Pareces Latina…

Is a phrase I hear often. Whether it’s a pickup line or just local commentary, I am thankful. Looking like a local makes traveling a little easier.

In Cartagena, we settled on a double room at the simple and very basic Hotel Holiday, with an outdoor mosquito-infested courtyard. We’re in the middle of Getsemaní with tons of cheap hotels, cheap restaurants, and cheap convenience stores. The streets are narrow and often busy. And although there are many gringos staying in these parts, the locals outnumber us by a large ratio.




After settling into our hotel, armed with the guidebook and the itch for stretching our walking legs, mom and I set off in no particular direction. We walk through a litter-strewn park where we encounter a rather large iguana. We stumble upon the touristic old city under the big clock and wander along the cobble stone streets. We climb up on the crumbling rampart and then down into the craft plaza. It’s Sunday so many shops are closed. I get us reasonably lost, but I have my bearings so I know which general direction we want. We find the local bus hub and stick a bookmark in that memory for later.





My panoramic camera skills need work!


After a comida corriente dinner and agua de canela with Paul and Justin, mom heads back to the hotel while we find the Bavarian bar to meet the folks from the boat. No one’s there so we head back to the happening plaza where a woman makes fresh fruit drinks and people pick at streetcart food. Ding! A lightbulb idea goes off in my head! We grab two small bottles of Colombian rum and head back to the plaza. We timidly ask the juice woman to slip a little (no… a lot) of rum into the fruit smoothies. Ooooooh! They are just delicious. Seven of us end up ordering a total of 15 of them from her. The poor woman worked so hard and I think we drank up all over her passion fruit, banana, coconut milk!

The small darkened cobble stone streets were packed with people. Smiling people! What a change from Panamá, eh? Doors were wide open revealing the interiors of homes. Music blared and people danced salsa in the street. The mood was friendly.

Soon we gather the troops and there’s 12 of us wandering around in a big gringo pack. Since I love speaking Spanish to random people, and I have the most experience with Spanish, I act as the Latina tour guide and navigate us to the bars. We end up at an outdoor bar in the old walled city fighting off vendors and sipping drinks. We talk and laugh and drink for hours.

The next morning, I’m still asleep when I hear knocking on the door. Disheveled, I open the door and Paul just laughs at me as he hands over a very large cup of coffee. The room is swaying. I couldn’t tell if it was a side effect of living on a boat for 5 days, or too much rum the night before. Either way after I showered, I felt much better.



Mmmm… breakfast at what seemed to be an awesome spot. Huevos revueltos con tomate y cebolla, patacones, y ensalada. But when the bill came, poor Justin and Paul had racked up quite a tab.





Wandering followed. We lost track of the guys and headed back into the old city. We walked up and down the narrow streets. Brightly colored buildings with balconies outlined the street. Bright pinks and blues and yellows! We went craft hunting and it was a success for everyone involved. I splurged on a 1.000 peso bracelet! ($0.53)




I got us lost again, but we ended up seeing more of the city that way. We ducked into alley ways and resurfaced in the restaurant zone! Mmmm… We snacked on unas arepas con queso de cabra, which ended up being really salty.


Dinner with the guys. Another comida corriente meal, but this time the agua de canela wasn’t as good. Everyone had agreed to meet at our hotel for drinks and such. We sat around talking (with Felix!!) and then moved once more to the awesome plaza where cuba libres were the drinks of choice. The smoothie woman wasn’t there this time, I guess with all the business that we gave her last night, she was able to retire or at least take it easy!

I said goodnight and goodbye to everyone around 12something. They were all staying in Cartagena, but mom and I had decided to move our trip to Mompós. It’s funny how much bonding time you get when you spend 5 days on a boat together! I’m sure I’ll run into a few of them again along the path to Patagonia.

The next morning we were met with rain. I was feeling sluggish from not enough sleep. When the rain subsided, we took our chances and shouldered our packs. We headed to mail our post cards and encountered huge flooded streets. Some men had set up planks of wood for us to walk across. They held our arms steady and waded through the dirty street water so that we could get across. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a bit of change. I guess I handed him 400 pesos. He was grateful. Against the Lonely Planet’s advice, we end up taking a local bus to the Terminal, which meant that it took longer, but we got to drive through the outskirts of Cartagena instead of passing it by.

The bus dropped us off at the Terminal and we were shuttled to a bus. They took our bags and we paid for our tickets. The ride was luxurious and air conditioned.

Our bus a Magangué bounced along the rural Colombian roads. The rolling hills were so incredibly green. Green trees contrasted the green grass. The layers of vegetation were evident from the bus window. We passed dirt road barefoot villages. Scrap metal houses were nestled in the countryside.

Colombia rivals Guatemala in my mind for the most wild and ruggedly beautiful paisaje. I close my eyes to catch whatever sleep I can to make up for lost shut eye. As the scenery rolls by, I take advantage of the free time to catch up on my Colombian history. I read about los indíjinas, Spanish conquistadors, slave trade, Conservatives vs Liberals, civil war, cocaine production, the FARC, and the Bush administration. History is so much more interesting when I can live through it, or at least look its consequences face-to-face.

As we stop in the little towns to pick up more pasajeros, here come the vendors. Galletas! Tinto tinto! Chicharrones! Aromáticos! Empanadas empanadas! They walk up and down the aisle of the bus selling food and drinks to passengers. I bargain for an arepa con huevo and a fried corn ball, I’ll be darned if I pay the gringo price!

And then we’re back on the road. The country side is so lush and untamed. I love it. Every so often we stop to let people off and on. Hard to believe this is only the first of the 3 part journey to Mompós!

I wouldn’t mind living in Colombia to be quite honest. (Ya hear that, Nate?!)

My writing is interrupted by announcements for Magangué! I quickly fold up my computer and jump off the bus to get our bags. The bus leaves and we look around. Hmm… It seems as though we are in the middle of nowhere. There are only few shops selling fried food and gaseosas. Skinny dogs are hanging around. The ground is hot and dry and we quickly take shade. A vendor selling galletas tells us to sit down. I strike up a conversation. Looks like our bus to Magangué wasn’t actually going there at all. Now we have to take another collectivo to get into the city. As we sit and wait for our next mode of transportation, I have a walk around with my camera. Our new friend leads me over about a hundred meters and the view opens up! I can see green forever. My photos don’t do it justice!


I sit and joke around with the guys. I tell them how much I love Colombia, which makes them orgullosos. Our colectivo bus arrives and at first we’re told it’ll be 10.000 pesos for each of us. Ugh. I can’t believe we’re spending so much money on transportation alone! But when we get on the bus and I try to pay half of the estimated price, I’m told that it’s already been paid. What?! I can’t believe my ears and so the ayudante has to repeat it; it’s already been paid. It leads me to believe that our new friends at the random intersection just paid for our trip… And to thank them, I’m including their picture in my blog.


I feel like a clown in one of those teeny tiny cars. The ayudante just keeps packing them in. At one point there’s someone practically sitting on my lap and people are falling out the door. On the bright side, all the paisaje is beautiful! Rich rolling hills in all directions. Green is such a beautiful color. My eyes are glued to the views whizzing by the windows. Hours go by. We’re still driving. I make friends with the guy sitting next to me. I make sure that he tells me when I’m supposed to get off for the challupa to Bodegas. At one point, the car breaks down of course. What else would I expect?

It’s hot. I’m tired. This is turning out to be a ridiculous day of bus hopping. Oh, but we’re not done yet.

Finally we arrive in Magangué and we’re practically pulled from the car by a crowd of people yelling Mompós! I have to snatch our bags out of the hands of a dozen men. They all want our pesos, but we can carry our own bags, thank you very much! We walk through the streets and I think that I could thoroughly explore them if I wasn’t so flustered! I felt so taken advantaged of, tossed from one bus to the next just so people can get as much money from us as possible. Come on, Colombia, step it up!

We almost walked right past the boats for Mompós. We bought our tickets and I joked with the people inside the kiosk. We strapped our bags to the top of the boat and hopped inside. Someone handed us lifejackets, a luxury that we didn’t have on the Stahlratte. The driver started up the motor and we casted off. Faster faster fasterfasterfaster! We were flying! I couldn’t believe how fast we were going! Mom held on to her hat as we raced across the water. The turns were tight and I clutched my bag as thoughts of losing my computer to the water ran through my mind.


We arrived to Bodega and were mobbed by a group of men. They were grabbing at us and at our bags hoping for some propina. It was ridiculously overwhelming. People yelling and swarming us. I almost gave them a piece of my mind. Instead, though, I hopped in the colectivo after settling on a price. Whew. It was hot and everything around us wasn’t helping.


On the road, I rolled down my window and invited the wind to whip at my face and hair. We were cruising 30 km/h faster than the speed limit and the driver slammed the breaks to avoid the potholes, cows, motorbikes and speed bumps. We picked up a woman in the next town over who squealed when she saw pigs strapped to a bike or a roadkill fox. She helped us find a hotel.


So after a bus, another bus, a colectivo van, a chalupa boat, another colectivo, some waiting around and some mobs of people, we were finally in Mompós! This better be a great city for it all to have been worth it. But we were in for a surprise...



Food Highlights:
Comida Corrientes: This is the Colombian signature dish. It usually has rice, beans, some salad or vegetables, and your choice of meat. But changes from restaurant to restaurant. Usually for less than $3.