Taganga Travel Blog› entry 95 of 98 › view all entries
Just a ten-minute taxi ride from Santa Marta to the sheltered bay of Taganga but the atmosphere couldn’t be more different. I was still well overdue some proper kick back time on the beach having ended up enjoying more of the Carnival ‘festivities’ than expected in Santa Marta. Sadly for me, this was not going to be Costa del Taganga but instead this place was noisy, edgy, dirty and full of spaced out backpackers. I nicknamed it ‘favela on sea’! Actually that is quite an insult as the favela I visited in Rio had a lot more class!
Luckily, I found a cute hostel up a little bit in the hills, just about far enough away from the all-day street parties with the deafening salsa music and the whispers of ‘cheap cocaine?’ The hostel was run by a crazy French lady who made me laugh, had a lovely rooftop mojito bar and a swimming pool.
I was lounging around bantering with this guy when I heard a familiar voice; it was Barbara the German doctor!!! We had completely failed to arrange a place to meet as neither of us had been able to get online much but here we were bumping into each other, staying in the same hostel in rooms next door to each other just as we had in Cartagena.
Could have done without the all night partying really to be honest. A whole year of travelling was catching up with me and I was starting to wind down and definitely getting a bit irritable. Maybe I was starting to stress about going back to the UK and the little issue of having lost my job. Barbara hated Taganga too so decided to go to the nearby Tayrona national park, a place truly to relax on beautiful beaches and sleep on hammocks. I thought about it but it would have meant a whole day of trekking to get there and back and therefore not much chilling time before having to catch my flight to Bogota.
This place did have some charms I guess. A little trek along the cliffs and it looks quite pretty from a distance when you couldn’t see the rubbish strewn all over the beach, the annoying street vendors and the cliché backpacker brigade. I found a reasonable spot on the beach for doing nothing and I did OK for a few days. My mojito consumption went up several fold just so I could survive but I did enjoy the dinners on the beach being serenaded while witnessing some of the fieriest sunsets ever known to mankind.
Still, I was actually relieved when it was time to leave for my flight to Bogota. The tiny airport at Santa Marta providing some prime mullet spotting opportunities, a great way to pass the time.