I’ve just arrived in Costa Rica and I’m staying in a small little beach resort town called Samara. Its quite nice to kick back and enjoy some superficial comforts. The last week was full of adventure and exposure to things that I had previously only heard about, at most.
Sergio, Mayra and I set off around the middle of December on an incredible journey into the northern desert of Colombia and to a province called La Guajira. Sergio, being the anthropologist sort, took us on a really unique trip which mostly revolved around a certain indigenous group of people from Colombia called the Wayuu.
Some of the Wayuu youngsters we met in Uribia - La Guajira
We learnt a lot about their customs, challenges facing them on a daily basis and even got to stay with a family for a night on their Rancheria. This is a small type of traditional home built out of mud and wood. They cooked for us and regaled us with stories about a life that was truly foreign to me. The children loved the fact that I’m from Africa and absolute pandemonium broke out when they heard I was wearing a bracelet made from elephant hair! Obviously I added some colourful details to the story of how I got this elephant hair. I just grabbed the pachyderm by the tail of course! Well they loved that and screeched with laughter!
Wayuu mom cooking dinner for us. She is not doubt the matriarch in this home
The hammocks we slept in on our first night at the Rancheria
The Wayuu family that took us in and taught us a little about their lives
Some of the children curiously viewing the strangers on the Rancheria
We slept in Hammocks for a couple of days which definitely takes a little getting used to. Sleeping and showers, never mind hot ones, were not high on the priority list during these couple of days. Lack of sleep was especially tough for me to deal with at times. One thing I’ve learnt about this country is that there is NEVER silence. This is tough for someone who sleeps as lightly as I do, and who could blame me when my home is in Johannesburg and more particularly the Wild Westdene!? At least the noises here were mostly harmless. In the cities its the blaring music 24 hours a day and in the rural areas it was farting (seriously this old Wayuu fellow could be heard from some distance at night and I thought I was bad! I was most grateful that we were sleeping outside), roosters, mosquitoes, goats bleating and more music. At times I just could not believe how noisy it is! I was occasionally frustrated at not being able to communicate, but its all spurring me on to learn more quickly.
Spending time with Sergio and Mayra was always a laugh a minute and I can scarcely imagine two better companions for a trip like this. Its hard to believe that its over already. Sometimes it really gave the trip more of an accidental air than anything that might have been borne out of a plan of sorts. I’d honestly prefer to not know the truth.
There is always time for a roadside empanada with Mayra and Sergio
After our night on the Rancheria we moved to the desolate little beach town of Cabo De La Vela. Here there was still no electricity and it seemed to me like a place completely removed from everything. This was more relaxing for sure with hammocks lining the pristine beach that seemed more like the shores of a really big lake. It was so quiet and looking back from the beach you could see the desert stretching away for what seemed like forever.
Hammocks on the beach at Cabo De La Veda
A view of La Cabo and the desert in the background
Unfortunately our stay was briefly interrupted by Mayra and I getting sick. Mayra had a weird bite of sorts and it started getting a little nasty while we were there. The health care in Colombia seems to be really good though and the local Wayuu clinic sorted it out in no time. That does not mean that the procedure to clean this nearly septic wound was without incident. Mayra came mighty close to screaming (something I have rarely seen her do in the sober light of day) as the otherwise charming doctor literally stuck her finger in the wound to clean it! Weirdly, one can just pick up antibiotics from any pharmacy without a prescription here. Generally the pharmacists really seem to know their stuff too and its all very cheap. I personally had a brief case of the squirts which put me under for a while but I came through unscathed, if a little lighter, within a day or two.
Some friendly Wayuu locals at the Clinic in Cabo De La Veda
Enjoying a laugh with some other travellers on the beach
On our way back to Uribia we stopped at the nearby salt pans which also line the coast. I had never been to salt pans and it was quite strange to see these massive mounds of chrystals and the severely rusted trucks which were driving tons of the stuff away. I wondered how it was cleaned enough to finally end up on the dinner table. This trip coincided with a strange cloudburst in the middle of the desert. This added a strange air to the place and the coast line was most striking.
A view of the Salt pans close to Uribia
The heaving coastline at the salt pans
The next morning we were set to move on by bus to Santa Marta, further Wast on the coast, which is a completely different vibe from the desert and the quiet we had experienced up to then. Its back in the tropics, touristy, loud and hot!
The bus trip was a little hairy for sure. We waited roadside early the next morning at some intersection close to the border of Venezuela, for a bus that we were told would come by in a couple of minutes. This little stop was complete with stands cooking goats meat and Arepas (kind of like a braai bread that they fill it here with an egg or cheese). It was also a spot where goats and pigs were traded so it was kind of traumatic to see these tied up and squealing animals getting thrown on and off of various trucks passing by.
One and a half hours later (!) we finally got onto a bus after Sergio fairly threw himself at the conductor and forced our way on after negotiating an ‘ok’ price. Exhaustion added another dimension to our desperation and I think we seemed somewhat demented by then. Incidentally, everything here is negotiable it seems...and there is always a ‘Colombian’ price too. The trip was frightening as the bus clearly had no shocks left on the one rear wheel. This meant that any bumps and a certain speeds would send the bus into a speed wobble which would require the driver to brake super quickly to avoid us falling over or going into a spin. This made overtaking at speed quite interesting and eventually the other passengers got so scared / irate that they convinced the driver to drive more slowly. Mayra was sure that sleeping through all of this was the answer but I was not able to buy into that logic...in time though I’m sure.
As I’ve mentioned before, the military and security presence everywhere is something to behold. It will still take some time to get used to I think. We went through numerous road-blocks and were eventually pulled over by a large army contingent. The men on the bus had to get off and we were searched along with all our belongings. Like I said in the previous post carrying identification at all times is mandatory. They were apparently looking for ‘Contrabandes’ (illegally imported goods from Venezuela) and actually did find some cases of whisky on our bus. Some negotiations / bribes later and we were on our way again. 6 hours later the bus trip was thankfully over and we were trying to find our way around a new city.
Santa Marta has a strange allure to it and seemed completely unapologetic about its hedonistic veneer. We also got a nice clean hotel room (with a shower! although it was still cold) and spent the first half a day just sleeping and washing / scrubbing. We surfaced around midnight to check out the town and were not disappointed. Lots of partying with the damned ‘Felize Navidad’ (Merry Christmas) being screamed out at every opportunity! Christmas and religion are a serious business over here as I am realising more everyday. Decorations and portrayals of the nativity scene are everywhere including all hotels and shops. Neon lights adorn buildings, streets and trees all over and it all just seemed to be another excuse to get hammered. I think it might be a reaction to the war and violent history, but these people really do drink seriously! Its quite normal to see fellows passed out at virtually all hours in many of the bars and public drinking places. Its a strange paradoxical situation where Colombians are the most friendly people I have ever come across, hands down and then there is constantly also a more sinister under-current of danger that seems to be hard to put your finger on. Almost without fail people have assisted me to the nth degree wherever I’ve been and it is the kind of help that is sincere and does not seem to have any ulterior motives behind it. Santa Marta was generally a lot of fun and could’ve been a spot on the Mediterranean during summer for all the merriment and light-heartedness.
Santa Marta and the beach
Another laugh with Sergio and Mayra at the local Juan Valdez
Bogota was 11 degrees when we landed at El Dorado airport. This city is not warm and the altitude obviously plays a big part. It rarely gets about 20 degrees! I then packed, said my goodbyes to Sergio and Mayra and moved on for Costa Rica the next day. Leaving the airport was a big deal again and I was ‘randomly’ searched three times. All my belongings were rummaged through and I mean everything...even the straps of my backpack! I just smiled but by the third time I was a little frayed for sure. The immigration officials also disappeared with my passport for about 15 minutes while they decided whether I could leave (????) with the tear on my passport photo.
Arriving in Costa Rica could not have been more different. Its more like a ‘welcome to paradise!’ setup and clearly this country knows that tourism is its biggest source of income. I’m now on the beach in a small town called Samara and that is where I’ll stay for the next couple of days before moving off to the volcanoes and rain forests of this beautiful country. They also speak English over here!
Below are a couple more oddities I’ve taken note of in the last week or so:
- As mentioned before there are coffee vendors everywhere! It is really striking and I can almost not imagine Johannesburg’s street vendors including these guys with their rickety carts. These fellows walk around with thermos flasks on their carts and serve coffee anywhere and at anytime and it seems to be the most popular thing sold on the street too… more popular than beer! Its really hard to describe how nice the coffee is here. Its full of flavour and does not make you edgy at all. I think its probably really mild. Tea cannot be found for love or money!
- Yesterday I tried Tamales for the first time. Its basically Mealie meal with various meats (chicken, pork, beef) wrapped in banana leaves and boiled. Really nice, full of flavour and one of the best known dishes of Latin America.
- Plantains are in everything and you get many varieties from the really salty to the super sweet. A really nice snack is this fried plantain filled with something in between dried guava and guava jam. Really tasty! Sometimes they also put cheese in the fried plantains.
I constantly have to give my name at different places and seeing as the ‘H’ is quiet in Spanish, this is really tricky. I’ve resorted to saying something like Geeeelttttoooon Juansoon but invariably the painful ‘Paris Hilton’ comparison seems to be the most effective. - It was interesting noting how the Wayuu have their own language called wayuunaiki which the Spanish speakers could also not understand a word of. I was glad that someone else was also frustrated at not being understood too.
- Everything is a bloody negotiation in Spanish...even asking for a cup of coffee! I’ve constantly been chuckling to myself at the incessant ‘no...si? no...si?’. Can’t you just bloody say what you want?!?!
- Alcohol and lots of it can be bought anywhere...seriously. Vendors sell beers and hard liquor. The shops over here seem to sell everything from medicine to booze all at the same time.
- The plastic wrapping of bags at the airport over here is predominantly to stop people putting cocaine in your bag without you noticing it.
- In Bogota especially there is a new kind of poor people that I have never seen before...internally displaced by the war. They outnumber the beggars and whole families with all their belongings are seen on the streets all the time. Sergio pointed them out to me before and I must say that its harder to see than your average beggar on the street corner. They, along with the indigenous people, really evoke a strong emotive response in me and I see plenty of opportunities for work with these people once my Spanish gets a little better.
The birthday boy, Sergio and I. I only look mildly sober...
Fried plantain with Guallava (guaj-ava)