A Taste Of The Caribbean

Cartagena, the last city on the South American leg of my overland adventure, is a hot, sweaty humdrum of life by the sea. It also happened to be the signal that we were now leaving the relative coolness of the Pacific coast and genuine coldness on the spine of the Andes, which had encompassed so much of my trip from Southern Argentina upwards.

We arrived on our air conditioned bus, stepping out into an early morning oven, and it was only 10am! We flagged a pickup truck taxi shoving the bags, Alex and myself into the back, and the girls (Emily and an Israeli) into the front. As we passed through the midmorning traffic to our hostel Alex and I sprayed each other with water from a bag (it tends to come in bags in Columbia) in the hope of some slight respite from the heat.

After dumping our worldly goods (not including my walking boots which I stupidly left in Medellin) by mistake, a group of us (Alex, myself and some other dudes) went out for a coffee and wander in the old town, while Em popped off for a swim in the sea. The old town was a gorgeous mix of rugged, run down and unarguably charming colonial buildings which looked like they had come off the set of Pirates of the Caribbean. We walked to the wall, partially crumbling and clad with rusty cannons looking out onto the water, for a little breeze, getting our first glimpse of the Caribbean Sea that Emily and I would soon be sailing to Panama on.

Five or so days passed within the still, sweaty walls of Cartagena preparing for our sea voyage to Panama. After a little wrangling and a few dummies being thrown from the proverbial pram by the ubiquitously insane sea captains, we chartered a 10 man sailing boat with a Bavarian lunatic captain at the helm. We met the 6 other passengers, who all seemed great, and went through the usual process of changing money, sorting out travel bags and storage bags required before leaving the shores of South America.

This also meant saying goodbye to Alex, who had pretty much accompanied us throughout Columbia and was an awesome travel buddy. He was to head off to Tyrona National Park to the East a few days before we sailed North-West-(ish), and would be sorely missed by us both. But thus is the way with travelling and as time goes by people leaving becomes an acceptable norm on the road. Columbia too would be sorely missed after flying up the rankings of 'best country so far', which in South America was to be the final addition. The beautiful landscape, overwhelmingly friendly people and generally raw nature of travelling there had, in itself, been simply wonderful and unforgettable. The following day would hark the end of one adventure and the start of another: the small but adventure-packed Central America beckoned across the warm waters of the Caribbean Sea.