So – 04-09 Dec was walkin’.  To Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City), and back.  Two or three hour jeep ride to a small village, where I had a couple of beers.  Also had one when we stopped for some diesel.  Reputation was sorted before we even started walking.  Then – walkin’.  With two french guys, one german girl, and an israeli guy.  The guy who turned out to be our guide looked more like a chef.  I hoped he was our cook, anyway.  But – the size of his gut lied.  I didn’t really hold out much hope for him actually surviving the walk.

But, he did survive the walk, as did we all.  Took three days to get to the actual city.  Lots of wading through rivers, avoiding poisonous snakes, meeting indigenous people, staying at an army camp, etc.  Arrived at Ciudad Perdida itself, after a long walk up lots and lots of very steep slippery stairs, at about lunchtime on the third day.  A very very cold shower, and then spent the afternoon and evening doing nothing but killing mosquitos, playing cards, and drinking a bit of whiskey and wine.  Previous camps had cerveza available.  But not the camp at the City itself.  Luckily, I had brought whiskey, and the french had brought wine.

The fourth day, we had a tour around the city.  All the explanations from our guide were in espanol, so I didn’t understand too much of it.  But just walking around it was cool.  I think they’ve only uncovered 10% of it, or something.  But that is good – as it is really only the foundations of where buildings used to stand.  All uncovered – it wouldn’t be too impressive, unless they rebuilt the houses.  But as it is now, you stand in a circular foundation made of stone – and there are half a dozen pathways leading from it into dense jungle.  Most of them just seeming to lead to nowhere – because of the density of the jungle – but two or three which have been cleared away, leading to more circles.  And the centre of the city, with a stone throne.  Which rhymes.  So I figured the rhyme must be a signal that I should sit on the throne naked. 

Anyway, the second night up at the city, we drank more whiskey, and played more cards.  And discovered that our guide had actually brought our blankets up here.  We just hadn’t found them last night.  So our freezing all night was not necessary.  Oh well.  Walked back to the army camp on the fifth day for lunch, and muchas cervezas.  Then onwards to the place we stayed at the first night.  Longest day of walking, and it had been raining – so was very very muddy.

Last day, returned to the village.  Swam fully clothed on the way back, to get rid of the mud.  Very nearly jumped in with camera still in pocket.  Spent my very little remaining cash on cerveza.  And then back to Taganga.  The frenchies and I then went to a seafood restaurant in Santa Marta – highly recommended by the hostel owner.  Was indeed good – and led to a late night of chatting and cerveza back at the hostel.

10 Dec – not feeling too bad after the six day hike.  Wasn’t that difficult though – and I think most reports I’d read about it beforehand must have been written by elderly unfit seppo women wearing hawaian shirts.  But, I did very little today anyway.  Lay in a hammock, reading an awful awful book.  Drinking good good cerveza.  Fish for lunch with the israeli chap from the trek.  And another day gone.

Which made me promise to actually get back to doing stuff on 11 Dec.  So, procrastinated for a while, but eventually packed my stuff, and caught the colectivo to Santa Marta.  Stocked up on carrots, apples, mandarins, cash, garlic, whiskey and sunglasses – and then headed off to the Tayrona national park.  Beaches, they reckon.  Pristine, they reckon.  Got there, and got my whiskey confiscated.  Dumb.  Walked for 40 minutes, and got to the first beach/campsite – Arrecifes.  Dangerous for swimming, they reckon – so the plan was to have a couple of cervezas, then continue to the third beach/second campsite.  But, started chatting with three colombian guys, and then playing cards with them.  And it got a little late to be walking in the jungle – so stayed there for a night.

12 Dec – an apple for breakfast, and then off walkin’ again.  Second beach which was supposed to be nice for swimming (was actually called La Piscina – which I think means something like swimming pool, or something to do with swimming anyway) turned out to be rather average.  So – I pressed on to the third beach, which had the second campsite.  El Cabo – nice setting, but again – the beach was rather disappointing for somebody who has been to Northland.  Pretty little bay though.  I guess.  Met an english couple who’d briefly joined us the previous night – they were looking for some friends.  Had a couple of cervezas, and then finally went for a swim.  One or two hours later – I’m already sunburnt, bored, and wishing I hadn’t already booked and paid for a hammock.  Afternoon trying to think of something to do.  Evening - watch the english boyfriend dig himself deeper and deeper into a hole that he’d made when he caused him and girlfriend to miss the restaurant’s dinner hours – on his girlfriends birthday.  So – birthday dinner consisted of canned tuna on crackers.  But he kept joking about it, as she got angrier and angrier.  It was rather reminiscent of myself on the last day of the Inca Trail.  But – she seemed to gradually forget about it – whenever he wasn’t reminding her – and eventually we all played frisbee on the beach for a while.  Glowing frisbee – in the dark.  Cool.

13 Dec – got up early, and started a-walkin’ again.  Ate the last of my healthy foodstuffs.  Got back to Arrecifes, and had a couple of beers.  Then – onwards to the park entrance – another couple of beers, and onto a bus back to Santa Marta.  Bought some souvenir-type stuff, and checked out a museum.  This museum had a model of Ciudad Perdida – as it would have looked, back in the day.  So – one can see the full extent of it.  Fairly impressive, I guess.

Back to Taganga, and checked back into the hostel.  Table of drunk inglis and arsetralian guys.  Had been going for a couple of days, by the sounds of it.  Sat with them for a while, but couldn’t handle listening to them after a while.  The arsetralians were holding themselves together fairly well – but the inglis.  Well, you know.  Managed to quickly once again rack up a tab of cervezas that was higher than my accommodation.  But managed to get a fairly early night.

Join in next time, when Spidey says: “Kruse goes to Cartagena”.

Sorry, Pen and Mum.  I did actually write this a week ago – and thought it had posted.  Apparently not.  And only a little bit was saved as a draft – so here goes again…

30 Nov – got up this morning, and got myself a beer.  And breakfast.  Then, some more cervezas and sitting in the sun.  Finally checked out, and walked into town.  Stupid hot sunshine and stupid big pack and stupid long walk.  Then, some internet, and watch the Black Caps thrash South Africa.  Lunch – with some decent barbequed meat.  At last.   A couple of potatoes as the vegetable side of things.  More cerveza.  Eventually get a colectivo to Tunja.  Buy a bus ticket to Santa Marta, but discover I’m low on cash.  My Quito spending habits seem to have stuck with me.  Quick taxi to the centro, get some cash, and back to bus station.  Buy bus ticket, and then drink cerveza while waiting.  Bus to Bucaramanga.

So, arrive at Bucuramanga at 3am 01 Dec.  Bus to Santa Marta leaves at 3am.  But I have to wait until 7am.  Dumb.  Try to figure out a way of sleeping at the bus station without having my stuff nicked.  Then, soon after 4 – the lady comes to find me, and tells me I can get on a bus at 4:30.  Sweet.  Dodgy arrangement of getting on a bus to somewhere else – which takes me to where a bus is waiting on the side of the street.  All to avoid the bus station taxes/fees, I think.  Anyway – got myself a bus to Santa Marta.

Arrive in aforementioned Santa Marta – and undecided on where to stay.  Research at internet cafe.  Still undecided.  Decide to go to the first place the taxi driver assumes I want to go.  Casa de Felipe, in Taganga – a small village just outside of Santa Marta proper.  With a beach which isn’t too polluted.  Book into the hostel – and walk around the village.  Which takes about 5 minutes.  Fresh seafood for dinner.  Sweet.

02 Dec starts with a swim in the Caribbean.  And then not much else.  Drinking cerveza in a hammock while reading a book, with a couple of breaks to eat seafood.

03 Dec – similar to 02 Dec.  But I also accomplish something.  Book a tour to the Lost City – Ciudad Perdida.  Go to dinner with some folks from the hostel, and return to the hostel well past a sensible bedtime for somebody starting a trek tomorrow.  And also with far too many cervezas under the belt to be sensible for the same trek.

I’ll write about the actual trek next time.  When I’ve got more energy.  But – I’m back safe and sound.  And considering another trip into places where there is no internet or other such things.  This time – for beaches.

28 Nov – Spent all day preparing to leave San Agustin.  Ate bad cold leftovers, packed bags, went into town, did the internet and lunch things.  Then – back to the hostel, and lazed in a hammock with cerveza for several hours – including a bit of a siesta in the sun.  Then, it started to rain just as it was getting near to time for me to walk down to the bus stop.  Paid my bill – over 50% of which was cerveza, and decided to walk down before the rain got heavier.  Got into a colectivo to Pitalito.  Pitalito had an actual bus station.  So, bought a ticket to Bogota, ate some dinner, and – of course - drank some cervezas while waiting for the bus.  Got onto the bus, and found amusement in how long it took people to find their seats, and the utter chaos involved – despite people having allocated seats.  Every single time, people start looking confused when they get to seat numbers 10/11 or so, despite it soon becoming obvious that their seat number is 25.  “Why isn’t 25 between 11 and 12?” their faces seem to say.  Every time there’s at least two people.  Depending on my mood, I either want to laugh out loud, or shake them.  Anyway – slept on the bus to Bogota, despite the little shit next to me assuming that his elbow had seat number 22, as well as his own ticket for 21.

So, early in the morning of 29 Nov, I arrive in Bogota.  Not wanting to spend time in Bogota again, I immediately buy a ticket for Villa de Leyva.  Which turns out to be leaving in 10 minutes.  So – off I go again.  But I discover, in Tunja, that the bus only goes as far as Tunja.  From there, I have to get another colectivo.  No problem – colectivo to Villa de Leyva.  Arrive in Villa de Leyva, and walk to the main plaza.  Find an internet cafe to do some research on places to stay.  Discover the place I was intending, has closed down.  Jot down notes on others.  Then, I run into Arizonian Matt – one of the chaps from the San Agustin jeep tour.  Sit down and have a beer with him, and some food.  Starving – I scoff down a big messy burger in about 30 seconds.  He’s staying at another tranquil place outside of town.  So, he leads me there.  Another cool place with gardens, hammocks, beer in the fridge, etc.  But not as stinking-dirty-hippie-ish as the place in San Agustin.  Have a beer to recover from the walk there.  Matt had told me it was 7 minutes, with a bit of uphill at the end.  It was actually about 15 minutes, the entire thing uphill.  Bastard.  More cerveza, and a bit of sitting in the sun, a small siesta, and then more hammock time.  With book and MP3 player.  Sweet.  Into town, dinner, a couple of cervezas while watching a Phil Collins concert on DVD, and then back to the hostel.  Chat for a while with Matt and another seppo.  More cervezas.  And a nice early night.

And that’s two fairly uneventful days.  Lots of relaxing, and lots of travelling.  I’m looking forward to getting to Santa Marta, so I can do the Lost City trek – and see something big and impressive again.  Next update should be from Santa Marta, as even though Villa de Leyva is pretty and nice and tranquil – there’s not much to do.  Nature walks.  Pah.  I got nature at home.  So, currently watching NZ thrash the yarpies.  Then, hopefully my guess on when buses leave from Tanja to Santa Marta is correct.