Santa Marta

We spent four days in Santa Marta, a city of mixed blessings.

We found a hotel we liked, with both a private balcony and a nearby expanded balcony, a kitchen, and very warm hotel staff. Location: a block from the beach. Price: $18 for the room.

The beach was urban. Every morning, during our pre-breakfast swim, we could watch all kinds of marine activity in the harbor. The last morning we watched a cruise ship slowly "stroll" in. Dramatic! I far prefer an interesting, active beach to one which is supposedly beautiful, but where nothing happens. There was a nearby yacht harbor and a pier under construction (I dove off the rocks, but the pier itself was off limits).

Interesting places abound around Santa Marta. One day we went to Minca, a small village in the hills outside of town, not really on the tourist circuit yet. Sat on the verandah of the newest hostel (bought five months ago by an English couple), enjoying a cup of coffee overlooking the valley below. Walked to a swimming hole out of town, which we had to ourselves! A cold pool next to a waterfall-- we could swim over to the falls and be carried back by the force of the water. Delicious.

The next day we took the bus to Tayrona National Park, hiking along muddy paths and beach to our goal, a famously beautiful beach called Cabo San Juan. Beautiful rock promontories and lookouts, yes. But, no freighters or tugboats to watch. It was us and everyone else. Miami Beach. The previous day, sharing a cab with three young women from Argentina, they had said we had to see Cabo San Juan, we couldn't miss it! But we know spectacular beaches all up and down the California coast, including beaches in Humboldt, so maybe I'm spoilt.

Anyway, as I was saying, Santa Marta was a mixed blessing. It's a very gritty city. packed with street vendors, usually mobile, walking or wheeling around selling liquids, spotty fruit (sorry, but the mandarins in the supermarket are fresher), pastries, etc. I see all this street selling as a sign of greater poverty in this part of Colombia, but Barry thinks they must be making a living or they wouldn't be doing it. The city is also noticeably dirtier than the interior part of the country where we've been, with more litter and ramshackle housing.

I also had trouble with restaurants. When I travel I look forward to the evening meal as a time to relax and talk about the day. But the music was so loud in all the restaurants we went to that it was an effort to keep up conversation. The last day I made rice and veggies in the hotel kitchen and we ate up on the terrace.

People in the interior did alert us that the Caribbean is a very distinct part of Colombia, and to be careful of theft. I read an article in a news magazine saying that the leaders of the Caribbean counties wanted much more autonomy and power in Bogota. Quebec and the Basques were cited as models. I asked our hotel staff about an independence movement but they had never heard of it!

I told Barry that I was ready to stop for awhile, but Santa Marta didn't feel like the right place. I'm not sure anywhere on the Caribbean is the right place, just because of the heat and humidity. But we can't leave this area without going to Cartagena, said to be the most beautiful city in the Americas.

Onwards to Cartagena de las Indias, then (the West Indies, it means).