If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize, it’s that I’m no longer a traditional backpacker. I travel with a backpack as well, but I’m obviously looking for very different things than the tourists I talk to in hostels.

Of the two and a half months I was in the country in total, I spent three weeks at a finca in Jericó, almost two weeks at Johandy’s in Minca, and almost four weeks volunteering in the middle of the jungle. In between, I traveled briefly on tourist trails every now and then because I felt I had to see something of the country as well. I didn’t want to feel bad if I came home at some point and didn’t see any of the places that all the other tourists visit like that.

In retrospect, though, it wasn’t the time I spent as a tourist that I enjoyed the most, but the longer periods when I was supposedly doing “nothing” except staying in one place. So in all these places I had plenty of time to take in the surroundings and get to know the people around me a little better.

I also had plenty of time to get to know myself better. Something that seems to only be possible for me if I create the space for it. Something I often found difficult to do at home, and something that is also not easy when you are constantly rushing from attraction to attraction.

One big realization that I only really became aware of as a tourist is how boring I find it to have everything handed to me on a silver platter. If you follow the instructions of travel advisors, your bed is made and your path is paved. But I find it deeply unsatisfying to be carted off somewhere just to be able to take a photo at these beautiful places, often prepared for us tourists, only to be already on the way to the next highlight.

Only when I have put in the work myself can I enjoy the fruits. Otherwise, I can also look at the pictures on Instagram, there are more than enough semi-professional photographers who seem to be on the road only to take exactly these pictures.

I don’t mean to say that Tayrona Park, or the Guajira Desert are not worth seeing. I’m just saying that being driven by jeep from beach to beach and dune to dune for days on end, only to be unloaded again and again for a few hours in the sweltering heat, didn’t thrill me.

Tayrona Park

In Tayrona Park, I really enjoyed the hike on the first day. I entered through the side entrance into Calabazo, which seems to be an insider tip until now. I didn’t run into five people there the whole day. At least not in front of the camp in Cabo San Juan, which was completely overcrowded with tourists, who were either brought by boat or by donkey. So on the second day we continued towards the main entrance. Hordes of bathers crowded the narrow paths. I was the only one who fought his way in the other direction.

Since I didn’t have enough cash on me, I had to be very careful how I allocated my plata, as the locals say here.

The primate, La Bestia in his shirt, roams the woods,
arms hanging limply from his powerful body,
feet like hands roaming the pampas with each step,
eyes open in search of food.
Suddenly the rescue, the body had already become heavy,
Mango and avocado, the whole ground is littered with goodies,
Nature provides, it provides for the needy.
One bathes naked, the beach allows it.
Other primates do the same, each as he was created.
The night is spent hanging. The mats are already ready.
La Bestia is too wide for the hanging piece of cloth.
Sleep stays out for a long time, the neck stiff.

I would certainly not have starved, but for more than a few noodles with tomato sauce and the hammock for the night it was not enough. Fortunately, the experienced hiker found mangoes and avocados in the jungle, without which he would have gone hungry for breakfast and lunch. I sat like a monkey under the trees in the riverbed and enjoyed the fruits. Somehow it is a great experience not to be able to slay all problems with money. It is new for me not to have money. Often enough you find a solution for which you don’t need money.

I realize how “lazy” you get when you always have money at your disposal. Money makes life more carefree, but also somehow less exciting. When you don’t have money, you have to become more creative in how you live your life. I always realize here how privileged I am. Still, people here don’t seem unhappy to me, even though there is a lot more talk about money and especially lack of money here than I know from home.

Getting cash

The reason I had so little cash was that it is often difficult and expensive to get cash, even though cash is the main form of payment here. ATMs are often only available in larger cities. Most banks charge a hefty 4-7 percent service fee for withdrawing cash with a foreign credit card. This fee is charged before booking and cannot be refunded, even if your own bank would do so.

In some smaller towns there are stores with an ATM sign on the door. There you can withdraw money. Here at least 10 surcharge.