We arrived in calm waters to a tranquil bay with much fewer people around. As we awkwardly disembarked into the shallows, we were instructed to rendezvous back at the same spot at 4pm to begin the return journey.

I walked along the beach until I found a fallen tree to perch myself upon and remove my flip-flops, replacing them with the walking boots I had tied to the back of my rucksack. Lifting myself up, I took a conservative swig of water and entered the thick jungle that stood hauntingly behind the beach like some timeless and mystical realm of unknown wonders.

Continue reading “A Boat Trip, Part II – Tayrona, Colombia” →

Today has been a long and strenuous day.

I wake up at quarter-to-six as I have organised to go over to Tayrona National Park by bus at seven. Having already coughed up the cash, I am then told that there is no space on the bus. At least I think I am. I am told something anyway, and soon find myself on the back of a moped, hurtling down towards the shoreline. I am going to go by boat, and for only 10,000COP (£2.60) extra.

There is a large group of us heading to Tayrona, all of them but myself Colombian or of some other Hispanic nationality. After observing some gigantic pelicans bothering the fishermen on the beach, we are ushered onto a small boat and shortly thereafter begin pulling out of the calm bay.

Continue reading “A Boat Trip, Part I – Tayrona, Colombia” →

It has been over twelve hours since I gave one of the owners of my hostel a bag of my laundry to wash. If they have lost or sold the contents of the laundry bag, I will not be pleased, as all of my underwear and a pair of my favourite Pringle socks are in there.

Continue reading “Day Six – Taganga, Colombia” →

I woke up to the sound of the Canadian leaving the room, and felt inclined to ask him why he had a harpoon gun nestled under his arm. He was hunting parrot fish. I wonder how long it will take me to come across somebody with a harpoon gun who isn’t hunting parrot fish. Based on my primary analysis of this town, I doubt it’ll be too long. There is almost certainly a good reason why the only ATM in this pit is right next door to the police station, and why all of the police officers here wear body armour, designed, I assume, to withstand harpoons.

Continue reading “Day Five – Taganga, Colombia” →

I don’t really want to be in South America. In fact, I have very little desire to be in South America at all. Nor do I have any real desire to “find myself”, for I already know where I am; in South America, where I don’t really want to be.

A dodgy young chap tried to rob and possibly rape me today, offering me a cigarette which was probably laced with something sinister. I politely declined and he pointed me to a good cafe. Perhaps I will offer him a cigarette tomorrow and see how he likes it.

Had the squirts.

I left Cartagena, that glimmering jewel of the Caribbean, for the mountainous haemorrhoid of Taganga via a private transfer company.

Continue reading “Day Four – Taganga, Colombia” →

I began fearing for my life within seconds of stepping onto Colombian soil, when approached by a rough-looking local who offered to give me a lift from the airport to my hotel. After quietly assessing him from behind a cigarette, I decided he was probably OK, perhaps even trustworthy. He was an unregistered cab-driver, and led me to a beaten down, decades-old saloon car.

Continue reading “Day One – Cartagena, Colombia” →