Day 441: Our last day on Playa Blanca

We’ve been relatively lucky throughout this trip. No serious health issues (aside from stomach bugs in India, Andrew’s leg infection in Mozambique, and my reaction(s) to malaria meds in Uganda). No crazy transportation malfunctions (not counting our bus accident in Tanzania and losing our luggage for a week in Turkey). No wild robbery stories (except someone lifting my Polaroid camera in Nepal and someone taking Andrew’s camera that was forgotten in a hotel room in Prague). You may be wondering what’s wrong with me, for thinking we were lucky. But all of our hiccoughs along the way seemed trivial compared to stories we heard from friends, or friends of friends, or even what I envisioned happening when I was feeling particularly nervous.

And then, we get on a speedboat this afternoon to go back to Cartagena, and I find myself thinking This is it… This is when our boat falls apart and we’re stranded in the water, bleeding and sharks come to get us while our passports sink to the bottom and even if we are rescued, we miss our plane and then can’t apply for passports because all of our identification is at the bottom of the Caribbean… Because I’m pretty sure it was our “captain’s” first time driving a boat, and I’m pretty sure we were going entirely too fast. Either that, or he didn’t know how to drive a boat, because it was scary. I even asked Andrew where our passports were and then contemplated securing a life-jacket around the one backpack just in case… When we magically arrived back at the dock in Cartagena, we could hear passengers on other boats clapping and thanking their captain for their safe arrival. Everyone on our boat gave a meek “gracias” and scrambled off the boat as fast as they could. Or maybe that was just me… Either way, I was grateful for our arrival.

Day 440: Playa Blanca

Ok, so the cabana wasn’t as comfortable as we would have liked (even with the electricity upgrade) but the view was unbeatable. And, whatever sleep we lacked at night, we totally made up for in the afternoon. We relocated to beach chairs and an umbrella at the bottom of the ladder (up to our cabana) and sat or slept or read or swam for the rest of the afternoon.

After being on the move for fifteen months, a couple days like this at the end of our trip is beyond necessary. If you’re not a fan of fresh fish and coconut rice, Playa Blanca probably isn’t for you. Luckily, I couldn’t get enough of it. For dinner, we splurged on a lobster! Life. is. good.

Day 434: Getting into Tayrona National Park

Tayrona National Park is one of the ‘must-see’s’ of Northern Colombia. Everyone we met who was traveling from North to South (opposite of how we were traveling) raved about the park. From the start, we had plans on visiting and spending a couple of nights in the park. It’s along the Caribbean Coast, about thirty or so kilometers from Santa Marta (close to where we were staying in El Rodadero). Tayrona National Park prohibits cars after a certain point and you can get in and out of the park by foot, by horseback, or by boat. We heard trekking in was beautiful (lots of flora and fauna) so we opted to do that. Had we known the trek in would be as muddy and difficult (thanks to the previous few days of rain) we probably would have gone in on horseback. However, who can complain at the end of the day, when you realize this is what you trekked in for:

In Tayrona, there are three main oceanfront options to stay at. Arrecifes is the first. We were told it’s nicer (and pricier) but you can’t swim at the beach there (due to the deadly riptides). La Piscina is a small swimming cove in between without sleeping options. And El Cabo is where we were headed. El Cabo provides hammocks for rent, a campground, somewhat functioning bathroom facilities, and a restaurant with better dinner options than breakfast options. (If you’re going- bring your own cereal!) The trek wasn’t difficult at first. It was hot. and very, very humid. But other than that, not exactly hard.

Once we could see the ocean, our spirits were lifted and we felt like we were almost there! But, the trail then wove in and out. And little did we know, we still had a ways to go. Sometimes we’d be walking along the water, other times we would be in a palm grove like the one below. It began getting muddier and muddier the longer we walked.

And then, it got real muddy, and real hard. I don’t mind getting dirty, at all. I actually kinda love it. When I’m expecting it. The problem with our muddy trek in today, was that we weren’t anticipating it being hard or dirty at all. So, when our feet were sticking in inches of mud and we were slipping down small ravines, I wasn’t the happiest of campers.

Once I took off my shoes, it became a little easier to skip through the muddy ravine. The only drawback was that I couldn’t decipher what was mud, and what was horse poop. As soon as we got to El Cabo, we headed straight for the water.

The beachfront was beautiful, stunning really, but the water was full of natural debris. I think, because of the rain. We stayed in until we figured we should check in and then rented out two hammocks for the night. After we got settled and ready for bed before night fell, we walked around before dinner. Stunning. The whole area was as picturesque as everyone said it would be. Despite quite a few people camping or renting out hammocks, it was all very calm and relaxing. After our walk, we took naps (or read) in our hammocks and then enjoyed a fish dinner before tucking into our hammocks for the night. They were pretty wide and long, so I found mine super comfortable. They were strung up pretty close to each other though, so whenever my neighbor or myself moved, we would often bump into each other. And then, in the middle of the night it began to rain… and then pour… again. Thankfully, we stayed dry all through the night.

Day 406: Canoa to Quito

This trip is a constant state of change and adjustment. We plan to travel during the day, and then we find out it’s better to travel at night (or vice versa). We get our hopes up to stay at one guesthouse, and then we find out it’s booked. We show up at a museum only to find out it’s closed. It’s never-ending. Today, we had originally planned on leaving from Canoa in the morning and arriving in Quito at night. And then we found out there wasn’t a bus from Canoa in the morning. We hung out at Sundown for one last afternoon before we packed everything up for another overnight, this time from Canoa to Quito.

Day 405: Sundown has the best sunsets

I’m much more of a sunset kinda girl than I am a sunrise. We’ve seen a few of these beauties from our room, but tonight, we all took the time to walk down to the beach and soak it up together. It was beautiful. There’s something really magical about being able to do or watch something extraordinary with a group of only days prior were strangers. We all may have just met, but it rarely feels that way after connecting over a fun activity or a beautiful view. It’s one of my favorite things about this trip. The constant reminder that we’re all connected, and that there probably is no such thing as a “stranger” after all.

Day 399: a room with a view in Canoa

You know what’s nice? Waking up in a room with a view in Canoa, and being able to walk out of your door to said view (above). We joined some new friends for breakfast, met our newest Spanish teachers, and got to work. This time around, Andrew and I were learning one-on-one with different teachers on the beach. It’s my first time learning a language like this, that is, if you don’t count my failed attempts to study Korean with friends in coffee shops… I was a bit apprehensive about it, but Luis (my teacher for the week) was nice, and the first day mostly felt like a big review of my week in Cusco. Sundown Inn provides (bootlegged photocopied) books that I was pretty satisfied with from the start. We spent most of the afternoon studying, Andrew in our room, and me in the hammock outside bundled up in the yak wool scarf. 

Day 395: La Rinconada, La Entrada + Montañita

As much as I love Olón, we decided to spend the day checking out neighboring towns to the north and south along the coast. We stood out on the main road, flagged a passing bus down, hopped on and headed to La Rinconada first, then La Entrada, and then passed back through Olón to have dinner in Montañita.

First stop: La Rinconada. Our guesthouse provided a lovely little write-up about what to do around Olón. It mentioned a lovely restaurant with a view in La Rinconada. It didn’t mention that to get to the lovely view you had to walk a couple kilometers from the main “highway” to the coast. It also didn’t mention that the restaurant might be closed, as it was when we visited.

Second stop: La Entrada. The bakery in this little town more than made up for the misadventure in La Rinconada. We quickly discovered the bakery’s specialty was cheesecake. Different flavored cheesecakes. We got one slice of strawberry and one slice of oreo. I’m pretty sure if there was a competition with The Cheesecake Factory, well, it would be a pretty tough call.

Third stop: Montañita. It was like we entered a completely different country. There were people everywhere. Food and souvenir stalls lined the streets. And it was clear that the longer we were there, the more the town was gearing up for an active nightlife. A much more active nightlife than the one in Olón. We had a drink, had dinner, and then headed home to the very quiet streets of Olón.

Day 394: Olón

Arriving in Olón and walking down dusty streets where children were playing, women sat behind tiny corner store counters, and men did construction work was (after yesterday) quite simply, lovely. Olón is so tiny that when searching for it online, only a handful of guesthouses appear in the results. Montañita is it’s more popular southern neighbor famous for surfing. In other words, it’s much more touristy and is now known for a much louder nightlife than little Olón has to offer. I was much happier with our quiet little town, and our oceanfront view complete with a hammock outside of our room.

We walked down the beach and then back through town, which didn’t take long. Most of the restaurants on the beach were closed, and it was just as windy and even cooler than it was in Mancora, Peru a few days ago. (Perfect weather however for snuggling up under my yak wool scarf in the hammock for awhile.)

We found a bakery that served up some cookies that were possibly the closest to homemade chocolate chip that I’ve had since this trip started. We sat in a park where a few teenagers practiced break-dancing and then wandered back through the quiet streets towards our guesthouse.

Day 392: One last day in Mancora

Ready for us to go yet? Tired of Mancora? While I wasn’t tired of the freshly pressed strawberry juice, and the warm afternoon sunshine, I was starting to get a little itchy to go myself. As much as I have enjoyed Peru, I am looking forward to seeing and experiencing a different, new country. We spent our last day lounging by the pool. I occasionally ducked back into our room to see if pictures and videos had any success uploading to the internet. (I didn’t really.) We got one last ceviche (Peruvian style that is) and one last order of calamari before we packed everything up to catch our bus across the border into Ecuador in the morning.

Day 391: More of Mancora

More of Mancora… means more of us doing not a whole lot in Mancora. I give you the other side of the street. The one street that runs through town. Technically, I guess, you could say there are a couple more that connect the main street to the beach… but they aren’t big, sometimes they aren’t paved, and most of the time cars are not allowed on these little streets leading to the beach! The beach was super windy, again, which was perfect for the kite-surfers flying across the water. Unfortunately, we’re not certified (yet) to kite-surf, so we stuck by the pool falling asleep in lounge chairs or extra wide hammocks if the sun wasn’t too terribly strong

Day 390: Mancora

There’s not a whole lot to do in Mancora. There’s our hostel with a pool. The beach. A handful of restaurants and souvenir shops. And that’s about it. Somedays I find myself recording “a day in a minute” for the sake of the project, not exactly for the sake of anyone who might be following along. This is one of those days. We slept in late. We lounged by the pool (it was less windy than the beach). We walked through town for fresh fruit juice (strawberry is my favorite here). We were lazy, and it was awesome. I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before, but what might be boring to you is probably awesome to us because sometimes we’re simply in need of a couple of days like this.

Day 389: Hello Pacific!

The latest overnight bus landed us in Mancora, a small beach town in Northern Peru this morning. Neither of us slept on the bus very well and were exhausted when we arrived around six in the morning. We slept for most of the day, except the hour or so we went to the beach to have a late lunch. It’s surprisingly cool on the beach and more windy than we would have liked, but it was nice to see the ocean again, especially considering that this time it’s the Pacific!

Day 308: Mondays are the worst. Unless…

It’s rather difficult to stay in a ‘Ten Month Travel Slump’ when this is what your Monday morning not only looks like, but involves before getting on a bus to jump countries in the afternoon. Mondays are the worst. Unless you’re on a ‘Round the World’ trip… and then, sometimes, Mondays are the best! We spent part of our early afternoon on this pebble beach inside a little cove on the outskirts of Dubrovnik’s Old Town. The rocks were hot. The water was not. And it was a little slice of heaven, just as beautiful as is in the picture.

It’s my humble opinion that Croatia has the prettiest water. Andrew could not stop talking about how pretty the water was between the islands in Greece. It is, also pretty. But Croatia is where the water is at. Just look at it!

The beach wasn’t too crowded, although when we left (towards 2ish) more and more people were arriving. My favorite part was watching everyone run across the too-hot-for-bare-feet rocks to get to the water. Only the water was quite cold, so everyone would stop suddenly, and let their bodies adjust to the temperature change, deciding which was worse: getting in the cold water or walking back across the hot beach to their towel or chair.

Young ones climbed up the bluffs and jumped into the sea, sometimes from quite high, sometimes making me squirm hoping they would jump far enough away from the cliffs. Needing to get going so we would make our bus into Bosnia and Herzegovina, we tore ourselves away from the beach as best we could. I have to admit, having had our sunscreen taken from us in Crete’s Airport (we forgot to put it in our checked luggage) it made leaving the burning sun a little easier. I took one last picture to remind myself what a ‘typical (even though on this trip, there really is no such thing) Monday’ on the road was like.

And then, a few hours later we were greeted like we were old friends by one of the sweetest hostel owners we have met so far. We felt so bad we were a little over an hour late arriving in Mostar, but Taso shrugged and told us not to worry. He informed us of the buses having GPS and he wasn’t waiting long. He whisked us off to his guesthouse, which really felt more like his house (in a really great way, not like staying in ‘the lady’s’ actual house in Dubrovnik). We had juice and cookies and he told us all about the town. We chatted like we were old friends, and I smiled at how great it is when you get to meet people for the first time and your interaction is so pleasant.

Taso talked about the old bridge that is the city’s main attraction. It was originally commissioned by Sultan Sulaiman the Magnificent in 1557, and survived all the way up until the war in 1993, when the bridge was bombed and destroyed. It has since been rebuilt and declared an UNESCO World Heritage site. (You can read more about the bridge here, if you’re interested)

I knew a little about this bridge (mostly relating to the war) before our arrival. I knew nothing about the bridge jumping that has become a rite of passage for the men (and some brave women) of the town. Taso told us that at just 25 meters above the water below, men would jump from the bridge, and women would give the man they liked a wreath of flowers afterwards, to signal wich one they liked the most. I asked if Taso had jumped off and he laughed, saying that he was too old to do it now. When he was younger, there was a wooden bridge in place of the older one that was bombed. He jumped off of that, but he suggested it wasn’t as high as the original (or current) bridge.

We walked through town to get an early dinner, above are some of the views of both sides of Mostar from the bridge. Beautiful, right?

Day 275: The Red Beach on Santorini

The Red Beach on Santorini is definitely a sight to see, walk along, or camp out for a little while. We drove our motorbike there in the morning and while we agreed, the beach itself isn’t exactly red… The volcanic red rock cliffs behind the beach put it in the running for most impressive beach I’ve ever been on. The water is so blue as well that it really is quite striking to see against the red rocks.

I was crazy about these random doors in the cliffs. So mysterious. I mean, who put them there, and when were they put there? Is there a house behind those doors? A secret passage leading to a magical land? Why wasn’t everyone else taking pictures of the doors and wondering what their purpose was?

We walked the length of the beach. We sat and watched the waves break and people passing by. Andrew rattled off a list of our friends, and then asked me which one I would eat first if the situation became dire. I’m not allowed to divulge who he named. I am allowed to divulge that I opted for one of the dudes, you know, because there’s probably more meat on their bones and maybe we could survive longer. These are the conversations we have after traveling together for as long as we have.

The water was cold. Too cold for me to get in further than my ankles. I had more fun bouncing around on the seaweed on the beach than I did in the water anyway. Some of the beach was sandy, a dark almost black sand like we have on our end of the island on Perissa. Some of the beach had smooth red rocks and when the tide would go far enough out, you could hear this little waterfall of rocks falling back into the sea that was quite beautiful to listen to.

Day 273: Perissa, Santorini

We haven’t had many “We’re not going to do anything today” kinda days on this trip. We had a few in Turkey, but only one of them was by choice (the others due to the week we spent waiting for Andrew’s bag). These days are the most fun to have when we’re staying at a hotel with a pool, and even if we don’t take a dip in the pool, we can at least sit by it all day long. Which is pretty much exactly what we did in Perissa, on the southern side of Santorini. That is, until we got hungry, and went for a walk in search of good Greek food.

Day 217: Tofo

Our day on the beach in Tofo was mostly spent making small talk with the vendors trying to sell bracelets and fresh fish. This particular vendor really (REALLY) wanted one of our carabiners on our backpacks. We tried to explain that we needed them, and all of our extras (which we really did have at one point) were stolen when we checked our other backpacks. He insisted that he could have just taken them from us, but he didn’t. He asked us first. We agreed that was polite of him, and thanked him for not stealing, but insisted we needed them and couldn’t give him one. Eventually, I took his picture and printed one off to give him instead. It was only then that he realized we really weren’t going to give him a carabiner.

Another favorite moment of the day: giving in to getting a massage from a woman who walked up to us on our front porch. Her opening line involved miming how small my chest was (fingers an inch apart) and how big hers was (juggling one breast with her hand). I admired her spirit and agreed to a half hour massage. She asked for a drink of my Fanta and then massaged my shoulders for five minutes before announcing she was finished. You can ask Andrew, I’m not even exaggerating. Five minutes. I KNEW I should have gotten Andrew’s watch or his phone to set the timer. She had twelve children. I’m guessing she needed a sip of Fanta and a hot minute off of her feet more than I needed a longer massage. I should have probably offered to give her a massage now that I think about it…

Later that night, Andrew and I stopped to buy a few bottles of beer from the women sitting off the side of the road. One of the women must have just been feeding one of her children, for one breast was hanging out of her dress. I wasn’t even phased. We’ve been in Africa long enough to not think this to be strange. Andrew didn’t even notice until one of her friends told her in Portugese to put her boob away. Embarrassment flashed across her face for a brief second, until she realized Andrew wasn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Day 215: Bazaruto Archipelago

We had planned on going on a boat trip to the Bazaruto Archipelago since we set foot in Mozambique. It wasn’t doing our budget any favors, but we had to do it. We decided to snorkel and joined a group going to Magaruque Island for the afternoon. I should have gotten video footage of Andrew walking along the beach in his fins, with his snorkel mask down. He was hamming it up, much to my delight and probably much to the curiosity of others in our group who might not have realized he was being silly on purpose. We had to climb over a significant amount of coral before diving into the water. We’ve seen more fish elsewhere, and the current was quite strong, but it was a lovely afternoon snorkeling down the coast and then walking back on the white sand beach. We all relaxed in and out of the sun before lunch, took turns walking down the beach, and then climbed aboard the boat to make our way back to the mainland.

Day 207: The other side of Ilha

Ilha is a longer, skinny island. You could walk to the other side of Ilha from where we were staying fairly quickly, but then once you turned up or down the beach, it could turn into a longer journey. We decided to walk down along the beach to an old church. The tide was out again and a handful of people were out collecting seaweed or possibly some shellfish.

On our way back, I was stopped to take a few pictures. We think word got out on the island about me, and my camera. It probably didn’t help that I wore the same dress everyday. I stopped to take a picture of him and his friend. Then he saw his brother and wanted one with him. Then he wanted one with me. I didn’t even have my Polaroid with me, he just really wanted his picture taken and enjoyed looking at them on the LCD screen after.

Aside from our place being such a haven after the rough week, I was obsessed with the lighting at night. It was just so atmospheric! Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night felt almost romantic with the light gently bouncing around the tiles. I posted those pictures on Instagram awhile back. I’m hoping that I can find lamps similar to those at the Patio. I’ve also decided that our house in America needs to have its own hanging canoe. If our budget still wasn’t higher than we want it to be and I didn’t have such issues with shipping (especially from Africa) I’m sure I could strike up a deal with a local fisherman for an old, leaky, discarded dugout canoe! Next time… or perhaps I can find one stateside…

Day 203: Pemba

We woke up not nearly as rested as we wanted to be, but then we were assured the buffet breakfast was included and we thought ok… maaaybe Russell’s Place isn’t so bad… Turned out, “included” meant that Yes, they could include it in our bill. Wasn’t that sweet of them? Andrew held his ground and we didn’t end up paying for the breakfast that almost (but not quite) made up for the smell of garbage all night.

We walked down to the beach, but it was too hot to stay out in the sun, let alone swim, so we played cards at a café there, and made our way back when the sun started going down. We had planned on staying at the lodge until two in the morning, but that was before we discovered Russell’s Place’s recommended taxi driver was going to charge us nearly four times the amount we paid during the day to drive us to the station at night. When one of the managers suggested we leave around eleven and go home with the wait-staff, we were told it would be free. We showed up to the bus “station” and crawled in between two other young men who were trying to sleep on the tarp covering the concrete stoop.

Again, around two thirty, we were able to board the bus before driving around town for two hours collecting passengers until it was over capacity and there was a sufficient amount of people standing in the aisle.

Day 195 One more day on Kendwa

Again, we did a whole lot of nothing with our one more day on Kendwa beach. That is, after it rained. While it rained, I edited photos and transferred video and a whole lot of editing for when I would have the internet at my disposal again. The interesting thing about Africa- and Tanzania especially- is that the internet is available. Even on Zanzibar, and specifically on Kendwa Beach. But it’s only available to those who want to pay (a lot) to use it. And then you pay a lot to use it (as I did) and it isn’t good for anything other than emailing and updating your Facebook status. This irked me. As much as I hate being behind on the blog, I hate paying for not even slightly mediocre internet (I’m looking at YOU Kendwa Rocks.) even more.

We waited out the rain, and then resumed lounging around under umbrellas until one last dinner with Cristina and Asha.