Playa Blanca

Barely an hour´s bloody bumpy boat ride away lay a lonely beach with tropical blue waters. There i went to stay a day and stayed for 4. One of the few modest lodgings i found to stay had no running water nor electricity, but lots of fish to eat. In fact i ate fish everyday, and slept in my hammock in the cool breeze. My hammock hung in a small open space between the long dinning table and the small kitchen on the other side. I slept incredibly well and the buzzing sound of people in the morning was a lullaby to my ears. Similar to the Greek island i spend time at, i slept, went swimming and ate - and that was a full day.

Sprawled along the beach are only a few places to eat and places to stay. More inland is where the locals actually live. But for the ones who live there and do business there, there are always neighbours visiting and chewing the fat. The talk of the town at this particular moment was the eviction notices on everyone´s door because apparently some hotshot wants to come and build a huge hotel and exploit the serenity which clearly will be obliterated once this happens. The little coral that is there is already dead. But for now, there was no discos, no hideous crowds and not much to do. Perfect to start the tan that hasn´t really been happening since Atlantic City.

Wish you were here.

Back in Cartagena the film festival is on. I saw a short documentary film of carnaval filmed in the sixties, somehow associated with Gabriel Garcia Marquez (or perhaps filmed and narrated by him). The commentary was witty and poignant, if only i could catch everything.

La vida es mas savrosa en carnaval.
El amor es mas savroso en carnaval.