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Other entries in Santa Marta

To Santa Marta (5 July 2004)

When we were all on the bus and the gate opened I was all excited about the things to come. And excitement was what I got. We drove passed what seemed the immigration office of Colombia after 2 minutes. It had just been down the road and we were all supposed to have our passports stamped there before getting on the bus again. Nobody had told me and I had not seen anyone go there because I was the last one to stamp out of Venezuela. How I am supposed to know this. I went to the driver and tried to explain in Spanish. He just said not to worry and sit down in the back. I thought he said this because we would stop at immigration a little later down the road. Of course this never happened.

Once we approached Maicao, after 10 km, I knew it for sure, I had missed the immigration post and had entered Colombia without the proper stamps in my passport. Damn! I have traveled 61 countries now, 60 legal and one illegal. I told the driver because I know that in Venezuela the driver can have problems because he transports illegal people. Again he told me to relax and that I would get one at the DAS office (Immigration) in Santa Marta, not a problem at all. He was not going to drive back for me alone. Well OK, if he says it is allright, then I will have to trust him I guess. What else could I do? Maicao did look like a grim, lawless, gangster place indeed, just like it was described in my Lonely Planet. Not a place to stay too long and I was happy we did not even stop there.

The first hour into Colombia the countryside was quite flat and dry, just like it had been from about an hour south of Maracaibo onwards. La Guajira is not a think to get impressed about. The minute we drove off we got our first propaganda movie about Colombia. They started a video about the life and love of Colombians most wanted drug baron ever, Pablo Escobar, the big maffia boss from Medellin. Despite the fact that all was in Spanish I was able to follow it. Quite an interesting family that is I can say!

We stopped in Riohacha on the Carribean coast after an hour drive and I was happy that I could finally buy a drink, a thing I planned to do at the stop for Colombian immigration. I still did not have Colombian pesos and was lucky that the salesman accepted a one dollar bill for a can of Coca cola. Way too much of course, but it was that or nothing.

The landscape had changed dramatically again and it was all green and mountains now with rivers coming down the slopes everywhere and clouds hanging mysteriously between the tops and in the valleys. This is indeed the scenery I had heard of and it seemed even nicer than the Andean area around Merida. Nice! There were quite a few checkpoints on the road and guards and different types of army were checking several cars. We were never stopped, checked and searched and I was happy as I was an illegal now! I am not sure whether it was all official Colombian army as there were some army people with different outfits and certain names of armies on their backs and shoulders. Mmm, so those must be those private aremies then? The so called paramilitaries. One of those groups had kidnapped someone last week I heard on the news so my heart was pounding every time the bus slowed down or stopped for something. Even the locals on the bus veered and peeked out of the window every time we stopped ot slowed. Quite exciting trip to start with already but nothing happened.

In Santa Marta I withdrew some money from the ATM that was in the terminal and accepted my Dutch debit card. Nice. Then I got my first impression of the average Colombian. I went to a juice bar because I was thirsty. Because everybody on this continent always has problems with change and I only had fresh 20.000 Pesos notes I asked him whether he had change or not. He did not have that much change as the freshly squeezed orange juice only costs 500 pesos. He went around to the bus companies and tried to change it for me. He did not succeed and came back. He gave me the orange juice for free, on the house he said. I was surprised! Of course I told him that I would pay the 500 pesos when I would go to Cartagena two days later.

A ten minutes, 3000 Pesos, taxi ride later I stood in front of the famous Hotel Miramar, one block from the beach. Hotel Miramar was as freak filled as was described in the Lonely Planet, all hippy style foreigners and way too many Israelis for my taste so I decided to opt for the nicer and cleaner Residencial Familiar across the street. Clean rooms with fan and cold shower (not that cold with over 30 degrees in the shade) costs P12.000, which is less than 4 Euros. Excellent price. Colombia is even cheaper than Venezuela. Nice!

After having taken a shower, which was really much needed as I was sweating like hell, it was time to make my first steps in the Colombian sea resort. It was a natinal holiday today so it was quite busy with people on the city beach and in the restaurants along the main boulevard, the only place in town that had some wind. And wind was needed with 32 degrees! Santa Marta was a nice little town on the Carribean sea. Not a place to spend weeks but an afternoon stroll through the old colonial town was very nice. Quite colourful and reasonably maintained here and there. Not as bad as the Lonely Planet made it sound really. Lunch was an excellent beef, chips and salad and including the Coca Cola it set me back just 10.000 Pesos, less then 3 euros. Amazing!

The Cathedral of Santa Marta was indeed MASSIVE, for such a relatively small town. It is supposedly the oldest church in Colombia but work was actually not finished until the end of the 18th century. Unfortunately it was not open on this holiday. Santa Marta made a nice introduction to the country and I have decided that I like it already, a lot! Evening dinner was even cheaper at 8500 Pesos including a fresh orange juice. For that price you can not even have just the drink in my country haha.

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