It is not as if she has never heard of altitude.

It is not as if she has never heard of altitude sickness.

It is not as if she didn´t know of the importance of altitude acclimatization.

It is not …

Oh yes, she knew it all. Yet, this know-it-all world traveler (presumably), a well-educated and well-read fully grown woman, ignored all her wisdom, not to mention common sense and reason, and let it all fly out the window as though there were no tomorrow. Seriously, what could possibly go wrong? What could possibly happen to her? Definitely not to her. She can take on any challenge. After all, she is invincible. And by the way, doesn’t altitude sickness and/or any other altitude-related emergency only happen to mountaineers, the world’s highest mountain climbers at that, like Mount Everest?

Yet, only a few years ago, while visiting a “mere” mile-high city of Denver (5,130–5,690 ft – 1,564–1,734 m), she heard people talk, and she heard stories about the effects mile-high elevation might have. Not only on visitors but also on locals. Just last year in Fort Collins, CO, she was telling anybody and everybody who cared to listen how glad she was spending time in the city and thereby getting acclimatized for higher altitudes to which she was heading shortly – a plan that was sadly crushed by COVID.

She wasn’t going to let it happen again – let something or even someone crash her plans. So when a window of opportunity opened about a month ago, without as much as a second thought and definitely none regarding elevation, altitude, or acclimatization, she jumped on the first available airplane and flew from NYC to the second-highest capital city in the world – Quito in Ecuador. From 33 feet (10 m) right up to 9,350 ft (2,850 m). This, in itself, mustn’t necessarily mean a life-threatening situation or even trouble, danger, altitude sickness, or whatever else harmful… as long as you…

Remember where you are. Take it easy, give your body a chance, and take some precautions. Chilling is good, heaps of water (like 5 liters) are essential, carbs and dark chocolate are helpful, and observation is crucial. Listen to your body and do not take any chances. Descend if necessary. For most, the critical altitude point is 8,000 feet. At that elevation, most people require acclimatization.

If you play with fire you can get burnt

Altitude sickness can be life-threatening Don´t play with fire – Take the following steps

Train high-altitude breathing techniques prior to departure. Search Youtube There are some pills you can start taking prior to arrival. Search for them Take it very easy after arrival Use sunscreen. You´re some 3000 meters closer to the sun. The last thing you want is to get sunstroke on top of altitude sickness Wear a hat  Drink liters of water Drink matte de coca, preferably brewed from fresh coca leaves. If not available, use 2 tea bags of whatever brand you can find. Sold only at the local markets. “Naturista” stores may also have it. Some cafes run by Peruvians usually serve it Eat dark chocolate Eat carbs Take Paracetamol for headaches Buy Glaucomed Acetazolamida for altitude sickness, take one in the morning and one in the evening Some 5-star hotels provide both matte de coca and oxygen. Some have even inhouse doctor Do not drink alcohol Descent to a lower altitude Alternatively, in rare situations depending on your condition, go higher up and then descent to where you were Visit a doctor.  Get an altitude app so that you know exactly how high you are. Always fun to have. I use “My Elevation” Free Coca leaves in an airport in Peru to help with altitude sickness. Photo: unknown

Oh yes, acclimatization. This insignificant detail together with whatever common sense she might have had (or not) slipped her mind completely. For not only did she forget to take any precautions whatsoever prior to the arrival, not only did she forget to take it very easy, drink liters of water and observe her body´s reaction to the “elements”, but she also did everything one (with a bit of brain) must never ever do during the first days or even weeks at this elevation. Like power walking 16 kilometers (10 miles) carrying camera gear without any rest at all, no food, and above all no water. All that and more on the very first day in the city that beats the critical altitude point by almost 1000 feet. Very smart. Bravo.

This is exactly what she did. Seven or so hours of speedy walking. And then she run up 3 flights of stairs to her room and had a glass of wine. A big NO-NO. Of course, she was tired. A bit. But other than that? All good. So she continued. Day number 2 wasn´t as “eventful” as the previous one – nonetheless, she was exploring the hilly streets of Quito. Up and down, up and down. The elevation thingy didn´t even cross her mind. Not for a second. (After all, she spent a good few weeks in Bogota (8661 feet, 2640 m) which is only 200 meters (656 feet) lower than Quito, doing the very same activities and had no problems. As a matter of fact, nobody ever mentioned elevation in Bogota. Not once, not in any capacity).

Days 2 and 3 have passed without any issues. Due to bad weather, she slowed down a bit but was still quite active. However, she hardly drank any water during those days. Day 4 was the first sunny day and quite hot. She took a stroll around the neighborhood. Walking some 3000 meters closer to the sun without a hat it felt like walking under a fireball. Sun at that elevation is not for tanning. Hot, thirsty, and tired, she went back to the hotel, and for the first time in her life, she experienced shortness of breath. Someone advised her to sip on Matte de coca, drink plenty of water, and eat dark chocolate. She complied, minus matte de coca which she couldn´t find in the supermarket. To compensate for that she bought two bars of dark chocolate.

She wasn’t sure whether it was night 4 or 5 when things got serious. Maybe even outright dangerous. Undoubtedly she was suffering from something – was it altitude sickness or something worse? By then, she did do some reading about the matter and refused to even think about “something worse”. Everything will be alright, won’t it? Her lungs felt squeezed by some imaginary powers, her hands and fingers were tingling, her heart was whispering something she didn´t want to hear, she couldn’t walk up the stairs, she was exhausted, she lost all her appetite, her energy level was non-existent, even her teeth were hurting, and she couldn’t sleep. Insomnia hit her and hit her hard. As soon as she lay down, her lungs were about to collapse. Or so it felt. She couldn’t breathe at all. Panic. She was doing the best she could to convince herself to relax and breathe, slowly, slowly, breathe, expel, one more time, breathe, expel … give it a minute or 30 seconds, 15 then … it will calm down. It will. Two seconds later, she was up. Her head started playing tricks on her when lying down, and she couldn´t control it. So she stayed up. (Could it be a glimpse of how covid sufferers feel?) Awful stuff and very scary. She didn´t sleep for three nights.

Matte de Coca

Oh yes, she should have gone to lower altitudes right away. She didn´t. It didn´t even cross her mind. Perhaps she was too tired. She stayed in bed waiting for the crisis to pass. She should have asked for help. She didn´t. She should have called for a doctor. She didn’t. There were other things she could or should have done. She didn’t do any of them. Instead, she went to a supermarket on a third day to buy coca tea. They didn’t have it. She went to the pharmacy to look for tea. No tea. But they had the pills. She bought the pills. After three sleepless nights, she fell asleep. At last.

Descent. Why don´t you? 

How dumb one can really get? She must have gone mad, why doesn´t she leave for lower elevation, as any, even moderately intelligent person would? Descent is the only way. Why? Why? Why indeed? Leave. Go. Run. What are you waiting for?

Well, not always things are black and white. (Or maybe they are and we just mess them up.) Just before the crisis, or maybe on the day of she committed to … a cat sit … (yes, you read it right – cat sit) and felt she couldn´t break the commitment, wouldn´t even know how to do it. Leaving wasn´t even an option, or so she felt at the time. Always optimistic. Give it a day or two and it will go over, she thought. Of course, it will. It must. It always does, doesn´t it? She refused to think of any other outcome. She´ll be good as new in a matter of days. She wasn´t. 

Eventually, she got a couple of gray cells functioning and she did leave. There was no other choice if her condition was to improve. Not very far though. Only to Cumbaya, a valley some 20 minutes cab ride from the city.  A real-life saver as it lies 450 meters (1500 feet) lower than Quito. It was in Cumbaya that she patiently waited for her cat-sit-gig to begin.

The taxi ride back to the city was mentally challenging. The altitude app was only going up up up and up. The Cumbaya stay was a smart move but not smart enough. She should have traveled to even lower altitudes (and stayed there). She was better but not fully recovered. Far from it.

During the 13-day pet-sit stay in Quito, she was in survival mode, exhausted and sleepy. Idle running. Living in a twilight zone somewhere over the rainbow (or rather above clouds). Staying at home most of the time cuddling the kitty. Conveniently she was staying in a residential area on the top of a steep hill, 2844 meters (9339 feet) above the sea, with no grocery shops and no restaurants. Occasionally she had to inch 0.4 miles down the hill to shop and eat but (as not to risk anything) always took a cab back. If she only could ditch that killer mask. Ah, that would be the day. And she was waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Waiting for the day she could leave for lower altitudes. For good this time. She will never find her paradise in Quito. Waterfront in Lima looks lovely. Three days to go.

And the kitty? Sweetest, cuddliest, and most patient kitty in the world that wouldn´t leave her side. Wherever she went the kitty went. Not much of a kitty really but a senior cat with serious medical conditions who required seven meds a day (all of them syringed into the mouth) and liquids every other day that took 10 agonizing minutes to inject. And he hated them all. It was a real challenge. Almost mission impossible for one inexperienced sitter. She managed the meds but needed assistance with the liquids. Not to inject but to hold and pet the cat. All she could think of were meds, meds, and meds anxiously searching Youtube for alternative ways to administrate them, how to hide them, which treats to use, what cat-tv to play for distraction, and what music to play for calmness. Enjoyment for the kitty but stress and anxiety for her. No ideal situation for her already fragile condition. In addition, the kitty loved to sleep on her chest which was not ideal for her lungs. Oh well, no complaints, she asked for it. She got it. The cat loved it and that´s all that mattered. They really bonded. Hopefully, he had the time of his life with this crazy lady, a.k.a. moi.

And the silver lining? Isn´t there always one in every story?

Oh yes, I believe there is one. Maybe even two. After two? three? years of writer´s block I have managed to write this post and enjoyed doing it. Bravo to me. My only hope is it will not take another two years for the next one. Unfortunately, I cannot attach nice Quito pictures – there aren´t any. Spend most of my time at home. Walking was very difficult. Carrying a camera was impossible. 

Then there is also the booster shot. Ecuadorian Health Authorities provided one for me as they did for everybody incl tourists. So generous of them. Much appreciated.

Furthermore, I am hoping that this health emergency, which consequences are far from over, has thought me a lesson. That I, like everybody else, am not invincible. That letting life-saving advice in potentially life-threatening situations slip my mind is not acceptable and right out heights of stupidity, but above all, I am hoping that my stupidity hasn´t caused too much permanent damage … for I fear it wasn´t just altitude sickness I suffered/suffer from but also dyspnea.

Suma Summarum: Maybe, just maybe not all commitments are unbreakable. 

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It took, however, hundreds, maybe even thousands visited destinations, in 100+ countries to find the one. The one that is (imho) not only the worst travel destination in the world but also the most boring one. 

Puzzling vlogs

To get an idea of what to expect at my travel destination once I get there as well as in which part of town I should be looking for accommodation I like to watch, in this day and age, youtube vlogs.

Typically I find more information than I can digest. Not this time though. With the exception of a couple of short video footage in which the vloggers enthusiastically and respectfully tour the two landmarks, the destination has to offer there was practically no information at all.

Even though such a shortage of information is unusual, even though such a shortage of landmarks is exceptional I didn’t give it much thought. Even though the vlogs weren’t”over the top” they weren’t critical either. Perhaps the large crowds haven’t discovered the destination yet? All good then? Surely there must be something interesting to stumble on, there always is. After all, this is not an abandoned “hole in the wall” in the middle of nowhere but a capital city in Europe. So, off I went. 

The most boring city in the world

How I wish I didn’t. How I wish I could at least shorten my stay to the bare minimum. But I couldn’t. I had to stay and wait at my prearranged destination for the arrival of my new credit card. So I waited and waited and waited. For 7 days. I had seven long days to thoroughly embrace all “sounds and sights” surrounding me. Not once, not twice but multiple times.

And what a sight it was. No matter where I went, no matter which corner I turned, no matter how positive and open-minded I tried to be I found no beauty, no charm, nothing of interest that would wake my curiosity or stimulate my discovery streak.  Nada. 

All I saw was gloomy, badly lit, patchily paved, full of holes, rolling-luggage unfriendly streets and a forest of Soviet-style, black gray and run-down buildings that haven’t seen a fresh coat of paint or any other maintenance for that matter since the day they were built.   They just stood there waiting to collapse. And collapse they will as there was no visible promise for any improvement in sight. No cranes, no construction, no hope. Sad and depressing.

The landmark(s)

The two landmarks on offer, a bridge, and a cathedral, were not as hype as the courteous vlogger wanted me to believe. Not even close. (The pictures here do not tell the true story.)

The bridge was just a regular bridge. Nothing unique, nothing special, nothing extra, not even lit at night. How is it a ‘landmark’ in the first place is beyond me.

Truth be told, the cathedral was also a great disappointment. It has potential though. If only the town painted the exteriors and cleaned up the surroundings it might have even been quite impressive. It was almost painful to see it stripped down from its former glory standing on a huge empty field filled with paddles and rubbish. Sad and depressing

The people

There are hardly any tourists in town. The few that come, come for a few hours only en route to the seaside resort Kotor which btw was also my original plan that I foolishly abandoned thinking the post office in a capital town would be more efficient than in a small one that is more less shut down for the season. Oh well.

The inhabitants, just like the buildings, appear to be gloomy, tired and worn out. There is hardly any interaction between the people. No smiles, No cheers. The favorite color is gray and black. The favorite food is buns with different fillings which I personally don’t care much for – they all taste the same to me. Everybody (like anywhere else in the Balkans) is chain-smoking. Sad and depressing.

The buzz

What buzz? With the exception of one restaurant street, where few younger locals gather to eat, drink and chain smoke I found the city lacking city vibe, deprived of vibrant buzzing life with nothing to see or do. Sad, depressing and boring.

The most boring travel destination in the world – the big reveal

So which lucky destination is the one?

The one that took me decades to find? The one I so generously granted the privilege of being not only my worst but also the most boring destination in the world?

The prize goes to … none other than the capital town of Montenegro – Podgorica.

What is your worst travel destination? 

p.s.1 how I wish the vloggers would stop sugar-coating the reality and tell it as it really is.

p.s.2 Apparently I am not the only one who found Podgorica the most boring town in the world.

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Apparently, I was not the only one who found Cartagena (or rather its image) irresistible, for as it turned out this colonial, colorful, beautifully preserved walled city and fortress with centuries-long history and stunning architecture is one of the top travel destinations in 2018. In fact, it claimed the prestigious second place in the CNN survey. Canada went all the way and named the city number one of 2018 trending destination. As did I. Ever since I saw that photo I could not think of anything else. Cartagena (and subsequently Colombia) was the place I had to visit and I had to do it right away. 

After years and years of topping the lists of most dangerous countries in the world, Colombia has made a 180-degree turn around and is today doing whatever it can to restore the damaged reputation by dismantling the drug cartels, employing more policemen,  investing in tourist police and making the safety of all but specifically visitors its priority. Whatever they do they must be doing it right for the country not only lost its “prime’ place on the list of most dangerous but is today topping the lists of hottest travel destinations in the world with Cartagena being number one and Medellin being the hottest retirement destination. Very impressive. (Let us only hope the upcoming election will not interfere with the current state of affairs. There is a concern Colombia will become another Venezuela if the Petro guy wins.) 

It took me longer than planned to get there as my journey went through both Bogota and Medellin, which I originally had no intention to visit, but eventually, the day had come. I finally arrived in the Magic City and my excitement and anticipation couldn’t be any higher.

As an icing on the cake, (especially for me who is searching for a beach paradise) Cartagena is a beach town facing the Caribbean Sea and the sunset. Why not kill two birds with one stone then? Why not indeed. To embrace the two I parked myself right on the beach at Bocagrande only a stone’s throw away from the Walled City. Paradise on Earth? 

First thing in the morning I grabbed my camera, a bottle of water and off I went to the Walled City in search of the colorful architectural masterpieces – the carrot that made me drop everything for Cartagena in the first place. 

Tip: A walk from (almost) the end of Bocagrande to the Walled City takes about 40 minutes. It is pretty hot and humid so you may like to take a taxi or a bus instead. Taxi costs approx 2.5 USD and bus 35 cents. (June 2018)

The Walled City

Cafe del Mar draws crowds of tourists every sunset. Opens at 5 p.m.

All visitors to Cartagena come for one reason and one reason only -The Walled City. It is a historic part of town, The Old Town, founded in the 15th century. As the name suggests, the city was built in between the wall which (btw) is 11 kilometers long and partially some 50 meters wide. Locals and visitors come to the wall every night to watch the sunset. The thick wall is full of “windows” (after all it is a fortress), offering not only a bench to sit but also shelter from the elements.  Long before the sunset, these cozy hideaways in the wall are quickly filled up with local couples in hope of a romantic picnic and some quality time with the loved one. Visitors, on the other hand, prefer sitting in cafes on the top of the wall, like Cafe del Mar.

It goes without saying, the Walled City is where all the action is. As a vast majority of visitors “stay and play” there it is also very touristy which could be negative for some, or positive for others as the area is well lit and patrolled by the police making it the safest part of town. It is also the most expensive part of town full of fancy coffee shops, restaurants, high-end boutiques, boutique hotels, luxurious Airbnbs, overpriced hostels and… (surprise, surprise) annoying street vendors. If you’re in town for a couple of days only and not on a shoestring budget this is the place to stay.  

Tip: the best time to visit is Sunday. Most Colombian towns, including Cartagena and even Bogota, are almost deserted on Sundays as most people don’t work on that holy day, thus even many street vendors stay at home thereby making city strolls and explorations so much more enjoyable.

Slideshow with more images all the way down

Getsemani

Even thought Getsemani is (kind of) within the city walls it is in fact outside THE wall. Not by much but outside nonetheless. The neighborhood is as old as the historic district but is not refurbished. At least not yet. People say Getsemani is what the Walled City used to be. This makes Getsemani a genuine historic district. As opposed to the Walled City where only tourists can afford to stay many locals actually live in Getsemani. This offers the visitors a unique opportunity of a glimpse into Cartagena’s everyday life that every evening is displayed in front of their eyes when the locals bring tables, chairs, board games, food & drink into the streets and relax while enjoying the evening with family and friends.

Getsemani is probably the most interesting part of town, a very vibrant neighborhood with the edgy vibe and genuine local street culture. Many restaurants, bars, and best salsa nightclubs are located here. It is, of course, much cheaper than the Walled City, thus popular with backpackers. Most of the hostels are located right here.

The place is pretty safe, however, some people under the influence sitting/lying “here and there” can feel somewhat intimidating. Not that they are capable of doing anything, but why take a chance. So don’t walk alone after dark.

El Centro

El Centro is a small area between Getsemani and the Walled City. Here you can find plenty of small shops selling practically everything including electronics, souvenirs and plenty of street food. If you’re looking for a bargain or specific service (watch battery replacement or new recharger) El Centro is the place.  

Tip: there is a small park right in the middle of town inhabited by small monkeys. On the way from the Walled City to Getsemani or the other way around take a walk through the park and say hi to the monkeys.

Slideshow with more images all the way down

Bocagrande

Bocagrande skyline as seen from the Walled City

Cartagena seems to have it all, lovely colonial walled city attracting tourists from all over the world and the sandy beaches. Matchmade in heaven?

Bocagrande, a three kilometers long and about 500 meters wide at its widest spot peninsula, is marketed as a luxurious neighborhood on a sandy beach with luxurious hotels, condominiums, malls, restaurants, and supermarkets. The sea in front and the bay in the back make sure all hotel rooms and apartments not only have lovely views but are also very breezy which is hugely appreciated in hot and humid climate. Sounds good, doesn’t it?

Well, let me tell you right away. People do not come to Cartagena for the beach. Even though the neighborhood as a whole isn’t too bad the beach itself is awful. Dirty black sand, dodgy looking scam practicing bars/restaurants filled predominantly with locals and vacationing Colombians, an endless stream of aggressive vendors that make your blood boil, persistent massage terrorists that constantly hassle you, con artists that keep you on your toes. Stress, stress, stress. No chance for the quality relaxation or any relaxation for that matter. Not even for 10 seconds. (For real, this is not an exaggeration. Read reviews on Tripadvisor). At night the hassling touts are replaced by hassling prostitutes and drug dealers. It just never ends. This must be the worst beach I have ever been to.

Bocagrande as seen from La Manga

The sea is supposed to be clean, however, it is difficult to tell when the bottom is black and invisible. Clean or not, it doesn’t look very inviting.  I’ve spent three long months in Cartagena but went into the sea only once. It was 30 seconds long in-and-out procedure. Yet I love beaches and warm sea. But not the one in Bocagrande. 

What surprises me the most is that there are tourists paying money to stay in fancy hotels along the beach, there are none on the beach though. I am guessing they are there exclusively for the view and the breeze.

La Boquilla 

La Boquilla is the second beach in Cartagena, on the other side of town not too far from the airport. It is marketed as (upcoming) luxurious (mostly) residential area on the beautiful beach. Hmm… the beach is much much larger than the one in Bocagrande, however, it is definitely not much better. Even though the sand looks less dirty it is still dirty and also very compact making the beach look more like a dirt road than a beautiful soft sandy beach.

Slideshow with more images all the way down

La Manga

La Manga is an upscale residential neighborhood not more than a 20-minute walk from the Walled City. The upscale of La Manga is not really comparable with the upscale of Western neighborhoods but it is as good as it gets in Colombia. I stayed in a lovely colonial house for 1, 5 months and really enjoyed it. 

It is a quiet and secure small island with many beautiful colonial houses. There are also few condominiums. If you are in Cartagena for a longer haul La Manga is the place to stay especially if you like to live in a house. Bocagrande could be another alternative if you prefer to stay in a breezy apartment. 

Summa Summarum

Being number one tourist world destination of 2018 as well as being the most visited city and number one tourist attraction in the country comes with a price tag. Or two. Both visitors and locals pay today for that privilege. 

Cartagena has not only become the most expensive city in Colombia which almost emptied the Walled City from its inhabitants but due to the crowds visiting the city, both regular tourists and the day trippers arriving on ships, it is also invaded by pushy touts who make the life of visitors rather difficult. To say the least.

Police daily radio appeal to let the visitors be, have no effect at all. The ‘business’ goes as usual. Cartagena is still a very poor country and the locals take every opportunity they get to make extra money. 

Cartagena is hot and humid. Very hot and very humid. After long steamy hours exploring the Walled City, there is nothing more satisfying (at least for me) than an evening stroll on the beach, a dip in the sea, a well-chilled drink, a bite to eat, breathtaking sunset.

Dream on.

Unfortunately, the beach is practically inaccessible to visitors. What a shame.  

All that glitters is not gold

Don’t get me wrong. Cartagena or rather the Walled City is lovely and undoubtedly worth a visit but is it really all that? Not sure. Part of the hype (imho) is related to the fact that Cartagena is a relatively new destination.  

I am very glad I came. I truly am. But the truth of the matter is that sometimes picturesque pictures are more picturesque than reality and that 16 million colors are perceived uniquely by each individual.  Images tend to be more saturated than reality. (Even my Bocagrande images don’t mirror the reality). 

There is a small expat community in Cartagena. They are though not as active as expats in Medellin. I cannot see myself living in Cartagena. Too hot, too humid, the worst beach in the world. But above all the constant harassment by touts and scammers do not qualify the city as a retirement paradise destination. Far from it. So, I’ll keep looking. 

p.s. I just happened to come across yet another picture that keeps my head spinning – Rainbow Mountains in Peru. 

The Walled City of Cartagena – slideshow

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The towns are so much associated with seasons they represent they are nicknamed after them. Cali, for example, is the town of never-ending summer where the temperatures differ during the year as much/little as one degree. Bogota must be the town of ever-lasting autumn with daily rains, low temperatures, and overall miserable existence. People refer to weather in Bogota as “shitty”. Medellin, on the other hand, is the town of eternal spring. Never cold, never too hot nor too humid. Climate paradise for those who come from less temperate latitudes, like North America or Europe. And they come, and come, and come. In thousands. 

Medellin story is currently one of the most successful stories in making.  In a matter of only a few years, it has transitioned from the Escobar stronghold to industrial stronghold, from Medellín Cartel city to most innovative city of the year, from the most dangerous city in the world to the best place to retire in 2017, from the “murder and kidnapping capital of the world” to expat paradise. Today Medellin is premiere retirement heaven attracting retirees from all over the world. 

And it isn’t only Medellin that is super hot today. The whole of Colombia is undergoing the renaissance. The country is off the list of most dangerous countries in the world. In fact, it has been ranked by The New York Times as the second, out of 52, destination to visit in 2018. What a transformation What an accomplishment. 

Why Medellin?

Expats list many benefits of living in Medellin, like affordable prices, high standard of accommodation, security, direct flights to the US, super modern metro but the biggest of them all is… climate. Expats come to Medellin primarily for its climate. 

Is the climate really so great?

Hmmm. Not really, not if you ask me. But I only stayed 10 days. Your mileage may vary though. It was neither hot nor cold, not even humid. Just like the expats love it. Why didn’t I? The temperature was very comfortable. Warm spring. Warm but rainy spring which I didn’t mind all that much, however; it was also almost always very gray which I didn’t like one bit. Not sure if the sky was gray because of the surrounding mountains or because of the pollution which is pretty bad. Whatever the reason,  the sun was practically invisible hiding behind the clouds. And, if it wasn’t raining it looked like it would rain any minute. 

Medellin, the city

Medellin is the second-largest city in Colombia with a population of 2.5 million inhabitants, almost four in the metropolitan area. Generally, the town is safe. As anywhere else, there are pockets that are less safe (or even dangerous no-go zones), as well as there are pockets that are very safe, even after dark – like El Poblado.

Sadly, I didn’t give Medellin much of a chance. After my bad experience in Bogota, I had no desire to do Escobar tour, exploring El Centro or any other area for that matter and stayed in El Poblado during the entire time. In addition, my visit coincided with Easter which emptied the town from all its buzz. The town (El Poblado) was almost deserted.

El Poblado is home to most of the expats living in Medellin. Subsequently, it is also the priciest section of town. Even so, it is still very affordable. You can find an all-inclusive room for 300 USD a month, small apartment for the double plus utilities. Most of the buildings are high raised towers overlooking the mountains built according to the Western standard with lovely views and swimming pools. The neighborhood is walkable full of grocery stores, restaurants, bars, and clubs.

So why not? 

There is only one answer. I couldn’t find any beach in Medellin, not that I was expecting one in the mountainous landscape. This is it. My dream destination is a beach community. Like Cartagena? I am just about to find out. I am finally on my way to Cartagena, the magic city that “lured” me to Colombia in the first place. Fingers crossed.  

p.s. Medellin is a really great place. So, if you don’t care much for the beaches you may like to give it a chance.

Medellin in Pictures – slideshow

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If there is anything locals and visitors to a ten million (plus) Colombian capital city,  Bogota, can always count on; it is: 

1. The sun only shines in Bogota in the mornings – before 1 p.m.
2. Each Sunday morning and early afternoon Ciclovía takes place in the city – a reclaim the streets type of event attracting up to 2 million bikers, runners, and skaters. (The event is also organized during public holidays and in other cities.) 

The Sunday of March 18th wasn’t any different from other Sundays. The sun was shining (it was only 12 p.m.), Cyclovia was underway and the city center was filled with attendees, their supporters, tourists and plenty of “regular’ people. Armed police were everywhere, both city police and tourist police, keeping an eye on the event and the city at large.

After some two hours of shooting the newly restored Centro Historico, I found myself at the Bolivar Square – the main square of Bogotá.

The square was jam-packed with people, both tourists and locals alike, and millions of pigeons. The kids were playing and passers-by were feeding the pigeons. The herd of bikers was cycling on a bike path leading to/from the square almost overrunning tourists unaware of the event. There were so many of them that the whole procession looked like a pilgrimage or an army of ants working the path to/from their colony.  They were all going to/from one direction. Thinking there might be an interesting event going on around the corner I followed the bikers.  And yes (as I found out later), during Ciclovía, there are many sporting events like yoga organized on numerous plazas and in parks across the city.

I couldn’t have walked more than a block, one and a half at the most and was just about to turn back when I felt as if someone walking behind me ‘tapped’ my shoulder. Not very hard but it was a tap/hit, nonetheless. Instantly and without any confirmatory visuals, I KNEW exactly what it was. All my senses went on the highest alert and I remember thinking; “Oh no, this is not happening, it can’t be. No way”. But it was.. this is exactly what was happening…

On a bright sunny day, at noon, in the middle of the city full of people, in the presence of an army of policemen – I was about to get mugged.

Bogotá was not on my itinerary at all. As a rule, I avoid large capital cities of Central and South America. The larger the city the more poverty and consequently the more problems (read danger), especially for a female solo traveler. In fact, not only Bogota but also Colombia was not on my itinerary either… until one day. The day I happened to see a photograph of Cartagena. From then on Cartagena had become my travel destination number one. Cartagena was all I could think of. I had to see Cartagena. Period. So I went. Via Bogota, as direct flights to Cartagena were crazily expensive.

And there I was, in Bogota, I never wanted to visit, right in the city center, maybe 100 meters from Bolivar Plaza, amongst thousands of people and police on every single corner yelling for help in broad daylight.

There were two of them. They must have been following me. They saw me taking pictures and putting the camera into a shoulder bag made of cloth that was ‘nonchalantly’ hanging on my right shoulder. An easy target. Silly woman “giving papaya” (local slang for an easy target). Just grab a bag and run – they must have thought.

They grabbed the bag (the tap on the shoulder); the bag tore and its content fell out. But not the camera. It stayed put where it should. On a sling across my body.  This is how I always carry my camera in less friendly countries – on a sling across my body. The bag is only a ‘camouflage’, a hiding pouch so that I don’t need to have it on full display when I am not shooting.

This must have put them off guard. The easy target (snatch and run) wasn’t so easy after all. 

All victim accounts I read say the same thing: “I had no idea what hit me. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t even have the time to blink my eye, everything went so quick.” This was not my experience. On the contrary. Ever since the very first contact (shoulder tap/hit), all my senses went on full alert. and I knew exactly what was happening; I knew exactly what I was doing, and I was even having discussions with myself as to how to proceed. It is amazing how many different thoughts a human mind can process during “a blink of the eye”. 

Once the thieves understood what had happened they tried to pull the strap off my body. My strategy was to hold on to the sling and yell for help. Buy time. After all, there were so many people around,  someone must hear/see and come to the rescue. The seconds were ticking but none came. The thieves (undoubtedly) picked the best timing possible. When nobody was around.

The only advice ever given to victims in my situation is: 

1. Don’t surprise the thieves as they may become unpredictable (I have already done that – the sling) 
2.  Let “it” go. They may have a gun, or worse. It isn’t worth it. 

It was worth to me. More than you can imagine. Had I only had another second or two... Weighing all the pros and cons,… I had “upper hand”, I sat on the ground, it is easier to pull from below sitting than from above standing, just give me one more second… but what about that guy behind me, I couldn’t see him, he was also pulling the sling. I wasn’t scared at all. I’ll hold on for as long as it takes. A plan. I thought. Simultaneously, ‘other voices’ were talking to me, trying to convince me to be ‘smart’ and follow the ‘good advice’.

Unwillingly but consciously I began to let go – slowly, very slowly, inch by inch, shopping for time to the very end, while debating with myself whether it was the right thing to do.

They run off. With my camera. Watching them disappear into a narrow alley I also seemed to have noticed, from the corner of my eye, a biker chasing after them. Strangely, this only made me angry. “Now? It is too late now. You should have been here 1 second ago”. But, perhaps it was only my imagination playing tricks on me. I couldn’t be sure. 

The strangest thing of all… while warching them disappear with my camera I didn’t feel that killing emptiness and razor sharp pain one feels when losing beloved… anything really… but felt more like an observer watching a movie. Even though I was abolutly sure that was the end of the story… I was an extra in a movie. 

Still stranger, before leaving my hotel I took more precautions than ever. As if my gut feeling was trying to warn me. Left my cell and everything else I didn’t need. I even wanted to switch the lens to one that was less visible and cheaper (which never happened before). Unfortunately, I didn’t bring the kit lens with me (I am trying to travel ‘light’) and had only 50 mm prime as a backup – not so great for the cityscape shots.

All these extra preaucations as if I felt something was about to happen. All I had with me was maybe 10 USD in local currency, umbrella and a bottle of water. And a camera. 

So now WHAT? To put insult into the injury, I had my camera cleaned in Cancun only two days before and two weeks prior had the faulting zoom in my lens repaired. Collecting my camera from the repairman (yet another gut feeling) I was thinking… If anything is to happen… now is the time.  And so it was. Indeed.

Two days later, I let it all go. Perhaps I shouldn’t have. Perhaps I shouldn’t have listened to that other voice. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so smart. Too late now.

Shamed by my own stupidity (my first mugging) with a tail between my legs I began picking up contents of my bag (umbrella, water bottle) that was scattered on the ground and was just about to head back to my hotel to not-sure-what-to-do when a young female biker approached me. 

She thought I should report the incident to the police which ironically was only 50 meters away. Police? She must be joking. What can they do? Do they even care? The thieves are far away and the camera is sold a long time ago. But not having anything better to do and feeling like a fool I flowed her. The policeman directed us to a police booth located further down the square.  Once again, I hesitated… what a waste of time. But then again I thought – what’s the alternative? Sitting alone in my hotel room sulking about the lost camera? I went. 

After the initial confusion (we communicated through Google translator) I understood they caught someone. Aha? What that someone had to do with me? I couldn’t see any connection. They didn’t know anything about the camera though. Once I told them they began to interrogate the guy. After only a few seconds not only the connection was established but he also confessed to stealing my camera (???!!!). However, he didn’t have it, nor did he know where it was. He gave it to the other guy, he said. Of course, he didn’t know who the other guy was. 

Why did they catch him and on what grounds did they arrest him I will never know. But maybe I shouldn’t be asking.  It appears, however, that the biker I thought I saw from the corner of my eye was real and it was him who must have caught the thief. (Imagine if I only held on to the sling for two more seconds.)

I spend at least an hour and a half (including a ride in a police car to my hotel to get the passport) in that tiny police booth. Some five, six policemen on duty were the nicest and friendliest people imaginable offering me water and chocolate all the time and generally making sure I was okay. At one point they showed me a knife and asked if I was ever threatened with one. I am not sure if it was just a knife they showed me or the knife they found on the thief. They also told me I have ventured into a no-go zone. A no-go zone right next to Bolivar Plaza? Hmmm, I remembered someone trying to warn me just when I was about to enter the area but I didn’t understand. I don’t speak Spanish. 

Next stop was a real police station.  For me and the thief. I had to make a statement and he was to be booked. 30-40 minute ride in two separate cars. Upon arrival, I was greeted by Patrullero Jeison Florez. 

Patrullero Jeison Florez

Patrullero Jeison Florez with Tourist Police in Bogota spoke English and didn’t leave my side during the four-hour stay at the station. Not that I have any experience with the police, Colombian or otherwise, but he must be the nicest and gentlest and most carrying policeman in the world. He desperately wanted me to like Colombia and to understand that majority of Colombians are just like him. Generous, friendly, giving and carrying. 

At one point he went to the thief to speak with him. The thief stuck to his story. He didn’t know where the camera was nor who the other guy was. Patrullero Jeison gave it a bit of time and tried again. After the second attempt when the thief understood it may cost him two extra years in jail, he suggested calling his sister. She may know who the other guy was, he said. And she did. Not only did she know the other thief she also found him, succeeded to recover the camera and was now on the way to the station to return it in the belief that once she has done so her thief brother would be set free. 

No. No Way. I don’t believe you. Impossible. Things like that just do not happen, not in Colombia, not anywhere in the world, I said to Jeison. Yes, it’s true – he replied. I didn’t want to get my hopes up and refused to believe him.

But it was. A few minutes later the sister came with my camera. And the sling. Intact. 

I left a statement. Even recorded a short video thanking Colombian Police for their efforts and amazing job in recovering my camera. Don’t remember exactly what I said but something about the impossible becoming possible. We hugged after that, said our goodbyes, and someone drove me back to the hotel. I am to contact Jeison right away should I need anything. Friends for life? Everybody was happy.

Everybody but the thief. He is in jail awaiting trial. He will get two years. Hadn’t the sister returned the camera he would get four. Don’t know if they ever caught the other thief. 

How Am I?

Glad you asked. To tell the truth – I don’t really know. Not yet. I am pretty much alright teasing myself “well done, you survived Bogota exactly two hours“, or, maybe I am in denial of some sort but my primal instincts are back on the radar (so do not come near me or touch me unexpectedly); I no longer take the camera wherever I go; neither do I shoot spontaneously but choose my objects/subjects with more care; not that I did it before but today I display the camera even less. My camera feels kind of dirty – not as pure anymore. My love for photography got bruised.

11 days have passed and I still haven’t mentioned the story to anybody. 

From the very beginning to the very end I was, without really knowing or expecting it, (unconsciously) waiting for a happy ending… though I knew there cannot be one. Things like that simply never happen. And definitely not in Colombia, the (former) number one most dangerous country in the world where no one cares about petty theft like that. (I hear additional funds were given to the police, and hundreds of extra policemen were put on the streets of Bogota to fight the crime.  The efforts have begun to give results.)

There is one thing I am absolutely sure about. The story wouldn’t (couldn’t) have a happy ending hadn’t I followed the bike lady to the police as I already had said goodbye to the camera the moment I let go of the sling. I must remember…

Never give up…  It ain’t over until it’s over. 

The (almost lost) Images of Centro Historico – slideshow

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Of course, I couldn’t leave Mexico or even Cancun without visiting Isla Mujeres first – the very island I was advised to abandon Cancun for the minute I arrived. So, as soon as I came back from Havana I joined hundreds (maybe thousands) of other daytrippers and took a 13-kilometer long ferry ride to the island.

Half an hour later (plus at least half an hour of queuing to board the ferry) I found myself in a “promised land” with a great potential of being IT.

And? Was it? Is it?

As much as I enjoyed my day on the island and as much as I liked the island itself I am not so sure the island qualifies as my dream retirement paradise. At least, I don’t think so. The island is ideal, however, for a shorter vacation. Especially if you are younger (but it is not necessary) and like to party Isla Mujeres is definitely your place. 

Why not?

Because I am dreaming of pristine, miles long white sand beaches and crystal clear warm waters. Isla Mujeres has neither. The largest beach, Playa Norte, only five minutes away from the ferry is not large enough to even host hotel guests and daytrippers. There are so many people, packed as sardines, that you need to cruise between the sunbeds just to get from A to B getting bruised in the process.  Other beaches, “hidden” between private residences, are teeny tiny stretches of sand that do not take more than a few minutes to walk… if you take your time and walk slowly. I imagine this is where the expats live. 

I loved the little town (next to Playa Norte) full of small cozy restaurants and I loved the vibe. Isla Mujeres is definitely a place where I’d love to spend my vacation. A week. Maybe two. But to retire? Not so sure. It isn’t a “yes” but it isn’t a “no” either even though the island isn’t exactly what I am looking for. The potential is still there. It depends (to an extent) on who occupies those residences where the other beaches are hiding. For there are no beaches in the world worth more than the great company of like-minded “occupants”.

Puerto Morales

While I am “at it” I’d also like to mention another well know place I visited – Puerto Morales. It is a small port/beach town, a fishing village really, on Riviera Maya between Cancun and Playa del Carmen. 

Puerto Morales is best known for its National Reef Park with many offshore dive sites, the turtles that breed on the local beaches, freshwater sinkholes and a tilted lighthouse that has now become the town’s trademark. The lighthouse was destroyed by Hurricane Beulah in 1967 but then never knocked down. Instead, a new one was built few meters away. 

The town itself is small and very laid back. Two “major” streets and maybe a 15-minute walk from one end to the other. The bikes are preferred means of transportation. In addition to a couple of boutique hotels, condominiums, tourist shops, restaurants there are quite a few gated communities nearby attracting Western expats and locals alike. More gated communities are being built = the town is expanding.

Anything for me? Puerto Morales has definitely some possibilities. I find it a bit too small though for my very personal taste.  If I had to choose I’d rather stay at Playa del Carmen which has so much more to offer.  

But then. of course, there is Tulum – which I still haven’t visited

Isla Mujeres – slideshow

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Shopping in Havana

I was aware of about food shortages and shopping difficulties before I came to Cuba and was, in fact, advised to bring at least a couple of boxes of breakfast cereal and dry soups as well as whatever clothes I no longer wanted, especially brands, to sell or exchange for accommodation. I didn’t bring either. Not sure how cereal would help me, unless I ate it dry, as there is no yogurt in Havana. The soups wouldn’t be of much use either as I had no way of “bringing them to boil and simmer for a few minutes”. The clothes? Well, I toyed with the idea – need to downsize my luggage – however, I am not that “business oriented” and didn’t want to carry more than I had to should I fail as a businesswoman. (I left all my luggage in Mexico and came to Cuba only with a backpack).

Food Challenge

Long lines for to get a hamburger.

Blandly put, there is hardly any food to buy in Cuba. Not if you are a tourist and, not the one you’d like to eat. Even if you were lucky enough (or queued long enough) to get something eatable you couldn’t cook it anyhow as hotels and Airbnb:s don’t allow kitchen access. After all, the Airbnb hosts make money off the lack-of-food situation. 5 USD for breakfast and about 10 for dinner. Typically, they buy the food from next (or next next) door neighbors who run tiny shops from home. I have no idea where the shop owners get the food from. Perhaps from the relatives living in the country. 

Food is served in small cardboard boxes. No bags, no plates, no utensils.

However, if you’re so called “rich American” (Westerner) having breakfast, lunch, and dinner in one of the three fancy five-star hotels you most probably won’t even notice any food shortages or any other food-related issues. Cheap (12 USD) lobsters will be served to you on a silver platter and once you get back home, you’ll be telling everyone what a wonderful time (and food) you have had.

But if you are a backpacker on a budget, you may and will face some serious challenges… unless you are prepared to survive on pizza sandwiches during your entire stay or hot dogs depending on the area. You’ll get back home mentally drained in need of a vacation. 

Restaurants

No shortage of cigarettes. 1.50 USD a pack

Not only is there a shortage of food there is also a shortage of restaurants. There are some in the Old Town and around the Central Park but this is pretty much it. If you live in other parts of town, you may be wasting lots of time looking for food. On Malecón, for example, which is a few kilometers long Corniche I only saw one ice cream parlor and one restaurant opened during the day. At night, on some nights, a few more bars/restaurants open, and also a few stalls. 

 As in all other cities around the world, the bouncers yell out the menus to get customers in the bouncers in Havana yell “restaurant/bar” just to let you know there is a restaurant/bar… so that you wouldn’t miss it. Interestingly, the presumptive customers never come in, sit down, ask for the menu, order… and so on… but study the menu before they decide to enter… only to leave awhile later as half of the dishes that are on the menu are not available. Restaurants may run out of chicken, meat, vegetables or practically anything else. 

In this restaurant, you either eat right on the curb or bring your own plate for takeouts.

Some restaurants are so popular with locals and attract such crowds that people stand in long lines for hours in the middle of the day just to get in. And they aren’t even fancy restaurants or super hot clubs but very regular eateries.

I came across restaurants offering different menus for tourists and locals. No, they do not serve better food for tourists but they simply charge more. Much more, which brings me to another Cuban challenge – The Money Challenge. 

Tha Money Challenge

Long queues to come into the shop selling Internet Cards

There are two currencies in Cuba; for tourists (CuC) and for Cubans (peso)…. but this is a subject for another post.  However, if you’re on a budget you can eat “dirt cheap” if you pay with pesos. To get pesos do your shopping in Central Havana, pay with CuC, and you’ll get the change in pesos. Then feast on 50 cent meals in Central Havana. 

While planning Havana trip make sure your accommodation is located in an area where at least a few restaurants and shops are also located otherwise you may find yourself in real trouble. The best bet is to stay where the tourists stay like Old Havana and around the Central Park or where the locals live like Central Havana. The latter requires some getting used to as you’ll be shopping and eating in hole-in-the-wall places run from private homes. The third possibility is Vedado, 40-minute walk from the Old Havana, which is now becoming an upscale neighborhood attracting many tourists. There are few good hotels in the area, like the famous National hotel, and a few overpriced restaurants. However, there are no grocery shops. Well, there are a couple but they are practically empty.   

Shops

Local Butcher

Most shops are run from homes and offer 5-10 different items e.g. canned vegetables and ketchup, sold through an iron window grill. There are also butchers selling meat that is not refrigerated but left on display in the sun the whole day, bakeries selling cream-filled pastries and fruit stalls. To get few items together for dinner you may have to go to five different shops and stand in five different lines. Full days job. The longest lines are for freshly baked buns, just made pressed ham sandwiches, sandwich “pizzas”, cakes and hot dogs. Bred, bread and more bread. No wonder people are overweight.  

Make sure to bring a plastic bag

If there is no line don’t even think you’d struck luck but take it as a red flag. Something must be very wrong with that establishment. 

Should you ever want to shop the way locals do make sure to bring a plastic bag (or any bag) with you as no such is provided. Instead, the food is dropped as is, incl chunks of butter, in whatever bag/container you bring with you.

Supermarkets

Some “supermarkets” (there are a few) provide bags, most don’t. In the ones that do not, there will always be a few old ladies selling plastic bags. The bags are brand new and branded. Where do they get them from????

Empty shelves in supermarkets

The variety of food in “supermarkets”, as opposed to shops run from home, is not much different: macaroni, tomato cans, oil, and ketchup. Some may have few pieces of frozen meats and sausages. But for the most part, the shelves are empty. Spookily empty. Yet people stand in long lines to get in.

Before you enter supermarkets, (hmmm) malls or most of the other shops you need to strip from all the possessions you carry with you. To do so, both leave and collect, you also need to queue for quite a while. The bigger the shop the longer line. 

Rum, rum, and more rum. For 5 USD a bottle.

What there is in abundance, however, is cheap rum, vodka, and cigarettes. You can buy alcohol everywhere. And I really mean everywhere including hotdogs stalls, shops selling children’s clothes or shops run from home. No matter where you go there will be a shelf full of bottles within your reach. 

Just like in Russia during communism. When there was a shortage of food or other goods the government made sure to provide plenty of vodkas to make people happy… or to forget.

Drinking rum is a way of living. As there are no disposable cups or glasses people carry bottles of rum with them quite openly wherever they go. Many start drinking first thing in the morning and then continue as long as they can (manage).

And the women are shopping

Queuing is part of everyday life in Havana. People queue for everything; bread, lunch, Internet card, theater tickets, cinema tickets, even travel tickets. As soon as someone ‘opens a shop’ and starts selling e.g. boxed lunch, the queue is forming in no time.  The only item one can get without queuing is rum or vodka. 

Not sure how many hours a day people waste on queuing but I am guessing it must be a few. Tragically the majority of Cubans do not even know any of any other life as they have lived like that for the past 60 years.

Long line to Delta shop

I was under the impression that things may be getting better. The tourists are welcome to visit and the locals can today buy passports. But apparently, things are not better, everything is the same. They say. For what good use a passport can be put if you cannot get a visa to travel anywhere stamped into it? 

One day, while walking in Havana, it struck me: Where are all the men? I almost only see women in the streets. Then the lightbulb went off in my head. The men must be working for money while the women are working to feed the family… they are all go shopping instead.

Or should I rather say while the men are working the women are queuing?

Again. 

People of Havana- slideshow

Murals in Havana – slideshow

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Another era. The (in)famous National Hotel

First there was a past… then WiFi has come.

There is the past and then there is the past. Cuba’s past is definitely the later. 50 years have gone (or is it 60?) yet the distinct feeling of Havana’s glamorous past and its former grandeur is still very much present. The former glitter is still pretty glittery although in bad need of some polish to shine again. The rest is in ruins. It almost feels at the country had been in the war and is now rebuilding whatever can be rebuilt and what cannot be rebuilt is being demolished making room for something new to be built in its place.

A new beginning?

Central Havana

The everyday life isn’t easy. People struggle. There is a shortage of everything. And long lines everywhere. People are queuing up for every single thing. There are new challenges and new mountains to climb on a daily basis. For everyone, visitors included. For no matter how trivial visitors inconveniences may seem in comparison even they need to face challenges and learn quickly how to handle them. The learning curve is steep and not always easily understood but… what do they say?… if there is a will there is a way?

WiFi challenge

Locals and tourists alike queue up for Internet Card

Hadn’t I come to Cuba I would have never known how totally my life is dependent on the Internet. All information, banking, accommodation booking, work, my social life, even editing and spell checking this very post is totally dependent on the Internet. My entire life depends on the WiFi. When the WiFi stops running my entire life stops with it.

This is not all. I have also noticed how addicted I am to WiFi and how miserable my life becomes without it. I need a daily fix of minimum one hour to get out of my misery and begin to fly again.

It was only two years ago that Cubans got some sort of access to the Internet. There is no WiFi, or rather there is no WiFi as we know it. And there is definitely no free WiFi. The talk of the town is so called Internet Card which everybody needs to get connected and which everybody buys on a daily basis. After the initial frustration (panic really) there was no other way for me but to accept the harsh reality, adapt to the new situation and find a way to deal with it. I guess, this is what Cubans have been doing for the past 60 years.

WiFi the Cuban way

A hot spot where locals connect to the network

Hotels and many Airbnbs have, as they advertise it, WiFi. This is not quite true. What they have is some sort of connection to the Internet provider. You can connect to their network but there is no Internet access. To get the Internet access you need to buy an Internet card for 1-5 CUC /hour depending on where you buy it. Most hotels have their networks open but only visitors are welcome to connect to it. Locals are directed to local parks and squares where hot spots are provided. Needless to say, all hotel lobbies are packed with tourists trying to get in touch with their lives “back home”.

Airbnb:s, on the other hand, have their networks password protected. Not only do you need a password to get connected to the network but your host’s computer must also be connected and running. Once the host shuts his/hers computer your WiFi also shuts… and you need to go to a nearby hotel if there is one. But when you get connected to the host’s network then you need to use your newly purchased card to get access to the Internet. As many devices can be used at the same time, on a very rare occasion, a host leaves his/her network (and card) open.

But this grandma, I am sure, doesn’
t care how good/bad the connection is.. as long as she can exchange a couple of world with her loved ones

Unfortunately, as the demand is huge, the connection is so slow at times that it is practically useless. The money/time is ticking but nothing can be done during that time. The other day things were so slow that I couldn’t even shut down my session and lost all my minutes that were left (and a dollar).

On a positive note: to save time and money I have quickly learned how to use the Internet more efficiently and less time consuming by multitasking. The “trick” is to get as much as only possible done offline, and once online, let things run in the background (uploads, facebook/skype/whatsapp message deliveries) so that there is enough time to take care of tasks that can only be done online.

On a more personal note: I am (re)discovering Windows 10 and finding lots of interesting apps that I didn’t know/forgot I had. Perfect opportunity to brush up on somewhat stale knowledge?

A reflection that comes into mind: how is it possible that a hole in the wall cafe run by the indigenous people living in the mountains in Sapa Vietnam has access to free WiFi but a capital town inhabited by (supposedly) five million people has not.

Next: The Food Challenge

National Hotel in Havana established in 1930

Central Havana

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Just a little push

Yes, I am in Havana. And yes, they are really here. The cars. The best 50-year (incidental) investment the Cubans have made? Thanks to the ingenious engineering and likewise ingenious the need-is-the-mother-of-invention maintenance to keep them running these motorized horse powers tirelessly have served their masters for the past 50 years as any four-legged ones would. 

But times they are changin. And once the gates to Cuba began to crack open these frozen in time. mechanical wonders began to make history again and are today undergoing Renaissance together with the American automobile history – not in a museum but on the streets of Havana. For the best, the largest, the best-preserved collection of old American cars in the world is not rolling in the US of A but in Cuba. 

and a bit of Rusian wire

A new coat of paint for the car, a cowboy hat for its owner and off they go into more lucrative business (and future?) – cruising tourists around Havana. And they are coming. In thousands. The Old Havana is jam-packed with tourists. The famous bars like Hemingway’s La Florida or La Bodeguita del Medio where the music plays loud and the rum flows in buckets begin to fill up first thing in the morning. And after a few shots who can say “NO” to a cruise in an old automobile? For 30 USD an hour. Cheaper if you know how to haggle. Or maybe more if you’re too drunk.

The options are endless. Any model, any year, any color. Wherever you look there they are, nicely lined up waiting for you. Just pick and choose. You cannot move a yard before you hear someone yelling at you “Taxi?”, “Taxi?”, “Taxi?” The competition is fierce. Not surprisingly they all want a piece of the cake. Nobody knows how long it (and it) will last. 

Taxi Colectivo

In addition to the “new” old cars, the town is full of “old” old cars running as collective taxis. For 1 dollar (CUC – less if you pay in pesos) per head, you can get a ride to almost anywhere in town. Keep in mind though you may be reduced to a sardine as the driver tries to pack into the car as many passengers as only possible. And there is always room for another one. Then there are regular (official) yellow taxis, official yellow moped taxis and also cyclo taxis. In short, there is no shortage of wheels in Havana. 

As this wasn’t enough there is no shortage of ‘other’ antico particularo. The type from the behind of previous iron curtain. Like Polish Polski Fiat or East German Trabant both of which get the same love and care as their American cousins. Look at that Fiat. It looks almost brand new. 

Polski Fiat

East German Trabant

Nice, no?

Taxis, taxis, taxis

The sheer number of cars and the never-ending calls “Taxi?” felt a bit overwhelming in the beginning. Now I got used to the scene. Strange, how quickly we get used to things. Frozen in time yet after 50 long years of Cuban care (with some help of Russian wire) these old American automobiles are the main attraction for tourists and money making machines (?) for their owners. One ride a day can make all the difference.

So many cars yet so little traffic. No traffic jams. The Corniche by the sea is practically empty. Could it be fuel prices? I CUC (=USD) a litter. Is it much? No idea. But if this is all you make a day… I guess…

I have visited so many countries, yet visiting Cuba feels very special. So special that I wanted to share my first impressions right away. Imagine my frustration when I found out I couldn’t do it. No WiFi. Or rather no WiFi as the world knows it.

But this is a topic for my next post. Let’s hope I’ll succeed to upload this one first.

Welcome to Cuba.

Cars, cars, and more cars

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Cancun is one of the weirdest vacation projects (?) I have ever visited. To me, it is nothing more than a weekend getaway. Beyond that? A vacation factory.

Just look at the map to the right.  Looks great, doesn’t it? Long, about 15 mile-long, sandbar connected to the mainland by causeways on either end and separated from the city by a lagoon – the Nichupte Lagoon. How appealing. What a perfect location. The promise of a perfect scenery. Pristine beaches? Crystal clear water? Sunsets? Paradise? 

Hmmm. Neither. None of the above. Not even sunsets. (They are on the other side). On the beachfront strip along the Caribbean Sea, there are tons of high-rise all-inclusive hotels lined up. On the lagoon side, there are some four-five outdoor malls every few kilometers and pretty much nothing between them. This 20 kilometers long and a two-four hundred meters wide sandbar (which btw is a part of the world’s second-longest coral reef) called Zona Hotelera is what Cancun is all about.

Today, Cancun is all about Zona Hotelera.

Zona Hotelera

Just one road runs along Zona Hotelera, Kukulkan Boulevard. However, even though the sandbar is very narrow, and the road runs between the sea and the lagoon the ride isn’t as scenic as it could have been. Unfortunately, the sea (and most of the hotels) is hidden behind the trees thus not visible from the road. The views aren’t all that great on the lagoon side either.

Trees, trees, and more trees – although not as many as on the seaside.

I walked many kilometers on that road and there is absolutely nothing to do/see in between the malls. Well, with an exception of crocodiles. The Nichupte Lagoon is their natural habitat. Thus, if you are unlucky (or lucky) you may run into some of them during your stroll. There are many warning signs along the road alerting of danger. So watch out as the road is not fenced off. The crocodiles may be lurking only a few centimeters away as in some parts there is no vegetation separating the road from the lagoon. If you like to take a closer look at the crocodiles in a more secure environment you can do so by Plaza La Fiesta Mall where the fence keeps the reptiles at bay. 

The Beach

Playa Tortugas

An uninterrupted sandy (though not pristine) beach runs along the entire sandbar and beyond. I don’t know how many hotels are located on that narrow piece of land but they come one after another – most of them are all-inclusive. As the hotels are all-inclusive, there are NO bars or restaurants on the beach itself. Not even a tiny little kiosk where one can buy a bottle of water. Nothing. Nada. This alone is for me a deal breaker. In my retirement paradise or even during a beach vacation, I like to have my refreshments and meals right on the beach listening to the sound of the waves. The last thing I want is being stranded in a hotel 100 meters away separated from the beach and the sea by a concrete wall.

The only beach bar in Cancun?

Well, (truth be told) there are two places I found: 

1. There is this tiny public beach very popular with locals, Playa Tortugas, which is one long table. I didn’t like that place. Small, overpriced and very crowded.

2. There is this tiny little bar right next to Hard Rock Cafe, which I liked very much but it closes at 7 p.m.

   Note: Hard Rock Cafe has some tables on the beach.

I walked the beach (part of it) a couple of times and found four major drawbacks (at least for me):

• 

  Blue Flag beach entrance/exit

  As mentioned before, lack of bars/restaurants. Hence, the beach is not really a place where people socialize and hang out. The hotels and the outdoor hotel bars are. 

• The beach is not easily accessible: the beach is public, however, the chain of hotels along it makes the access rather difficult… if you are not a hotel guest. There are some five-six public beaches with public entrances, so-called Blue Flags, but you must know where they are. (Or tell a bus driver to stop by one of them. e.g Delfin Beach)

• 

  The first beach, Playa Las Perlas, facing the bay could be walkable but is not due to the mangrove full of mosquitoes

  The beach is not easily walkable: such a lovely, long sandy beach yet walking it is rather difficult as it faces the open and rough sea. You need to walk on the sand as walking in the water, no matter how shallow, can be somewhat hazardous especially when you carry a camera with you.

  Also, before you start waking, make sure there is an exit somewhere not too far as you may end up walking much further than you have bargained for. You may not exit/enter through hotels.

• Not only is the sea rough, it is also cold. Not many people swim in it. Hotel pools seem to be a better choice. What a shame.

  There was one thing I absolutely loved and that was the color of the Caribbean Sea. Countless shades of blue. Really amazing. 

Downtown

Dance in the park

Ever since the hotels in Zona Hotelera became all-inclusive the once vibrant downtown of Cancun, full of small restaurants and shops, is on a decline. Tourist infrastructure, restaurants, shopping, and nightlife are today all concentrated on the sandbar. Tourists no longer visit downtown but stay in hotels to drink, eat and party. In short, to get their money’s worth. The town is almost empty of visitors. The few that come, come to parks to “people watch”.

There are few parks frequented by locals that are quite interesting to visit to get a glimpse of “how the locals live”. By law, every neighborhood must have its own park. The parks are a social hub for locals offering many activities for both children and adults. 

Other than that? Same, same, wherever you look. The downtown seems to have been stripped off of its soul. Quite forgettable. Really.

Summa Summarum

I am glad I didn’t leave Cancun right away but instead stayed for a good few weeks. Mind you, I stayed not for the sea or beaches but for a home base that I happened to find downtown that worked for me… for a while. However, as I don’t mind spending some time downtown or even partying for a couple of days at the Zona Hotelera, Cancun is definitely not a retirement paradise I am looking for. 

Cancun in Pictures – The Beach

Cancun – Downtown

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