First Week in Colombia

Greetings from Mike and Pat in Cartagena, Colombia, South America!  We have our pickup and camper here that we shipped from Colorado, to Houston, then via boat to here.

You might ask what prompted us to visit here.  Well, at the end of our New Zealand trip in March, 2013, Mike asked, “Well, would you like to come back here —or maybe go to Australia?”  “Well,” I answered, “you’ve mentioned South America one time.  I think I’d like to go there.”

Well, let me tell you, Mike grabbed that idea like a starving dog with a bone — and ran with it!

So, six months of planning and work, here we are.  I refused to let Mike consider taking our really good camper and great GMC pickup, and insisted we buy another set, to be resold after we get back.  We needed a tougher combo with no slide.  We purchased a 1999 Ford 350 pickup truck and an older 2005 Bigfoot camper.

Mike spent the entire summer retro fitting the camper with solar panels and electrical equipment, and a luxurious!? porta-potty to replace the stool in the 2005 camper bathroom.  The rig is entirely self-sufficient, though not as roomy as our other Bigfoot — but a better set-up for rugged roads and scattered campgrounds. 

Before shipping the rig to Houston, we had to remove ALL of everything from the cab, down to floor mats and windshield wipers, leaving absolutely nothing.  (They needed keys to move the rig, of course, but the camper was triple locked).

So, now we are here, our fifth day actually, but the FIRST that we feel truly HERE.  Cartagena is a city with unbelievable traffic with motorbikes dashing in and out, taxis galore, and frequent jams with horns beeping. 

The first day was spent sightseeing in “Old Town” Cartagena which was within walking distance of our hotel.  It is a rather large area with shops, restaurants, old colorful buildings, and narrow streets.  A fun day.  

Two views of "Old Town" Cartagena 

Containers at the dock, a few of many

Tuesday, the fun began.  Documents, taxi rides, papers, waiting, purchases of life insurance

for 5 days so Mike could go in to the yard to get the truck, paying expensive dock fees.  Personnel were all friendly, but the system sucks.  Not efficient.  Take a taxi rather than make a phone call.  Two days, 9 hours each, of this, but at the end of the second day, the little customer service gal said, “Here are your papers!  Go!  NOW!

Mike and I freaked.  It was nearly 7 in the evening.  We don’t drive after dark. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  All of our things were back at the hotel and not packed.  We were having problems with BOTH ATM cards and I needed to send more emails while I still had wifi.  We were tired.  We wanted beers.  AND, we had no place to go with the truck!  

Our panic showed.  She had never asked us WHEN we wanted the truck; she assumed immediately.  We were thinking the next morning. We begged off.  She was not happy but cancelled the appointment and rescheduled for the next morning.   (And the next morning, the dock guy wanted to know, “Why weren’t you here last night!!” )  Oh well. . . 

So we picked up the truck/camper rig.  I walked out and saw the truck and camper for the first time and much to my surprise, I choked up.!  I guess I was so relieved, and down deep, I feared never seeing the rig in one piece again.  But, no damage.  Nothing stolen.  All in good shape. Even my colorful little moose sticker was still on the back door!

Next, diesel, water and propane.  Then find our way out of town — the quickest, shortest way possible.  We hadn’t gone far when we talked of lunch, found a large truck lot near a restaurant, and stopped.  Wow, we had space and we had shade! 

So during lunch, we decided to remove all of our things from the camper, back to the cab of the pickup.  HOT WORK.  Sweat was literally pouring off us.  But in two hours, we were back together.  Time for more of the delicious lemonaid we’d had for lunch, and we decided to stay the night.  The people who lived around the restaurant loved coming up and visiting and asking questions.  Marta thought our lawn chairs were absolutely swell!

Pictures of conveyances on the road

The following day, we drove to Santa Marta, where I had a taxi take me to a supermercado.  Then the fun began:  an hour drive up into the mountains on a pot holey road to Minca.  We went up from sea level to 1800 feet elevation.  The drive through small-town Minca was hair-raising, with me walking backwards through most of town guiding Mike around cars, trees, wires, roof edges and satellite dishes. A couple of locals had to move their vehicles.

After finally arriving at the “grande” parking space we were sent to, we were not allowed to stay.  The gentleman didn’t want anyone sleeping there.  If it hadn’t been for our lovely benefactress who spoke excellent English, I would never have know WHY we couldn’t stay nor where we COULD park —a real issue as it was getting dark. 

She then went back up the street to a woman who had already told us we couldn’t park.  I told her we would be glad to pay— that did the trick.  Then Mike had to BACK up the street between a tree and a car.  Tight fit and it wasn’t going well.  After a bit, the car owner moved it.

I asked our cute new friend where she learned such excellent English.  “My husband is from New York.  We just moved here three years ago. I always tell him to keep his sunglasses on until I’ve negotiated a price.”  I laughed and said, he must have blue eyes!  “Yes, he does.” she agreed.