Leaving South America

Despite the late partying in Santa Marta, I didn’t miss my bus back to Cartagena where I checked into Casa Viena, one of the hostels that sets backpackers up with passage to Panama by boat. Joanne had now organised my flight home, so I needed to sail as soon as possible.

A discussion with the people running the hostel revealed that they didn’t think it was possible to get a cruise that included a trip up the Panama Canal to Panama City as I had planned, even though everyone I had spoken to coming the other direction said this is what they did, but it was what Joanne had reported when she tried to organise the trip for me. The best they could offer me at the hostel was a cruise to the east coast of Panama, leaving in six days, because I missed the 48 hour deadline required to register my passport for an earlier sailing. The only chance was to go up to the Club Nautico and ask about the Panama Canal trip there.

At the Club Nautico nobody there thought it would be possible to get a trip up the canal either, but there was a Captain Fabian who was planning to leave the next morning, needed one more passenger, and said he didn't understand why some other captains insist in 48 hours' notice of registration, because he was quite happy to do it that evening as long as I got my passport to him before 6pm. Since the canal trip seemed impossible, I decided just to do it; I already felt like my trip was over and I was going home, so I just wanted to get it over with. I had to get a move on, though, because Fabian insisted that we should sleep on the boat that night, to avoid the potential problems of late-comers in the morning and make sure everything was OK with us and the boat.

Back at the hostel, they were very nice and did not charge me anything for that night even though I had used their shower and my gear had been sitting in a dorm. The hostel was in the old part of town and this day was really the only time I had a decent look at the area: it was really lovely and the accommodation was really quite reasonable as well. I felt another jolt of regret that we had spent all that time staying in the characterless Boca Grande instead of here. Anyway, that was all behind me now: I was leaving Colombia.

Back at the boat, Fabian took my passport and introduced me to two Italian Swiss guys, Sandro and Romano, who were also passengers. They spoke to me in Spanish and said that they didn't speak much English. My Spanish has seemed like it was getting quite good at one point, but it had definitely become pretty useless again, especially for conversation rather than just tourist-level. This trip was going to be tough, but at least my Spanish would go through rapid improvement again. Then the remaining two passengers turned up and I was let off the hook because they were English. They were a couple and although the girl, Alex, seemed to speak good Spanish, Toby spoke almost none, so the centre of gravity was back in English, and the poor Swiss guys ended up speaking English too, despite the fact we were sailing from one Spanish speaking country to another. Shocking really. We all paid Fabian the large amount of money that was the fare, my last extravagance of the trip, and with the rest of my Colombian money I asked him to get me a bottle of rum, either a big one or a good one, I said, while he went shopping for provisions.

Me alone in the cabin

Once we were all settled into our respective parts of the yacht (it's not a boat it's a yacht, Fabian insisted) el Capitan arrived back with my large and good bottle of rum, as well as a few beers. We should drink the beers now, since we wouldn't feel like alcohol once we were out in the open sea, he told us. I didn't really believe him but I did as I was told.

Cabin with others outside

The boat was very nice but smaller than I had been hoping to get on; the way other people had described their trips I had expected a bit more space and a bit more luxury: this was really quite cramped and there wasn't even a shower, just a pump-and-nozzle up on deck. The main thing was getting to Panama, I supposed, but for the money I had hoped for a bit more.

Despite the cramped bed, I slept well and the next morning we were off much earlier than would have been possible if we all turned up first thing, so Fabian seemed to know his stuff anyway.

Goodbuoy Cartagena!

Good riddance Boca Grande!

Leaving Cartagena we were treated to some fantastic views of the Boca Grande, which actually looks very nice from a distance, and an enormous liner pulling into the harbour: a cruise ship with a huge swimming pool and a climbing wall on the upper decks. Another country behind me, and another continent. Like everywhere else I had been, I wished I had been able to spend more time there; I think Colombia may have been my favourite South American country if I had got to know it better instead of wasting so much time in Boca Grande. Certainly the people were very friendly and genuine, without the cynicism towards tourists that seemed common in other South American countries.

An enormous cruise liner

Liner heading for Boca Grande

written by  The Happy Couple on January 15, 2010 from Cartagena, Colombia
from the travel blog: Michael's Lonely post-Honeymoon
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