Surviving the end of the world in Mexico City

Mexico City, otherwise known as D.F. (Distrito Federal which means Federal District) is a beast of a city with a population of about 20 million. Needless to say, it's pretty hectic. Our first few days were spent organising everything for a new passport for Kurt, and getting all the paperwork together for the insurance claim. If you've ever made an insurance claim for a lost or stolen item you'll know all the bullshit you have to go through. Now imagine claiming for about 8 different items as well as accommodation and travel, and translating a police report from Spanish to English using Google translate. Bullshit multiplied by a thousand. But we got it all done and then we just had to wait for Kurt's new passport.

We spent almost a month in Mexico City in total and there's no shortage of things to do and see. Aside from just wandering around and exploring different parts of the city, we did some of the major touristy things like visiting the Teotihuacan Pyramids just outside the city. It's an archaeological site thought to have been established around 100BC, and was one of the largest cities in the world at that time. It's a pretty impressive site, with a couple of massive pyramids you can climb up for a great view of the entire site and the surrounding landscape. 

Chapultepec Castle was also recommended as a place to check out. It's located on the top of Chapultepec Hill in the middle of Chapultepec Park (at least there's consistency in the naming of things) and we spent an hour or two wandering through the multitude of rooms with the usual displays of art and artifacts. The Park it's located in was huge and is a nice place to walk around as well, with loads of stalls selling toys and brightly coloured food, museums, a zoo and a couple of lakes. It's a perfect place to escape the city for some peace and clean air.

We're not big museum people, but we made an exception for the Soumaya Museum as it's an awesome looking building, all shiny and silver. Owned by Carlos Slim, the richest man in the world, and named after his late wife, the museum was built to showcase his extensive art collection, including the world's largest private collection of sculptures by Rodin. With over $700 million worth of art, entry to the museum is free so everyone can enjoy it. And lucky for us, the man himself was there on the day we visited doing a press conference of some sort, so we got to see him with our own eyes. Not many people can say they've been in the same room as the richest man in the world.

It would be remiss of me not to mention food at this point. After a year of fairly bland South American food which typically consists of rice, beans and some sort of fried meat/fish, we were hanging out for the variety of flavours and spice of Mexican food. And we weren't disappointed. Finally, some decent (and ridiculously cheap) street food! Tacos (5 for just over $1) with all manner of meat fillings (including head, tail, tongue etc which Kurt rather enjoyed) and flavourful toppings like coriander, onion and spicy sauces; quesadillas filled with beans, meat and oozing oaxacan cheese; gorditas and sopas, tostadas and tortas...the delicious list goes on. Our taste buds were in heaven. One of our regular and filling favourites were tortas. We were confused at first as in South America torta means cake, but in Mexico it's a sandwich. A totally awesome sandwich filled with all kinds of meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, avocado, mayo and chipotle sauce, and lightly toasted. And for only $2.50. Fuck yeah. 

The reason we had to get to Mexico City in December is because we were going to spend Christmas with Sara and Luke (friends from Sydney that Kurt worked with) and Sara's family. Of course we managed to get in a couple of nights of coronas and tequila and mariachi's before then, just to catch up first. Then a few days before Christmas we loaded up a taxi and made the drive to Actopan, a city about 4 hours from Mexico City. We stayed at Sara's aunt's house and over the next 5 days we met other aunts, uncles and cousins and were made to feel like part of the family - the retarded members who barely speak Spanish. As with any normal Christmas at home, we ate way too much, drank a bit and talked shit. But the added bonus of a Christmas in Mexico meant we got to set off fireworks and bash the shit out of piñatas. Who said they were just for kids? It was an awesome way to experience a real Mexican style Christmas - huge thanks to Sara and Luke and Sara's family for letting us spend it with them.

Counting the cost of Costa Rica

From Panama City we originally planned on getting a bus all the way up to the south of Mexico. However, being so close to Christmas the only company that did that particular route was completely booked up until the new year. So we figured we'd just do the journey in smaller legs, getting buses as far as we could each time. That meant we had to find a bus to take us to the border of Costa Rica and then once we crossed over jump on a bus to take us to San Jose, the capital city. This was pretty easy, except it had to be the worst border crossing we've done so far. It took about 3-4 hours to get our passports stamped out of Panama, then we had to walk about 1km to the Costa Rican border which was thankfully a piece of piss. Then we only had to wait 20mins or so to get on a bus.  

We arrived in San Jose late arvo/early evening and went straight to the office of a bus company in the vain hope we could get straight on another bus that night. Unfortunately we were shit out of luck so we found a hostel for the night. Even after only a couple of hours, we got the feeling that Costa Rica was very expensive and not a particularly welcoming place, so we decided to spend just one night and get up at stupid o'clock to try and get tickets on a 4am bus across the border. Again, it was fully booked so we went to another bus terminal where we lined up for about an hour and finally secured tickets to the Nicaraguan border. That wasn't a mission at all. So at about 5:30am we were on our way, expected to arrive at the border about 5 hours later. However, due to an accident along the way we were stopped in traffic for an hour or two waiting for the road to be cleared. We got moving again, and at some point there were quite a few people standing in the aisle of the bus, and one guy standing next to Kurt's seat fumbled and dropped his wallet which fell under our feet. We searched around to pick it up and Kurt had to get up so we could find it. At that point a woman pushed passed Kurt, turning him around, and soon afterwards a group of people got off at a stop. A couple of minutes later Kurt reached up to check on his small backpack which was in the overhead compartment, but it wasn't there anymore. FUCK!!! After a lot of swearing and yelling Kurt got the driver to pull over and we got off, unloaded our big bags and waved down a cop car. It was at this point that several other passengers on the bus decided to be helpful and proceeded to give the cops a complete description of the group of people that had stolen Kurt's backpack. So they'd obviously seen it happen and chose to do nothing about it. We later figured that the group regularly targeted this bus and the locals were probably too scared to speak out against them. We jumped in the cop car and raced back to the bus stop to see if any of them had hung around. Which of course they hadn't. So we drove to the nearest police station (about 30mins away) to make a report of everything that had been stolen. Which was quite a lot - bet those assholes were happy fucking campers. Kurt's nice new backpack contained: a laptop, 2 cameras, a hard drive, a new Samsung Galaxy S3, Kurt's passport, my credit card and two others for an account we thankfully no longer use, and a few other small electrical items/cords. And by the time I called to cancel my credit card, they'd managed to spend about $500 in less than an hour. Guess they could've racked up a lot more, but still, it was quick work. Oh yeah, and we discovered they'd also taken our other laptop out of my backpack which I'd left on the seat for 5mins while I got off for fresh air when we were stopped in traffic due to the accident. Strangely they didn't take anything else (there was a lot more they could've stolen), so maybe they were just testing the waters. If only I'd opened my bag to get something out because I would've realised straight away and we would've known it was someone who was still on the bus. And there's no way Kurt would've let the bus go anywhere until we found out who it was and had got it back. Good old hindsight ay? Anyway, after making our report and getting a copy for insurance purposes (thank god for travel insurance), we then had to get a bus all the way back to San Jose, as without Kurt's passport we couldn't cross the border.

As there is no Australian embassy in Costa Rica, we had to go to the Canadian embassy as they look after Australian citizens (the Poms look after us Kiwis). It was a Friday afternoon and we got to the embassy at about 1pm, thanking our lucky stars we'd started out ridiculously early that morning and had made it back in time. So we rock up to the counter only to be told that the embassy is closed for their Christmas party. Excuse me? You have got to be fucking kidding! But no, they didn't even leave a poor lackie behind to man the office. A guy who worked in the building walked past and heard our plight, so he tried to help us contact someone. But of course nothing worked so we were fucked until Monday. Obviously our only course of action was to find a hostel and proceed to drink ourselves into oblivion to forget the shittiest day on record. Which we achieved quite successfully.  

Being fairly confident we would get the necessary document on the Monday to allow us to leave this shitty country (maybe our opinion was unfairly biased, but then again, maybe not), we went ahead and booked cheap flights to Mexico City on the Tuesday, which is where the nearest Australian embassy was. Convenient, as that was our final destination anyway. So on Monday we got all the required shit together (passport photos, police report etc) and were at the embassy nice and early to get this thing done. But as usual, bureaucratic processes are never quick and straightforward, so we had to wait hours for the Australian embassy in Mexico to approve the emergency travel document for Kurt. We made ourselves comfortable and Kurt even got in a quick nap on the couches. Finally, the woman called us up and handed over the prized document which turned out to be just a sheet of paper with Kurt's details on it. Who cares, as long as it gets us on the plane and out of there. Which it did, although check in and customs officials in both Costa Rica and Mexico had to check with bosses that it was legit. 

So as you can imagine, we don't have fond memories or a huge desire to go back and spend much time in Costa Rica. Not that we blame what happened on the country - it could've happened anywhere. And according to all the Costa Ricans who heard what happened, the thieves were clearly Nicaraguan. Obviously. Anyway, we're lucky that that's the only really bad thing that has happened to us in over 12 months of travelling. Touch wood. Things can only get better from hereon in!

Back on land in Panama

When we arrived in Panama we anchored at a place called Isla Grande. In a small town about 30mins away we were supposed to get our passports stamped coming into Panama, but of course the customs office was closed. Frank then had to come with us to Panama City, about 2 hours away by bus, and make the round trip back to Portobelo the next day to get our passports stamped. A few of us weren't comfortable entrusting our passports to someone we didn't really know, so we discussed one of us going along with Frank to make sure he didn't disappear with them. But in the end Frank ended up going alone and we all breathed a sigh of relief when he returned later that evening, with all the passports safely in his possession and stamped into Panama.  

We only spent 5 days in Panama City, mainly just chilling out and getting used to being back on land - it was a very weird feeling and it took a few days for the swaying sensation to fully disappear. As luck would have it, we were able to meet up with Sam again, an American girl we'd met on the W trek in Patagonia. She was living in a small village a few hours out of Panama City but was in town for a couple of days, so we walked around for a while catching up on everything then went to the seafood market to have some fresh prawn ceviche. 

Of course, the most touristy thing to do in Panama City is to visit the famous canal. It's been around for a while - construction started way back in 1881 and was finally finished in 1914, and while we were there they were expanding it to build a third set of locks. Even if you're not particularly interested in mechanical feats of engineering like this, it's still fascinating to watch the ships come through the locks and see how it all happens right in front of you. While we were there a couple came through, and it's quite surprising how fast it all happens considering they're such huge vessels being moved through massive amounts of water. And it all happens so quietly and seamlessly.  It's not exactly cheap for ships to pass through the canal however - the average toll is $54,000 but the most expensive toll charged to date was for a cruise ship which paid $375,600 in 2010. And I bet that was all covered by the stupidly expensive cruise fees the passengers willingly paid. 

After a few days we had to start the big trek up to Mexico by bus, so we said goodbye to the others and went our separate ways.

Pirates of the Caribbean

One of the things we'd both been looking forward to for the whole trip was sailing from Colombia to Panama. It would have been easier and quicker to fly, but where's the fun in that? Neither of us had ever done anything even remotely like it before so we had no idea what to expect, but therein lies the fun. We'd read a lot about how important it is to find the right boat, and more importantly the right captain, as things can potentially go disastrously wrong. For us though, the other people on the boat were what could make or break the trip, but unfortunately we had no control over this. We had the name of one boat recommended by Paul, an Aussie we met in Ecuador, who'd made the trip a couple of months earlier. However, as luck would have it, things turned out much better for us.

Gronn and his mates had found a boat and there were a couple of spaces left, so they were happy to have us join them for the ride. We all met up again in Cartagena, and a couple of days before we were due to leave we met Loic,  one of the French captains, and talked to him about the boat and all the details. A few of the guys also went and checked out the boat - a 15m Atoll 6 called the Velero Amande, with 6 double cabins and 4 bathrooms - and gave it the all clear, so we were all set. We just had to buy a few supplies in the form of about 4 cases of beer, 4 litres of rum, 2 litres of aguardiente, 1.5 litres of vodka (all of this was just for the 2 of us of course) and a few snacks, then we were good to go.

The two Irish brothers in the group, Martin and Shane, arrived in Cartagena the day before we sailed so Loic wasn't able to get our passports stamped at customs before we left. He also hadn't been able to get the harbourmaster's permission for his boat to leave, so we were going to have to try and sneak out at night and get our passports stamped the next day at another place. We arrived at the port in small groups about 20mins apart, so as not to arouse the suspicion of the officials, and all made it safely onboard under the cover of night. We had a celebratory drink then stealthily set off to leave the harbour. Most sailing trips last about 5 days, but our captains, Loic and Frank, said they were relaxed about how long it took us and we could do whatever we wanted. Off to a great start then. The optimism soon started to wane though and nausea quickly set in, with Steph being the first to succumb. It became fairly obvious that not all of us had our sea legs. Not even close. That first night was pretty rough for a few of us, and Kurt and I and Steph and Alex chose to sleep in the sheltered sitting area as it had more fresh air than the cabins below deck. Loic and Frank were awesome, emptying our buckets and dishing out tissues and water all night long. We must have been a sorry sight. 

The crew

Chess and cards are a serious business

The next week was spent sailing a bit each day or night, anchoring at beautiful spots to swim in the crystal clear waters and snorkel over some amazing reefs, even a shipwreck off one of the San Blas islands. Loic and Frank also outdid themselves with the cooking, producing some awesome food for us, sometimes while sailing over pretty rough waters. We even had some fresh barracuda ceviche and beautifully cooked fillets, caught as we were sailing along one afternoon. And of course we were all hanging out for fresh lobster, which we bought off some of the locals from their canoe stocked with fish, lobster and the biggest crab I've ever seen. Steph and I still felt sick throughout most of the week, but I got to know that the minute we started sailing my safe place was lying down in the cabin. I think out of 9 of us, 4 made it the whole way without spewing. Not bad.

In total, we sailed about 550kms across the Caribbean Sea, and after an entire week we finally made it to Panama. Now we just had to get used to being back on land...

Time Out in Taganga and Tayrona

After a brief stay in Santa Marta which is about 4 hours north of Cartagena, I shared a taxi with Kat and Cam to Taganga, which is a small fishing village about 15 minutes away over the hill. Charlie and Renee had recommended a place to stay called Casa de Felipe, so I got dropped off there. It was a great hostel with plenty of shady outdoor areas and hammocks, so this became my home away from home for a couple of weeks. Unless you do your diving course there's not really anything to do in Taganga, so I spent my days catching up on sleep, swimming at the fairly average beach and chilling in a hammock. I went around to another beach called Playa Grande, but honestly it wasn't worth it at all - it was a tiny little beach packed with people and beach chairs and the water had all sorts of debris in it. I lasted for a couple of hours but was more than ready to go by the time the boat came back.

Lazy days in hammocks at Casa de Felipe

Playa Grande - not impressed

View of Taganga coming over the hill from Santa Marta

About an hour and a half away on a local bus is Tayrona National Park and it's a hot spot for tourists. But first, I went about 15mins further on to another beach called Costeño, which is a popular surf camp and often fills up. It was about a 30min walk from the road so when I arrived I was happy to see they had my name on the board for my reserved hammock. There were about 7 or 8 hammocks all strung up under a straw roof, and mine was the end one with a nice view of the beach about 20 metres away.  However, it didn't turn out to be quite the prime location I initially thought when it started raining that night. It wasn't nearly as bad as the first night on Playa Blanca, but luckily I was able to move into the middle the next night for some shelter. I only spent 2 days here just lying on the beach, but for half of the second day it pissed down. I took this as my cue to head back to Tayrona the next day, and randomly I met Helen, another kiwi girl who was doing the same thing so we decided to go together.

Costeño Beach

Tayrona National Park was home to a local tribe back in the day and it covers a pretty big area (150 square km of land and 30 square km of  the Caribbean Sea), but tourists tend to just visit a small section for hiking/camping. It costs about $20 to get into the Park, but you can stay as long as you like. From the entry it's about a 5km walk along a sometimes rough and muddy road, or you can take a van for about $1. We took the van. Then it's about a 3 hour hike that takes you up and down through the jungle then out onto the beach. Helen and I both wanted to stay at Cabo San Juan de la Guía which is the most popular place and for a pretty good reason. There's plenty of space for camping and heaps of hammocks crammed in under a shelter, but the prime spot is one of 13 or so hammocks in a rotunda perched up high on a rocky outcrop with an amazing view out over the sea and back over the two small curving bays on either side. We arrived at about 2 or 3pm and managed to get the last two hammocks up there, so quickly claimed our spot then it was straight into the beautifully refreshing water. Much needed relief after the hours of sweaty hiking. Unless you're keen enough to take a little gas stove and cooking gear, there's one restaurant that everyone eats at. There's enough variety to keep most people happy and some of the meals looked huge. By about 8:30pm I was knackered and ready for bed, and surprisingly by about 9pm everyone else was in their hammocks too. We were both only staying one night, so after swimming and lazing around the next morning we decided to hike back out to make sure we got a bus back to town.

The hammock rotunda

View back down over the bay from the rotunda

After about 6 weeks Kurt finally caught up to me in Taganga, so we spent a few more days there (still at Casa de Felipe). I'd had the best meal of the entire trip at a restaurant that consistently gets rave reviews online, so of course I had to take Kurt back there. For about $15 you get a 3 course meal (you can choose each course from a selection) which is so beautifully presented and is the most amazingly delicious food. If you ever find yourself in this out of the way spot, the restaurant is called Babaganoush and is well worth the splurge ($15 is expensive in this part of the world). Just don't go on Mondays as they're closed.

Kurt also wanted to go to Tayrona so I was happy to go back again. It was perfect weather but it had obviously pissed down the day/night before, as one section of the walk was about ankle deep in water. Luckily it wasn't in the muddy jungle section though or I'm sure we would've been on our asses. Unfortunately when we arrived at Cabo San Juan all of the prime hammocks were taken, so we were down in the main camp area. It's a lot more sheltered though, which was probably a good thing as it rained again one night. On the first afternoon we saw a familiar face for the 3rd time - the permanently bare-footed Gronn, an Aussie we'd first met in Bogotá and then run into a few days earlier in Taganga. He was back travelling with his group of mates, so we spent the evening playing cards and talking shit with them. They were all going to sail from Cartagena to Panama too, so we figured we'd cross paths again and who knows, maybe even be on the same boat.

My 90 days in Colombia were close to being up, so we had to get back to Cartagena with enough time to find a boat that left before the end of the month (November). I also had to find a doctor, as I'd had a nasty cough for a few weeks and had lost my voice (turned out to be laryngitis). I'm not sure if it was a blessing or a curse for Kurt that I couldn't talk for 4 or 5 days...

Cooking in Cartagena

After the relative cool of Bogotá and Medellín it was a shock to get off the bus to the sweltering humidity of Cartagena, but it was great to be back on the coast again.

Cartagena is a popular tourist spot for both locals and foreigners, and there's a few things to check out. The main thing being the old town which is surrounded by thick walls to protect it against enemies back in the day. It's a beautiful section of the city to wander around checking out the colonial architecture and all the churches, monasteries, plazas and palaces. It's a self-contained section of history, but of course it's so popular with tourists that it's a bit pricey for us backpackers.

Another tourist spot is Castillo San Felipe de Barajas, which is a fortress on top of a hill. According to the Lonely Planet it's the greatest and strongest fortress ever built by the Spaniards in any of their colonies, and it was never taken despite numerous attempts. Impressive. It was one of the more expensive places to visit though - $17 entry which made me think twice about parting with that much money. That was over half of my daily budget after all! It was an awesome view of the city though, and there are some cool old tunnels that wind all around under the fortress.  

One of the coolest and weirdest experiences was visiting the mud volcano just out of Cartagena. It must be the world's smallest volcano though as it looks more like a tiny hill. You climb up steps leading to the top where you wait your turn to get into the small crater of viscous volcanic mud. Once you're in you can get a massage by one of the locals, otherwise they literally just push you across the top of the mud to the other side. It's the weirdest feeling as the mud is so unbelievably thick that you have to fight to submerge yourself.  I ended up just kind of sitting there with my legs stuck out in front. Everyone had to push each other around to move anywhere so it was a crazy experience. Afterwards you walk down to a lagoon where you wash off, or more likely, you get grabbed by a local woman who then proceeds to make you sit down in the water while she whips your bikini/boardies off and washes them and you clean. An appropriately weird end to the whole experience.

Kat and Cam arrived in Cartagena not long after me, so we ended up organising to get the boat out to Playa Blanca together to spend a few days chilling out on the beach. Of course the morning we left it was absolutely pissing down, so I showed up at the port looking like a drowned rat, carrying my small backpack in a plastic rubbish bag. A very sophisticated waterproofing method. We took the slow ferry there which turned out to be very slow - about 4 hours with a stop at another island so people could visit an aquarium. No thanks. But we eventually arrived and were greeted by a long strip of white sand and blue water. Gorgeous.  We found a place to sleep for the night in hammocks and got down to the important business of swimming, drinking and getting a massage. That first night was pretty miserable though, as it was raining and windy so we all got wet and cold. Needless to say, the next morning we moved further down the beach to another place which was a lot better as the hammock area had a big tarp all around it to protect us from the rain. The owner also cooked some amazing food, so we were happy campers. And thankfully we were away from the crowds who arrived each day, so we had a quiet stretch of beach to swim and soak up the sun. Not a bad way to spend a few days.

After several days the suffocating humidity of Cartagena became too much, so it was time to keep heading north.

Medellín

After an overnight bus from Bogotá on which I froze my ass off due to blasting air-con at arctic temperatures, I arrived bright and early in the second biggest city in Colombia.  Most people know Medellín as the old stomping ground of Pablo Escobar, and where all sorts of killing and fighting went on between Colombia's drug cartels.  It's only fitting then, that one of the most popular things to do in this city is a tour devoted to the man himself.

Escobar was Colombia's most notorious drug lord, and over a couple of hours driving around the city visiting 3 main sites, the guide told my group about his early life, how he rose to power and obscene wealth and controlled cocaine trafficking, and finally his death.  We drove past the massive building he lived in with his family (a 5-storey building with one floor dedicated to 'recreation' and another a nursery for his kids) which has been abandoned for years and still has bullet holes in it and signs of the bombing by the rival Cali cartel; the house where he had been hiding out but was shot and killed by Colombian special forces in 1993; and finally to his grave in a cemetery on the outskirts of Medellín. I'm not a fan of tours, but this one was different and actually really interesting.  There are some tours that say you meet Escobar's brother at the end of the tour, but they charge about 5 times as much and I was sceptical about whether it was actually his brother or not.  Who would ever know?  So I decided not to chance it and went with the regular one.

Escobar's house

His grave

House where Pablo was killed

There's not really a whole lot to do in Medellín, but there were a couple of things similar to Bogotá.  I took a ride up the cable car which actually serves a purpose other than being a good way to view the city - it helps locals commute from their homes on the mountainside into the city at the bottom of the valley.  You get a pretty good view going up, but there's no viewing platform at the top to get out and take photos as it's not built for tourists.  Still, you can get most of the way up for free as it's included in the price of the metro. Bonus.

Medellín is also home to a lot of Botero's works, both in a museum and a whole bunch of his sculptures in a public plaza.  I decided to pass on the museum as we'd already seen a lot of his paintings in Bogotá, so I just wandered around the plaza checking out the sculptures.  I then walked over to a big church/cathedral, but for the first time I can remember I actually felt a bit unsafe so decided I was done for the day.

 

After a few days I'd done all I wanted to in Medellín, so it was time to head north to the coast.