Islas del Rosario and a Mud Bath

I felt crap on Monday morning but I managed to get up and drag myself to the ferry launch point for my tour to the Islas del Rosario, which I'd been looking forward to for ages.

It was disappointing. Stomach cramps didn't help. The boat was a monstrous great big thing, and gradually filled to over capacity with about 200 mostly Colombian tourists. Turns out Colombian bank holiday tourists are about as loud, obnoxious, drunken, fat and scantily clad as British ones. I tried to console myself with my blackcurrant flavoured rehydration solution. Two and a half hours sat in the blazing sun amongst this chaos whilst we reached our island was not fun. It wasn't really mediated by the overbearing family from Medellín who decided they wanted a token English friend. Nor was it fun when we pulled into the shore and all 200 of us disembarked onto an island of about 50 square metres. We were herded about like human cattle.

I got chatting to another solo traveller from New York who felt the same. Whilst whinging about how bad it was, we managed to miss the boat when it left, despite sitting about 10 metres away. We'd been thinking we'd wait until the queue died down. We overdid it a bit.

It turned out well. We got a ride on a smaller speedboat that carried about 30 people and went much faster. A much more intimate and enjoyable way to travel. We got to sit at the front too. On the other hand, it was a bit of a white knuckle ride. Many times I thought the boat was about to break in half when we rose up and then crashed down hard over the waves. We considered how difficult it would be to swim to the shore and contemplated our obituaries.

Fortunately we made it to Playa Blanca, the lunch stop. Unfortunately we had to wait for our steaming giant to arrive. It couldn't get to the shore, so the hordes had to be ferried on little boats to the beach. We waited lazily on the beach with our books, then realised our error when we had to queue another hour for our food, which left us no time to enjoy the nicest beach in Cartagena. Neither Saraj nor I could face getting back on the boat, so we paid 15,ooo pesos for a more exciting journey back on the speedboat.

After wandering round the old city with Saraj for a bit I went out for dinner in the old centre with three other backpackers from my hostel dorm. Anders (Danish), Carl (Irish) and Hayley (English) were really lovely company. I felt much better than the day before.

The next day the same four of us went on a tour to a volcano just outside Cartagena. It's a volcano made of mud, hard on the outside and gooey on the inside. (Bit like a cream egg. Mmmmm...) It looks like it's been artificially constructed at least to some extent, just rising up steeply and narrowly about 50m from the otherwise flat surrounds.

It's such an odd experience to submerge yourself entirely in luke warm grey-brown gloopy mud. It looks and has the consistency of emulsion paint. In many ways it's quite pleasant. You just float in the stuff, and moving around is almost impossible. You have to grab onto the side and pull yourself, or else lie horizontal and be slid across it. Locals provide mud massages, which are quite enjoyable. The problem is you know that thousands of people from all over the world, with all their international sweat and grime, have bathed in the same small volume of mud over the years, and there's no cleaning system. If you pull your hand through a bit of it, you get other people's hairs caught in your fingers. This Tuesday being a bank holiday meant that the tiny volcano was completely full to capacity, which is about 20 people. For us, the experience was enriched by the sight of a disgusting fat old man lying on his back rubbing himself all over with mud, including inside his shorts.

We washed off in the shallows of a lake nearby, where thousands of people had done the same over the years, meaning that the water was filthy already.

Later that afternoon, after a proper-ish shower (in the dark, as the power was off) I did a bit of souvenir shopping and explored more of the beautiful old town. It really is pretty. Shame it's so hot and humid here. Within 20 minutes of a cold shower, you feel sticky and grimy again. I am so greatful for the air conditioning in our room.

That night was Hayley's last night in Cartagena and my last night in South America, so we'd agreed on a night out. Unfortunately, Hayley was having a bit of a crisis.She'd just reclaimed her suitcase containing her bank cards only to find that they weren't working so she had no money. We went to call the bank but they couldn't help, saying she must have forgotten her PIN. I insisted on lending her money but she wasn't in the mood to go out. Instead we went out for dinner at Crepes and Waffles (very un-Colombian but delicious!) and wandered round the town a bit.

I'll be on my way home tomorrow!!! I'm feeling very twitchy. I think it's a combination of relief at being well again, excitment about going home sooooooooo soon, sadness about leaving South America and ending my traveller-bum phase, and love for my beautiful new Colombian bag. And maybe having just eaten a big mango sweet thing containing about a week's recommended intake of sugar.