Tayrona

At 3:45 AM Cabo de la Vela is darkness, wind, and sea. A little after 4, the same guy who took us here pulls up in the F-150. We leave bout half an hour later, waiting for his wife to get dressed. We move along in the dark, but dawn appears, and dawn in the desert is an abstract mosaic of colors and textures. When we get to Uribia at around 7:30, it's already hot and the town is dirty, shacky, and filled with goats with bound feet. People loaded into trucks like cattle, but under seemingly their own volition. Under structures with tarps for a roof, tree trunks for poles, and no walls, indigenous women squat down to make food, handicrafts, surrounded by gasoline canisters and garbage. Indigenous culture and Western, with the exception of horses, have never mixed.

Gazebo Hammock 2

We found a ride to Maicao, out of our way but it would be easier to catch a bus, plus Fernando wanted to see the border town. Border towns are typically sketchy and Maicao is the ugliest city I've ever seen. Yes, no oil refineries like Barrancabermeja, but we walked up the main drag and were surrounded by cheap industrially made goods, some of it contraband. Nobody paid attention to us, but I can't imagine they every see a foreigner or a national walking around checking stuff out with a backpack on. At the end of the commercial area, the street quickly became deserted and I got an uncomfortable feeling. The bus station was still some ways away but the only Mosque in Colombia was right here. Plenty of Arabs have immigrated to Colombia, both Garcia Marquez's wife and their current president are of Lebanese descent. It's stained glass, columns, intricate white stone work and tower and minaret, seemed to bear no relationship with the surrounding slums and gross capitalism. A local told us to walk to the bus station was dangerous, so we found a cab, and I'm surprised I got in as it was a falling about 25 year old American Pontiac, the super long kind. Essentially nothing except the drive train worked, and I was a amazed that did. Without incident the driver took us the 10 blocks to the station, and soon afterward we caught a fairly luxurious air conditioned bus out of town, rather shocking to go from the desert, with minimal technology to the bus.

Mosque

In a very short amount of time, the landscape leave the Guajiran desert and on the north side of the Sierra Nevada, there is the Caribbean coast, a lush jungle. Here we are left off by the entrance to Parque Nacional Tayrona, perhaps the most visited and well known park in the country. Here the mountains drop spectacularly into the sea. At the entrance I pay about 11 dollars, while Fernando pays 2 and a half cause he's Colombian. A car is supposed to take us to the trail, but Fernando says he wants to walk, which is surprisingly because he doesn't have a backpack, just a small overnight bag, that he can theoretically wear the handles over his shoulders, but he had burned yesterday in Guajira and it was too painful. We walk down a road through significantly impacted jungle, but still jungle, tons of insects and especially their sounds, sirens, buzzing, clapping, a bona fide forest symphony. This is the first time we have seen forest, and I imagine this is vaguely like what the Magdalena region used to be like, before cattle. Still my mind isn't on that so much, as dwelling on the fact that this is an amazing part of the country, here jungle, not far to the east is desert and to the south, high up in the mountains is snow covered tundra.

The hammock Gazebo

About an hour later, we do come to a trail, a well worn wide path trodden with horse crap. We follow it up and down and pass lots of people leaving, everyone was "Buenas" as a greeting. What about passing people on trails through nature makes everyone so friendly? Clearly the peace, and intensity of coming across strangers in a way the makes them impossible to ignore. Another hour more and we arrives at Arrecifes (Reefs) a camping area on the water. I'm not sure where to go so I walk to an administrative building. Two young people start talking to me and suggest we walk half an hour more to go to a quieter prettier area. They talk so slowly and clearly I think they have to be from another country, but they are Bogotano. I'd just gotten used to the muttering accents of the coastal and rive areas. Fernando is very tired but he agrees to go and as we walk away, we're asked to wait, they're are going to come with us. Victoria and Federico are two volunteers and today they witnessed the hatching of some sea turtles and are going to help release them into the ocean, as otherwise they are very susceptible to predators and human habitat destruction.

The two coves

We pass by wild beautiful coastline and bizarrely a bakery that has run out of bread. About a half hour later, we do arrive. The area is two separate beach coves. In the middle is a peninsula where a gazebo protect a bunch of hammocks. An spectacular spot, but the cost is greater than most of our hotels so we choose a regular spot for less than half the prices. It is noisy, lacking views, and the hammocks are nearly touching each other, but we figure we'll be unconscious here anyway. This is truly the first time we've encountered tourists the entire trip, westerners from Europe, Israel, even a few Americans. I talk to our new friends while we watch the sunset and they release a couple of turtles by throwing them as though they were stones. We all agree to go to a creek tomorrow. Despite opportunities neither of us talk with the other travelers, as though not being around any for so long had made us phobic. The early rise this morning makes my collapse by down, drifting off diagonally position in the hammock, though any movements has me banging against my neighbors.

Under the canopy