Cartagena, Colombia, 2004-05-28
The wet blue hills were marching in formation, off to fight a war somewhere else. We just went up and over them, splash splash, one by one. The only way to know how fast we were going without being able to see land was to look at the bubbles forming off the bow. The answer was not very. This trip has taught me a new respect for those people who would get into a sailboat knowing they could be in it for months at a time, and that might just be in order to fall off the edge of the world. Sailing is goddamn slow. Thank God for the internal combustion engine and all the wonderful things it has done for the world, like allow us to keep going when the wind gets bad.
This is how Ronaldo, our Brazillian Cuba Libre drinking captain should have advertised his boat:
Sail on the full-spa boat! Ammenities include: swimming pool (a bit salty), sun tanning salon (everywhere above deck), and hot hot sauna (everywhere below deck – especially when the engines on)! To be fair, despite the heat rash, sunburn (I tried, mom, I did, there`s just no winning at these lattitudes!) and extreme boredome (up and down up and down splash splash up and down up and down, splash splash) it was an experience I do not regret one bit. I had never before gone out so far as to not see land, and to do that in a little sailboat really helped get across that feeling of “you puny human, look how big and blue and powerful I am and there`s only a Cuba Libre drinking Brazillian, a Canadian trying to quit smoking, and a 30` fiberglass teardrop between you and me.” That is, really it is, a beautiful feeling. A sunset on the open ocean behind far off clouds lit up on the inside by lightning also fell into the beautiful category. As did the San Blas islands, the little archipelago on the way with it`s politically independent Kuna tribe. They were friendly and authentic, came by in a dug-out canoe wearing traditional dress and offered me all sorts of crap for sale: some beautiful cloths for way too much money, some lobsters pulled out by hand, and some avocados. I bought an avocado. I think it was the worst avacado I`ve ever eaten. They asked if we had any cigarettes. David, the other passenger, was trying to quit smoking by the remove yourself from all sources of cigarettes method. We deffinitely did not have any. The Kuna didn`t believe us.
I liked coming in to Cartagena harbor at night. I could see the glow on the horizon for hours before we got there, and approaching a new place at night by sea – especially after two days without seeing land – was an impressive introduction. In the morning we dingied to shore. I stepped on the shore. There was no music, no electric sensations shooting up my feet from my spine. I wondered why the solid earth was rocking back and forth. I sure was satisfied. South America! Whew. I made it all the way without flying once. I jumped a few times along the way probably. But no flying.
Colombia in my mind was a barren wasteland of war and shady drug-runners. Mind you I`ve only seen one city – what I`m told is by far its nicest city – but it seems like a pretty normal place, a lot more well off than I expected, actually. Things ARE different than Central America, but my impression so far makes it hard to imagine that this is a country that has been ravaged by civil war for decades. Well, on and off for centuries, really. A lot of the other travelers I`ve talked to here say it`s probably safer here than many other places, including Venezuela.
Best of all, I`ve been informed that cocaine only costs US$6.00 a gram. Think of all the money I could make importing that stuff. Until I have my business set up, you can get some good shit from this nice man. His family`s been in the business for generations.