You hear Santa Marta long before you see it. Rounding the final major headland on the
Colombian coast before the approach to Santa Marta, the pounding bass of a
disco became audible. A worrying
resemblance to the Karaoke bar we had left behind in Bonaire that kept us awake
at night. It was around 10pm and in the
two hours it took to reach the marina the disco grew to a full on
festival. We could see a huge stage on
what looked like the beach with the Colombian Fat Boy (Muchacho Gordo) in full
swing. As we edged onto the pontoon and
were met by the marina marinaros, we were handed wrist bands in case we needed
to use the bathrooms – the concert was actually in the marina. We were told that Paris was due to appear
any moment - we had heard she was starting a new DJ career. Turns out there is a Colombian Paris as well.
The festival was a bit of a damp squib. Despite the volume only 60 people turned
up. The marina was trying to increase
revenue by using the site for non-boating events. During our time there, there was a car
show, a Police Benefit concert which
started with ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ for some reason, a Ragaton concert which was
so loud it apparently shook the rivets out of some of the steel boats and
numerous weddings including one where the marquee over the guests literally
blew away. More about the wind
later. Staying at the marina for 3
months was similar to having a flat overlooking Earls Court.
As well as the noise, the other distinctive feature was
the wind. Santa Marta is at the foot of
the Sierra Nevada mountain range and some nights the wind would come shrieking
down. Being moored alongside meant
having all our fenders out on one side
to spread the load as we were pinioned to the pontoon. Sometimes you could feel the boat being
lifted up as well as shifted sideways as gusts of up to 45kts hit. We got very good in the end at predicting
when it would be a gusty night and made sure we had our canopy down in good
time. However, only after a couple of
occasions wrestling the canopy down in our underwear at 11pm at night.
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| Local Pizza Brand |
Santa Marta is a wonderful mixture of old town – dating
from the 1600s when the Spanish landed - to sprawling urban mass which is a mix
of shacks, neatish suburbs and high rises.
The old town has several districts packed with sophisticated bars and
restaurants – It’s like being in the Med crossed with Cuba. In fact when we first arrived we kept saying,
‘this is what we thought Cuba would be like’. Santa Marta is in the heart of the region where
Colombians and apparently all Latin Americans come to holiday and does have an
air of Brighton with its slightly seedy hotels along the waterfront.
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| Mark's idea of heaven |
There is a ferocious energy in the place. Everyone is always on the move. Where ever you go there are street vendors
selling everything from cups of coffee from flasks, to sweet biscuits which are
a bit like fudge, to guys with carts selling fruit, or lime juice from huge flagons. At any one time there must be 10,000 people
out selling something – they never hassle you, they are just there working to
make a buck. Colombia as a country is on
a fast track to developed nation status and seems to be learning from mistakes
made elsewhere. Hardly anyone smokes (they
are only available from locked cabinets) and alcohol consumption is minimal
(and also very expensive). We probably
upped the alcohol consumed per head during our stay.
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| Food provenance |
They also seem to finally have the FARC on the run. There was mention of problems outside the
cities and towns, but they have a huge police/military presence in some of the
remote areas. On a trip to Minca in the
hills about 1 hour from Santa Marta, the police virtually doubled the local
population. There were, however, signs
of people with drug habits living on the streets and a nearby village along the
coast was a magnet for them and the backpacker crowd that flowed in and out of
the area.
Just before we left Curacao, we saw a customs boat coming
into the lagoon towing a couple of jet skis which we assumed had been washed
out to sea/stolen. Later when we went
ashore, the area around the fisherman’s dock was sealed off and a couple of
local lads were sitting hand cuffed on the ground looking very dejected. We discovered later that there were three of
them on jet skis loaded with 182kgs of cocaine.
A couple we met were on the dock when the first jet ski entered the cove
pursued by the customs boat at full power (they have 3 300hp engines). The Miami Vice moment was followed by shots
being fired and the girl who was from Equador dragged her English husband to
the ground to reduce the chance of them being shot. Equadorians obviously have more experience in
this area than your average Brit. It was
all a timely reminder that the drug trade is alive and kicking along the coast
of the Southern Caribbean.
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| Check out the black bags being offloaded |
However, Colombia has been shaking off it’s drug industry
with some success. To the point that
they now have a 63 part mini-series on the life of their one time drug lord
Escobar. We know all this as apart from
the concerts, etc the marina acts as a film set for the soap operas the
Colombians are addicted to. One week we
had men in black military uniforms on the dock running up and down with weapons
as boats came in and out with various types of casualties followed by men in
white coats from the forensic team. All
very diverting as we watched from the boat.
The only inconvience was not being able to get passed when the cameras
were rolling. Fortunately the filming
didn’t take place a week earlier when a few of us were suffering from the
Colombian cramps and any trip to the loos had to be made in the shortest time
possible – film ‘action’ or not.
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| Big hat - must be the director |
A slightly sweeter noise has been Mark’s new guitar. Bought for his birthday and now regularly
played. He has an interesting
repertoire. A composition to accompany a
dash to the loo with Colombian cramps, a medley of notes he calls ‘Welcome to
the Zenna lounge’ and his only song to date – I’ve been working on the
railroad’. I can’t wait until he learns
something else as well.
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| I've been working on the railroad ... |
Apart from Santa Marta, we also managed a trip to
Cartagena where we stayed at a guest house recommended by a couple we met
whilst we were having lunch for Mark’s b-day.
They were from Bogota and were in Santa Marta making the final
preparations for their wedding in a couple of weeks time – All very reminiscent
of Symi. To top it off she was
Colombian/Greek and they were heading to Greece for a second ceremony later in
the year. They invited us for drinks the
evening before the wedding which was a lovely insight into a Colombian wedding
and families.
Anyway back to Cartagena.
The guest house was run by Lucie whose late father was English. Her mother was suffering from dementia but
still lived at home. Mark took to
watching TV in one of the sitting rooms her husband used to use and she got it
in her mind that Mark was her husband.
Insisting on kisses and getting very upset when she saw him with
me! But apart from that Cartagena was an
interesting mix of restored Spanish/Latin architecture, good eating, more
Colombian weddings and relatively little noise.
The cacophony that is Santa Marta was particularly acute
in the market place which extends over 5-6 blocks. Everything is sold there from fruit to
machine parts. On our first visit we
were both a bit wired clutching our bags to us having removed all the valuables. But after a while I would scoot off on my
bike to get things on my own. We always
lock up our bikes when we shop, but we were still worried whether they would be
ok in Santa Marta. The locals are so
adept at making and stripping things down, we weren’t sure if there would be
anything left on the bikes when we returned.
But the only real problem we had was dealing with the constant questions
about the Bromptons wherever we went.
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| spare parts for your kitchen equipment |
The market appears an impenetrable maze until you realise
that there are sections for fruit and veg, for hardware, for bikes, for paint
etc. In fact we found out how to get tools
sharpened, spokes on the bikes mended, where to by bearings for the
windlass(having just had some sent out from the UK for £100), found a workshop
which could strip down the rusted windlass so the bearing could be inserted as
well as the usual food shopping.
So we were very upset to hear that a couple of weeks ago
someone went into the supermarket in the centre of the market and threw a
grenade killing 2 people and seriously injuring around 10 others. A resurgence of FARC factions fighting one
another? – it’s just so chilling. So we are glad to be away but we loved being
in Santa Marta. We even talked to quite
a few people who have decided to move there from Europe/US and wondered if we
might ever think about going there to live one day – Noise or no noise.
