Christmas Day 2017
First and foremost, Merry Christmas, everyone! I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to experience another holiday in a new and interesting place. It’s truly a blessing to be able to take this time away.
We are currently in Capurgana, Colombia AKA the Struggle Bus. The town itself seems to be a laid back holiday beach town for Colombians to get away, with a handful of foreign tourists thrown in for seasoning. The ride on the Bus actually began back in Panama City, on our last day as we frantically scoured the city for Colombian Pesos. Nada. Nunca. Anywhere with a decent exchange rate was sold out, and facing heavy rush hour traffic, we decided to brace ourselves for the financial issues ahead.
You see, we chose to enter Colombia in one of the least common ways, opting to forgo the beaten track in search of tiny, blissful, forgotten beach towns rather than a quick but spendy flight or a tourist party boat. A good friend of mine that I had spent time with in SE Asia is Colombian and had recommended the area as an alternative to the popular San Blas Island route, and I was all over it. It’s not as if this story has a bad ending exactly, just more of a reminder to keep expectations at bay and enjoy things for what they are. After some extensive research on the eve of our Panamanian departure, we were well aware that the options to obtain money in either Sapzurro or Capurgana were going to be limite, so we pulled out some last minute cash at the airport in Panama City and decided to bite the bullet with the crappy exchange rate we knew we would be getting after crossing the border.
Our flight from Panama City was on a tiny 8 seater plane, and shockingly departed only 40 minutes late. There was no announcement made about the delay, and we saw the captain and copilot stroll leisurely toward our transport with bags of snacks in hand. They ate the entire way. I was admittedly a bit nervous to board, as the plane looked like it had seen better days. The takeoff was slightly sketchy and there was a bit of nerve wracking turbulence, but we thankfully made it to the tiny, tiny airstrip in Puerto Obaldia in one piece.
Puerto Obaldia was really the first moment that the language barrier became overwhelmingly complicated and in-your-face. Our minimal Spanish skills were tapped out, and though we promptly figured out how to catch a boat into Colombia by following the small crowd, we were stuck at the Panama exit office for a few sweltering hours with a frustrating inability to understand the reasoning or how much longer we would be waiting. Our hosts in Sapzurro told us that we did not have to go all the way to the slightly larger port of Capurgana, where the immigration office is located, until we had been in the country for 3 days. This did sound a bit surprising to us as I had heard mixed things about the entrance to Colombia, but a local had said so, and we chose not to push for any more specifics. Our limited understanding had seemed to so far ensure that we would be getting dropped off at our desired destination, so though hot and frustrated, we were not yet concerned.
Eventually we were ushered to a sketchy looking skiff, where all of the locals were transferring their belongings into giant trash bags. Ours had rain covers, so we crossed our fingers that all would be well. As we were boarding, the captain informed us he would not indeed be dropping us off at our desired spot. This is where we begun to panic, as we had planned to use our 3 day entry time to buy the required proof of departure that you must show upon entrance to the country. Both of us had read and heard about people being denied entry without proof, and our brains were preoccupied with all of the possibilities of what could go wrong. One of the sketchiest hour-long boat trips I have ever experienced followed, where even Grant seemed nervous at the state of the rough seas. Thankfully we saw land and made it to Capurgana physically unscathed.
Our first task was to desperately search for a Wi-Fi signal in order to purchase a random ticket that we could later cancel, which Grant booked from Cartagena to Tucson. I guess that’s where our later decision came into play…
Anyhow, tickets purchased, we anxiously made our way to the customs and immigration office. The place was so small and unmarked that we actually passed it 4 times before finding it, and it took less than 3 minutes to get our stamps. Panic for no reason.
After getting some food into our very hungry bellies, we went to search for a boatman to take us to Sapzurro. Disembarking the boat, we began our search for our new home in the quaint beach town. It is much quieter here than it’s neighboring sibling, and we now wish we had stayed there the whole time. If we had thought it was hot there, well, we didn’t yet know what was in store.
Our cabana was charming and comfortable, and we enjoyed our breakfasts with our hosts, a Spanish retired architectural engineer in his 60’s and his Colombian wife, who could not have been a day over 30. They gave us some day trip suggestions to a local beach and a hike over to the Panama side, to a place called La Miel. Both were enjoyable, minus the Kidnapped Man, which I will follow up with later.
La Miel involved a sweltering 1000 stair hike, but culminates in a view that is beyond worth it. The Carribbean Sea on both sides, one Panamanian, one Colombian. The beach was pleasant but a bit busy, and we enjoyed a freshly caught fish lunch. The food in Sapzurro leaves something to be desired, always a plate of rice with either chicken or fish gets pretty old after more than a month of it. The exchange rate we expected was actually worse there, and we found ourselves beginning to worry about our money situation lasting until Capurgana, where we had read there was a place you could get cash back, though at a bad rate. A bad rate will do when you’re out of money.
The days passed far too quickly at our cute little casa, and it was time to come to the bigger side. Our next place was supposed to be a 20 minute walk away, and our new host met us at a little bar in town after we had secured our boat tickets to Necocli for the 27th to begin our journey to Cartagena. One half of the couple who we would be staying with met us in town on his bicycle and suggested we get a tuk tuk taxi (a motorcycle with a cart attached) and follow him, as this is the only form of motorized transport here. All else is horse cart, bicycle, and foot traffic.
As we arrived at our jungle home we were shown around by the Italian woman and French man that own the place, and we quickly resigned ourselves to the many, many mosquito bites and very sweaty nights to follow. At this moment, I lay in a hammock on day 2, and I’m already dreading laying in our musty, damp bed to cough away another sweat-drenched and sleepless night. I’m not sure how “eco-lodges” keep managing to charge more for less, but I’ve learned my lesson on this one. The cost of this place is nearly as much as our last, and is much more remote, hot, buggy, and significantly less private. The only saving graces are the lovely swimming holes and the myriad of flora, fauna, fruit trees, and abundance of food the couple seems to make from this. Home made chocolate from the cacao, locally grown coffee, and fresh jams are quite impressive and enjoyable. However, it’s hard not to grit ones teeth at the comparison.
By yesterday, we were getting quite desperate to spend money to get more money. This morning we learned that the one place that we thought this would be possible, no longer offered the service. Apparently the government kept trying to tax them on the income, and it got out of hand. After more sweating we managed to find some creative ways to pay our hosts for a few meals, as well as a hotel that thankfully would take a card (of course, at an alarming percentage rate). Armed with the knowledge that we wouldn’t be starving before reaching an ATM, we began the long walk to our luxury home and promptly jumped into the river to cool down and shed the stress of the day. Ahh, Merry Christmas!
All of this is not meant to gripe, just to highlight the very real struggles that can arise while traveling, and the danger of assuming anything at all. Ever. I think it’s safe to say I will now believe less than half of what I read about this country, ha! Grant is napping and I am starting to smell food – I am quite excited, as our hosts are preparing a (FREE!!) Christmas dinner for their neighbors, and we happen to be here. Who on earth can’t be grateful for food, am I right?
Love,
Green