Santa Marta, Colombia

One of my favorite parts of traveling abroad is simply taking in the culture of the land. My trip to Colombia was an adventure that revolved around the country’s people. I have experienced various standards of living on a fair spectrum, from the shanties of the third world to the wealth and prosperity of some of the top nations, including my own. Santa Marta falls in the mid to low range, but has a unique beauty that any traveler can appreciate.

Homes and Train Tracks

We set off in the morning with the intent on visiting Tayrona National Park. Excitement brewed for a day of hiking and exploring in hopes to capture snapshots of the famed wildlife and scenic views. We drove past a substantial cluster of impoverished homes, some made of scrap metal and sheets, while others had worn down concrete walls. There were piles of trash along the road and men riding in carts pulled by donkeys for transit. A young man in a soccer shirt casually stood in the window of a home with a bicycle  a few feet over resting against the colorful deteriorating walls of a neighboring house. Some may feel sorrow looking at this sight but for me there was an odd beauty to it. Although this may be seemingly unlivable to most, I admire these people that continue to build their lives and raise their families among what some may call rubble.

We drove through the city to reach the highway to take us to the park, yet were halted and were refused to advance any further. The guide informed us that there was a protest in the city and that the road was blocked with people and police force brought in to manage the crowd. I never was able to uncover the reason for the conflict, but gathered a minimal explanation that the people living in the Colombian hills outside of the main city called upon the mayor for not addressing expressed concerns. The politics are much different, just as the lifestyle is from my own, but the experience and perspective is valued.

Colombian Dancer Performing

Reroute and adapt. We took an immersion lesson by driving into the heart of the city where out our windows we saw a somewhat familiar view of vendors of all kinds selling their goods on the streets. In a general sense of comparison it reminded me slightly of the border town of Tijuana, Mexico, mixed with the familiar Los Angeles fashion district. We passed by a soccer stadium with a large commemorative statue that clearly showed the passion that lives in the hearts of fans that follow the popular sport. We were able to make a quick stop in a commercial square where the Basilica Santa Marta stood proudly with its bright white facade nearly shining against the colors of the surrounding buildings. The interior was very traditional with white marble and carved statues standing tall which gave me a comfortable, peaceful feeling. Outside the architecture of a few structures seemed to be influenced by its European roots which gave the city a blended personality that nearly transported my memories back to my time in Spain.

We traveled on through the hills, down to a resort area that served as our consolation for missing the original excursion destination. The mountains seemed to be made of emeralds for as far as you could see and I found it particularly fascinating to see cacti spurting up from the ground. I never imagined I would find a plant that I have only seen in arid climates nestled in such a tropical setting. They covered the slopes for as far as the vista reached.

We spent the remainder of our time at the Irotama Hotel where we watched a folkloric show featuring traditional dancers and musicians.Whether it was fabricated or true to the country’s culture, the women’s costumes were bright and full, and the steps themselves were smooth and elegant. There were a few startled faces among the older onlookers when the women did hand stands as they straddled the guys who drummed on their buts, but of course I just sat back, laughed and enjoyed the show. Walking around the grounds, mom enjoyed the pool while I sat on a lounge chair noticing how unreal the experience turned out to be. I felt like I was being sheltered by a popular time share in our local Hawaiian Islands, not in an exotic land that I would most likely never return to again.

Walking in Colombian Waters

We took moments to walk along the beach and dipped our feet into the warm murky water of the coast. I was surprised by the zero percent clarity, with the small waves that crashed on the shore resembling thick mud crashing to the ground, and the freight ships that littered the horizon gave it a very serious demeanor. We weren’t permitted to explore past the hotel boundaries, but of course the rebel that I am, I had to try. I casually walked toward town, hoping that I could sneak past without any guards stopping me. It soon became clear that there was no passing the invisible line when I came face-to-face with a fully armed man equipped with what looked to be a pretty heavy duty gun that I would only know to compare to an AK-47. You didn’t need to know the native language to get the hint.

Driving back to the ship, the guide pointed out a few significant landmarks and spoke of the strong military presence that seemed to be a constant in the port city. Although it was a scenic drive through the hillsides, I couldn’t help but feel constricted in some way during the experience. Colombia has its own charm that is unique to its strong willed residents. This particular portion of the trip reminds me that plans may change, roads may be detoured by when you open your eyes, the benefits of adapting can serve as a powerful point of view.