Things always happen in sevens?

Other than getting lost almost every single day, things have been going pretty smoothly so far.

It’s been a few fulfilled days in Medellin (featuring a club with a giant adult ball pit just to give you an idea of the nightlife). The day arrives for us to depart for a beautiful nearby region – Guatape. We wake up feeling like absolute death following the previous night’s antics and I get in the shower to try and shake it off. Its one of those showers where you stare through the water and lose all concept of time – evidently so when I step out of the shower and water comes up to my ankle.

Uh-oh

I open the door to the walk-in closet room (correction – walk-in wardrobe, why have I suddenly turned American?)

Double Uh- oh

I open the bedroom door

’Brooooooke’ I scream.

We scramble around, picking up our soaking backpacks, clothes and items now swimming around the bedroom.

A few hours later, with all of our belongings on a constant rotation on the windowsill (plus a few that have blown away), we take a break to go to the supermarket to make our host (who thank god has been sleeping through the entire disaster) an English breakfast before we leave.

Fuelled up we head down for our Uber, which doesn’t show. We wait yonks for a taxi, despite watching ten go by just a moment before. Finally, at the station there is a humongous queue for a ticket. We are headed to the home of a spiritual reiki yogi couple who are hosting a yoga event, to be kicked off first thing in the morning by yours truly. They have sent an official schedule and everything so I feel awful that we will arrive so late in the evening and on death’s door.

On the bus I realise I have forgotten to screenshot the directions that tell us where to get off the bus. We arrive to Guatape in the dark and walk up and down the street in search for WIFI. In the meantime I receive a text from our host, Simba, asking our whereabouts. Once connected, I see that we were supposed to get off the bus before Guatape.

Heading to the bus counter, the very rude lady informs us we should have taken an entirely different bus from Medellin. Thoroughly disappointed and angry at myself for missing my first yoga opportunity we admit defeat and search for a hostel. I am so grateful to have Brooke with me to lift my spirits as if I was by myself I think I would cry.

I shall share some pictures of the beautiful place that is Guatape to cheer me up before I scribe the things that turn my smile upside down in the next 48 hours (in between having a lovely time with my Brookey in this lovely little pueblo).

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740 steps to climb to the top of this rock
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The views are totally worth it

 

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3.  After checking into our hostel we go in search of a beer to cheer ourselves up. Wandering from place to place an old, scruffy looking man from Venezuela approaches us. I tell him we are tired and grumpy but that doesn’t stop his insistence on showing us a place for a beer. We awkwardly grab a table at the first bar we have passed on the square. He annoyingly remarks things like ‘you don’t look like a yoga teacher’ and pushes a paper and pen in front of my nose to ask for my information which I unwillingly write down. When it comes to pay he sits back. Not only has he intruded on our evening and rubbed me up the way, but he has forced us to buy him a beer!

4. The receptionist suggests we take a boat tour as they tell you all about the surrounding islands and take you to Pablo Escobar’s mansion. We buy some beers and excitedly wait to take the sun on our face.  A recorded Spanish voice blares out of the speakers as the cold wind slaps us across the face, we have boarded the local cruise ship version. I am sure we pass Pablos’ mansion but we have no idea which one it was and didn’t understand a word of the tour.

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The ten minutes of sun before we sat shivering on deck for the remainder of the cruise

5. We get off the bus back at Medellin late and sleepy. I have left my Jade Harmony eco travel £70 yoga mat on the bus. Distraught, does not even begin to explain how I feel.

6. Despite asking for exact directions to the Air BnB to avoid any further disaster, our hosts only tell us that we can walk from the station. Google maps tell us its a twenty five minute walk, a little more than we had expected, nonetheless we begin our walk in the darkness of 10pm. The blue dot sends us this way and that, confused by the bridges, before it asks us to walk up the highway! Choosing to avoid the death wish we flag a taxi – who refuses our fare. With no choice we walk one foot in front of the other past the four lanes of whizzing cars. From one danger to another, we then navigate dark streets lined with sleeping truckers. I am angry at our hosts for allowing us to walk this incredibly unsafe route

7.  Our lovely hosts say they were so worried as it was only a nine minute walk from the station. Bloody blue dot, bloody google maps, bloody Samsung!!! In the morning they offer to order us the best pastries and breads we have ever tried. We accept and wait patiently despite wanting to leave for the bus. The only reason we came back and paid for an Air BnB was to take an early bus to our next destination, Jardin. Waiting for the delivery makes us miss the early bus AND whilst we wait for the desayuno (breakfast) they make us a filling desayuno of arepas with vegetables and eggs?!?!  When the large quantities of pastries start to arrive it is evident we have just stocked up their treats cupboard. One each for us and goodness knows how many for them. I hand over the cash for the twenty-two million peso breakfast that we now don’t even need! (Hahaha I always exaggerate my stories with everything being in the quantity of fifty million, with this currency there’s no need).

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