On to Colombia and it's Hospitality

The last stop in Panama before I would finally make the jump to South America was the San Blas Islands.

This beautiful archipelago of 365 islands contains out of small, white-sanded heavens that contain not much more then a bunch of palmtrees with colorfull seastars at their feet. Some of the islands are build full with palm-thached huts of the Kuna tribe, others have only three families living on them. Yet most of them have nobody at all. Yes, here you can find that one little island with just one lost palmtree where Donald Duck so often gets stranded. He was not here this week.

Many cruisers with sailboats loose their heart here and stay for a longer time. I've heard many say those islands are the prettiest once in the Caribbean Sea. It is very funny to see the big luxurious yachts besite the little Cayuko of the Kuna people. But as soon as a boat mores in the blue waters, the Kuna woman padle forward and try to sell their precisely sewn Molas, a traditional craft that makes them know all over the world.

Sailers tell me that the Kuna are the best wind-manipulators, they truly know how to use their little white squares to best use and steer their Cayuko with most perfection.

Whith a free ride from a fisher lancha of one and a half hour I arrived to El Porvenir, the main island where you subscribe to the Kune hierarchy, get your stamp to leave or enter Panama, where the only police is, and with a little airstrip for small planes. Everybody Going through those Bounty Islands needs to subsribe here, so I decided that this was the hot-spot for finding a free ride to the other side to Colombia, a 36 hour sail depending on wind and current.

The police officer Mr. Lopez, thought it was great if I would camp here, and so this little paradise was mine for the next four days. You can see me walking here to the one point where I put my tent. The island had manybe four buildings where some man slept who worked in the office and some who worked for the small, simple hotel, so my company was very welcome and a change of the dread of a life with absolutely not much. I have to admit that four days was more then enough coconut tree and white sand between your toes.
The new hipe for sailers who want to make some money is to make trips between the San Blas Islands and Cartagena in Columbia (no not with whitepowder) but with traveling backpackers. The problem for me was that this trip had a prise tag of $300 plus food. Something I could definably not afford even though is was four nights five days. But the main season with yachties was done, and those were the only boats that came by, so eventually I offered a macimum of $150 and took the first chance that came along. I was more hoping that a banana-cargo lancha would come by first, so I would be a trip more adventurous, but a sailboat with only two other backpackers came by first who took my money and cave me a passage to the other side in three days. We visited and snorkeled around another island before making the crossing.

Arrival to the beautiful city of Cartagena, Colombia.

Yeahaaaaa!!!!! South America, here I finally am!

Colombia, a country that most people think of being full with cocaine, but is more truthfull to have the most hospitable people so far in Latin America. In the two weeks I've been here the string of invitations has been incredible and it makes me travel super slow and enjoy much more. Cocain is to be found though, and those first days in Cartagena, the most beautiful Colonial city in Columbia, were indeed a stereotype of what most expect. At every corner you would hear a man making sniffing noises and in every park you would get approached ....... being the tourist. That's all. Cartagena is the most famous tourist town, and so, as well, the busiest selling hot-spot.

Playing checkers with fervor.

African desendance selling tropical fruits and coco/panela candies.

The balconies and bright houses make for excellent wandering in many small streets.

Many years before, the Chiva, was the traditional way of transport in Columbia. These days only few remain and most are used as 'party-busses' in cities. The colorful painting is done by people that specialize in this form.

My first travel in Columbia brought me to Vucan de Lodo (mud). this tiny little hill was a wonderful delight. At the top of the rickety stairs I found a little hole, studded by wooden planks, not bigger then five by five meters, full with mud. Thick silver mud. A group of students was already down and in, cause yes, you can swim. Although the funnel of this volcan is 2200 meters deep, the thick mud makes you float in the first 50cm, it's extremely hard to even try to get deeper.

Of course I went as well, and I must admit that it was one of those experiences that will stay in mind forever, it was SO weird.

Afterwards you walk to the big lake behind and rinse. The mud is pretty sticky, so Yadira helped me to get clean again. We talked and without hesitation she told me to stay at her house tonight and not pitch the tent where I had planned to.

I met her family and little town. Here you can see her backyard with skimmy dogs, pigs, chickens and the toilet to the left.

All livingrooms in Latin America have really nothing, this one is a good example. A tv, some chairs, some ugly kitch and ya, that's it.

Me and Yadira with two of her kids infront of her house. The first night I went along to a evening condolance. An old man had died and many people, about 50, came to the house to pay respect and just sit there sipping on tintos and aromaticos (little coffees and tea's with lots of sugar). Because we came home late only two kids were woken to see my spin my fire poi. But o my god did the whole town hear about it the next day. There was no way I could leave anymore, and so I stayed another day and gave a show for about 50 kids and adults. All clapping and cheering my name: Matoe, Matoe, Matoe.

Next up to Taganga, a super hot, desert-like are where I only stayed for one night because of this heat and because of the immence amount of tourists. Not my thing. I did make a nice walk up the spicky cactus hills to have a great view of the big city Santa Marta.

So I jumped on to Calabaso, a little town from where you can hike into Tyrona National Park.

In the bus I had Ofelia talking to me. A curious, big woman who was extremely set upon knowing as much as possible about this extranjero, and in doing so I took the opportunity and asked her if she had a backyard where I could pitch my tent. Sho she had.

THe next three days she explaind everything in detail what I did not understand, she asked me tons about the food in Holland so I made her some real Gehaktballen from my country. She loved them. I was fed huge breakfasts, like this one here, and fine diners.

Of couse I made a long day in the Nat. Park. It countaind many surprises like Mico Titi monkeys, an anteater, tons of new birds and butterflies, beautiful bays with rugged beaches and pure blue seas, some empty, some with way too many backpackers. The path was super fun, right in the jungle, and halfway you cross a little historic pueblo that once was a busteling activity of Tyrona indians. Because of the rugged topography the Tyronas constructed a large number of stone terraces supported by high walls as a base for their thatched wooden houses. The groups of teracces were linked by a network of stne-slab paths and stairways. They are believed to have evolved into a distinctive culture since about the 5th century AD and their stone remnants are still visible in very good shape. It's enchanting to wlak around, close your eyes and emagine what your fantasy lets you come up with.

There are still a handfull of indians left, they are beautiful faced, with lond black hair. Their dress is simple white and straigh and they always carry a bag, made and given by the woman to the man to carry all his important belongings. Some of the man wear a pointy cap, just like the roofs of the houses. Here a little boy organizing the leaves.

The next day I had planned to move on, but a costumer of Ofelia, Eferine, came by and turned out to go to the river where he had a Maracuya farm with his brother. I tagged along and saw how this type of passion fruit grows, drank it's delicious liquado, saw how yet other people live under a simple roof without walls but with a good smelling fire. The river was super fresh after the warm hike. On the way back we carried big bags of Maracuya back to town and I was given a whole bunch plus three fresh pepinos (cucumbers) and yucca (a sort of potato eaten sometimes three times a day)

And then....... the trip i never thought I would encounter here. Or maybe I did know.
I decided to head to Plato cause it looked on the map that the Rio Magdalena was big and important enough to have good trafic with little boats all over. It would be way more fun to go south with boats then by the ever lasting cars. In Plato my thought was confirmed, the next day there would be a lancha going to Santa Ana.
So after a night with my first taste of Aguardiente (an anise flavored liqour from here), and listening to three boys playing accordion, raspa and yambee (better and more entertaining then I've ever seen), with a half drunk family in the street to celebrating some sort of holiday, I made my move to the puerto where the boat should leave. It was early, but already hot, and I was told that the only lancha would not leave untill 1pm and would cost 20.000 pesos ($12). Mmmm not nothing. And suddenly there was Heiro, 38. He had a shine in his eyes and said he invited me to come along on this slow lancha ride to his farm. From there he would bring me further to the highway where I could catch a bus again. Oke!

It turned out that this boat only goes up and down the river to bring children to school and some groceries to the few peublos. And that it would not go much further then one of the small town where a road is not even in use. Especially now in the wet season. The paths that link the town are super small and only passable by horse, bike, donkey or on foot. If I would have taken this boat I'm not sure how I would have left the last town on the line, it being pretty far away from everything.

The Lancha ride was slow and tranquil. Hot and with uninspring landscapes. Clear skies that reflected in the brown water and millions of white ibisses (birds). We had dropped all the kids and peddled the last part through small canals of high grass........

............and struggled through fields of waterplants. Not many people go here.

The people on the waterside looked wide-eyed and with falling yaw upon my arrivel, I later learned that no extranjeros have traveled here in the last 30 or more years! It's the first time in my travels that I'm in a town where the kids see blond hair and fair skin for the first time. It's so weird, so hard to imagine even when you are there. It's super fun too, you feel super special and its cool to give some new fresh air to repetitive lives of the kids.
This is Heiros farm where he lives with a few workers, his brother with wife where here too at the moment.

A day was spend wayting for the sun to rise and fall, the that to come in and wave out. We talked I tried new fruits: hobo, hamon, coroso and curuba, we wrote our horses to another finca to buy cheese, swaped at millions of miquitos and ate a lot of yuca.
That first night I showed my fire dancing and it was again the reason why I stayed another night. The other part of town wanted to see el espectaculo tambien.
This time I had an audience of more then 100 kids and adults. It was amazing, they had put a huge speaker outsie and suddenly I heard the beat of some down to earth techno. Hilarious! The dancing was given another dimencion and the clapping to the beat made my heart jump with joy. Again I palyed a long time with the 60-or-so kids. I had taught them zakdoekje-leggen en Schipper-mag-ik-over-varen (two Dutch kid games for the schoolyard) and it was played with so much energy. And then I had to dance, all were standing in a circle and watched me swing my hips with a head as red as a tomato. The kids danced too, Champeta, a danceform from here, it's not much more then sexual, slow moves VERY close together (I call it sex-on-the-dancefloor) and it was seriously shoking to see 5 year olds move this way.

Typical houses with walls made from sticks and stuffed with mud which starts falling off with lots of rain. Clothes are dried on the barbe-wire.

The way out was a true trip. First my backpack and some others were strung onto a donkey, one of the most common transport devices here. We rode our horses with the donkey for about an hour, opening many cercas (gates that let you go from property to property). We ate more hobos and ripe mangos along the way.

Then we had to take a canoa because the fields are fludded at the moment with the rainy season. A two hour motor ride followed, slow going over muddy paths, untill we reached the town where I would take a Chalupa (little boat) to cross the Rio Magdalena once again and make way to Mompox. But that a story for next time.

I would like to wich everyone a good start of spring of winter, where ever you live. I'm sorry Holland got kicked out of the quart-final yesterday, all of Colombia thinks that our keeper is la Naranja Mechanica, the oranje machine. They love our team.

See ya's later aligators.