Back to Santa Marta after La Guajira Peninsula

I wrote this 3-4 weeks ago and never got around to posting it.. It became irrelevant when l met up with Holland in Medellin last week and the Brits came the day after. However, they have all gone to Manizales and beyond for the hot springs and shit down there, so yea.. I guess it works again.

Last night we lost the Dutchman. We were planning on parting ways once our bus arrived to the terminal in Santa Marta (from Riohacha), however as we were getting off the driver told (screamed over the sound of traffic) Dutch it would be easier to get to Medellin from Barranquilla, so with a moments notice he jumped back on the bus as it began to pull away. A bus employee was also hanging onto the outer edge of the door, shouting something about Marijuana, it was quite chaotic.

It was during this crowded and confusing exchange I realized how different the rest of my time in Colombia and elsewhere will be from the last 3 weeks. I met Dutchman my very first night at the Northstar in Bocagrande, Cartagena, 99% of my trip thus far has been with this insane stranger at my side. Today I am still with familiar faces, the Brits and I are spending one more night (we ended up staying 2 nights because it's an awesome place) at the Brisa Loca before they head off to Taganga, and I Bucaramanga. In the lobby area we stumbled across another Brit the other Brits traveled with for a while in Venezuela, ha, so he’s back in the group once more.

Once the Dutchman left all Spanish conversations became my responsibility. If I learned one thing from Dutchman it was that Colombians lie, a lot, and on purpose.

Before packing our bags in the taxi’s trunk we made sure he knew where the Brisa Loca was, Si Si, he assures me. All is well, the Brisa Loca is right in the center of town across from the main square, and is the most popular hostel in all of Santa Marta, surely there would be no issues..

After 15 minutes of driving the cab stops in front of Pollo Loco, a fried chicken restaurante.
Aqui aqui! He shouts and starts to unload our bags.. uhh what?
Senor, senor… this is not it I explain. He points and says Pollo Loco. Yes, we see the massive sign. We need La B-r-i-s-a L-o-c-a. He gestures towards Pollo Loco one more time furiously nodding his head. No no no.

Es un lugar para dormir, lo no es un restaurante x3
(It’s a place for sleep, it is not a restaurant)

We want to take all of our baggage to a fried chicken fast food joint?

10 minutes later explaining that it is a bright orange building in the main square of town we finally arrive, I know my Spanish sucks but I wonder what the fuck is wrong with this guy.

Below, a blurry shot of Brisa Loca from their terrace down into the court yard. And a bit of the dorm room.