Saturday - Piña y banano
This regular pattern began seven days ago in the wake of the Lost City trek. The more traditional combination of pineapple and banana marked the start of my fruity adventure although more exotic encounters lay ahead. Before I tackled this delicious little combination, I had a walk with my Australian soulmate Preu over to Playa Grande where we analysed the water temperature, sand quality and strange lack of people. Back in Taganga I sunk my drink and then a chicken arepa at sunset. With some of the Ciudad Perdida crew still in town, we met up at Emily and Tom´s hostel and began an alcoholic assault. As Saturday became Sunday, we rolled out to the beach and found El Mirador discoteca where we got more boozed up and danced like tourists. With the doors closing sometime after three, we stumbled down to the beach in readiness for a beach party but a sole jeep with large speakers was all could find. The owner soon picked up a lady and in the blink of an eye he´d disappeared with said vehicle to tender to her needs. We battled on a little longer then went our separate ways at 5AM.
Sunday - Lulo & mango
The day of rest was exactly that. Close to midday I rolled out of bed in a sweaty crumple. I showered and then rediscovered my mojo following a chicken dinner and a glass of lulo (also known as naranjilla which means ´little orange´). Though the owner of the cafe bigged up the fruit, I found it a little too sweet. And it looked too white and pasty for my liking. Fully refreshed, I made the ten minute trek to Playa Grande where I wrote my diary and had a paddle in the sea. Me and my thoughts hung out here for the rest of the afternoon until we´d exhausted each other. Again I caught up with that pairing of Emily and Tom and we, along with a brummie called Andy and a cockney called Lex, had a lovely pizza for dinner flanked by a mango juice for me.
Monday - Guanabana
The start of a new week but there was nothing new here. I got up late then tried a guanabana juice (You may know it is as soursop? No, didn´t think you did.) that was comparable to apple and equally refreshing. I bypassed Playa Grande and settled for a secluded cove further round the bay where I lay down my beach towel (formerly my hammock minus the rope) and hung out alone. Andy joined the party a little later and lent me his snorkle so I could go have a chat with the local fishes. The conversation wasn´t very colourful but they were. For supper that night, we had an hour long wait for shrimp at a restaurant promoting ´Shrimp Day´ and Andy spilt his caipirinha all over the table.
Tuesday - Tamarindo
At last, a little variation to my daily pattern. Although it started in its usual fashion with some empanadas and this time a taste of tamarindo, it later moved on to the streets of Santa Marta. Before I got there with Tom and Emily, I did manage an hours nap on the beach in a deck chair which was blissful as the sun was hiding and people were scarce. When the time did come to get a minibus into town, we fully embraced the opportunity, buying cheesy donuts, arepas, meat and potato pastries, ice cream and artificial lemon juice. We all had a slight souvenir binge as well and Tom gave himself a new look with a Casio watch, hat and sunglasses. Sadly he still looks Australian.
Wednesday - Tomate de Arbol
The highlight of my week in terms of fruity sensations. The tomate de arbol (tamarillo or tree tomato) was exotic erotica and a far cry from the garden tomato we all know and love. With it´s earthy colour and multi-layered taste, this really got my day going although it soon ground to a halt when I met an American girl en route to Playa Grande. In short, she spoke to me in Spanish even though she knew I was English and I knew she was from Oregon. To compund things, she asked in Spanish, why my Spanish was so bad despite being in the continent six months. Within four minutes of meeting her, I´d reached breaking point and was one more comment away from hurling her over the cliff. My bouyant mood triggered by my tomato juice now seemed a lifetime away. Luckily I ditched her as soon as we hit the beach and relaxed all afternoon, free from provocative imbeciles and somewhere far closer to the state my juice had earlier induced.
The day took an unexpected turn later on, as after the ritualistic 7PM meeting with Team Tomily, the group number blossomed and after Thai rice and beers, we took to the streets of Taganga, initially drinking in a club, and then buying bottles of rum and drinking on the streets. This carried on until 2.30PM, at which point we were a mess and better off in bed.
Thursday - Mora, Zapote (with milk) & Barojo
With the rum still running through my veins, I wobbled out of my hostel close to lunchtime once more but sobered up with a chicken curry baguette and blackberry juice. Getting a little carried away, I then tried zapote and barojo juice, the latter looking like mouldy Coca-Cola and tasting not too dissimilar. Me, Tomily, an American girl and an English couple later graced Playa Grande for some light snorkling and relaxation. Me and Tom hired deckchairs and sat ourselves at the waters edge. As the sun went down, we returned to Taganga for ice cream and witnessed the bizarre sight of a crazy man we knew from Cartagena and our hostels here, getting chased through town by a pack of dogs and thirty or so locals. We climaxed things with arepas and plans for a weekend excursion to a deserted beach where we´ll take plenty of rum and soak up lots of sun.
Friday - Nispero
Here we are right now. Nothing yet acheived and no nispero yet consmed but the day is still young. Damn this travelling malarchy is stressful.
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