You Are The Owner? No…


Heather

As Dan mentioned we were pretty lucky to get passage on the
fabled ferry, I removed my transdermal motion sickness patch which had
kept me pretty out of it for the 24 hours I had it on and we got
prepared to deal with Colombian immigration.

The first thing we noticed is that the Colombians seemed more
organized than most of Central America. They made sure all the vehicle
owners disembarked the ferry first so that we could get through
immigration and then deal with customs for our vehicles. As they
gathered us all together to fill in our car paperwork we noticed they
were telling all the women to “go wait outside”, I was prepared to do
just that (since I was still out of it and my pupils were
dilated to the size of dinner plates) but then we heard one official
saying that they needed the car owners, oh well that is me. The
official stares at us, “you own the car?” he asked incredulously. Before
I could answer he went on “no, I think not”.  Dan smiled, handed me the
keys and wished me luck.

The first part was easy, paperwork, I do that at all the border
crossings anyway. Then we were given a fancy lanyard and escorted back
to where we had parked our cars after disembarking. Here we just sat
around waiting for a food inspection, customs inspection, and our car
insurance. But it never failed with each inspector, they questioned
why I was in this area and where was my husband. I just smiled and
said that in English Heather is a woman’s name and yes I own this truck,
hence why my paperwork matches the trucks paperwork. This is the first
time it’s ever mattered who owned the vehicle but I sure am glad we
didn’t have to ship the Hulk, I think I would have lost my cool if I
had to do all the running around required for that on my own, with
people questioning me constantly.

Although we arrived around 1pm it was dark by the time we pulled into
the hotel parking lot we’d be sleeping in. I wish I could tell you that
we loved Cartagena, but it was stinking hot and Dan was not feeling
well, so I do not think we appreciated it to the fullest. Plus it was
really windy when we were there, and although we weren’t parked on the
beach, we had sand blowing through the camper which is irksome to say
the least.

So we decided to head northeast along the coast. First we stopped at a
mud volcano, El Totumo, to relax. These mud volcanos are famed for their alleged healing abilities but really its a mud pit that locals know how to exploit for
tourist dollars. We read mixed reviews online but since we wouldn’t be
going with a tour we thought we’d check it out and if it seemed dodgy
just leave. It ended up being a very pleasant experience. We arrived
just as a tour bus was leaving, perfect, there were only two other
people there. We climbed up the volcano, and then climbed into its
crater via a very rickety ladder. Now the mud pit is deep (18m/60ft)
but weirdly you float. And then you get a massage whilst floating in
this muddy paradise. It was nice, we really enjoyed it. Once you are
coated and rubbed down you climb up an even scarier ladder and then
walk down to the sea where you clean off. The cost was only $23 for
the two of us, a bargain.

The mud volcano.

The mud volcano.

Then it was back on the road to Taganga. A sleepy fishing village
that is now over run with hippy backpackers, we didn’t love our
accommodation there but it was the only place with secure parking for
the Hulk while we’re going off into the jungle for a few days, but
we’ll save that tale for later.

A hipster centre piece in Taganga

A hipster centre piece in Taganga

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Categories: Colombia, UncategorizedTags: , , , , , ,

6 comments

  1. I so enjoy your adventures and hope to see you again sometime.

    Lorrie Johnson/TwoJsHomestay/Pine, AZ USA

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  2. Sorry H, I giggled when i read the customs officer comment and Dan handing you the keys wishing you luck ! All I can say is that they were very lucky that you were still dopey from meds ! Take care and keep on living the dream , love your blogs xxxxxx

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  3. H, I bet you were the topic of many stories told by all of the officials you encountered when they got home. The shock that a women was the owner of a truck. Fortunately for them they were all smart enough to behave. Was the mud stinky like the mud we used in Costa Rica? Did you look 10 years younger like we did…ha ha. xoxo

    Like

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