The Great Chill
What could be more enticing after slogging your way through the jungle for 6 days in search of a city the Spanish, in all their conquesting marauding, did not even find, than slowing the tempo to near freeze-frame from some much deserved chill out time, beach side, Caribbean coast, yeah baby, yeah!
So we set off to Parque Tayrona to get ours and further ourselves from the big city haunts that our jungle detox had taught us we in actual fact do not need (though I will still stand firm to being partial to the right big city scape, re-emphesis right city!).
Unfortunately no one told us about the extortionate cost of park entry for gringos and we didn´t take enough cash to see it through as long as we imagined would be good to chill beach-side. Fortunately, being the enterprising individuals that we are, we did manage to stay as long as we imagined, simply by living from cheap (though so good) locally produced chocolate, jam, and cheese bread, and by harvesting coconuts from the beach and integrating them into our stable diet (read: several coconuts a day, and much of that oh so refreshing coconut milk!).
One word: heaven!
The days were spent, usually, at the piscina, a small private bay where we were free to float in the warm Caribbean waters in between coconut smashing sessions.
Ingeniously we also found an abandoned orange juice press which we were able to bring back to life as our personal coco-press, the perfect implement for deshelling our dietary needs. An apparently humorous site to some locals who had quite the laugh at the sight of the gringos locos (nevertheless we did find an extra coco shell under our beloved press and I have a sneaking suspicion that through the laughter there lay some definite respect for the method of our madness).
One highlight of the trip was a walk (though perhaps an unnecessary challenge after our Ciudad Perdida trek) up to Publito (the Coastal equivalent, and ancient trading partner, to Ciudad Perdida). The architecture of the ruins was reminiscent of the lost jungle sister city, and for those not up for the 6 day trek I would certainly recommend the hike as a good day trip equivalent.
I will also mention in this space that our local traveller come tour guide and the reason we discovered so much of the good stuff in Tayrona Alejo (Native to Bogota) who was holidaying solo in the park that years ago had held him so captivated that he had chosen to live there for 8 months (what a life!) and had thus come back to celebrate his b´day, and remember, and relax...
Only downfall of the week was our unfortunate tent (which we opted for, unable to take any more mosquitoes after the Ciudad Perdida attack!) which was the most disgusting thing I have ever slept in (picture sleeping on the floor of a dirty beach public washroom... and you´re still not even close!) and in fact was our reason for bailing out of our Tayrona stay one night early (that and wanting to get to Juanes... which we would not, due to a fantastic 32 hour 15 hour bus trip to Bogota).
Border Running Smugglers
Getting out of Tayrona was an adventure unto itself. True to our thrifty nature we walked back to the highway and waited for a cheap local bus to get us back into Santa Marta. We jumped on the next bus coming through. Little did we know the bus had come from Venezuala, nor were we aware that the border control was in between us and Santa Marta (though we were hours from the border) due to this being the first place that the Government actually had some control (the rest being currently para-military controlled). We were soon to find all this out however...
The bus pulled over to the road-side customs stop about 20 minutes down the road from where we had jumped on the bus. We were all asked to file off the bus while the customs checkers jumped on to search the bus. Next thing I know there is a whispered commotion going on between some of the drivers, some of the passengers, and the kid working the bus. The kid is given a tank of (obviously illegal Venezualan) gas and sent running down the street with it on his shoulder, right under the nose of the customs check point guards (currently distracted by some of the bus driver crew). A customers checker comes off the bus with arms loaded with what appear to be packets of illegal corn flower. This is all a very strange scene. He dumped his smuggled load and re-enters the bus only to emerge with another armload of the contraband. This procedure continues for hours as he pulls out literally hundreds of packets of cornflower, beer, and assorted other illegal Venezualan subsidized goods.
The funniest part of the whole scene is just how unseriously all this is being taken by the bus crew and passengers who the whole time are offering to help transport the illegal cargo (again LOL) for the customers officers and then as soon as the officers turn their backs to retrieve more the people are shoving packets of corn flower into bags, pockets, or giving arm loads to the kid to run down and stash around the corner. All this, again, right under the noses of the customs officials!! Shawn and I watched on in amused disbelief, commenting on the image of trying the same stunts at the US border! Yeah right!!
After an afternoon held up watching this, admittedly, extremely comedic display we were finally able to get back on the bus. We found all the seats had been ripped up (apparently that´s where it had all been stashed!) which explained the now huge pile of literally thousands of packets of corn flower, beer cans, and the like now mountainously piled in the customs office. What we found, to our surprise, was a carton of Venezualan beer that had someone managed to slip through the customs officers fingers and been hidden under our seat. With that we were underway...
Only to stop around the corner, just out of view, to pick up all the goods that had been run down the street and stashed in the bushes. The whole bus was in hysterics at the audacity of the stunt!
As for us, we had our own little smuggling operation going on!! Now I knew that the drivers knew the beer had survived the raid, they had already walked back to check on it, but I also knew that they were lucky to have it at all since technically it should be sitting on that customs floor! I also knew that they had wasted my entire afternoon with their little failed operation. And therefore I felt it was my right, in fact my duty, to tax them a little for the time they had taken from me, and after everything they´d already lost... what´s another couple of cans of beer for some thirsty travellers... right?! So I sneakily pulled a couple of cans out and stashed them in my bag. Who´s gunna know?
Shawn and I spend the next 30mins looking round like fugitives, just waiting for one of the drivers to come back and claim their beers and notice the couple missing from the corner, and the couple of guilty looking gringos sitting above them.
Then he came. We knew as soon as we saw him that he was part of the driving/smuggling crew. He was the same guy who had come back to check the beers before.
"You guy´s will be getting off a minute", he informed.
Shawn and I shot each other worried looks. Shawn gathered his things and moved towards the front of the bus (we were seated right at the second last seat). The beer case was still concealed by my leg as I sat there, the guy reached down towards my leg to grab the case.
"What? We should get off here?", I offer the distraction.
He stops moving and looks at me dumbly. "Si.", and goes back to reaching for the case.
"And...", what to say? "So.... we can get another bus from here, at the terminal, into town?"
He now look at me like I am dumb. "Si." Not much of a talker! I am gathering my bag as I see us getting closer to the terminal, they are just going to drop us on the side of the road and continue on which bodes well for our situation... but we still have to get off the bus before they notice!
I stand and use my bag to obstruct the view of the beer case and slowly push past the guy, taking more room than necessary so that he has to back out and away from where I was sitting.
"Are you sure we can get a bus from here?", I ask as I walk past him, keeping his eyes on me.
"Si."
"Do you know how much it will cost?", I ask, backing away. Eye´s up man, eye´s up!
"No." He turns and starts to go for the beer case. I turn and bolt down the bus. It´s still moving. Shawn is standing at the door waiting for the guy to stop.
"Get off! Get off!", I say swiftly as I approach. I can feel the eye´s of the man at the back of the bus beating down on me, looking back at the case, confused, but about to piece it together. I push Shawn through the door before the bus has stopped moving and jump off after him. The driver, unaware of our motives, speeds up again and starts to move off down the street. Shawn and I are in hysterics! Mission accomplished as the bus picks up speed down the highway and we race towards the terminal and another bus into town.
I´m grinning like Chopper Read, taxing the crims at their own game, we feel like regular Mafiosos as we bail into another bus and talk of the celebration we will have this evening, over a fine can of Venezualan Cerveza!!
And I´m out kids.. Hope you enjoy the adventures, will try to keep em coming.
Peace,
Mark Doin´it like the Soprano´s - 2005
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