammock trying not to get sick and chugging water. Eventually in the evening Mark got me out of the hammock and I sipped a warm Coke. I went back to my hammock and didn't arise until the next morning.
We decided to cut our trip short as neither of us had slept well for two days now and for all this relaxing we were supposed to be doing we both felt exhausted. We hiked to the midway point where I let myself had a plate of fruit salad and a juice, the first things I'd eaten in twenty-four hours. We walked for another hour through trails of mud back out to the road. I was digging deep for energy and Mark wasn't feeling to well himself.
We finally reached the asphalt road that we had taken the gas-guzzling Chevy down. This time there was no transport the way back and we started walking. What should have been an hour of a long but pretty walk turned into an 1/2 of us walking, 10 minutes of me sitting with my head between my knees, 5 minutes of me puking up my fruit salad and juice, and about another 1/2 hour of walking.
We were both thrilled when we finally reached the exit. Soon after the bus back to Santa Marta arrived. On the way back the National Police stopped us and made everyone get off the bus. They inspected our (as in Mark and I) bags while the head guy chatted us up telling us he had a friend who lives in New Jersey and that we probably got sick from drinking the water. (Not possible as we only drank bottled water but one does wonder: when you're eating from restaurants that only turn their generators on to serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner what happens to the refridgeration all the other times???)
We checked back into our usual Hostel in Santa Marta, showered, attempted to sleep, and took turns desecrating the bathroom as now Mark is sick as well. Ah...
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