Spiraling South: Month Five

The last month of my trip consisted of wrapping up my solo tour of Colombia and two and a half weeks in Costa Rica.

This month I slept in only ten different beds, and spent only 11 hours on buses. I flew on four planes and spent six hours on boats. In the past five months, the grand total has been 89 beds, 15 planes, 337 bus hours, 28.5 hours in boats, 13 border crossings and 26 new passport stamps.

This month I watched the sunset from the Old City Walls of Cartagena, the top of Monseratte in Bogota, and from the beautiful beaches of Santa Teresa, Costa Rica. I spent a lot of time this month reflecting on my trip and trying to grasp the realization that it would soon be ending.

Though I was technically "alone" in Colombia, anyone who has ever backpacked knows that you are never truly alone. I began the month in Cartagena where I ran into my friend Mike, who had been part of my Bogota travel family. We met two groups of London-ers and spent a few days visiting the beautiful Caribbean beaches, snorkeling, having very awkward encounters while lounging in a volcano lava bath, and watching the sunset over the Old City wall. We experienced a bit of torture as well, as the entire Old City was without water for 48 hours. This meant that there was NO water for showers and NO water to flush the toilet. Though this is never an enjoyable experience, (I know, since this is the THIRD time in South America that it has happened to me,) it was even worse in Cartagena because it is miserably hot and humid. The entire city smelled by the time we got water back in the sink tap and scrubbed ourselves down with washcloths while washing our hair in the sink.

Mike and I flew from Cartagena to Medellin together. In the airport we met Rodolfo, who I would continue to travel with until the final days of my trip. I spent the days wandering around the city, visiting parks, the Botanical Garden, and learning about the city's fascinating history. We went on a Pablo Escobar tour and visited the house where he was shot. We took a day trip to Guatape. To continue my strain of bad luck, the farmers in Salento, the Colombian coffee region, were striking and the roads were closed. Instead I stayed a few extra days in Medellin, my favorite Colombian city.

I went back to Bogota and actually left the hostel this time. In Bogota, street art is legal, and graffiti artists are able to take the time to make beautiful artwork instead of having to rush their work and hide from authorities. We visited an amazing street market, the Botero Museum, and took the cable car to the top of Monseratte where we watched the sunset over the city and the night become alive with lights.

A little less than half way through the month I flew to Costa Rica to meet Michael. I met Michael in Colombia on my second day in South America, though I had no idea at the time how much of an influence he would be on my trip. We met up again a month later in Cuzco, Peru, and again a couple weeks later in La Paz, Bolivia. I convinced Michael and his crew to spend Christmas and New Years with us in Argentina. After a week in Buenos Aires, Michael & co. united with Sinead, Mona and I, and together the eight of us traveled through Argentina and Chile, zigzagging our way through beautiful Patagonian landscapes. After splitting up for a month, Michael and I reunited in Costa Rica. Michael grew up in Costa Rica and his mother's side of the family still lives there. We stayed with his grandmother. After travelling, it was amazing to be able to unpack my clothes for the first time in five months, have home cooked meals, and sleep in the same bed every night.

We were both exhausted and took full advantage of being able to rest and lie around. We visited Michael's favorite restaurants, spent a lot of time with family, spent evenings at The Finca (his family's amazing property outside of town,) and saw a soccer (football) game. We listened to Michael's grandmother's hilarious stories and I learned all sorts of new Costa Rican fruits. We took a five day vacation and went to Santa Teresa.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a beach person, but I fell in love with Santa Teresa. Santa Teresa is an amazing surfer's town that seems as if it is stuck in the 1970's. Everyone in Santa Teresa is beautiful. Everyone has toned bodies and sunkissed skin. The men have hair as long as the women. Everyone walks around almost naked - bathing suits are the standard uniform. Shoes are not necessary.

The town has a very authentic feel. It feels virgin - untouched. Even though Santa Teresa is full of travelers, it feels lived in and loved. As Michael says, Santa Teresa is not a place people come to to cross something off of their bucket list. People come here to live here, to surf here, to love it. It seems as if people come here and stay. They fall in love. They get stuck.

The road in Santa Teresa is not paved. There is dust everywhere. Because it is the dry season, the palm trees that line the road appear to be brown - caked in dust. The main modes of transportation are scooters and quad bikes. People use bandanas to cover their mouths from the dust and different methods ranging from sunglasses to ski goggles to shield their eyes. Every so often a car that will come down the road.

The town feels as if it is stuck in a moment in time. The vibe is amazing. Everything is calm and relaxed. The people who live here and work here are all here because they want to be - because they love it. There are no police in Santa Teresa. There are no traffic lights. The town is still very young - in its infancy. Though there are hotels, the town is mostly run by hostels. Everyone in the town is young. Industry has not yet taken over. There is still vacant beach from property. You can drive down the road for a few minutes and find yourself alone on a beach - without a single other person in sight.

Michael and I spent our days sleeping late, eating lunch at our favorite restaurant, The Bakery, and taking our time getting to the beach in the mid afternoon. We rented bicycles one day and a quad bike for two. We explored on the quad and drove until the road ended. We spent our afternoons on private beaches, where we would swim and wait to watch the sunset. We saw monkeys and iguanas and beautiful birds. Michael got bit by a scorpion. Our evenings were spent sitting outside our cabana drinking wine, swimming in our hotel's pool, and eating delicious dinners. We would stay up late, watching comedy shows, talking and laughing.

After returning from Santa Teresa, we spent a few more days at Michael's grandmother's in San Jose. But eventually the time came, and, as with all good things, my trip finally came to an end. Devastated, I said my final goodbye and cried my way through the airport to board my flight to Washington DC. After 156 days away, it was finally time to return home.

Photos: