Ok mum, I feel bad about not blogging properly last time so here are the last two weeks in glorious detail.. and they couldn't be more different.
We arrived in Panama City at 5am and crawled onto some mattresses in a sinfully misnamed 'cinema room' in our hostel called Luna's Castle, a sprawling mansion of a hostel in the beautiful old town of the city. We had an incredible view of the skyscrapers across the harbour at sunrise, but were far too bus-tired to care.
Met A.J and Zak in the morning and were introduced to our new best Swedish friend-to-be Cecilia and a huge Serb bouncer called Mirko. We all piled into a jeep to get to the coast, stopping off at the world's largest supermarket on the way to buy 20 litres of wine and 12 litres of rum. Nice.
We arrived at a tiny river hours later after passing through miles of jungle and an Indian reservation, hopped into a dugout canoe armed with our 'supplies' and were taken to our 42 foot home for the next 8 days. 'La Twyla' was a somewhat dilapidated but very characterful yacht with a hilarious Valencian captain called Javier and a randy first mate called Jose who kept hopping off the boat at night to find prostitutes.
We spent three days exploring the stunning San Blas islands. There are 360something of them, some inhabited some not (all owned by women though, score) in varying degrees of paradisical amazingness.
White sand, palm trees, cute indigenous peoples, huge starfish, incredibly clear water you could see 30 metres through to the bottom, little kayaking trips, red wine at 10am.. what more could you want?!
The days were scorching and the nights were similarly balmy.. we quickly abandoned the cabins for sleeping on deck in the sea breezes and bed times quickly became a competition to see who could get the best mattresses in the best spots. One night we moored up next to the most stunning island yet and bedded down to watch an electrical storm on the horizon whilst the stars shone above our boat. The lightning was incredible and just far away enough not to be scary, one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.
We ate lobster for dinner most nights and spent the entire time in varying stages of inebriation swimming, sunbathing or watching House on Hayley the boisterous Australian's handy laptop. It was absolute perfection.
The sail to Columbia was 40 hours over open water so we planned to get a 6am start, but our captain got drunk the night before with a visiting German who brought white rum and a pervy grin and we were delayed a couple of days.
The sail over open water was incredible.. nothing but bright blue water in every direction, huge rolling swells that give the boat the nicest motion to get you to sleep. Luckily no one was seasick and we had enough rum to keep us going.
We arrived in Cartagena, Columbia just as the sun was setting. The skyscrapers were strange seeing as we hadn't seen anything more technological than a radio for 8 days, and we cranked up Akon to swing us in in style. Eight days on a boat, even with a lovely group of people, is a long time.. so the boys and girls went our separate ways (without visas, exciting Prison Break-eqsue stuff) and the girls found the best hamburger vendor of all time. Seriously. Lobster is nothing compared to this guys. Each burger is a work of art crafted by a man dressed in surgical gloves, mask and apron.
The next day, passports stamped, we woozily checked into a hostel and explored the very cute and historical town of Cartagena. Huge fort with exciting tunnels and gigantic flag, check. Crumbling city wall, check. Prostitutes everywhere, check. After a week on a boat with no make up or more clothes than a bikini, the girls felt the need to get dolled up and hit the town. Luckily no one mistook us for prostitutes. We met the boys for a drink at a lovely bar on top of the city wall, then ditched them, had a quick date with hamburger man, and found a club. The club was full of sailors. White suited, shiny-shoed, military sailors. We danced sweatily with them until 2am when they had to go back to their boat, and had the best night out of all time.
Town seen and done, we ventured outside Cartagena to visit a mud volcano. Not the prettiest sight we've seen, but one of the best. Climb a rickety ladder, envelop yourself in creamy concrety mud, get rubbed down by a horny Columbian adolescent, lovely. We were then escorted to a lagoon, stripped, and rubbed down by old ladies. The wonders of travelling never cease. A thousand souped up schoolbuses later and we were back in the centre, rushing for our bus to Santa Marta. The bus was cold. Too much air conditioning.
We had claimed Cecilia the stunning Swede as our new best friend and travelling companion, and forced her to come trek to Ciudad Perdida with us. As Claire's mum pointed out, 'it's not a stroll'. She was correct. We had not done our research.
Day One involved climbing up 650 metres of sheer clay mountain face, stopping intermittently for pineapple and moaning. I have never sweated more in my entire life. We stopped at night in lovely little wooden shacks strung with hammocks and ate epic meals on multi-carb delights. The first night I was not well. Dizzy, sick and feeling awful. Claire made me feel better by sending me to bed and then eating all my chocolate.
It got slightly easier, fording rivers and sliding down cliffs, but the sweating continued and then mosquitoes got larger. We spent a morning in a cocaine factory, watching a man make cocaine out of leaves. Fascinating yet slightly unlawful stuff.
Day Four and we finally got to Ciudad Perdida. Hidden up 2,000 slippery mossy steps. It was beautiful, cloudy forests, picturesque waterfall, military practicing drills. Standard. Gabriel our guide took us around the ruins and filled us with facts which Iwon't bore you with, apart from the fascinating insight that women of the indigenous tribes are not allowed to chew the ubiquitous coca leaves as it raises their sexual appetites and the men can't keep up. Nice.
Today was the journey down, six hours of walking, running, climbing and slipping our way back to the beginning. Sweaty, bedraggledm dirty and tired, we presented a lovely picture to the shiny clean tourists who were about to begin.
Tonight is our last night with Cecilia so we will be celebrating in style before heading over to Venezuela.. if I can ever get clean!
