There are places whose name only makes you want to visit them. Coral Bay is one of them, and it stands up to it. A dozen km off the main road, you stumble on a small resort town nestled on a gorgeous turquoise bay. There’s everything you might need, from glass-bottom boats to quad tours in the surrounding sand dunes. A perfect little place to settle down for a few days.
There are two large camping sites in town, and both are running full, or almost full. Come to think of it, they must be owned by the same person or persons. Or at worse, they get along well, since their prices are pretty much the same. For a few square meters of grass somewhere all in the back, no electricity, your wallet lightens of some $28! And it climbs to $35 with power, probably generated by an army of hungry lemmings on bikes for that price. Sometimes I wonder how one can justify such outrageous prices. Is it the weekly lawn mowing Wembley style? With a pair of scissors? Or is the toilet/shower block cleaned every day army style? With a toothbrush? There’s got to be something because it certainly is not the front desk lady’s wage. Those prices are almost double that of any other place I have visited so far. In Colombia, it could be called a cartel. The Sicilians would say it’s the mafia. I simply say it’s a ripoff. There are many things I’m willing to do to visit a place, but spreading them and bending over is not amongst them.
