Colombia: Day 4: Santa Marta

Friday, June 7, 2013

Ali and I set our alarms the next morning because we were going to the beach! But first, breakfast. I had some granola (made by Adam, I think) with milk. The milk they buy comes in a pouch (like the water). After you snip off a corner to pour it, if you don’t finish it, you put it in this rectangular box that’s made to hold your milk in place in the fridge. A simple little object that just doesn’t exist in the States. We also had coffee (pourover, no coffee maker) from Minca, which was delicious. I almost didn’t want to drink it, because who wants hot coffee in hot weather, but it was so good I couldn’t refuse.

We packed up our things and took a taxi to the beach (normally Ali would have just taken a bus, but we were ballin out this week, so we splurged the maybe $5 to get there [I don’t remember how much it was, but compared to cab prices in NYC, it felt like nothing to me]). We were headed to Taganga Beach, which is a 15 minute drive over some mountains a bit further north along the shore. Apparently San Marios (people from Santa Marta) would scoff at Ali any time she said she was going to the beach in town because why would you bother going to that beach when paradise is 15 minutes away? I could see what they meant (not that the beach in Santa Marta didn’t have its merits): it had beautifully blue water set against a small white beach at the base of green mountains, all tucked into a little rounded cove.

We swam (the water was pretty warm), read Cosmo on the sand with her friends, and went to get jugos: guanábana (made with milk), and caranbolo (starfruit). When we got hungry, we got burritos at one of the restaurants on the little street that ran parallel to the beach. I carefully ventured into the water with my camera to take some photos at near-ocean level. There’s really not too much else to say other than that we just laid out on the sand, swam, and had a great time.

We took a taxi back, and I laughed when the driver got some plastic for us to sit on so we didn’t get his seats wet: it was a deflated pool raft. Whatever works! When we got back to Santa Marta and changed, it was official “take photos of Santa Marta” time for me. At this point I’d felt like I’d gotten to know Ali’s neighborhood pretty well, but hadn’t focused on taking pictures of the buildings and just wandering around with her, so Friday afternoon was the time for that. I took tons of pictures of buildings and city scenes, and we got some snacks along the way. First up was my first fresh coconut (something Ali’s had many times over the course of her many travels abroad). It’s quite a process! First you ask the vendor for a coconut, and he cuts off the top, puts a straw in, and hands you the whole coconut. You use the straw to drink the coconut water, but stay close by, because when you’re done, you hand it back to him. He then cuts it in half with a machete, scoops out the flesh, and gives it to you in a little baggie. You then walk away, chomping on weirdly yet also tasty rubbery bits of fresh coconut, which has an incredibly different texture and flavor than the dried coconut I’d always encountered in the States. Later I had a papaya jugo (made with milk), which was pretty tasty. Apparently many gringos don’t like papaya at first, and find it to be more of an acquired taste, so Ali was surprised that I liked it right away. We also went to a cute little coffee shop for lattes. THEN we went to the grocery store so I could try granadilla, another kind of fruit (I told you it was snack time!). Granadilla is an orange fruit, about the size of a tennis ball. Ali used to buy it in the markets and on the street, but it’s going out of season now, so we could only get it in the supermarket. So we went to Exito and got one for the road. I asked Ali how we were going to eat it, because it looked like it was solid like a mango or an apple, and she said that we’d just pop it open, which confused me...until I touched it. The thing felt like a hard, thin plastic, easily dentable- sort of like a ping pong ball. Once we got outside, Ali popped it open, and sure enough the skin cracked open, revealing lots of white pitch and small black seeds. Each of the seeds were coated in a weird goop. Similar to the mamon, you ate the fruit by sucking the meat off the seeds. Although you could eat these seeds, I found them too crunchy and without much flavor so just spat them out as we walked around (they’re about the size of an apple seed). Colombia has some strange fruit, man.

We then decided to trek across town to get what Ali promised to be the best empanadas in town. Empanadas are made two ways: with a dough-like crust, the way I’d had in Minca, or with a cornmeal crust. The cornmeal way is really good when it’s fresh, but gets soggy and oil-laden if they sit around for too long, so Ali often avoids them. We walked quite a ways to a stranger part of town (not as old and cute looking, more offices, gas stations, and houses) to the little shop. When we arrived, the empanadas had just been made. Ali also loves this place for their variety; most shops that sell empanadas have three or so flavors, but these guys made at least twenty. I got one with spinach, corn, and cheese (with delicious pico), and immediately went back in for another because it was amazing. I wished I’d been more hungry (and that they aren’t so oily), because I wanted to eat so many! Alas, we were full, and it was time to go watch the soccer game.

So. Soccer is really big in Latin America. This is something I’d never experienced. In preparation for the game, everyone had been wearing the country’s colors (yellow, red, and blue) all day, flying flags, honking car horns, using noisemakers, just generally getting pumped up. Vendors were selling flags, hats, shoes, jerseys, headbands, just about anything you could think of, colored like the flag. This was an especially important game, because it was against Argentina, and they’re huge rivals. Apparently Colombia beat Argentina... once... in 1993. And Colombians still cling to it and talk about that day with so much pride. So needless to say, there was a ton of energy in the city. Ali and I went to La Puerta, where we’d watch the game with Alfonso, Tavo, and Serhe (other guys who work at the bar). The bar wasn’t open until later in the night, so it was just us, in the middle, open-air room, with a tv set up on a few milk crates, and some beers.

Ali and I had more fun watching the boys than we did the actual game. They were so animated! Colombia scored on Argentina once, but it didn’t count for one reason or another. Then Argentina did the same thing to Colombia. It ended up being a non-scoring game, which was too bad, but we were still very entertained watching the whole scene. Ali and I also had fun playing with Wushoo, the cat who had taken up residence in La Puerta a few weeks ago. He was sort of a grumpy little guy, who liked to keep to himself (although we’ve learned since I got back home that Woosh is actually a girl).

After the game ended so anticlimactically, Ali and I went to La Brisa to catch up with her friends and have a few drinks. Then we went out with Kelly to a restaurant in town, Lamart, where one of their Colombian roommates works. We split an appetizer of plantain chips served with sour cream and hogao, which is a sort of warm vegetable salsa/sauce. Ali and Kelly got ceviche, and I had pasta with blue cheese and mushrooms. And of course we all got the lulo mojitos. We were sitting outside, and a duo of musicians (they looked like they could have been a father and son) parked themselves across from us. The dad started playing guitar and singing Buena Vista Social Club, and then for the verses, the son rapped. They were really good!

After dinner, we bought more drinks at the street alcohol carts, went home, and convinced Yeye, one of the roommates, to come out, even though she had called in sick to work. We went to La Puerta (obviously) and spent the night, once again, drinking and dancing. I also developed my own inside joke with Tavo, which was fun, because I’d only known him for two days, and he doesn’t speak English, but I still felt like we were buddies by the end of the night. He and Ali have all sorts of little jokes and tricks that they play on each other, so it was fun to feel like I’d really immersed myself into Ali’s life, even for the short time I was there.

Ali and I eventually went home and plopped in bed. The next morning we were catching a bus back to Cartagena, so we could have a day there to explore before I flew out the following day.