Cartagena and A Wedding

It’s easy to get lost in Colombia.  If you’ve done any reading around sailors and this particular part of the world, you know that Colombia is a haven, in many ways.  I can’t possible list all of them, but they range from perfectly wholesome to vice.  Sometimes so much so that it makes it tough to leave.  Beautiful people, good food, very little rain, it’s right on the water, and it can be cheap. There are many a sailor that never left.  Colombia can swallow you whole. 

On Cartagena

The truth is that the anchorage in Cartagena sucks.  It’s got quite a bit of Rock ’n Roll.  Speedboats going to the Rosarios, Baru, and Playa Blanca run wide open – within a couple of feet of where you’re anchored.  That can (and does) send food, drink, and people flying around your boat.  It happens all day and half of the night and it’s frustrating.

It’s hot here.  Really, really hot.  And though you’re anchored on what should be a giant swimming pool – here in CTG it’s not good practice to swim in the water, as the entire city dumps into the bay in which you anchor.  So you have to sweat on your boat, rather than going for a dip. 

There’s no diving here, until you get to the islands.  The water is brown.  I wouldn’t eat the fish from this bay, so we don’t fish.  That’s enough to drive most watermen insane.  It’s loud and it can be bright at night.  For some reason, Colombian people assume that the entire anchorage is interested in the music on their boats – I believe they spend more on their sound systems than the boat itself.

BUT…

The anchorage at Club Nautico is right in the middle of a fairly affluent area in CTG.  It’s easy and cheap to get a cab anywhere.  There’s a dinghy dock that serves as a social center, where one can leave one’s dinghy without worrying about it being stolen.  It’s also easy (though sweaty) to walk just about anywhere.  A couple of days getting lost in the city is all one needs to know it.  And it’s a great city to get lost in. 

Being anchored in the middle of the city is pretty damn cool at night.  As the boat swings on the anchor there are a plethora of bright, interesting, beautiful lights.  Like a moving picture show.  Having drinks on the trampolines with friends is a great way to beat the heat.

The old city is beautiful.  It’s vaguely European, with narrow paved streets and bright colors.  Much of the architecture is beautiful.  With dilapidated buildings directly adjacent to the very upper crust – the contrast is interesting and worth noting. 

People always seem to be in the streets, conversing, waiting, socializing – but you’d be hard pressed to find people who seems to be actually doing something.  Which is to say, CTG is very much like other South/Central American cities.  Just prettier, and in many ways more affluent.

There is a plaza within walking distance that has amazing street food.  Arguably the best hamburgers I’ve ever eaten, and that’s coming from a Texas boy.  We know our meats.  At night the plaza turns into a local hangout.  Everyone comes and sits and drinks and laughs and talks.  You can hear 5 or 6 different languages at any point, if you listen.  The plaza is full of live music, and other entertainment.  Sometimes even a wedding.  I have a Colombian mother at the plaza that sells me beer.  It’s become a habit now to visit the plaza for a hamburger and a couple beers.  We need more plazas in our lives.  It’s a shame we don’t have something like this in American culture – our culture is so much more closed off.

At the plaza travelers, locals, and even people from CTG – but from the other side of the city – come to chill, talk, and people watch.  You can grab a giant beer for $3000 (pesos, about $1.25) and drink it on the benches, steps, or on the church grounds (true story).  Though in some cases they’ll tell you to move off the church grounds if you’re drinking – so you move 5 feet and continue drinking.  I guess that makes Jesus happier. 

Then there’s Aguardiente.  Kind of a local drink, which tastes a bit like licorice and is about 60 proof.  You can buy a bottle, which will come with as many shot glasses as you need.  It’s sold in a way that makes it very convenient to drink as soon as you walk out of the tienda (store).  As a matter of fact, you can drink in the street throughout the city – and there are a variety of cold drink vendors.   It’s nice to grab a cold beer and walk through the city.  You can just walk and buy cold beers as you walk, very convenient.

CTG also has a pretty strong boat-culture.  I wouldn’t say it’s a strong sailing culture – but they love their fast powerboats. And that’s enough to have quality boat-labor on tap.  You’ll run into many of the same “manana-time” issues throughout South/Central America, but there is high-quality/low-cost boat labor available if you do your homework.  From stainless welding, to fiberglass repair and fabrication, to diesel engine mechanics and electricians.  There’s even a guy who is really good with Force 10 stoves, and a guy who specializes in cleaning boat bottoms.  All available from and around Club Nautico. 

Violent crime isn’t common.  You can feel perfectly safe stumbling back from the Old City to your boat in Club Nautico at 4 AM.  Which is more than I can say for many places in the US.  That kind of thing isn’t great practice anywhere, but you can get away with it here.   Theft is more common, but I believe sailors are a much bigger target than the average Gringo walking down the street – so you need to lift your dinghy at night and lock your boat. 

I love the reputation Colombia has.  You needn’t pay any attention to it, but I’m really happy about it because it keeps the right kinds of people elsewhere.  If you’re worried about your safety in Colombia, despite reading this – by all means, park your ass somewhere else.  We won’t miss you down here, nothing personal.

The people can be very warm and friendly.  There are some really beautiful women in Cartagena.  I’ve heard it’s even more-so inland, but that’s on the back burner.  Going inland means I’m even further from the boat and from diving and from the ocean…

Speaking of:  when you get tired of not being able to swim.  When you need the bluewater fix.  When you need to do some diving, or to score some fresh seafood.  If you need to decompress.  Or detox.  Or do some writing.  Or do some boatwork.  Or just explore.  You head to the Rosarios – only a few miles from CTG, but worlds apart in culture and scenery.  There’s also Baru.  And Playa Blanca is worth visiting.  So much to see.  So much to do. 

I was just beginning to explore when Luke started packing.  He needed to head home.  Luke, Amanda and I were splitting up.  Luke had already started to grow on the Disney’s, he spent quite a bit of time at Disneyland (the Disney’s boat), as we all did.  I hate goodbyes, so my MO is to pretend like they don’t exist.  When Luke actually packed his stuff and was leaving, it was surreal. But we’d spent a bunch of time together and done plenty of cool stuff.  We’d both gotten our hands dirty.  We’d sailed – both between islands and between countries.  We’d partied.  We’d met really interesting people and learned a ton.  So when he left, he left having lived a couple of pretty awesome months.  A couple of months that most people won’t get to live in their entire lives.

Then there was two…

Then it was Amanda and I.  Boatwork started in earnest.  I wasn’t actually doing the work, I was supervising, asking questions, and trying to learn.  The daily grind wasn’t too much of a grind, and it was semi-productive. 

I’d be up between 8 and 9, and somebody would be out working on the boat.  I’d work, run errands, or whatever – until 4 or 5 PM.  At that point, we’d start talking about what was the plan for the night.  Disneyland was threatening to leave soon, and I was going to Costa Rica for a wedding.  Which begged several questions:  what’s Amanda going to do when I leave?  What am I going to do with the boat when I’m in Costa Rica?  How am I going to handle wearing a tux after a very steady routine of wearing only board shorts (if that) for the last few months?  Who, in their right mind, would let a sailing bum be their best-man?  How am I going to arrange a bachelor party from here?

With Costa Rica on the horizon, I actually had to do things.  I needed to confirm plans, book flights, actually adhere to some semblance of a schedule. There was still a ton of boatwork needing to be done – so I moved the boat to a ratty marina where they could do some welding, fiberglass, etc – the dirty work.  The idea was that it I come back to the majority of the dirty work done.  Spend a couple of days working on the boat myself – and then move it back to anchor at Club Nautico. 

The Disney’s were leaving for Panama, to head through the canal and back home (AUS) – so I wouldn’t see them again for a while.  Maybe ever, but I don’t like thinking about things like that.  So with NOMAD in the ratty marina, Amanda decided to move onboard Disneyland. 

That’s the kind of thing that having an open-schedule allows you to do: take advantage of spontaneous opportunities.  Props to Amanda for keeping plans open and taking advantage of opportunities.  Amanda would stay on Disneyland back through Panama and then through the Panama Canal.  Super cool.  My goodbyes were also compressed – I got to say goodbye to Amanda, Nick, Andrea, and the girls – all in one fell swoop.  We joked about it being the Last Supper. But I reckon we drank a bit more than they would have at the Last Supper.

To Costa Rica

Finally boarding the plane to Costa Rica, I wasn’t sure what to expect.  After several months of sailing around the Caribbean – it’s a strange feeling jumping on a plane to head to a luxury resort.  Honestly, I don’t like traveling this way.  I want to get to know a culture, a country – it’s foods and barrios and alleyways.  That’s a very long way from staying at an all-inclusive, luxury resort.

The good news is that all-inclusive, luxury resorts are exactly that:  all-inclusive and luxury.  Which is a different kind of travel, but also a different kind of fun.  I was the best-man, which means I was supposed to do stuff.  I went a day early to scout the area, but the chance of a bachelor-party in a remote place in Costa Rica (Liberia, CR) was, well… remote.  With that off the table, I just needed to meet my friends, get in a bus, and get to the resort. 

With a day to kill, I wandered around Liberia.  I ate, chilled, and drank a little.  Nothing crazy.  I was down to my last set of clean clothing, with a suitcase full of horribly dirty stuff.  Then suddenly I was at the airport and old and new friends were streaming off of the plane.

There were some hugs, some laughing and suddenly we were all on the bus.  The resort was almost two hours from the airport. We made one stop on the way for drinks.  I could tell this was going to be a rough night. 

Resort Life

At the resort we all started drinking the good stuff. I was into Johnny Walker Black Label at the time, so a few of those went down the hatch.  By the time we actually arrived at our room I was half drunk and the pool was calling.  A quick change a phone call to get my laundry started, and I was in the swim-up bar drinking. 

To give you an idea of how strange that night got, I remember waking up to my roomie (Lilly) asking me what I was doing.  When I came to, I was packing my clothes.  Lilly told me, calmly, that we were there for a wedding – that I should go back to sleep.  I did, all was well again in the world.

I woke up the next morning and wasn’t quite feeling like getting out of bed.  So I didn’t.  I laid in a very, very comfortable bed and watched movies and read until my room service got there.  Best decision I made on the trip – trying out the room service.  Everyone else was out at the pool before lunch drinking and getting sunburned.  I viewed this as a rookie mistake.  I rested, ate, relaxed. 

It begins…

At 2PM I was out at the pool, drink in hand.  Several people were already plastered, which was certainly the goal, but it was a little early. They weren’t going to make it to dinner.  I was right about that, we carried them upstairs a couple of hours before dinner.  But me? I was great.  Late starts allow late nights.  The sun and alcohol and swim-up bars take their toll quickly, count on it.

Everything blurred together.  But we managed to get a diving/fishing trip booked.  Then I began being harassed by the local female population.  You see, winter was ending in The States.  That means very few people are: in shape, tanned, and have sun-bleached hair.  And there is, apparently, something about the man-bun.  According to my research in Costa Rica, girls really like the man-bun.  Really like it. 

As time progressed I found out about a flip-cup competition.  Among many participants from many states and a couple of countries – I found myself placing second.  Which is to say that I had to drink all of the alcohol the winner did, but I got no prize. 

There was dinner.  Then we went to resort-bar-thing.  Then we went to a resort-club-thing. 

We did this for a few days – drinking, eating, relaxing.  Then we had a fishing/diving trip booked.  Fun stuff.  We caught what they were calling Spanish Mackerel.  It wasn’t what I call Spanish Mackerel, but it was delicious.  Sashimi on the boat was lunch.  We did a bit of diving, but the water was cold, dark, and full of particulate.  And our guides were fisherman, meaning they didn’t know any decent diving spots.  After a few jellyfish stings, we abandoned diving and took to drinking and bullshitting and pulling lines with lures on them. 

Fish for Sashimi

Then we were back at the resort and the resort chef was cooking our fish.  I could get used to this. Coming from 30 second cold showers, waking up in a pool of my own sweat, and generally having to work twice as hard to do anything onboard NOMAD – this resort stuff was fun and easy. 

The fish was excellent and we had enough that the guys from the wedding party went recruiting to find some talent to help us consume our meal.  Then it was pool volleyball, flip cup, and more shenanigans. 

Suddenly it was time for the wedding.  I had no clothes, the bride-to-be had brought them for me from the States.  I had no shoes.  I had no socks.  I had only board shorts and flip-flops and hair conditioner;  the necessities.  Although, I was running low on hair conditioner because my roomie, Lilly, had found out how good it was and was making a daily habit of stealing it and then telling me she had stolen it. 

I was supposed to make a speech.  I had no idea what I was going to say.  But I’d been using it as leverage to try to get the groom, down to Colombia post-wedding.  I thought if I threatened enough embarrassment, I’d get the green-light (from his bride-to-be) to have him down for a week of foolishness.  It kinda worked, but I didn’t have a speech and it was wedding time. 

As a matter of fact, I didn’t have socks and only 30 minutes before the wedding did I actually possess the clothing I was supposed to wear.  Still no socks, but I borrowed some from my roomie.  No practice, no mind-numbing rehearsal dinner, and a legitimate open-bar.  This is how weddings are supposed to be. We were all winging it, and that’s how you have a wedding where nothing goes wrong – you don’t make it complex and you don’t choreograph it.  If no one knows exactly what they are supposed to do, nobody can screw it up. 

Walking In

Now that I’ve seen a wedding done right, let’s riff on that. 

The wedding was quick.  We were taking shots until we actually walked down the isle and I had a couple mini-bar bottles of Red Label, for emergencies, tucked into my tux.  Pictures were taken, a very quick speech was given, vows were exchanged, and we went back to drinking and celebrating.  I can’t tell you what a relief that kind of wedding is, after sitting through twenty or so long, drawn out celebrations in overly elaborate churches or sweating profusely under a pecan tree.  Why don’t we just party and call that a wedding and have everyone happy? 

So, here are a Nomad’s wedding tips – I know you’re dying for them:

The priest/preacher can be quick – he has plenty of time to convert and preach his silliness on Sundays.  There is no need for extravagance, save that money and do something worthwhile with it – like travel, start a business, change your life.  I promise that having an expensive wedding won’t make you less likely to get divorced.  Statistics tell you it actually works the opposite.  So if you have a big, elaborate wedding, where everyone is sitting around uncomfortably for your special day – there are just going to be that many more people who witnessed your wedding turn into a divorce. Destination weddings are cool, and if you arrange it to have people there for a couple of days beforehand, everyone gets to know each other before the wedding – which makes it much more enjoyable.  There needs to be an open bar – not having an open bar is like saying, “Please kill a weekend, spend a bunch of money on clothing, and drive/fly to come and hang out with a couple of your friends and a bunch of people you don’t know for too long.  PS – I’m not going to even buy you a drink.”  Don’t be those people. Small, quick, short, and then get back to why everyone is there:  a celebration of a life-event. 

Back to the story:  we did the wedding, there were speeches, there was even some singing.  Then we began removing clothing (it was very, very hot) and started dancing. Then we jumped in the pool.  Then it became public knowledge that I was wearing green socks with my tux.  Then it all got blurry for everyone and we went dancing at the resort-club-thing. 

Green Socks

Post-Wedding Pool Fun

The next morning was another one of the usual:  room-service, in the A/C, in the comfy bed until the afternoon.

After the wedding I was getting The Itch.  It was time to get back to my boat.  I missed her.  Time to start boat work again.  Time to wander around CTG with some cold beer and people-watch.  Time to be back on the water.  After a hellish travel day, I was back.  And Disneyland and Amanda were still in CTG, despite threatening to leave for Panama, so that’s where I stayed my first night back.  It was great coming back to familiar faces. 

Cartagena and A Wedding