my feet don't want to go to sleep

There are two ways to travel. One way is researching, planning, pre-booking, arranging and then executing. The other is to be fluid, open, have ideas but do not plan them, do research and know something but accept new information and change the course as you learn differently. Considering I am an event planner by trade, people would assume I travel the first way but that is not true.

When Amber and I booked a month long trip to Colombia I asked her to trust me. Let’s be open to whatever comes our way. She gave me a raised eyebrow but agreed. The compromise was for every hostel we stayed in or lost week in the jungle I wanted, we had a 5 star hotel and a couple planned activities. Fair, you don’t turn someone into a backpacker overnight.

The first two weeks were dedicated to the coast and the mountains. The last two weeks, the cities. We planned it this way because we were both remote working with 2 weeks off and then 2 weeks on. There is not much wifi in the jungle, nor should there be.

It all started in Cartagena. Jet Blue flew direct there for $300 one way in 2023. The only thing we had arranged was a hostel on one of the cluster of islands, called Rosario Islands, right outside of Cartagena. The hostel helped us arrange for a pick up. I told Amber I would manage it all because I was practicing communicating in Spanish.

With $300 worth of pesos in my luggage from a friend we took off from JFK after a failed attempt at taking the subway after learning the E wasn’t running. $90 later we checked in and boarded finally off to Colombia.

After 2 hours in line at customs we made it outside. The driver was not happy about waiting so long. The hostel had arranged for the driver to pick us up, drive us to the boat that would ferry us over to the island for our 4 day stay, where we had no plans, just ideas. We spent 20 minutes texted back and forth trying to find the car rolling our luggage around from parking lot to parking lot. Finally locating his car, we jump in. He only spoke Spanish but had an excellent playlist of 5 songs seemingly on repeat. We zoomed off and headed out of the city.

True to my lack of entirely understanding the plan, I did not even know where the boat was picking us up. I ask him and learned that this is an hour drive, down the entire west coast peninsula taking us to the boat. Amber looks at me incredulously as I translate. We have no option but to continue. We drive through luxury areas, areas with no roads, areas with no infrastructure, areas with fancy hotels and white beaches. Every 20 minutes a new type of environment greets us.

Over an hour later we come to the end of a mud road where an unfinished building stands with the dreams of becoming a boat ticket waiting station. Unsure if those dreams will ever come true as the work did not look active. Our driver gets out of the car, I thank my friend for bringing me cash so I can pay the driver, and then pay the men who faster than we can say no thank you, take our luggage over to the boat. The driver leaves with no further information and we walk to a dingy. Amber looks at me again ready to snap. Thankfully she is really go with the flow because this is not the safest looking trip so far. We board the small boat with our luggage squished into the bow so they aren’t sliding around. We slowly exit the quiet dock, drive through the mangroves, and then launch into the open ocean. No land in front of us, the land behind is receding into the distance. There is clearly a storm approaching, you can feel it in the wind and see it in the waves. The captain, if you can say that, tells us it was almost too late to go because they do not go in the dark.

Fear starts to set in after this comment. The sun disappears around the clouds and the warm tropical wind smells with the hint of rain. I look at Amber she is flipping me off with a great “Fuck you Ang”. We start hysterically laughing as she says “you get what you pay for”. Which in this instance is true because this barely cost $60 total.

Land appears and we speed towards it. A tiny beach greets us, the workers unload our luggage. I tip them with a gracias and we head up the wooden path to reception. This was Amber’s first hostel so I booked us a private room that technically could sleep 4 with an ensuite. It was approaching 7pm. The bars we had traveled with were eaten long ago. We were tired, hungry, and a little weary.

The whole reason I wanted to not book anything was the experiences at hostels are so much more authentic. The locals run the experiences, the prices are lower, and because they know the area better they show you more than if we had booked in Cartagena. This was also why I pushed Amber to stay on the islands and not in Cartagena taking day trips into the islands. We organize the activities and options with the front desk. They have kayaking through mangroves, snorkeling around ship wrecks, island hopping to parties, and night kayaking to see bioluminescence.

We head to the bar with a vague idea of what we want to do, having them arrange for snorkeling for the morning. At the bar we order cocktails made with their own simple syrup made from the various fruits on the island. They have a water bottle refill and a path that leads to our second floor room. Isla Grande, specifically Secreto Hostel, will be our home for the next couple nights. We have some dinner then head up for showers and bed.

The day was not over yet. The most epic thunderstorm I have ever heard in my life happened that night. Our hostel was almost a treehouse. Everything was a little open to allow airflow. This also allowed water flow. With the mosquito nets around our mattresses we tried to sleep as thunder and lighting surrounded us. The rain poured down and Amber was in the splash zone. We fell asleep to the sounds of the jungle meeting the ocean. And that was just day one.