Santa Marta y la playa (Motorcycle Diaries, Pt II)

After a few days of hanging around in the sand I was ready for a night out in the big city of Santa Marta for two reasons. Reason 1) I know laying on the beach doesn't take much skill but I'm strangely bad at it and 2) San Gil's largest party spot was the downstairs section of a gas station. Even though they tried to hype it up by calling the gas station La Isla, there still wasn't much of a scene there.

I knew I would have fun on a Saturday night in Santa Marta, but the idea of driving through city streets was very unappealing so I procrastinated well into the afternoon. Finally I tossed my bag on the back of the moto and started into town.

Since this was the only major city I planned to be in during the whole trip I had a short to-do list which I was able to complete fairly quickly. After checking into La Brisa Loca, I got a small oil leak fixed on the moto. The mechanic worked on my bike on the sidewalk outside the shop where about 30 other bikes were being repaired. He replaced a seal and a gasket, and tightened and lubed the chain all for a whopping $15. A mechanic won't even glance at a motorcycle for 15 dollars in America. Next I tried to sell an old iPhone, and then found an overnight parking space for the motorcycle.

La Brisa isn't the classiest place ever, but it is party central for travelers in Santa Marta.

With all that out of the way it was time to get the party started - an easy task at La Brisa Loca. I joined up with a few people I had met in San Gil who were living in Santa Marta, got some street food, and let the party progress from there.

I woke up the next day around 2 in the afternoon. I felt like I had eaten sand while someone blew a hairdryer in my face all night. Fortunately I couldn't sit around feeling bad because the CU Cycling Team abuelo, old man Becker himself, was due to arrive shortly with his girlfriend. It was really cool to meet up with a friend from home in a foreign country, but since they had to pack everything into a week-long vacation we didn't get to hang out a whole lot.

There's not much to do in Santa Marta as it's more of a hub for exploring the surrounding areas. I had accomplished what I wanted to do - fix the moto, have an all night party, and meet up with Becker - so by Monday I was past ready to go back to the beach. The only problem was the city had outlawed motorcycles for a day.

I now have a basic understanding of timber framing. I basically understand it's extremely hard work.

A few days before, two guys on a motorcycle shot and killed two cops in the city. The mayor's shortsighted fix was to immediately ban any male passenger from a motorcycle, thereby infuriating the hundreds of mototaxi drivers who rely on passengers for their livelihood and inciting them to riot. Most people ignored the ban so the police, not wanting to appear impotent, banned all motorcycles for a day - the day I wanted to ride my motorcycle out of town. So my departure was pushed back once more.

By the time I finally got out of Santa Marta on Tuesday I couldn't wait to get back to nature at Costeño Beach. Two of my friends were timber framing a building next to the hostel and I figured some testosterone-fueled hammering, chiseling, and heavy lifting would be a great cure to the congestion I had been fighting while in the city. After that we won an impromptu beach rugby tournament, and I climbed a (small) palm tree to get a coconut before hacking it open with a machete to drink the water inside. Rawr, watch while I beat on my chest! We built a bonfire on the beach that night and I slept outside in my hammock to round out the celebration of nature and manliness.

By the next morning I was over the cloistered atmosphere of a backpacker hostel and ready to hit the open road where new challenges and adventures awaited.

Leaving Costeño Beach.