A month or two into this trip, I stopped feeling like a "guest" in this country and started feeling like a resident. Not just because I have a cedula (official Colombia ID issued by the government), not just because I have a house to go home to every day, and not just because I know the local slangs. Colombia has a way of stealing a piece of your heart and making you want to stay forever. For that reason, it was with a great sense of pride and belonging that I showed my friend Stephani (currently studying abroad in Brazil) around "my" beautiful country.
I directed her to take a taxi to the best public wifi I knew of, and then met her there for a big, dramatic reunion hug drenched in endless gringa-lovin'. It drew the attention of many, but by now, we're used to it. We finished off that lovely Friday afternoon with a monstrous 2.5 hour nap, our version of preparing for the big weekend ahead. We then made a necessary trip to Crepes & Waffles, the second aspect of our preparedness.
I directed her to take a taxi to the best public wifi I knew of, and then met her there for a big, dramatic reunion hug drenched in endless gringa-lovin'. It drew the attention of many, but by now, we're used to it. We finished off that lovely Friday afternoon with a monstrous 2.5 hour nap, our version of preparing for the big weekend ahead. We then made a necessary trip to Crepes & Waffles, the second aspect of our preparedness.
We filled up on carbs and ensured a sugar rush, but used it wisely dancing the night away at a famous Barranquilla nightclub: Trucupey. It was just 5 of us, but we had a blast.
We slept a full 8 hours, exactly what we planned not to do, and then taxied to the bus station to catch a $9 bus to Cartagena. We lived off vanilla wafers and room temperature water until we could finally check in at our hostel and get some real food. We stayed at a place called "El Viajero" which means "The Traveler". The theme of the hostel was quite clever, everything depicting the difference between tourists and true travelers.
Being travelers and not tourists, we skipped the McDonalds and went right for the 6mil Plato del Día (plate of the day). It always comes with an enormous portion of meat, rice, salad, lentils, and some form of natural juice. In US dollars, that's about a $2.41 homemade meal that you can buy any day, any time. Something I'll miss? Absolutely.
We finished our meal, paid our dues, and headed back to the hostel with intentions of making two things: (1) friends, and (2) plans. Luckily, a classmate of Stephani's had arrived a few hours ahead of us and already made both. We hit the town on foot with the company of a super cool Brazilian girl with partly purple hair, a New Yorker who bought a one way ticket to Colombia, and a French guy who looked oddly familiar. I knew that I knew him from somewhere, so I spent a bit of time wracking my brain. I asked him curiously "Have you been to Medellin recently?" Sure enough, he'd been there a week ago, staying in the same hostel as I did during Semana Santa. As I was leaving, he was coming. And just when I thought "what a small world!" in through the door walked the first friend I'd made during Semana Santa, the girl who lives on the boat (discussed in the last post). The world is huge, but the world of travel is incredibly, incredibly small.
With our new friends in hand, we hit the city. We went back to a lot of the places I'd already been, but it was cool coming back as much less of a tourist and much more of seasoned veteran. First, we went back to the Castillo de San Felipe and did an obligatory photo shoot.
We finished our meal, paid our dues, and headed back to the hostel with intentions of making two things: (1) friends, and (2) plans. Luckily, a classmate of Stephani's had arrived a few hours ahead of us and already made both. We hit the town on foot with the company of a super cool Brazilian girl with partly purple hair, a New Yorker who bought a one way ticket to Colombia, and a French guy who looked oddly familiar. I knew that I knew him from somewhere, so I spent a bit of time wracking my brain. I asked him curiously "Have you been to Medellin recently?" Sure enough, he'd been there a week ago, staying in the same hostel as I did during Semana Santa. As I was leaving, he was coming. And just when I thought "what a small world!" in through the door walked the first friend I'd made during Semana Santa, the girl who lives on the boat (discussed in the last post). The world is huge, but the world of travel is incredibly, incredibly small.
With our new friends in hand, we hit the city. We went back to a lot of the places I'd already been, but it was cool coming back as much less of a tourist and much more of seasoned veteran. First, we went back to the Castillo de San Felipe and did an obligatory photo shoot.
We got in just as the site was closing. I was dying to take a picture with the giant flag because I missed the opportunity last time I was in town. Our new French friend suggested we wait 5 minutes and go up top first. I was opposed to the idea because I wanted this picture so badly, but decided to be flexible. When we went back down, we couldn't find the flag. I thought I was going crazy, but instead, they lowered the flag because the day was finished. In the spirit of living in the moment and having great stories to tell, we decided to take a great picture with the flag pole in the absence of the flag.
That night we had lots of time and no plans. We took to the streets with the aforementioned crew along with two new additions; a well-endowed German woman and "mentally mature, but socially immature, and that's how I like it" Indian dude with a baseball style T-shirt that had Family Guy's Stewie on the front and some ridiculously arrogant hashtags on the back. He spoke no Spanish, but utilized the very common "Add an O at the end of everything" approach. As a team, we strolled through Cartagena, and eventually found ourselves at a rooftop club. It closed at 6am and we planned to stay, but the unplugging of the strobe lights and deafening of the straight-Colombian soundtracks sent us packing at an unimpressive 4:30am.
Somehow we steered clear of feeling like mummies the next morning and were able to wake up and seize the day. We hadn't booked spots on the hostel trip to Playa Blanca, so we did it our own way: Take a 120mil cab there, get dropped off in the woods somewhere close to the ocean, and "follow our instincts" to the beach. Fortunately, we made it, although we didn't have any plans as to how to get home. Like kids in a candy store, we spent the day at this gorgeous beach with bright blue waters and fine white sand, people from every continent, juices imported from heaven, and $10/night hammocks if you just can't convince yourself to leave. One by one, our travel buddies were dropping, deciding to stay the night. I'd only packed a day bag and had to head back to Barranquilla the next morning, so staying was not an option for me. Stephani and her friend Lizzy decided we'd find a way home as a team of three at some point later that night. I had a feeling an adventure would be soon on its way.
That night we had lots of time and no plans. We took to the streets with the aforementioned crew along with two new additions; a well-endowed German woman and "mentally mature, but socially immature, and that's how I like it" Indian dude with a baseball style T-shirt that had Family Guy's Stewie on the front and some ridiculously arrogant hashtags on the back. He spoke no Spanish, but utilized the very common "Add an O at the end of everything" approach. As a team, we strolled through Cartagena, and eventually found ourselves at a rooftop club. It closed at 6am and we planned to stay, but the unplugging of the strobe lights and deafening of the straight-Colombian soundtracks sent us packing at an unimpressive 4:30am.
Somehow we steered clear of feeling like mummies the next morning and were able to wake up and seize the day. We hadn't booked spots on the hostel trip to Playa Blanca, so we did it our own way: Take a 120mil cab there, get dropped off in the woods somewhere close to the ocean, and "follow our instincts" to the beach. Fortunately, we made it, although we didn't have any plans as to how to get home. Like kids in a candy store, we spent the day at this gorgeous beach with bright blue waters and fine white sand, people from every continent, juices imported from heaven, and $10/night hammocks if you just can't convince yourself to leave. One by one, our travel buddies were dropping, deciding to stay the night. I'd only packed a day bag and had to head back to Barranquilla the next morning, so staying was not an option for me. Stephani and her friend Lizzy decided we'd find a way home as a team of three at some point later that night. I had a feeling an adventure would be soon on its way.
After soaking up the sun, getting covered in sand, and running away from some vicious crabs, we decided it may be time to come up with a plan. Stephani, fluent in Spanish, discussed our options with one of the hostel workers. She reported back to us, excitedly, that we'd be taking Jet Skis at sunset across the ocean back to Cartagena. We were thrilled! Unfortunately, lost in translation somewhere, Jet Ski's actually meant sketchy old motorcycles, and sunset meant 1.5 hours after the sun went down. To say the least, I prayed the entire 40 minute ride home, especially when they decided to be out of gas in the middle of a sketchy town, ask us to pay them there, and then leave us. We did as we were told many times and acted completely confident with the situation, as if we lived there. We quickly got a cab and made it home to our hostel in one piece.
Just as we were walking down the street, 3 dudes came up to us and asked in blatant New Yorker English if we knew of any good places to eat. We were sandy, sweaty, and shaken up from the motorcycle ride, but still in good enough condition to make new friends and enjoy a nice meal with them.
Just as we were walking down the street, 3 dudes came up to us and asked in blatant New Yorker English if we knew of any good places to eat. We were sandy, sweaty, and shaken up from the motorcycle ride, but still in good enough condition to make new friends and enjoy a nice meal with them.
We ended up, through much deliberation, at a nearby pizza parlor. We sat girl boy girl boy to "ensure the best possible relationship formation" and had a wonderful time. We went home, showered up, and planned our Sunday nightclub search party. We did find one, and stayed until close at 3 am, left and went to another that was open until 6am. Left around 4:30am for a nice chill session on the stairs in the center of town. Talked about life, love, and the future of our generation, then returned to our own respectful hostels.
Woke up the next morning, took some last minute photos with friends (below, my Brazilian friend) and caught the bus back to Barranquilla just in time to make it to my Spanish class. Moral of the story - find space for mini-adventures in your life. Go on weekend trips, make new friends, and be a "yes" person. Think "Why not?" instead of "Why?" and do things that give you a story to tell. Be a tourist in your own city and do whatever you have to do to do something different! For once! I'm loving my adventure-packed time abroad and don't think I'll stop the cycle when I go home!
Woke up the next morning, took some last minute photos with friends (below, my Brazilian friend) and caught the bus back to Barranquilla just in time to make it to my Spanish class. Moral of the story - find space for mini-adventures in your life. Go on weekend trips, make new friends, and be a "yes" person. Think "Why not?" instead of "Why?" and do things that give you a story to tell. Be a tourist in your own city and do whatever you have to do to do something different! For once! I'm loving my adventure-packed time abroad and don't think I'll stop the cycle when I go home!