Caribbean, you have been a delight

After being in the jungle I really thought it couldn’t get any hotter. Cartagena knocked every hot/humid place I’ve ever been way out of the water. Water, I’ve never been so thirsty either. I read something online before I got to Leticia that described the heat as “oppressive.” I cleverly “shift F7ed” oppressive so I could come up with my own, totally and completely original (hah) description for the Cartagena heat and found these: cruel, harsh, domineering, unfair, stifling, sticky, overwhelming, overpowering, crushing, uncomfortable and burdensome. Whew. I’m going to stick with sticky. Morning, noon especially and all night long, I was sticky. Other than that, Cartagena is a really cool town. There is old town that is still surrounded by the stone wall where they shot cannons at ships, and the new town is where all the high rises are. The one surprising thing about old town is that a lot of the shops are super fancy designers and the restaurants are pretty expensive. Though, I do prefer old town over new town because of the architecture and the history. I’m not a high rise kinda girl. I arrived in Cartagena on Sunday with one mission: find a non-alcoholic captain to sail me to Panama in less than 5 days. My hostel had a couple ads so I emailed the captains and I also talked to some people around the hostel. Someone suggested going down the street to another hostel where there was more information about sailing to Panama. I took their advice and came back with a phone number for Mauricio who had one space left on his boat leaving the next day, Monday. I would have liked one more day in Colombia, but I also didn’t have many days to wait around for another boat. I called Mauricio and he said he already filled the last space, damn, but he knew someone else, Felipe, who was leaving Tuesday which would give me an extra night in Cartagena, prefect. I went down to Club Nautico to meet Felipe and as I walked up I saw two older couples (how did I know they were couples? They swayed together as one, a unit, inseparable). My habitually swift stride became much slower as I let out a sigh and thought to myself, “not the group I was hoping for, but I have to get to Panama and sailing through the San Blas Islands is really the way I want to do it, so suck it up.” Mauricio introduced himself to me and said, “This is my group, go with Felipe and he will tell you about his boat and his group.” Yes! All those thoughts I had seconds before about really wanting to do this even if I have to sail with Romeo and Juliet, Aladdin and Jasmine..well..I was just being nice. I really wanted this trip to be amazing. After all, it was my birthday present to myself J Felipe and I took the dingy (a small motored boat) out to his sail boat and on the way he told me the group was 4 friends from England, 2 girls and 2 boys, and one other guy from England who was also traveling on his own. He told me he really prides himself on the fabulous food he makes on the boat and even though he doesn’t provide snacks, people are never able to finish the fruit he buys. Well, he hasn’t had ME on his boat yet, so I told him I would finish the fruit. After seeing the boat and talking to Felipe for a while, I felt really good about it and handed over my passport. He walked me the hostels where the rest of the crew were staying. I met Matt first, and then the group of friends, Haz (short for Harriet), David, Nicki and Hamish. Everyone was so nice and really excited. The next day we found out that even though Felipe told us he only takes 6 people max, he made an exception to let an older Aussie couple join us because they had a mix up earlier and blah blah, a lot of jibberish later, our boat was now 9 instead of 7. Not a huge deal, but boats have very limited space and now I had to share the fruit with two other people! Sailing trip on hold, on Monday night and my last night in South America, I went out to dinner with my roommate Emily, from Canada, and planned to just have a mellow night. A guy came up to Emily and asked if she wanted to get a group together to go on a party bus. She was super excited about it and after dinner went back to the hostel to round up some people. I was on the fence all throughout dinner, but after some strong convincing by Emily (she just didn’t want to be the only girl and I’m totally not okay with the pressure she put on me to go), I said “what the heck” and decided to go. I probably didn’t actually say “what the heck” out loud; I probably said something way cooler. So, our group was two guys from Croatia, two guys from Slovania, a German, an Aussie, a Brazilian, Emily the Canadian and me, the good ol’ USAer. The party buses were open air, mostly South American participants and a band on board. They gave each row (about 5 or 6 people) a tiny bottle of rum and huge bottle of coke. Well, when we finished the bottle of rum, which wasn’t hard between that many people, we just passed it to the front of the bus and they pass back a new one. Unfortunately, Emily took all the pictures and ended up getting her camera stolen, so I don’t have anything to show for that night L The bus stopped in old town and we hung out on top of the stone wall where there was more musical entertainment, a man with a sloth, a man with a snack and a couple people selling beer from ice chests. What kind of place is this!? I don’t think I mentioned that the ocean is on the other side of the stone wall, so it was really nice being up there at night. The moon was looking almost full which made me even more excited for the sailing trip. Someone asked me how old I was and I said, “well I’m 23 at midnight.” That got everyone going and when we got back on the party bus, one of the Croatians told the band to play happy birthday for me. Oh, what a song, especially when 2 out of 30 or so people know my name. But, I can’t complain, it was a fun night. The bus dropped us off at an outdoor discotec right on the water and we ended up walking back to the hostel via the beach.

Tuesday morning. Happy Birthday to me! I was really eager to get on boat Renegade and after meeting at the harbor we all went to the grocery store to get lunch and stock up on wine and beer. My first tropical storm experience happened while shopping and the streets became rivers in minutes. Felipe was getting the boat ready while we were shopping and when he came back to get us, he saw our overflowing cart and panicked. He did tell us we weren’t allowed to drink during the two sailing days, but I guess Matt misunderstood when Felipe said we can drink in moderation. They had a little war of words in front of the supermarket, with Matt saying he thought it was reasonable to have one beer with dinner and Felipe saying he meant we could drink in moderation once we got to the San Blas Islands and anchored. This was starting off well. We got everything loaded onto the boat and were ready for Renegade Training 101. Felipe showed us how to use the toilet (a LOT harder than it seems), where not to put our things, the shower (hose) off the back of the boat and that we were not allowed to a) take a shower until we got to the islands in two days and b) go below deck if our pinky toe touched the salty sea, told us the boat was non-smoking, but if we absolutely needed a cig then we must sit on the ladder hanging off the back of the boat and lastly, how to put towels down on the couches before we sit on them because it’s too hard for him to wash our body oils out of the cushions if we sit directly on them (oh my god). That was the moment we all realized we signed up for a trip with Captain Insanely Anal About Everything. Oh well, the Aussie couple ended up being really cool and the Brits were a delight. They surprised me with a cake so we had a little celebration before we set sail. The only thing missing was the champagne, but that could wait until Thursday. When Felipe served dinner that night, he followed all the “thank you’s” with, “where’s the captains beer?” Uh, what? Yes, you heard me correctly, after making a fuss about not being about to drink while sailing, he now wanted one of the beers that the guys bought and in return, they were allowed to have one with dinner. After he saw Nicki’s pack of cigarettes, he bummed at least two off of her a day. If you are a smoker and going sailing for 4 days, would you really count on one person having some or just bring your own pack? Baffling. When we got to the islands he saw the Aussie couple’s rum sitting on the table and asked if he could try some. He raved about how wonderful it was and asked for more. He then said, “Thanks, and I don’t have anything to repay you with.” This guy is charging us $400 each, he can afford to go buy his own cigarettes and booze and have as much of it as he wants! Maybe I’m overreacting, but I would never expect a pilot to come down the aisle asking for some of my peanuts and a sip of wine. I’ve actually never even had wine on an airplane and the lack of peanuts these days, that’s a whole separate issue. Anyway, Felipe was really starting to get on my nerves. One night he asked Carrie (the Aussie), if she just used the toilet, when she said no, he replied, “well someone did and it smells like shit down there!” Oh that’s nice Felipe, go call someone out on using the bathroom. That’s what they’re for weirdo. I will end this madness with one last rant. He asked us to clean the bottom of the dingy. Enough said.

The San Blas Islands were incredible. We snorkeled, had lunch, popped the champagne and relaxed on the beach all afternoon. The starfish were enormous, the sand was white, the water was clear turquoise blue and I was all smiles. I have always wanted to go somewhere tropical and that’s exactly how I imagined it. The people occupying the islands are called Kunas. There is one Kuna family per island, except for the main island which is really crowded. Families are sent out to one of the 365 islands for 2 months at a time to guard the coconuts. Since we don’t have islands like that in California, imagine San Francisco as the hub and you and your family are sent out to Nowheresville to live by yourselves for 2 months to protect the poppies and charge people one dollar when they pick one. Very interesting lifestyle, but the Kuna’s obviously don’t need much and they are so nice. The last morning on the boat, we were picked up by the Kuna’s and taken to the main island. It was mostly stick huts, with the occasional concrete building. We dropped our bags at the hotel (someone’s house with a few beds and some hammocks to sleep in), they fed us breakfast and showed us around the island. They said we could take a shower which consisted of this: a faucet filling up a large tub on the ground, and a coconut shell cut in half in order to splash yourself with the water. The toilet consisted of this: a wood shack built over the ocean (it was calm, no crashing waves) and a toilet looking structure also made out of wood. They don’t have plumbing on the island so it was just a hole, straight into the ocean. Lovely..) Everyone was going to stay an extra day on Kuna Island, but I had to get going since I still have to get to Panama City, catch a bus to San Jose and then to Nosara. I guess the group wasn’t ready to say goodbye because after a long indecisive conversation, they all decided to go with me to Panama City. Maybe it was because they were planning a road trip through Panama and couldn’t figure out how much time they needed, but I’ll just tell myself it was the former. So, bye bye Kuna Island and after a 10 minute boat ride to the mainland, we were ready for the supposedly dangerous jeep ride to Panama City. The road is mostly mud, so people either fly, take an 8 hour speed boat ride (yeah, I’ve heard that before) or take these 4 wheel drive jeeps. The Aussie couple, who I never gave names to..sorry, they are Carrie and Clous. Clous is German but they have been living in Australia for so long that he considers himself Australian. Well, I mentioned they were really cool, and I guess they thought the same of us because they wanted to go with us to Panama City. I couldn’t be happier with my sailing trip and the people I met. Anyway, we drove through a river, slid down mud hills, got stuck going up mud hills, spun the tires a lot, but made it to Panama City 4 hours later. I was planning on going to the canal, but we got a late start so we just checked into a hostel, took proper showers and I bought my bus ticket for the next morning. A couple of us walked to the market down the street and on the way back there were a dozen police officers standing snug up against different buildings with hand guns in..hand. The officer across the street from us started waving his hand telling us to get up against the walls. I just wanted to drink my milk, not get caught up in some drug fiasco. We slowly approached the corner and he said it was ok to cross and as we did, another officer brushed past us cocking his shotgun. Whooooa, ok get me back to the hostel! We never did find out what was happening, but when we wanted to go out to dinner an hour later the staff at the hostel said it was perfectly safe since there were so many police in the area. Sure, why not? We had a delightful dinner in a small square and it was the second time I was actually sad to be leaving the people I met. They have requested my presence in London, so that will be a fun reunion in a couple months.

Back to what I love doing best, a 14 hour bus ride to San Jose. Please, no one throw up and no one pee on the floor. This happened on the overnight bus from Bogota to Medellin, but I didn’t mention it because I felt like I complained enough about how it was supposed to be 9 hours and turned into 23. Well, I’ve been pretty positive in the last couple minutes so I thought it was time for some grumbling. Anyway, the bus ride went smoothly. We had to get off at the border, get our bags from under the bus so the drug dog, who is typically a German Shepard but we got a sweet looking Cocker Spaniel, so I wasn’t worried J What? Like you wouldn’t accept $10,000 to smuggle drugs into Costa Rica? PS – for undisclosed reasons, I am extending my vacation. So, other than spending two hours at the border, I made it to San Jose unscathed at 1 o’clock in the morning. I knew there were buses leaving for Nosara and Nicoya at 6am, but they were at different bus terminals. Jason and I decided to meet in Nicoya because he was flying into Liberia and there wasn’t a bus all the way to Nosara (where our Costa Rican party house is located, thanks to mom and pop). I asked a taxi driver to take me to the terminal for Nicoya and he asked me if I had a reservation. I didn’t, so he called and put me on the phone with the guy. He said I couldn’t go to Nicoya at 6 so I had a mini panic attack, but figured I could just go to Liberia and meet Jason at the airport. He said the Liberia terminal was closed. In South America, they are open 24 hours, so this seemed weird to me. I didn’t want to be cruising around with a taxi driver so I told him to just take me to the Nicoya terminal, where we had just talked to the guy over the phone, because maybe the 6am bus was full, but I could catch the 7am or something. He said that was closed to. Um, who were we just talking to then? My Spanish isn’t good enough to argue so I told him to take me to Tranquillo Backpacker’s Hostel because a guy I met from Virginia on the bus said he knew that was a good one. Well I wasn’t expecting any of this, so I didn’t have an address and the taxi driver just told me it’s closed. Is that your answer to everything!? Hostels don’t close. Again, my Spanish is not good enough and since I didn’t have an address, I was pretty much stuck, so I just had him take me to a nearby hotel. A nice woman opened the door and I paid way more than I’m used to, to sleep for 3 hours and wake up at 5am when the bus terminals opened. I asked the woman to call about a bus to Liberia and a bus to Nicoya so I could compare the times. I don’t think she understood, so Liberia it was. I left at 6am, got in around 10:30 and took a taxi to the airport. I talked to a rich, fat man from Texas and a couple from Canada. When the Canadians asked me about Colombia, I was about to say, “it was beautiful, I loved it and want to go back,” but fatty beat me to the punch and said, “really dangerous.” I usually don’t speak up, but I think Colombia just has a really bad reputation. It’s like when I would tell people I went to UCSB, and they would say, “oh, that’s a huge party school isn’t it?” Well, sure, but most colleges are. There are so many “dangerous” places in the world, but I don’t think that means we should avoid Colombia completely because there are dangerous parts of it. I gave my point of view, but his response was, “honey, you don’t know dangerous. You are a prime target and if they want you, they will get you, etc, etc.” I quickly started to dislike him. Go home to your retirement party from your amazing job that made you lots of money and a shitty, narrow outlook on life. So! Jason arrived at 11:30 and it was weird, but really exciting to have a visitor in my home of travel land. We took a bus to Nicoya to stay the night there and then bus to Nosara on Wednesday to get the house. Nicoya wasn’t anything impressive. The town fair was in town so we walked around that and found a corn booth. They had corn on the cob which I obviously like, but they were also making these corn pancake things and wrapping them up with natilla, like a crepe. I’ve never seen or heard of natilla until now, but it was kind of like creamier custard. We decided to go for the corn crepe and it was a good choice. The fair was pretty minimal and we needed water so we walked to the supermarket, thinking it might have more to offer. Boy were we right, check out these bags of cereal! I was in heaven. We were having really good food luck that day because dinner was also great. There was an entire crab on top of my pasta. And the salad we ordered to split was a huge plate of veggies. We ended up back at the fair after dark because we could hear live music. We felt some sprinkles, saw some lightening and within a minute there were massive drops of rain. We stood under one of the tents for a while and realized that no one was going home because they know that these storms only last a little while and then it’s back to the festivities. Well, we had enough fair time, so we decided to go back to the hotel. The next morning we walked to the bus terminal and took a school bus, turned city bus to Nosara over a rocky, dirt road. We kept seeing signs to all the different B&B’s, ours included and at one split in the road, Villa Mango was to the left and the bus went right, so we pulled the cord and got off. We were pretty much in the middle on nowhere, so taxis aren’t exactly a hot commodity. We started walking, and walking, and walking, uphill in the snow both ways, I mean, in the sticky heat, until we got to Villa Mango. We were welcomed by Agnes who drove us to our house. She told us the power was out and would be until late afternoon, but that probably means we will be lucky to see power in the next 24 hours. Jason and I took the monkey trail (really what they call it) down to the ocean, swam, had lunch, went to the market, walked back in the rain, watched the howler monkeys surround our house, got bit my mosquitoes and relaxed on the patio. Mom and dad arrive today and I’m really excited for them to be here. This is a perfect half way mark for my journey :)