Colombiana Moderna

After spending 4 nights in Baranquilla we were ready to continue exploring our new love, Colombia. Up until this point our greatest surprise here has been the people. So warm, so welcoming, and just so genuinely nice. Up in the Caribbean especially, it´s just so hot no one has any energy to be mean. The culture has so much life and heart and love that there´s little room for anger or negativity.

We took a short shuttle back to Cartagena to fetch the rest of our luggage that we had locked up happily at our hostel during Carnaval and caught a night bus to Medillin at 9:30pm. We were ready for the 13 hour journey south, bringing our sweatshirts and sleeping bags on the bus, learning from our previous mistakes. This is where money in Colombia comes in as the one downside. Things are more expensive here than in any other country we´ve been to. Buses especially. This bus cost us 108.000 COP, roughly 60 bucks! Huh?? But because Colombia is Colombia, and we seem to think they´re overcompensating for their reputation, they have tons of road checkpoints throughout the country, random bag checks and searches, and high security patrolling. And we are more than happy that they have this. However, it comes at a cost for locals and tourists alike. The bus was very comfortable, plenty of leg room, and not the artic cold that we were anticipating (although the AC was still blasting way more than it needed to be).

We arrived an hour early into the Medillin bus terminal, which was sleek and modern just like their Metro system. Beautiful, efficient, and oh so clean! It put the NYC subway to shame, we must admit. We opted to take the train to our hostel that was just a short walk from a major station in town. It took us no time at all to get comfortable on the metro, feeling right at home on mass transit. This is by far the biggest city we´ve been to yet. It´s enormous! Nestled in a large valley it spreads outward and up among rolling hills and mountains, home to more than 3.5 million people. It was exciting to be there.

We got to our hostel, the Black Sheep, New Zealand owned, in a well-to-do neighborhood that looked more like L.A. than Colombia. We settled into our dorm room and set out for the day. Our first stop was the Metro Cable system that is a free transfer from the Metro onto one of two cable lines that connect the distant barrios of the city with the center, an itiative from the Mayor to provide more opportunities to the people of these communities. They also provide the optimal views of the city from high atop the mountains, seeing just how vast the metropolis is.

We than decided to go to Museo de Antioquia located on Plaza de Botero. This is our first official visit to a legit art museum. So excited!! Botero is a famous Colombian artist who has donated hundreds of pieces of his work to the city to the point that they needed to open the museum to host his many works, in addition to a great variety and selection of others. We arrived just as the sky opened up to pour so we were happy to take shelter for a few hours. Botero´s style incorporates typical Colombian scenes with his asthetic of extremely rounded, exaggerated figures in paintings, sketches and sculptures.

After a few hours we decided we needed some street meat to tie us over until dinner. We had a nice little selection from a woman outside the train and then decided to head back to the hostel. We were so happy to have our first hot shower since Honduras!! We had forgotten what it was like, and how clean you can actually get with hot water. We had gotten so accustomed to not even asking that we were pleasantly surprised! We chilled at the hostel for a while, watched a movie, used internet, and then went for chicken burgers at a place close by. It was Wednesday night but we had heard the the Medillin night scene was good, not realizing that in pretty much every place this means only on weekends. We checked out Zona Rosa which was packed to the brim with bars and discos that we all totally empty! Not only that, but the beers that usually cost about 1.300 COP cost more than double that here. We walked around and made sure we weren´t missing anything not worth missing, and circled around back to the hostel where we were able to catch the end of Love Actually and drink an appropriately priced Aguila on the couch.

Some point during that night Sophie got 100.000 COP stolen out of her backpack. But these were nice hostel thieves, only taking the two 50.000 notes and leaving the 20s and 10s. This was the only time the money wasn´t in a locker, so lesson learned that didn´t need to be learned. Bummer for sure tho. The next morning after we realized this, we decided to just shake it off and be glad that´s the only thing and instance of theft we´ve experienced. We wanted to get down to Manizales that night, about 5 hours from Medillin, so we just took the metro and bus to a cemetary east of town. This is where Pablo Escobar is buried and we felt like being super tourists for just an hour. But we didn´t pay 40.000 to go on a tour like others usually do. We ventured on our own, hanging our heads down low when we had to admit where we were going and for what reason. But we had a nice stroll around the cemetary and saw the tomb of an extremely important cultural figure in not just Medillin, but Colombia.

Those flowers were already there, we weren´t paying tribute to the guy. We sat and wondered for a while if the reasons why Colombia´s economy is so strong and the people live so well could be attributed to Don Pablo.
We didn´t spend a whole lot of time in Medillin (2 days and one night), but we were more anxious to get down into Zona Cafetera than to stick around longer. We got a minivan from Medillin to Manizales. Little did we know the first 2 1/2 hours of the trip are on the most winding, curving roads, obviously cliff side, only exacerbated by a wild driver who took great pleasure in seeing our bobbling heads through the rear view mirror. Kat looked like a few shades of green and yellow during this time as she practiced lamaz breathing and moaning to keep herself from vomitting or screaming in agony. It didn´t help when we saw this either:

 They´re just chilling there!

But it did when we saw the scenery, so breathtaking, green and lush that the stomach pangs dissapated.

We arrived in Manizales in time to learn that the volcano en Nevado Del Ruiz was active and no one was permitted to hike it. You could take a hike around in the area and possibly get views of the volcano, but anything else was out of the question. Darn! We decided to think about what we wanted to do over dinner, knowing that we did have other options. We stumbled upon a place that served up cheap hot dogs and was blasting reggae as the young staff renovated the inside that they were turning into a cool lounge/bar. They were awesome, and hung out with us as we all talked about music and beautiful places that we needed to go to when in the area. Our conversation made us all break into hysterical laughter because of our great miscommunications, and attempts on either side to describe something in the other´s language. We realized that often we use the phrase "pequenos cosas" (small things) to refer to just about everything. Por exemplo, leaves (ojas) are "los pequenos cosas en los arboles", which when translated into English just sounds too funny. Also, we use the phrase, "Es possible" when asking for something or when we´re thinking about doing something. Por exemplo "Es possible hay mas salsa picante?" o "Es possible vamos a salir esta noche". We´ve come to really appreciate people who speak broken English because of how funny our Spanish sounds sometimes. Try describing who the smurfs are in Spanish! It´s fun!

Emma had given us a solid recommendation for a place she went to with a friend for a week nearby, called Salento. We had planned to go there either way, so we thought it´d be best to go a day early and really explore the area.

La vida es Carnaval!

So, as we were saying...we went to Baranquilla for supposedly the best and biggest Carnaval celebrations in South America next to Rio. And that they were!

After searching and searching for a place to stay in Baranquilla, a large port city on the Caribbean that has little to no backpacker scene whatsoever (and therefore approx. 1.5 hostels), we managed to get set up with Mauricio from CouchSurfing.com. We knew very little about what this situation would be like before getting there, but knew it was our only options and if by some terrible turn of events our lives were in danger, we scoot our little butts outa there! But luckily this was not the case. We took a shuttle from Tagana with the Dutchies and their carnaval crew, and arrived at Mauricio´s house where his mom greeted us with a warm welcome and cute room with two double beds from our childhoods. Before meeting Mau´s mom we thought our Spanish was doing well, but she certainly put that thought to shame when she rattled off numerous questions to our dumbfoundment. Uhhhh, como? Lady can speak fast!! Oh yea, there was also a girl who lives there from Bogota and her name is LadyCruz (perhaps a future hip hop artist? No, simply a dental assistant).

Anywho, Mauricio came home from work and we all sat and got to know each other. He is about 21 and has studied in Buenos Aires and has converted to Judaism. Interesting. He also made our knowledge of Spanish obscelete because he mumbled more than we thought possible of a human being, making it difficult to understand most of what he said until he slowed in down, all the way down, until you can no longer categorize our interactions as conversations. But alas, he was eager to show us his hometown and what Carnaval had in store. His mother was also a highlight for us, feeding us huge Colombian lunches nearly everyday, and showing concern when we were going out just like our own parents. It was so wonderful to feel a sense of home so far away, especially after spending nearly two months hopping from hostel to hostel in more impersonal situations. She made us feel welcomed and cared for, which meant a great deal to us. Mauricio´s friend Salomon also joined us, a neighbor from down the street who returned just a couple months prior from Israel where he had joined the army and lived for 6 years. He was also extremely thrilled to show off Baranquilla and experience his first carnaval in a loooong time.

Night fell and we joined the sisters, the boarders, the mom, Salomon, and Mauricio to Calle 84, where there was a massive concert and party that only got denser as we approached. After a certain point we had to get out of the cab because there was no way we´d get through the crowd. Music is everywhere, just as much as the people are. Streets are flooded. This is the first night of Carnaval, people. Nobody is playing around. Although that´s all they´re doing really. Carnaval is just an excuse to let it all go and truly enjoy yourself. Don´t care about a thing, just dance, drink, and go nuts. I guess we´ll just have to follow suit.

Salomon, Mauricio and Sophisticated Koala wormed their way through a thick crowd to get to a spot at which we could sorta see the stage, but certainly be fully immersed in the scene. A few things we learned very quickly:

1) Spuma (or, espuma) is a thick white foam that looks like shaving creme but isn´t, that is sold every three inches in long cans that you shake, point and spray at your fellow celebrators. Everywhere. Eyes, nose and mouth primarily, hair, clothes and everywhere else is next. You DO NOT wear nice clothes to carnaval. This would be a bad decision!




2) Maizena is a corn flour of sorts that is sold in little boxes, also everywhere. When someone gets you with spuma, you retaliate with maizena, making them look like they´re an old person in a highschool production of Fiddler on the Roof. (N.B. Maizena is also great to throw at someone if they´ve been drenched in freezing cold water, really sealing in the water and powder as one splendid attack.)

3) Aguardiente. Hmmm. Tricky. This is the national liquor that smells like ouzo but goes down smoother, making it all the more dangerous. And just as the locals are generous with the two aforementioned traditions, they are also with their booze. (But responsibly so!!) Needless to say we weren´t missing any of these things after three days of partying.

The first night was a great introduction to Carnaval. We didn´t want to fully ruin the whole weekend so we opted to call it a night sooner rather than later (3am). The next day we arose expecting to get an early start on things, forgetting momentarily that this is just not the Latin way, and certainly not the Colombian way. Why would we leave early when we could just sit around and not? Silly us, silly New Yorkers. ¨Tranquilo, tranquilo¨ was a phrase we heard all too often while in Colombia. So we let go, gave in and relaxed. What´s the use in wonderfing when we were going when eventually (hopefully) we´d actually leave. We ate breakfast, then lunch, then had some drinks, until we were signaled it was go time. We strolled down to the parade site where we realized that without an uber expensive ticket into the stands it was next to impossible to see anything in the procession. Again, people were everywhere!! Defeated, although still feeling the energy of the place, we were introduced to an instant favorite - Raspao!!! I think the song Hallelujah played in the background over the cumbia and reggaeton! Shaved, crushed ice with berry cola syrup, topped with condensed milk (en espanol, leche condensado). If this was Kat, the entire blog would be an ode to raspao, therefore I had to do the honors to keep it on track. Thank you god of carnaval. Raspao is one of those cure-alls like chicken soup, only not actually good for your health, but rather your mentality...oh wait, I´m doing the Kat thing. I must stop myself. It´s great, amazing, love it!

Anyway...the night continued in a splendid way. We ended up going for a pit-stop to a cousin´s house which was nearby the end point of the parade, where we were finally able to see the floats and dancers. Madness!! There were famous singers who were belting out some over the ridiculously overplayed songs we´ve heard in our travels, actors and actresses from novelas, and the Aguila Girls (think SI models but for a cerveza company). This part of the parade had no baracades, no boundaries. The floats were turning off the main road, literally into the crowd and off into a parking lot. Basically we went from not being able to see a thing earlier in the day to nearly being run over by the damn floats. After dodging paper machey one too many times, we decided we had gotten our fill. We went to a little corner by Mauricio´s cousin´s house where there was a huge party and tons of locals and families just having a grand ole time, to music that of course was unnecessarily loud, even by outside standards. We danced and danced for hours, mastering the steps to salsa and merengue, only to have the music change instantly to something else that we then needed to pick up from scratch. We were troopers tho, and were applauded for our efforts and rewarded with...you guessed it! Aguardiente...help us please! It was spectacular and we loved every minute of it. What´s not to love?


Basically this went on for us for 3 days total, with resting during the day and party all night. We were lucky to have Emma join us for the second and third days, and we all just rested and walked about the city on Monday, the 4th. This was deemed a mandatory rest day due to too many people getting too out of hand after so much partying on the weekend. The memorable parts were the music and the sights of partiers and happy Colombians. After hearing so many horror stories before getting there about the fact that "All people get robbed during Carnaval" and "Oh, I heard a Spanish woman got shot there last week" we prepared for the worst. Although you cannot always believe what you hear, we were definitely on our toes. Even after the weekend we met people who had gone and did have bad experiences, leading us to believe that we were taken care of like queens by our Baranquillan tour guides. They wouldn´t let us walk ten feet without them, or order anything on our own for fear of us getting the precio gringo. They really cared about us not only having a great time but having a great impression of their city, people, and culture. Job well done because we had such a memorable experience and felt so lucky to be in their hands. We left Baranquilla with a solid hangover but with terrific stories and awesome pictures!!

La vida es Carnaval
Sophisticated Koala

I´m off the boat! I´m off the boat!

Setting foot on solid ground was the best birthday present I could have hoped for. Even after we were safely settled into our hostal, showered, and otherwise beautifully reborn, we both still felt like we were swaying from side to side. It took quite a few minutes on hard concrete to convince us, conciously and subconciously, that we werent going to be violently thrown around anytime we tried to walk a couple of steps. But I guess thats one of the best parts of traveling - it really makes you appreciate things that you otherwise wouldn´t even think twice about. Talk about not taking things for granted!

We arrived in Cartagena mercifully early in the morning, which was made even better by the fact that we expected to get in closer to 4pm. In retrospect, spending most of my birthday on open water, after living in that tiny space for five days, would have royally sucked. So I was a happy camper. After dropping off our stuff and taking the best shower of our lives (I´m not even exaggerating) Soph and I set out to explore the beautiful city of Cartagena. Man, its freaking hot here! Definitely a true Caribbean city. And just as in other places on the Caribbean, the heat and sweat are all part of the vibrant culture. The historic center of Cartagena, which is pretty much the only part of the city anyone visits, is gorgeous. And when I say anyone, I don´t mean just tourists - all of the tiny, windy streets are packed to the gills with locals and visitors alike. Its impossible to get anywhere quickly, and if I were a car I would never attempt going down these streets. There is so much foot traffic, everyone just walks where they please, and the honking of car horns seems to be the beat the whole city follows. The streets are lined with pretty buildings, all of which have wooden balconies overgrown with bougainvillea, a vine that has pink, orange, purple, and white flowers. Some balconies were so laden with greenery that it arches over to the opposide balcony, making a green canopy to walk under. Everyone is shopping, strolling, browsing, chatting, bartering. Soph and I, of course, focused on getting as much street food as possible. (We´ve since realized that that is our primary objective wherever we are. We both firmly believe that food, specifically street food, is the best way to experience a new place. Oh, and its yummy.) So we got juices with exotic fruits like lulo and coruba, sweets made of coconut and milk and caramel, a yuca cake that tastes like bread pudding but better, and cheesy bread. This last item seems to be the specialty around here. Its called ¨pan de bono¨ or ¨pan de queso¨and its delicious. There is a whole street dedicated to this one type of pastry, and its just  row of bakeries all selling the same thing. We quickly found a favorite, however, and stuck to it. Hard.

I should mention that before going on this gastronomic expedition, we met a wondeful girl named Emma who was also staying at our hostal. She joined us for this birthday breakfast feast, and then we saw her again later, when we all met back at the hostal to take a nap. The heat here really gets to ya!

In the evening, after I spend a bunch of time and money calling my family and my sweetheart, Soph and I met up with Linda and Eline (who were conveniently staying across the street) and we all went out to dinner. The two of them had gotten me an awesome birthday present - a bottle of aguardiente, which is the national alcohol of Colombia. It tastes like licorice. I got to know aguardiente much better during Carnaval... but my birthday was a great introduction! We had a wonderful time sitting at a table on a beautiful plaza, eating good cheap food, chatting, and reliving our crazy sailing experience. It was so wonderful to have them there with us. Afterwards we got dessert, which consisted of more sweet, sticky coconut, this time with sugar cane and peanuts. Incredible. We strolled some more, considered getting a beer, but as Linda said, Monday is international ¨nobody does anything day¨, so we soon parted ways and went back to our hostals. Soph and I chilled, sipped on aguardiente, made friends with a Chilean guy named Javier, and hung out some more with Emma. She mentioned that she really wanted to go to Carnaval, but was deterred by not having anywhere to stay (finding a place to sleep in Barranquilla during Carnaval is harder than finding a mouse in a dog - hey Ari!). So we told her we would help out... and thats just a little foreshadowing for you, I wont reveal any more about Carnaval. You will just have to wait until that post! We ended the night with some reading, and a wonderful conversation about life, travels, our fabulous friends back home, and each other. And as for that last topic - in truth, my best birthday present was the wonderful Sophie herself. From hanging purple streamers she brought from home all over the sailboat, to writing me a tear-jerking card, to being the best friend, travel buddy, sister, shoulder, ear, companion, and life-mate anyone could ask for, she was really the one who made me feel so loved and special. And she does that every day! It really takes the edge off of getting old. 24. Yikes!


The next day we walked around some more, but because of the heat (and because there isn´t much do to here but walk around, which gets old after a little while) we found ourselves looking for something to do indoors, for once. Forunately, the International Film Festival of Cartagena was taking place, and we went to check it out and see just how expensive it would be. Well, would you believe it, it was free! There was a documentary being shown about a guerilla seige of the Palace of Justice in Bogota in 1985 (in Spanish with English subtitles). It was pretty intense, but incredibly interesting and informative. Characteristically, the whole event was a big mess, because the military for involved and stormed the Palace, killing a lot of guerilla fighters but also many supreme court justices, cafeteria workers, and other building staff that the guerillas had taken hostage. Worst of all, although they were able to rescue some people, these people never turned up again. As it turns out, they were all victims of forced disappearance, and we all know what that means. The families of these people are demanding justice to this day. We enjoyed this film so much, we decided to stick around for the next one. In an even more unbelievable stroke of luck, the next film turned out to be about music on the Caribbean Coast of Colombia, the evolution of its different sounds and rhythms, and its role in Barranquilla´s Carnaval (which is where we were headed for the weekend). It was fabulous. We even took notes! We learned so much that day. It was a wonderfully edcuational experience, and it couldn´t have been more relevant to where we were or what we were doing. We were both so grateful to have stumbled on it, although we suspected that such things are never really accidents...

The next day we joined Linda and Eline in their shuttle to Tagnaga, a cute little beach town further east on the Colombian coast. We quickly found the cheapest, simplest hostal there was, and got a couple of hammocks to sleep in outside, under the thatched roof of a hut. Sleeping outside is incredible. Its been so hot in all the places weve been to, that once the night arrives and brings with it a life-giving breeze, going inside is just out of the question. Sleeping in a swaying hammock, with the wind rustling the leaves, is my idea of heaven. Our hostal turned out to be quite wonderful, mostly because of the great lady who ran the place. Although she was only 25 (with an adorable 5 year old daughter!) she had the spirit of an old woman. She was energetic, warm, soulful, and took great care of us. Yet another example of how its the people, not the places, that create the experience. We spent the next day on the beach, snorkeling and chilling with the Dutch girls. And the following morning, we were off to Carnaval...

Clearly, we are still here to tell the tale. Full details of the revelery are soon to come...
Missing you all!
Sophisticated Koala

I´m on a boat! I´m on a boat!

Sorry for the delay. We´ve been busy. But now we back track, and thus the beauty of this blog for us is that we get to look back and remember all the good times...and the nauseous ones, too.

From Panama City we got on a bus headed for Puerto Lindo, not direct of course...why would it be? We had a lovely time waiting for over an hour for the bus on the side of an extremely busy supermarket. People kept offering us rides left and right, but we were determined to get on this supposed bus to Puerto Lindo. Apparently there are buses every 5 minutes to Colon, another port city, but certainly not Puerto Lindo. We watched as bus after bus came and went. Panamanian buses are hilarious, by the way. They are actually quite amazing, all covered in graffiti, painted all over with bubble letters and crosses, looking more like works of art rather than public transport. But they don´t stop at the sides, but continue on to the windows and naturally, the windshield. How can the driver see? How?! There are approximately 5 square inches through which the driver can see where he´s going. Incredible! Also, the destinations are written on the front but because there painted on in neon colors and various shapes and sizes, we were constantly teased because we couldn´t see all the buses said Colon until they were right in front of our faces. After the waiting, an old man told us that indeed there will be a bus coming, what it needs to say on it in order for us to know it´s the right one, and joyfully welcomed us to Panama and said he was happy we were there. He was thrilled that two New York gals were in Panama and that if we needed anything he would help us. He did, and we said we´d do the same for him in NYC, whenever we run into him again, which will be never probably. Finally the bus came and we were one step closer to the sailboat.

We arrived that afternoon at Hostel Wundebar, a Bavarian run hostel that is primarily there for people that are making the trip to Colombia. The woman who´s in charge is a frantic German woman, running around constantly with her hair flying around, her dress trailing behind, barking at the dogs and her daughter, ¨Momentito, moment!¨ Too funny and now it´s one of the things we constantly say to each other. There we were pleased to meet Linda and Eline, two girls from Rotterdam traveling together for about 4 or 5 months from Mexico to Rio. We had met them before on the side of the road in Costa Rica, but didn´t actually talk or hang out because we were so zonked that day. That night our captain from the Tango sailboat came to give us some info and for us to give him all our money. That hurt!!! Especially since apparently only a few years ago this journey was about half the price. Tourism, damn.

Captain David is from France originally but has been living in Colombia for a few years now with his wife and 3 children, and has made the Panama-Colombia trip countless times in the past 3 years. He was a little difficult to understand given the French-Spanish-English fusion language of his own, but he was a very nice, chill and competent-sounding captain. We were told to be on the beach the next morning at 7:30 to begin on journey to the San Blas islands, an archipelago of more than 300 tiny islands in the southern Caribbean of Panama. The journey was to take 8 hours before we would arrive at the first island but because of wind conditions against us it took almost 12. Yeesh! Dramamine is lovely! First it knocks you out for a couple hours, you get nice and rested, then you wake up and aren´t nauseous. Amazing. Katya more than Soph was feeling quite ill, but either way being on a sail boat for the first time for such an extended period is shocking to anyone´s system. The Dutchies weren´t feeling too hot either, and the other two passengers weren´t all roses either. Ian, a smelly guy from England was certainly hurting, claimed that he sea legs would be back in the morning. Yutaka, a cyclist from Japan making the Alaska-Buenos Aires pilgrimage, looked so miserable we offered up our precious pills to make him feel like he wasn´t going to die.

Captain David had us at ¨Bon apetit.¨ It´s amazing that for us standing up is hard, but this guy can cook like a master chef while the sea is at its roughest. The small swivel stove with two burners combined with good pasta, cheese and sausage was about all we needed to be happy and feel normal. This aspect of the journey really made it for us. We had heard stories of captains being terrible cooks, or not cooking at all and making the passengers fend for themselves. One night on the island we were at a bon fire listening to horror stories of other boats hardly had enough food, or had to choose between wanting to go onto an island or eat. All this while David was cooking us up a feast of baked potatoes and spicy Italian sausage. We said sorry with our mouths full.

We awoke the first morning and popped our heads out to find an island. We turned our heads and there was another, and another. Tiny little things sprinkled in the sea, with spokes of palm trees being all you can see from a distance. And the color of the water...come on! Deep blue turns to light blue, to green, to completely clear as you get closer to shore. Tropical beaches were inspired by these islands. Some have a few homes, some just a hut or two, some just palm trees. We ate some toast and tea and started up the engine to go to a ship wreck (scary thought) off the shore of another island where there is amazing coral and fish perfect for snorkeling. It was the best snorkeling of the trip. It was basically like being on the set of little mermaid, if there was one (not the broadway show, dad, the cartoon). The water couldn´t have been a better temperature and the fish couldn´t be cooler. How these fish could be so detailed, so colorful, so vibrant. The patterns are so precise and mathematical it is truly a wonder! The colors on this ship wreck were such a fantastic mix of maroons, pale yellows, deep greens. We stayed under until our fingers were more than pruny, but looked like coral themselves. We decided to swim to the island across the way where you didn´t have to pay the Kuna Yala locals for the beach. The sand was bright white, stunning against the blue blue blue water and green green green palm trees.

The sun was stroooooooooooong! We nearly blew through a bottle of SPF 50 and still got a little burned. But we were good and came away muy bronzeadas! After the shipwreck we had lunch and headed to another island (not sure if they have names but each was more beautiful than the last). Here we went shell hunting for a couple of hours, sifting through sand on the ocean bed like archaelogists. The other girls went snorkeling on a nearby reef and saw a family of squid. We just hung out and watched the sun go down, thinking about absolutely nothing. Well, everything and nothing. How wonderful things are, how stunning the setting was. We joked with Linda and Eline about how it´s funny to travel with a friend and be in places that seem like they´d be so romantic. On the other hand, the boat is not the most glamourous place to be with a lover. Let´s see why...

Don´t picture a yacht, whatever you do. This was not a yacht. It was way smaller. Picture a sailboat with room to hang out on the top deck, but only if the boat isn´t moving. If it is moving, especially without the motor and just the sails, you are tipped over at about a 50 degree angle. When sitting on the opposite side of the boat you are nearly face to face with the sea. Yaa, scary. Everything is wet. Although this may seem obvious, and it is, it is also extremely uncomfortable. You are always salty, sweatly, sunscreeny, sticky. Yum. If you go into the cabin, you are almost instantly nauseous. It is also kind of dark and stuffy in there, so breathing is a bit tricky. Don´t even get us started on going to the bathroom. HA! Good luck! What an adventure that turned out to be. You just need to tell your body that going to the bathroom is not an option (until you´re swimming, of course). You just hope that if you do need to go that you get more in the toilet than all over the floor or yourself. Ok, picture painted? Basically the only place you really want to be on the back section of the deck where there is a seating area, not huge, but enough for everyone to sit and not fall off. Sleeping was in a whole other category because you get thrown around as the boat goes over a wave and gets slammed down on the other side. We were unlucky and got the bed in the front where these issues are only magnified. The first night Kat slept on the bench outside and Sophie horizontally across the double bed, feet pinned against the wall to stay stationary. Two in the bed and we would have woken up legs tangled with concussions.

Speaking of which, don´t ¨rest your eyes¨ at night on the side deck of the boat. Especially if you´ve been a sleep walker. I, Sophie, fell off the boat one night. Thankfully it was when we were anchored on the second night next to an island where there wasn´t a strong current, which was the case everywhere else we anchored. Phew. I came to as I was treading water (yes, in my sleep like a pro, thank you level 6 Discovery day camp), not sure why I was in the sea but not about to start questioning at that moment. I saw a rope to I first attempted to climb up that, realizing that I probably couldn´t do that in gym class, let alone from the water onto a swaying boat. I knew I could swim to the island so I considered this, but instead called out softly to Kat who had apparently heard me fall off from below deck and was on her was upstairs with the Dutch girls to investigate the suspicious noise from above.
¨Sophie?¨
¨Kat, where are you?¨
¨Ï´m on the boat...where are you?¨
¨Ï´m in the water!¨
¨What? Why?¨
¨I don´t know!!¨
 Safe and sound, I was now more conscious and realized I was trying to climb up the rope of the anchor in front rather than just swim around the back and climb up the ladder like a normal person, although I guess a normal person wouldn´t have had that happen to them in the first place. Linda and Eline, after knowing that I was okay, thought it was the funniest thing ever! Apparently I´m on their blog, too! Kat was concerned but also not surprised because for some reason things random like this always happen to me. I was just happy to not have been carried off by the sea, proud of my swimming skills and more than eager to laugh it off as ¨that thing that happened to me on the boat¨. Good stories are good stories, even if they´re about you.

The next morning we did a bit more swimming at that island, then went of to another for more snorkeling. We left San Blas that afternoon to embark on what was to be a 48 hour trip on open water where we would end up in Cartagena, Colombia. The first night and day weren´t too bad and actually went by pretty quickly. We got a lot of reading done, finished 4 books between the two of us on this sailing trip. I wrote Kat a birthday card and we both did some journaling. That night we were warned that sitting outside that night wasn´t possible because there were going to be rough seas, strong wind, and waves splashing onto the deck. Great. Stuck in the cabin with no escape. Attempting to both get into our double bed was hilarious and ended with us giving up because it was next to impossible to get to a spot before the rhythm of the boat would pick us up and throw us down across the cabin. We ended up sort of sleeping in the main cabin area with everyone else, hoping that in the morning the boat would still be in tact from the crazy winds and waves that were truly testing our patience, stomachs and overall comfort. But of course, Captain David is hardly fazed, cooking us dinner during all the chaos and rolling cigarettes with the greatest of ease while we giggle and groan from our roller coaster of a ride. At least on roller coasters you had a seat belt, bar of sorts. Here, it´s just your body and your ability to brace yourself. We definitely left with bruises and bumps all over from every corner, wall or handle from the Tango.

But to our surprise, we woke up alive, on the smoothly sailing boat which was also in tact. It was Kat´s birthday, and we were just happy that we could sit up without being pushing back down by gravity. We went up onto the deck with the lovely surprise of land in sight. What we thought would take a whole other day was only going to be a couple of more hours to the port in Cartagena. The high winds from the previous night picked up the boat and put it closer to our destination. Oh happy day! I gave Kat the card I wrote her and the emails from Mom and Jeff, and we were on dry land soon after. Eline kissed the ground when we arrived. Although we make the trip sound strenuous, terrible, long, it was really a great experience and we had a TON of fun. Truly unique, something that will be hard to forget and even more impossible to recreate.

The occasional universal

After a relaxing Sunday night of eating pasta and hanging at the hostel, we woke in the morning with a great night of sleep. It was going to be a good day!

We decided that we were going to book our sailboat to Colombia, now one of the most common ways of bridging the gap between Panama and Colombia. Going by land is not recommended, considering there is guerilla warfare in the connecting jungle. Narco-tourism is not what we are here for, although we are convinced it will be a huge thing in a few years. We asked about the boat up on the hostel board called Tango leaving on February 24th from Puerto Lindo to Cartagena. Puerto Lindo is easy to get to by a cheap bus from here and Cartagena is the ideal endpoint since all the other options would leave us needing to take a couple more boat and bus connections in order to get there. It said there were 4 spots left but the receptionist was going to call and confirm that those spots had not already been booked by another hostel. She was talking to the captain and started erasing 4 and writing full, so we thought we were out of the equation. Sad. But then she gave us a big smile and thumbs up to indicate that we were passengers that made it full! Oh happy day! We got it! After stressing about from where and leaving when we got the one we wanted and now that it is full we will definitely be sailing barring any hurricanes (knock on wood).

At this exact moment an old friend walked in. Levi, one of the two cyclists we met in Nicaragua. We were already faked out by two bicycles that arrived the previous day in the lobby belonging to two other men doing an epic bike trip, but calculating what we knew to be Levi and Scotts schedule we deemed it impossible. But here he was, in the flesh, with a huge smile on his face and the haircut Sophie gave him on Isla Ometepe. He parted ways with Scott whose flight is not for another week or so, and bumped his flight up a few days. He was walking by our hostel and decided to go in, remembering we said we were going to be here. Awesome!

We knew it was vital to bring him along with us to the fish market (yes, we are still talking about the fish market), and we gathered him and Barry and went on our way. After a delish lunch we all decided to meet up later, Kat and I making our way to the first post office of the trip. We arrived and were instantly transported to our local post office, where dreams come to die. As soon as you walk into a post office your momentum is halted. Whatever roll you were on, errands and whatnot, getting to the post office really puts a damper on things. Like any in the U.S., the paint is peeling from the walls, there is paper everywhere, and no one, NO ONE, looks happy, especially the employees. We are in Brooklyn, we know it! At least we know that while we are suffering at the offices in the states, we are not the only ones.

After this fun field trip, we head towards the center to a Casa del Cambio where Kat attempted for the umteenth time to exchange her Honduran and Nicaraguan money.  This place did it, but it was not pretty. The exchange rate was horrible, but the gamble that she would be able to do it anywhere else forced her to concede. At the mall where this was we randomly ran in to our friend Diego whom we met at the music festival. He works there! Crazy. We made plans to hang out with him and Juan later in the evening for dinner.

Congrats to Juan on his raise, which we ended up celebrating with him that night at Casablanca, a nice outdoor restaurant on a main plaza in Casco Viejo. We will see them tonight as it is our last night in Panama City. Last night was filled with interesting conversation about the effects the canal has on the makeup and relations amongst the people, a fascinating topic which Sophie may consider an anthropological study prospect. All in all it was a nice evening that we ended by sharing  Balboas in front of the hostel. We will be sad to leave Panama City, but it has been so good to us we can only say we will try hard to return in the future. It is truly a developing city that is on its way to becoming something big. Casco is on the verge of being one of the best and nicest places to live, probably in all of Central America, soon to move forward from there. We look forward to watching the transformation and feel lucky that we get to see such a thing at this time in the world.

Screw the canal. Give us our ceviche.

So although these past few posts go a bit out of order, stick with us. Organizing all the things that happen, places we go and people we meet is a difficult task daily. Difficult, but wonderful. The best parts of the day are going over the chronology of where we were and who we were with, trying to keep track as best as possible. Read some previous posts to get the whole picture.

So after said epic bus journey (hopefully the worst of the trip, but we won't hold our breath), we arrived at Luna's Castle, which we'd label more as a world. It sits on the edge of the water of Casco Viejo, the old city. We got in between 5am and 6am, greeted by a groggy receptionist and surprisingly several travelers waiting to embark on their journey du jour. We couldn't get beds seeing as it was still dark out, so we all parked it in the "living room" where we attempted to sleep until we could check in around noon. Covered in the lovely traveling film of sweat, dirt and general discomfort, the prospect of a shower was enough to make us sleep soundly for a few hours. By 1pm we had our beds in dorm 12 on the top floor, which we've confirmed has the most spectacular view of Panama of the entire hostel, if not possibly the entire casco. Wooden shutters open up to reveal the beautiful contrast of old and new that is Casco Viejo. As a result of wars and natural disasters the neighbohood has crumbling (literally), hallowed out buildings with an overgrowth of vines and trees trying to escape from the "windows" that once existed. These former residences then sit adjacent to renovated and beautifully kept buildings that seem to have been randomly chosen for the much needed upgrades. It's quite something to see such an obvious juxtaposition (yea, we use that word) of old and new. The asthetic is the same, however, so it's possible and truly romantic to imagine everything the way it once was.

To the left is then the even more stark contrast of Panama City's downtown area, which lies just across the bay. Skyscrapers and cranes form the skyline that makes the development of the city so clearly noticeable. Actually, after studying the view from our dorm window for quite a while, we see that probably about half of these imposing structures and being built right now. Panama City is making its way to becoming a force to be reckoned with.

After having a prolonged shower and catching some shut eye we were starved. We ventured out into the casco, following the directions from the receptionist, Jorge to Cafe Coca Cola. A small spot on the corner of a main intersection, we were finally the only gringas in the joint (which we later heard is not too common). We ate some cheap food and watched the coming and goings of the people, realizing that the everyday here is less Central American and more like that of Mediterranean, due to the diverse makeup of the people as a result of the influx of immigrants for the construction of the canal. We left content and even with some left over rice to be saved in the fridge for later.

We were happy to return to the hostel for a night of live music downstairs at Relic Bar, by far the best place we've been for a night out yet. A reggae jam band was playing that night, clearly scheduled for our personal enjoyment. But the place was packed! An interesting mix of backpackers and Panamanians, the courtyard where the stage was provided the perfect setting and an even better view of the full moon that sat above. The band was incredible! They are called Pureza Natural, native to this area, and included guest appearances from local musicians, whom everyone seemed to know. There were two rappers, another drummer, and THE MOST fantastic "back up singers" (although it's hard to categorize them as such because they are so dymnamite!) we've had the pleasure of dancing to. All in all, it was a stupendous night. We hung out with some Panamanians that were just as enthusiastic to be there as we were and danced the night away, howling at the moon.

The following day we were on a mission. Fish. Fresh fish from the water we can see from our room. We walked a rather roundabout way but made it to El Mercado de Mariscos, following the smell the entire way there. We arrived. It was almost like a pilgrimage for us, for when we arrived our Mecca consisted of stalls after stalls of atun, corvina, octopus, calamari, lobster and shrimp - oh the beauty of such a site. The high ceilings echoed the ferocious fileting that took place at each stand, and voices rang above one another to call out the catch of the day and salutations to passerbys. We were in heaven, for real! We made our way to the back of this crowded market, weaving through the pathways in search of the cevecheria. Just as small as all the other stands, dozens of small containers sitting in ice contained our main goal for the day. We stood there in bewilderment as others moved around us as we just observed to know what it is we're actually supposed to get. But in all honestly, they all looked incredible. A nice older gentlemen saw we needed help and pointed to the one he was getting. He probably got about a half gallon of ceviche. Wow. So we pointed to a smaller size container and said what he told us to..."La combinacion". Thank you, man, wherever you are now. This ceviche was a mixture of shrimp, calamari and octopus in a marinade of lemon/lime juice, probably an entire diced onion, and garlic. Maybe there are other things in it too, but that's what I'm tasting as I recall the greatness now. Ridiculous! We sat at the one small table outside facing the main street, giggling and bouncing in our seats with pure glee. All the seafood was cooked perfectly, chewy if it was supposed to be, juicy if it was supposed to be, crunchy if it was supposed to be. Each bite was better than the last. This was the moment we fell in love with El Mercado de Mariscos. We sat and digested, planned the rest of our day and got in a cab to the Causeway.

The Causeway is a strip of road and foot/bike paths that connect the mainland to a few small island stretching out a few miles from the city. Clearly more concerned about scheduling our ceviche trip, we arrived at the causeway at the height of the sun and set out on a long, hot walk along the water. This heat didn't do much for Kat's raging mosquito bites on her right arm that she got the night before. These things were huge! I promised her I wouldn't use the word puss, but she okayed oozey. Woops, guess I used both. There were about five starting from the elbow down to the hand, quite painful and definitely swollen. But she is such a trooper, and endured a day of heat and discomfort, not to mention a comment here and there from security guards throughout our day who would just point and make a face saying, "Oooh, poor thing." But she prevailed, they have certainly subsided now, but it probably won't be a highlight of the trip for her.

After the blazing walk around the Causeway, we caught at cab to the Panama Canal. Wonder of engineering wonders. It was quite impressive. The sheer traffic that comes through this thing, the 8-10 hour journey from end to end, and the impact it has had and continues to have on the country is astounding. We weren't too geeked about it before we got there, but it really was awesomely interesting. As the title of this post states we were still more fixated on the ceviche, and planned to return to the market for a potentially pointless trip to the market around 5pm. They had some left!! Maybe it wasn't as fresh as the morning, but it still put smiles on our faces. That night we didn't do much. Between the intense heat we were in all day, the bites, and the prospect of partying with Josh the next night, we just chilled and enjoyed a quiet evening.

Yesterday we made friends with another dormmate, Valerio from Stockholm. We told him the wonder of this market and how we had little planned for the day besides checking out the restaurant upstairs from there that we later found out is THE place to be on Saturdays. He joined, but how could he not? We walked through the random hardware market on the way - tiny stalls set up on the sidewalk selling anything from hubcaps (definitely not stollen) to construction gear, each one blasting their own music making for a minblowing walk through Diagon Alley.

We went up to the market and we all ordered la sopa de mariscos, a brothy bowl of wonder that hit all the spots, not just THE one. We sat for a while, people watching over the market and in the restaurant and a table of guys caught our eye. The three of us sat debating where they're from, Valerio convinced they were Italians because of the types of zippers on their pants and their huge sunglasses. But we soon found out they were from a few different places, and are apparently famous. A woman walked over to us after the guy at the head of the table took a picture of the three of us. She offered us three free tickets to a small music festival on the Causeway that was starting that evening. We nodded and smiled and enjoyed the prospect of going to some event that was under the radar. We followed up as we were leaving at their table because we wanted to know what type of music it was going to be. She said it's a few bands playing a range of rock/pop from Mexico, Panama, and Argentina, and introduced the guys around the table being from said bands. Then she also made a point to stress that here and in South America they are "quite famous". Okay, say no more. What time should we come? Sooooooo exciting! Again, these things just fall in our laps. Do we have it written on our faces or something? How, how could these things be possible? While we didn't want to get our hopes up in fear that it'd be a total bust, we just smiled the whole walk back to the hostel trying to contain our excitement. Again, just to reiterate, only good things happen at the fish market. And as Valerio so perfectly put it, if you just plan your day around eating, drinking and walking around a city everything else will just fall into place...and it did.

We got to the festival and it was awesome! One main stage under a tent with a backdrop of a pink sunset it one direction, and Panama City's downtown with the Casco in view before it in the other direction. Now we know this is legit.  A small area but perfectly packed, not too much tho, the people were an eclectic mix of young trendy, punky, and Panamanian hipster. It was definitely our scene. The first band was alright, don't remember the name. The second was called Zoe from Mexico, the basist and the lead singer being a couple of the guys from the market. The crowd went nuts for them and knew all the words to their songs. We were on cloud 17, realizing just how cool it was that we got these tickets. The next band (Senor Loop) fell a little flat due to sound problems and the last band, Papasonicos from Argentina rocked the house! The atmosphere was so energetic and between the crowd and the lights it was truly where we wanted to be.

Recapping the festival and the music we realized something - at all the other festivals we've gone to in our lives, it's always about the music. You see your favorite band and wait to hear that perfect song that speaks to you in every way. There is always so much emphasis on the music for us, and rightly so. But this festival was a unique experience for us. Not only could we not really understand the lyrics, but not knowing the band or the history or the overall message we were somewhat restricted (but in a wonderful way) to just enjoy the moment and the serendipitously perfect manner in which we were brought there. As Kat put it, for once the music was not the most important part. But now we have a good base for exploring Latin American music, and I will definitely be seeking out some Zoe in the future.

Just to round it all out, after a great night with Josh and the Panamanians we went for "brunch" to the mercado and had some soup and chatted. This is our favorite spot. Girl talk over seafood, what more can you ask for?

Guy walks up to a bus stop...

A couple of weeks into our trip, while we were walking along some sunny path, Sophie asked me "If we were to run into someone we knew right now, who would you be the least surprised to see?" Obviously, since we were somewhere in the middle of Honduras or Nicaragua, and pretty much had an idea of what most people we knew were doing at that moment, we couldn't really think of anyone we would actually run into. In the end, we left the question unanswered.

A few days ago, after the ridiculous (and now pretty funny) border crossing into Panama, we were sitting in the middle of nowhere at what was apparently a bus stop, waiting for the overnight bus that would take us to Panama City. I had gone into the ticket office to buy tickets, while Soph sat outside on a bench with our backpacks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone walk into the ticket office, and I turned around to face him. I realized suddenly, and in a state of acute confusion, that I recognized him! As the answer dawned on me, I rushed out and said "Sophie!" And she said "Is that Emily's brother?!".

It was!! We can still hardly believe it, but it really was. Flesh and blood. Now we know the answer to our question, even more so because, to be honest, of all people we were definitely least surprised to see him (crazy mofo that he is!) although of course our minds did explode and we did nearly jump out of our skins. Turns out he was on our same bus and everything! He told us he had taken a weeks vacation to surf on the Caribbean, and then the Pacific coasts of Panama, and in order to get from one to the other he had to get to Panama City first (and the fastest way, given that he only had one week, was overnight). But what are the chances?? Same day, same bus stop, same time... I just don't know. Besides the fact that he had apparently decided only an hour before to go to the Pacific Coast - originally, he was just going to stay on the Caribbean. I guess the moral of the story is - it was meant to be.

So Soph and I, Josh Foley, and the two Brazilians we met in Puerto Viejo, all braved the bus ride together. And holy cow, it was something to brave. After so many stifling, infernally hot bus rides, I never thought I would complain of a bus being too cold - but traveling finds a way to consistently dismantle anything you ever thought to be true. This bus was freeeeeeezing! We were so cold! We literally huddled together for warmth. Our chairs reclined pretty far back, but of course we were sitting in front of two enormous women, who thankfully did not protest when we silently insisted on reclining all the way (even though we were sure they wouldn't be able to breathe - but hey, on an overnight bus ride, you avail yourself of whatever limited comforts there are). The women also happened to play loud reggaeton music on their cellphones for the entire duration of the ride, but this hardly mattered since the bus driver blasted his own reggaeton tunes on the radio all night as well. The bus departed at 7pm, so for the first three hours we just figured that by ten the bus driver would shut his music off, and would insist that everyone else on the bus did the same. Ten came and went, and then eleven, then midnight. Soon it dawned on us that the music was never, in fact, going to stop. In a final attempt, Sophie went up to the bus driver and politely asked if he could just turn it down a bit, since everyone on the bus was trying to sleep. He replied with a considerate: "Yeah, well, I'm not sleeping," and did nothing about the volume of the music. At that point we gave up, and fell into a torturous sleep to the rhythm of the enormous women's knees kneading the backs of our seats.

Eventually we got to our hostel, which is awesome, as is Panama City. Sophie emailed Josh the name of the hostel, and he agreed that since his flight home was from Panama City on Sunday afternoon, he would come in on Saturday night, stay at our hostel, and we would all hang out. It seemed the only logical course of action after the way that fate literally threw us together. So, we hung out! It was so much fun! Our hostel is above the most popular bar in this city (among Panamanians as well as foreigners, which is a true rarity) so we met up there and had some beers and talked. Soph and I had been at a concert earlier in the evening (more on that in the next post), and we met a couple of Panamanian guys who were really nice. They went to college in the States actually, so they were an intersting mix of Panamanian and American, having spent some seriously formative years in the States. We told them to come by the bar later on, and they did. Josh had met a girl who happened to work on a fishing boat in Alaska (which is what Josh also used to do), so the six of us formed a wonderful little group and had a great night, complete with late-night gyros at the Panamanian equivalent of a Greek 24-hour diner (which is nothing like the US version, as I'm sure you can imagine).

This morning we made sure Josh didn't miss his flight - we know because we watched him get into his cab. We had all had such a great time, and the whole time we were having all this fun, it was made that much more special because there was this undercurrent of wonder and bewilderment at the workings of this crazy universe. It was also special (and this is actually the biggest reason) because he is Emily's brother. Little Foles, we felt like we were getting the next best thing to hanging out with you! It was just spec-TAC-ular.

Running into Josh is just the biggest, most obvious example of so many different little things that are continually happening to us. You know, those little "coincidences" that are actually so much more - the way things come together, and fall into place, and sometimes just plain fall into your lap. For an excellent example of this last phenomenon, see the next post.

Sending gratitude to all of you, and to all of everything,
Sophisticated Koala