Santa Marta, Part 2
Santa Marta is a resort town. It`s right on the beach, the Caribbean coast, replete with everything that goes with that: an ocean breeze, the smell of fish, kids splashing in the water while parents look on from the shore, a relaxed vibe, copious nightlife, `districts` that stay open late for strolling, outdoor cafes, mangy dogs sleeping in the afternoon sun.
We stayed for three days, most of the time being spent wandering around town rather aimlessly. We found a favorite pizza shop and figured out where the super market was to buy cheap bottled water, and enjoyed what was probably the cleanest hotel/hostel room yet.
On our last day there, we rented snorkeling gear and did a day-trip out to Parque Tayrona. A short bus ride and a rather steep national park entrance fee put us in the park, but we were still many kilometers from the beach we´d come to see. Ten minutes in a Jeep solved half of our problem, but the rest of the distance had to be covered on foot. It took 30-45 minutes to walk a muddy path through dense jungle foliage. (Alden was delighted to touch a grasshopper that was about four inches long.)
Once at the beach itself, the jungle gives way to a nicely tended grassy area with a grass hut information booth and a restaurant with a patio. The information booth has a grass roof, but it´s poured concrete, has a glass counter-top and flat-panel computer, and is manned by two cheery park officials in goofy `Native Indian` outfits. The restaurant is equally out of place. The staff are wearing all-white `Native` outfits, the food is 3-5x more expensive that stuff in town, and the bathrooms have lovely mid-century Mod fixtures with suspended glass bowls as sinks.
The whole place feels like Colombia poured a ton of money into it, probably so they could put it on brochures and say, `See? Look how nice our parks are! We`re eco-conscious!` I can`t imagine any other parks around the country are equally schmootzy, but I suppose it`s possible. There´s no denying that there`s money here. You don´t see it as much in Santa Marta as in Cartagena, but it´s definitely there.
The beach there looks like something off a postcard. Verdant jungle spilling up to the beach of the sand, palm trees silhouetted against the sky. White sand beaches extending out into the green surf, waves lapping the shore or, further out, crashing against the rocks and spraying high into the air. We walked up the beach for another 45 minutes to get to a safe swimming and snorkeling area, where a row of rocks out in the surf broke the current. In that area, the water ended up being far too sandy and muddy to see anything while snorkeling, but the waves and cool water were a nice change from the streets of Santa Marta.
From Santa Marta, we caught a four-hour bus to Cartagena, passing through Barranquilla for the second time on this trip.
We stayed for three days, most of the time being spent wandering around town rather aimlessly. We found a favorite pizza shop and figured out where the super market was to buy cheap bottled water, and enjoyed what was probably the cleanest hotel/hostel room yet.
On our last day there, we rented snorkeling gear and did a day-trip out to Parque Tayrona. A short bus ride and a rather steep national park entrance fee put us in the park, but we were still many kilometers from the beach we´d come to see. Ten minutes in a Jeep solved half of our problem, but the rest of the distance had to be covered on foot. It took 30-45 minutes to walk a muddy path through dense jungle foliage. (Alden was delighted to touch a grasshopper that was about four inches long.)
Once at the beach itself, the jungle gives way to a nicely tended grassy area with a grass hut information booth and a restaurant with a patio. The information booth has a grass roof, but it´s poured concrete, has a glass counter-top and flat-panel computer, and is manned by two cheery park officials in goofy `Native Indian` outfits. The restaurant is equally out of place. The staff are wearing all-white `Native` outfits, the food is 3-5x more expensive that stuff in town, and the bathrooms have lovely mid-century Mod fixtures with suspended glass bowls as sinks.
The whole place feels like Colombia poured a ton of money into it, probably so they could put it on brochures and say, `See? Look how nice our parks are! We`re eco-conscious!` I can`t imagine any other parks around the country are equally schmootzy, but I suppose it`s possible. There´s no denying that there`s money here. You don´t see it as much in Santa Marta as in Cartagena, but it´s definitely there.
The beach there looks like something off a postcard. Verdant jungle spilling up to the beach of the sand, palm trees silhouetted against the sky. White sand beaches extending out into the green surf, waves lapping the shore or, further out, crashing against the rocks and spraying high into the air. We walked up the beach for another 45 minutes to get to a safe swimming and snorkeling area, where a row of rocks out in the surf broke the current. In that area, the water ended up being far too sandy and muddy to see anything while snorkeling, but the waves and cool water were a nice change from the streets of Santa Marta.
From Santa Marta, we caught a four-hour bus to Cartagena, passing through Barranquilla for the second time on this trip.
1 Comments:
David,
I'm thinking of you over there from over here. I particularly like reading your words and hearing your sense of humor come through - parts about muscle cars and layers of dust, and things like that.
keep up the adventure - huh. funny to think that it was FOUR years ago that we went to ecuador. ohmygod, can you believe it. I rely on those memories to imagine what it would be like traveling with you.
and this blog, of course.
Post a Comment
<< Home