25 Mar 15
Well, last night on the Ciudad Perdida trip. Building up to it has been incredible but now that it’s over I’m ready to get out of the jungle. Talking to people has been enlightening but I’m ready for some comfort.
What can I even say about today? It was an early start. It was a trek up 1200 stairs. Nelson was awesome but I’m over people’s American stereotypes however much truth they may hold and of people being loud. Nah, it hasn’t been that bad I’m just exhausted. I miss home right now.
Lots of thinking today, even more walking. The city was magical.
(end journal entry)
The 3 or so hours we spent enjoying the lost city was incredible. We saw a city built by an ancient people over the course of 400 years. We learned about their culture, how the city was discovered (in the late 1970’s), how it was pillaged and finally nationally protected. The city was vast and spread out over the steep, lush mountains. These people were very protected and hidden. There were toucan nests, waterfalls, monkey screams, Colombian Army (for protection), and all kinds of imaginary scenes of an ancient time in my head. It felt like traveling back in time.
It felt like quite an accomplishment, and I’m so glad I got to share it with those in our group. We hiked back down to a farther camp and spent the night, then some of us who chose the 4 day hike option hit the trail early to get all the way back in one day.
27 Mar 15
I was too exhausted yesterday to write, we finished the hike back from the Lost City. We got up at 5am and had breakfast and hiked 6 hours with a snack break. We got to Mamey and had a lunch and a beer though. It felt ceremonious. On the way back most of us were very reflective. I feel like I really was called to do this as some sort of a spirit journey. I told Liz that. She said it’s kind of funny that she asked me anyway, it’s not like she went down a list of people to invite. I’m chewing on exactly how the trip made me feel as I put one foot in front of another back toward the sea.
The hike was absolutely brutal to me. When we got down from the mountain our ride was delayed by some other people who needed to pay for something and the credit card machine wasn’t working. 
We had them drop us off at Tayrona National Park where we were just in time to hike (another hour!) to Arrecifes. I was exhausted we decided to camp at the third campsite where the friendly owner was welcoming and I slept in a hammock for $5, or 12,000 Pesos. We got set up then went and had some juice and laughed about our exhaustion and some other stories. Before that we had a beer on the beach. I gave a toast to my cousin Jenn because I missed her birthday this year. I realized the trip is only half way done, and I was so excited for the next chapter.
I slept like a baby in the hammock. I woke up around 8. At night I had to get up to use the restroom and the stars were UNREAL. I’ve seen the stars under night vision goggles in the skies of Afghanistan and other parts of the generally unlit world, and that is incredible too. But this night was insane. I woke up before Liz and Juan and spent the morning with the nice man in charge of the camp site. I asked him about his son, who lives in New Jersey. He said he graduates this year. We had a wonderfully broken conversation. He was eager to show me a tattered school book about the Sierra Nevada, the highest coastal mountain range in the world. He also showed me a pamphlet about the Museo d’Oro in Santa Marta on the Bolivar Plaza which had a lot of the artifacts recovered from the Lost City. I wish we would have had time to visit that. There’s always more to see and do. It was a wonderful experience. Now we are going to pack and eat breakfast before hiking on to Cabo San Juan, another site in this National Park. I feel rested but my body is so sore!
28 Mar 15
Well if I die on this highway between Santa Marta and Cartagena then just know I died happy, exhausted, in air conditioning, with some seriously disturbed intestines, but staring at the beautiful Caribbean. There’s a sweet little girl in the row in front of me. As I enjoy the cheezy background noise of cha-cha music I am enjoying her laughing on what I assume is her Mother’s lap. She’s facing me and she is dark with two little curly pig tails. I keep trying but I haven’t gotten her to smile yet. I bet I look pretty different. The thought crossed my mind that this could become one of her earliest memories – a bus trip between two cities.
Shocked out of that pleasant idea, the driver accelerates the bus again, making it sound like the engine is redlining to keep passing absolutely everyone. I don’t know what it is about driving in other countries that terrifies me – oh wait, it’s that I picture myself in a pile of tangled metal. Doha was the worst though. At least here drivers seem to have some sense of self-preservation (well, except for that taxi that I saw slam into a truck between the airport and Santa Marta), just not for anyone else’s life – especially mopeds or motorcycle taxis. 
Yes, what an incredible concept. I saw four people piled onto a motorcycle taxi today as we rode in a taxi the size of a matchbox to the bus terminal, zipping around, honking and yelling at anyone. That included the 2-wheeled vehicles, pedestrians who do not seem to possess the socially acceptable or even safe buffer from moving vehicles, donkeys pulling literal carts of trash, millions of other matchbox taxis, and buses.
Getting through the city to the bus terminal was a labyrinth of colors, fruit stands, scary pot-holed streets and a clear sky. It would have been more tolerable or even exciting if I hadn’t begun feeling sick the night before. I had survived 5 days of the Colombian jungle only to begin to feel the wrenching cramps of ‘the crud’ at the unbelievably beautiful beach of Cabo San Juan, a 2-hour hike into the wild, expansive, sea-side Tayrona National Park.
I think now that it could have been the spaghetti bolognese I ordered for lunch along with a Colombiana – somewhat of a Colombian cream soda. I was sore and exhausted from our 4-day hike to the Lost City, and just wanted some carbohydrate-replenishing pasta. That was lunch. Dinner that evening didn’t quite taste right, although I should have been starving, and I had already figured I had quite successfully dodged the diarrhea bullet. That was a premature celebration if there ever has been one. 
I figured being covered in constellations of little red bug bites from insect-repellent resistant jungle bugs was the real price I paid for that incredible experience. As it turned out, that would not be the only price I pay. Unfortunately, we still had a 2-hour hike out of the forest the next day. At this point I had no clean clothes, literally no money in hand or energy to try to wash them. I began to fade. I showered, forced down dinner, played some cards with friends and retired to my hammock early.
It was worse in the morning, our last time at Tayrona before we struck out back to civilization. After we got up to try to see the sun rise, we all fell back asleep on the beach under a blanket of clouds. I began dealing with my issue, and we hiked halfway out where we could eat a hot breakfast because they took credit cards (still out of cash and I let Liz and Juan talk me into buying more expensive food and beer instead of saving any for breakfast. Luckily the benevolent Germans also bought us some beer – so we wouldn’t go thirsty). I frequented the ladies room which was opulent based on the facts of the toilets having seats, there actually being a supply of toilet paper, and soap on the wall with which to wash my hands. I washed them multiple times, took another 2 immodium and hoped for the best on our remaining hour.
I made it with no incidents based on frequent breaks, but the previous days of hiking, my dehydration, and painful stomach cramps left me weak and exhausted. We had to convince the bus driver from the trailhead to the park entrance to let us pay him later since we had no cash – and we saved another 5K hike.
While my friends got cash I was able to get cell service and let those who love me know I wasn’t cast off the side of a mountain, bitten by a poisonous spider, snake or other critter, mauled by a Jaguar, or held for ransom (it wouldn’t be much). It was already a day after they expected to hear from me so there had been some concerns. After that we bused to Santa Marta where I learned not to text next to an open bus window because there are quick thieves who could grab it and or my wallet. Cramped in a full bus my knees ached from the days of strenuous elevation change and better than at least 35 miles. The cramps continued and I knew the additional immodium hadn’t been enough. Off the bus, into a taxi, to an ATM (finally) and then the drugstore nearby. I felt like a ghost of a person by now.
By the time we returned to our hostel to plan the next leg and collect our left behind items, I was done with the first half liter of Pedialyte. The second was done after my shower and I polished off 1 liter of water soon before departing. By the time we arrived at the bus terminal consequence was imminent and the four pills weren’t working. I stood with Liz and Juan while we bought our bus tickets, and Juan informed me that I would have to pay to use the restroom. I was surprised and I wasn’t. I paid $1,000 Pesos (about seventy five cents), grabbed a folded portion of TP and uncomfortably squeezed through the midget-sized rotating gate that “allowed” the payees access to eliminate. Even in Doha I never paid although had a myriad of unimaginable restroom experiences.
The bathroom was surprisingly comforting, again with toilet seats, paper and hand soap – an oasis in a dingy bus terminal. I sat on the seat and literally laughed out loud to a pristine and empty bathroom at the fact that I had just paid for this “privilege”.
After enjoying the solitude of the facilities I popped 2 more pills and once again hoped for the best. I didn’t yet know if the 3-4 hour bus ride we were about to embark on would even have a restroom. Hopefully, this would do the trick. I almost finished another entire liter of water before I could even think about urinating, that’s how dehydrated I was. Thankfully they did have a toilet, and I began to recover on this comfortable bus. I couldn’t think about food until a street vendor popped on the bus at one stop and walked around selling empanadas with eggs and sausage in them for about $1. I was suddenly ravenous and after carefully considering the consequences, purchased one and ate it, my body obviously starved for energy. The rest of the ride was uneventful and Cartagena had an amazingly comfortable bed awaiting me in my hotel room. I don’t know that I’ve ever slept that well.
