Santa Marta, Colombia. The little town that could….if it tried a bit harder.
Like all the ports we’ve visited on this trip Santa Marta was nothing like I expected. We rose early again to watch our entry to the harbour. Sailing in between two islands on the port side and a rugged headland to starboard we were to berth at a functioning working port. From there we could see a nice beachfront and modern high-rise buildings that I later surmised were holiday units. At the far end of the beach was a marina filled with expensive boats. I asked myself “I’m in Colombia. How much drug money paid for this opulence”?
Shane & I stepped ashore straight into a bus for an organised tour to a ‘jungle waterfall’ where we could swim and relax. I have included some shots in both galleries here of some homes and street scenes. The blue & white building is a small village schoolhouse. Once off the bus (an hour later) we headed on foot under a road bridge and on a bush track for the falls. On the route we passed some lovely and/or interesting sights. First came the ficus benjamina with it’s glorious curtain of aerial roots. Like the cutter ants alongside the track, we continued passed some homemade stalls like the one where Claudia, our guide, discussed the ‘herbs and potions’ available for sale including cannabis oil. Trekking on beyond more beautiful flora, more kiosks and native homes we eventually after 30 minutes or so came to a small pool with a 3 metre waterfall.
It wasn’t the majestic falls we were expecting but in the tropical heat of a Colombian jungle any pool in a pinch is nice. The pool was teeming with small wanna-be piranha. They were actually a harmless native fish not piranha but they were attracted to nibbling on people and one or two nips were like a mosquito bite. We finished our swim and trekked back to the bus where a cold 7% alcohol beer was very much appreciated. We took a few photos from the bus enroute back to the ship and even captured the common Colombian sight of cops doing a routine road stop for drugs.
Back onboard we still had a few hours till we cast off so Shane & I showered and headed into town for a quick look. Accompanied by another passenger we strolled along the promenade that lined the beach. Hawkers were thick and fast but a firm “gracias, but no” usually sufficed to shake them. We hit a café where wi-fi was free. We were really in amongst the locals here as it was Saturday afternoon and Liverpool were playing (& getting done by) Real Madrid on TV. This seems to be a regular pastime in Santa Marta. All along the strand were cafés where the masses congregated outside watching football on a TV station they could not afford at home. (Aside; we dare not take pictures for fear of being shot but while at the café we watched a chap stop in the lane beside us with a sports bag. From this several locals openly bought bags of white substance before he packed up and moved to the next café.)
Moving along we checked out some more of the sights including tributes to Simón Bolívar the great South American hero. Passing more café crowds. We got to the end of the beach then spun around to wander back on the other side of the road as a tropical thunderstorm broke. Stationed along the actual beachfront is a series of statues without any labelling but we guessed they were of an Aztec nature though the last one reminded me of a few mates I know arguing over whose shout it is.
I’ve included a few more street scene shots that might be of interest like the turnstile in the public bus, the entrepreneurial lady with a pram hastily made into a coffee cart for the tourists on the big white boat and the soldier who we coerced into holding a friend’s stuffed lobster (she is from Maine and takes her “Maine Lobster” everywhere for photo ops) for a picture. That same ‘lady’ purchased the ‘gun’ I am holding to bring back on board as a practical joke. Well as we expected that backfired on her as the security people on board were not happy to see it in their x-ray machine and as you may notice in the second picture one security lady was very unhappy with the ‘obscene toy’
By this time it was time to cast off and say goodbye to another port of call in Central America. Shane, as seems to be her thing, captured another spectacular sunset shot and by dark we were seaward bound.
We reach our final port of call, Aruba, on Monday (don’t forget we’re about 15 or 16 hours behind you in Australia) so I’ll post this blog and look forward to our next before we hit Fort Lauderdale in Florida in a few days.
Cheers for now,
Garry & Shane