All aboard the Anus Bus

19 de Julio

So a kid jokes" Why was the sand wet?"
Because the sea weed?

Paint rations would addressed at the next council budget

Travelling allows us to experience many different things. Cultures, food, traditions, and people. And moments where you just have to shake your head, ask what the hell is this all about, and then laugh about it until it hurts.

One of those moments occurred today, when we left Santa Marta, bound for Parque Nacional de Tayrona. 

At this point, reconsider your need to eat.

Man v's Gramaphone would be called a draw due to the death of  one of the players

It was a one hour ride from a bustling market just outside the centre of town. We decided to take the local collectivo bus, rather than a taxi, to save a load of money on the long distance, and experience first hand the joys of being cramped in a tin can, minus any sort of air conditioning that didn’t include the bearded woman in the front seat farting, in 40 degree heat. My excellent man sense of direction led us the wrong way, and I successfully managed to turn a ten minute walk into thirty. I figured that we should really test ourselves out and carry our packs in the searing heat (40 degrees, let me mention that again). My excuse was that it gave us the opportunity to practice our Spanish by asking directions from locals. It was just a load of pointing really, but in the end we stumbled across the road, melting, only to be nearly be hit by the bus that we actually needed to catch.

So into the oven we went, and as the driver loaded forty more people onto the twenty seater, most loaded with goods such as sacks of rice, dog food and jerry cans of petrol, we squished up, nearly drowning in our own puddles of sweat, ready for the 28km journey.

But why the title of this blog, that rude one you see?  At the beginning of the journey, a well dressed man with a portable microphone , began speaking. Initially, we thought he may have been the conductor asking for fares or perhaps we were lucky and were about to receive an impromptu guided tour of the surrounding slums or the best way the escape the bus in the likely event of a passengers jerry can igniting. But no, we were much luckier than that. This was the proverbial christmas in July for us. El hombre was a salesman, and with him he had a set of laminated pictures.

At this point, make sure you are not eating.

His lesson, and pitch today, was Worms. Not the slimy but cute buggers who glide through your soil and do wonders to your compost heap, but the ones that take a vacation in your arse. His first placards were diagrammatical pictures of cross sections of worms, which looked to me like a plate of spaghetti, and pictures of people scratching their arses, which seemed to be taken from a glossy mag of a celebrity on a beach adjusting their g- string. Then, as the school kids giggled at the glimpse of bum, what he showed next made this the funniest bus ride ever. And also the most disgusting. Dr Worm then showed us all pictures of medical photos of anuses infected with worms. Close up, with the surgeons hands spreading the flesh apart, just incase we didn’t get the point of what he was trying to show us. A worm farm rectum on a grand scale, only waiting for someone to stick a pitchfork in and turn the cabbages and soil. We thought he may have been some government official warning of the dangers of ill bum health, and we may have been more convinced when he began to hand out samples of worming tablets, complete with a label of a nasty looking worm with fangs. If his mission was to put the fear of God into people, it worked, but alas, they were not free. What a salesman he was, as everyone on the bus, especially those with itchy arses, coughed up their hard earned. But we didn’t fall for it, taking medical advice off a spruiker on public transport isn’t recommended in most medical directives.

On closer inspection, the doctor would also recommend bat cream

 Tayrona National Park is a marvellous setting in the Sierra Nevada mountains of Colombia , hugging the coastline. The park includes which some mighty walking trails via rivers and waterfalls and is home to quite a collection of animals. You might be lucky enough to spot pumas, snakes, rare birds or more than likely, other backpackers. We were lucky enough to spot a snake and some ants. Actually loads of ants, tearing paths through the jungle. I no longer believe humankind are responsible for the masses of environmental damage when you see the trails these little buggers leave. Tayona is where the rainforest meets the sea, beautiful calm Caribbean bays beneath a fertile mountaintop., and is home to The Lost City , or Ciudad Perdida, a six day trek through mud and more mud to see a few rocks. Might give that a miss.

Many travellers here stay on the beach, in either tents or hammocks, but we decided on the leisurely six-hour walk

We came here from Santa Marta, which is a steaming, humid and hot city on the north coast of Colombia, with a tiny beach, which is apparently the most popular place in Colombia for locals to travel to. If swimming amongst plastic bottles and tankers is your ideal way to spend your summer, then all the best to you, but for us, it was just a small town to pass through on the way to the park. Although the nightly event of packs of wild dogs on heat trying to bail up the unlucky females that were being walked by the owners was quite entertaining as the owners sprinted into one of the bars or restaurants, dogs in arms. And the beer here is extremely cold.

The stoned ants would always get midnight munchies

Mr Ed's new curls were gaining popularity at Ascot

The rock balancing competition required four heads

Cartagena is a jewel. A stunning Colonial city, which should be on every traveller’s wish list. It is a fine example of what Colombia itself is all about, the people are exceptionally friendly, and would easily win any smile, handshake or hi-five competition that existed. People on the street want to know your name, where you are from, and they want to welcome you to their land, to their home, shut off for so many years due to violence with guerrilla groups and the drug cartel wars.

Feeling lazy from the heat one day, we took a tour of the city on a traditional old style Colombian bus, but didn’t realise the tour was in Spanish, so we were well practised in nodding along. Although the spectacular sights were par for course, I couldn’t understand the monastery that housed a bank note museum, the vendor selling pictures of you with his pet sloth (which I can assure you is an animal), or the big shoes, which every Colombian just had to get their photo taken with. In fact, Colombians love having their photos taken with everything, altars in churches, and in front of everyone else’s cameras while they were trying to take their own pictures. If only they could get in our way at the torture museum..

Next stop Bogota, where we might need to spend a while, as we are required to rearrange some forward travel plans thanks to our tour company going bust and collecting our 16k in cash.

More on that soon.

The baby cannons were cute but effective

Before paper and pens were invented, Hangman was a real game.

Freddie Kruger could never hide his shadow with that hat

Medievil R2D2 was a popular character from Star Wars BC