Welcome back friends!
Last time we left off, it was my last night in Cartagena and I was due to leave for the Isla Grande.
In the morning I arranged a taxi through through Mary Cartagena Travel that also provided my boat shuttle service to the island. Myself and two other young, American women from another hostel were picked up and taken to the pier to await out boat.
As luck would have it, it was very rainy and dreary that morning so we got to trek to the outer islands in a glorified fishing boat with rain sleeting our faces. It was honestly pretty amusing using life jackets to try to block the onslaught of rain.
That, and the fact that halfway through our hour-long journey our boat lurched to a stop throwing all of us forward. It felt like we had hit something hard but, after a few minutes with only some mumbled conversations in Spanish, we continued on.
The boat made several stops eventually dropping the three of us off at “Paraiso Secreto” or Secret Paradise. I was carefully lifted out of the boat and placed on the twiggy beach like that of a Disney Princess since there was no pier.
Upon leaving the beach, we immediately came upon a community of open-air hostels. I had never seen anything quite like it. All of them were colorful and perched just a shouts-distance from each other with a central gathering area.
I stayed two nights at the “Local House” for $60,000 COP (or $21 US) a night. We were immediately welcomed by a lovely young woman from Venezuela who was running the hostel for the next 6 months. It was interesting to see how some travelers worked the hostel scene and saved up money to get their fill of the world.
The hostel itself was two-story deal with internet and electricity only between the hours of 7-10 PM. So, it goes without saying that this island was very secluded. It was beautiful though – with hammocks strung, bunk beds and many places to read (although be prepared to constantly swat away flies).
I decided to explore the island on my own which proved more difficult than anticipated. The dirt roads crossed in weird directions and you had to navigate through the local village to get to the beaches. Also beware that islands like these have few-to-no English speakers so be sure to know your left from right in Spanish.
On my trek through the jungle to find a beach I was followed by a stray dog and he kept with me until I found a drop-off point and climbed down a hill to swim. I knew there was a designated tourist beach SOMEWHERE, but at some point I had given up and just swam among the coral next to a local’s house.
Wandering back to the hostel, I made a meal out of tostones (fried plantains) and coconut rice at the one outdoor restaurant on island called “Pola’s.” The restaurant was planted right on the beach itself and I was able to organize my activities through one of the hosts there.
The first thing myself and a few others from our neighborhood of hostels did was take a scuba adventure. We were driven around in a small motor boat and stopped at two locations. The first one was to look at a sunken plane right off the coast of the island! Isla Grande is known to be one of the hideaways of Pablo Escobar.
After that we got to swim among the reef with the fish. It was so freeing being able to swim in the calm, blue waters with no life jackets and only the gentlest of waves.
That night myself, and maybe 10 others, were rounded up on a small motor boat to see the “Enchanted Lagoon” so we could swim with the bio-luminescent plankton. The trip there was eerily beautiful. We were dropped off at a small, wooden platform, given a snorkeling mask and left alone to jump into the ink-black water. Truthfully, It was a little scary not having any light and barely being able to see a foot in front of you – but all that is forgotten once you’re in the water and moving around. The plankton looked like thousands of diamonds glinting happily in their seclusion. It’s amazing, the faster you move the more they shine – easily my favorite experience of the trip.
That first night, the canopy made of mosquito netting on my bed was blown open and I proceeded to become eaten alive by mosquitoes. I had over two-hundred bites all over my body! Yes, I had a lot of free time so I counted.
Before the itching set in too deeply I spent my second full day renting a kayak and getting utterly fried on the open ocean. (Again remember your sunscreen people!) Everyone else from the hostel had left the island early in the morning, so it was just myself and my host. As I was fried to a crisp and bitten beyond belief, I turned down her kind offer to go dancing in the village. Instead, I spent most of the night reading in the safety of a new mosquito net.
The following morning, I had an uneventful boat ride back to Cartagena and immediately called for a taxi to my last, cheap hostel. It was called “Wonderland Party hostel” and it was located very close to the airport. I figured I would spend two nights there before my flight was booked to go home.
The hostel was hot, horrendous, and mostly deserted besides a few strange-looking travelers. I spent one very itchy night there, found and took a very tattered book of “A Million Little Pieces” by James Frey (not the lightest of reading) and left early to find refuge in a nearby motel. One with air-conditioning where I could try to recover in peace.
The reason these bites were so concerning is that I am fairly allergic to most bug bites. Enough to swell up and get sick. My family has a particular history to reacting very badly to this many mosquito bites so it is safe to say that my mother was panicking that her baby girl was feeling ill in Latin America far out of her reach. All in all, it could have been much worse.
I re-downloaded all my social media accounts (since I had gone on a hiatus) and only ventured out to get food from the one chain restaurant I saw while in Cartagena: Subway.
The next day I flew back to Atlanta with magnets for my Mom, to commemorate my trip, and peeling skin and bites to make sure I wouldn’t forget my adventure anytime soon.
So, was this the graduation trip I had dreamed of for myself? Not quite. Do I regret any of it? Of course not. It was sad and terrifying in many ways. This trip forced me to come to terms with who I had become in my final two years of school and what I wanted to do now that I was finished. It forced me to relearn my independence and self-sufficiency. Forced me to relearn how to be alone and how to rely on myself.
It forced me to roll with the punches and perhaps make better judgment calls next time I plan (or don’t plan) a trip. I definitely wouldn’t stay so long in one place again. It’s all about finding that balance. When I traveled Peru, I found myself jumping around from place to place too quickly. In Colombia, I didn’t jump around enough. But that’s okay! It’s all part of the learning process.
Anyways dear friends, I am still being forced to come to terms with what in God’s name I’m going to do with my life now that I am graduated. But you best know that I will be travelling again soon.
Until then. Much Love,
L xx
