The Southern Caribbean

We knew we were chasing the sunshine.  But of all the things one can chase in South America, well, it seemed safe and reasonable.  Fortunately, with little more than a two hour flight from Bogota, we exited the aircraft in wonderful, sticky, sunny Cartagena.  A lovely colonial-era city on the Caribbean, boasting nice beaches, tasty restaurants and, most importantly, fantastic weather.

As you may have noticed on the last post, I’m slowing this writing thing down and going more photo-essay style throughout South America.  This merciful decision was made for several reasons, and I am now going to lay them out in bullet points, using far too many words and going back on a promise I made just half a sentence ago:

a.       I’m lazy.

b.      Once I start writing I am too obsessive (you mean you didn’t want to hear about every bus ride?) and narcissistic (transfixed to the sound of my own voice.  Sad) to stop.  As you know.

c.       The parenthesis button on my keyboard has worn all the way through (God forbid they give a footnotes option on blogspot).

d.      I’m not saying I write too much, but I was starting to think about breaking individual entries into volumes (since I already tried chapters).

e.      Let’s be honest, if you wanted 2200 words on the Spanish presence in Cartagena, you could always go to wikipedia.

f.        I know damn well once we get home I’m not going to be spending as much time writing, because…

g.       I’m lazy. 

h.      I’m not saying I write too much, but even my Mom is getting bored.

i.         Even though the settings allow for 7 entries per web page, my last few posts filled the entire page (that’s actually true.  And kind of sad).

i.    It's beginning to feel like homework,  and Reba is making fun of me.

j.        Despite my semi-committed writing schedule, I’m still almost two months behind actual time.  And I plan on eating American food/celebrating/socializing/eating more American food/watching American sports/sleeping waaaayyyy too much over the holidays to write that much.

k.       I’m lazy (but realistic).

Don’t worry though, I’ve been taking way more pictures since Lillie came to visit, so you’ll still be getting way too much content.  It will just be easier to post and less work.  And if the pictures look great, it’s because we watched Lillie for two weeks, and now I’m a great photographer.  If they aren’t, I’m guessing Rebecca took them. 

We were not disappointed by the weather in Cartagena.  It was a balmy 83 when we touched down.  It is also a lovely, colonial city that is as pretty as any in Colombia.  Nice beaches, too.

This picture looks like it was lifted from a tourist brochure.  A brochure where they spent the whole budget on graphics, and had none left for the photography:

"Hey pal, yeah you.  You want to be in this picture for us?  We can offer you this half of a beer and most of this ham sandwich.  What do you say?"

"Do you have ketchup?  I'm in."

"Just lean against the wall, put on these glasses, and close your mouth as much as possible.  Thanks.  Does your head always look that big?"

The wall around the old city was great to walk on, and it seemed like something was always going on.  Like go-cart races.  You show me a go-cart race, and I'll show you a good time.  Gambling on 9 year olds anyone?  (And I have bet on less.  Drew and me once bet on a duck race at the State Fair.  And I won, and he still owes me).
.

"Hey!  Where's the john in this town?"  "I think it's that way." 

I'm guessing they couldn't find enough men that could dance.  Shocking, I know.

You don't know where you're going, do you.  And I'm following you.  Again.

I know, I feel like a voyeur.  He wasn't posing for me.

The wall even has a wildly overpriced bar open at night.  We are there!

This was one of Reba's pics.  I like it

 If you look closely at the menu I'm holding, you can see a picture of Anthony Bourdain on the back.  This little hole-in-the-wall Cevicheria was visited on No Reservations while Bourdain was in Cartagena.  Consequently, it is now the most expensive hole-in-the-wall in the Southern Hemisphere.  If my expression says anything, it says "Why does one portion of Ceviche cost more than our hotel room?"
We had an appetizer (that was fantastic ceviche, to be fair), and then went and bought pizza for $1 a slice.  I wish I were making this up.

This is the worst live music I have ever heard.  You have to believe me.  I know you, dear reader, hate when I listen to grainy Phish bootlegs, but trust me.  The "music" this band was churning out had the hippies covering their ears.  Just trust me.  When a crappy band has 4 different drummers?  Run in the same direction the dogs are.

I don't know what this expression means, but I definitely see it from time-time.  I'm pretty sure this was aimed at the band. 

After a few days in Cartagena, we took the bus north 4 hours to Santa Marta.  See, isn't this photo-essay thing nice?  You don't have to read 1000 words of complaints/observations/musings on our bus ride!  Santa Marta is a small, seaside town that usually acts as a base for treks to Ciudad Perdida and the lovely National Park Tayrona.  And with that, I'm done describing it.  Wasn't that painless? 

We planned on getting to Santa Marta and spending a day or two before heading north to Tayrona, a gorgeous and relaxing National Park, and then maybe heading out to do the wildly grueling Ciudad Perdida trek.  Needless to say, our first day in Santa Marta, we went by the trekking agency and the woman promptly talked us into leaving for the trek the next day.  After booking it, we spent the night packing and preparing for a five day hike.  Let's just say that might not have been the greatest night to be Michael Elliot.  I'm not sure my wife was as excited about the trek as I was.  Something about the way clothing/gear was slammed into bags may have indicated a slight inconsistency in our views towards the exciting trek to come.

"Aren't you excited, honey?  We are going out into the jungle to find the Lost City!"

"It's not lost.  It's right there on the fu*&^% map.  I can show you where it is.  From right here."

"But there are animals, we'll be with a great group of people, rivers, mountains, it will be great!"

"You do realize we were told to bring both a mosquito 'soap' and spray right.  Because there are so many mosquitoes.  Plus, we're going to have to listen to the Australians say 'mozzies' for 6 days.  You do understand that."

"But honey, the bonding, the companionship, the communal goal."

"I hate you.  I will go on this trek, but I will not be excited about it, I am not in a good mood, and your rationalizations are pissing me off.  And oh yeah.  You're acting like your Dad again."

And with that, we prepared to set off into the Colombian jungle.

And at least one of us was excited...