The almost four weeks in the Blue Dot Hostel were a lot of fun and joy for me. I learned a lot of new things about working and living together in the Jungle. The people in the camp have sweetened my time and have grown close to my heart. Volunteering somewhere has opened up a whole new horizon of travel for me. Because everyone stays here longer, you get to know each other much better than if you just move from hostel to hostel, where it feels like you start over with small talk every day. Since you pay with your own labor here, it’s also an inexpensive way to get to know a country. Provided you have time.

I volunteered to help two Dutch people realize their vision. Daan and Garlyn fulfilled their dream a few years ago to move to Colombia and build a new life there. With a small budget and some borrowed money, they bought a 70-hectare plot of land near Santa Marta, just around the corner from La Ciudad Perdida. The land, which has a river flowing around it like a peninsula, is very fertile. It is therefore ideally suited to one day being able to feed oneself and one’s guests largely self-sufficiently. The land can currently be reached via a bridge that has not yet been completed, two ropes that can be crossed with a cart. The other way leads over the mountains. Rather impractical to bring anything heavier than a small backpack to the land.

For several years they have been building a hostel according to ecological principles. As many materials as possible are purchased locally or sourced directly from their own land. Much is reused or recycled. Water is supplied by a nearby stream. Electricity is currently generated by two solar panels, which we use to charge our appliances, turn on the lights in the evening, and access the Internet via Elon Musk’s Starlink. If the electricity didn’t depend on the amount of daylight, we would have a permanent Internet connection that would put many a connection in Germany to shame. I haven’t even noticed the connection breaking down, no matter how many of us are watching videos and talking to our loved ones on the phone.

The site thrives on hosting volunteers like me to help with the work, in addition to the permanent construction workers. The main building, a freestanding roof with no walls, provides shelter for all of us for the night. In hammocks, tents and mattresses, we find our fair share of sleep here each day. Unless, of course, we are too tempted by the mosquito and sand fly bites to scratch. But you quickly learn to protect yourself.

In the last few weeks we have started to clear a meadow and level the ground in order to build a workshop there, which will later serve as a base for all construction work. In the future, art and culture will find a roof here. A forum for the exchange of the arts. Since it is impossible to transport heavy equipment here, we depend on our hands and thick arms. With pick and shovel, cubic meters of soil, wood and stones are transported from A to B by wheelbarrow. In the winter sun, it’s a slog that I can only endure for a few hours in the morning, but it’s very satisfying to see visible progress, albeit relatively slow.

The tasks here are many and varied. Anyone who volunteers to come here can choose from a wide range of tasks. Basically, of course, it’s about moving construction forward. But in addition to the buildings, furniture also has to be carpentered, gardens laid out and, above all, everyone’s physical well-being taken care of. Twice a day, food is cooked for the crew of about 10. Since the gardens do not yet yield enough, vegetables are delivered from the surrounding villages. Avocados and limes are already grown on the farm. We are allowed to pick bananas and platano, a plantain, from the neighbors’ trees. The meals are vegan, in the spirit of the future hostel. Only on eggs and cheese the workers do not want to do completely without. Whoever feels called or can no longer work in the heat takes over the scepter in the kitchen. Often other helping hands are quickly found. Cooking and eating takes place in the temporary kitchen, half of which was dismantled during my stay and reused for other projects. That’s how fluid things are here. I suspect if I came back a few months later, I would hardly recognize anything.

The people

Three Colombians, Yair, Rudolfo and Hader, one Venezuelan, Marlin, and the two Dutchmen with their now four dogs live here almost constantly. The rest of the crew is a constant mix of guests from all over the world. This colorful bouquet makes for many interesting conversations, which not infrequently end up in teaching someone a language. There is a profound cultural exchange going on here that doesn’t always lead to consensus, but certainly makes for a lot of laughter. There is a lot of painting, carving and music making. Each teaches the other what they do best.

Over and over again, we visitors talk about what makes us tick and what scares us. Everyone also seems to be on this journey to learn more about themselves and work on the little things that bother you about yourself. Each of us has the intention to come out of this adventure stronger and wiser. It is somehow comforting to engage in this exchange. All too often, you think you’re the only one struggling with yourself. But it’s in the deep conversations, together in the hammocks, that it becomes apparent that we’re all forging a new us and motivating each other to be the best we can be.

You don’t have to work many hours a week. That leaves plenty of time for your own interests. I read a lot, wrote a lot, and explored the surroundings. At least four times a day I jumped into the river to cool off and swim a few laps against the current. The rocks jutting into the river invite occasional headers and flips. I go down first thing in the morning to meditate and swim my first few laps. Without the river, it would be almost unbearable here some days. Although it is winter, the sun burns relentlessly and the almost daily rain showers ensure high humidity, which drives the sweat out of your pores, but hardly cools you down. The river is a shower and washing machine in one. For almost four weeks I managed to get by without soap and detergent. My hair has never been so soft; it’s easy to comb. Melvin thinks it’s because of the minerals that are in the river. I don’t think I smell either. At least no one here notices…. Let’s see what happens when I get back to civilization.

There are a few trails to explore in the area, which are used by the locals for transportation. We kept going on little missions. Kristina and I tried to find a waterfall on the very first weekend, which should be easy to reach. We did find the stream that feeds it, but not the way to get there. At one point we ended up far above the creek on a neighbor’s property, but couldn’t find a way back to the water. At some point we turned back. It turned out that along the creek meant through the creek. We tried for a while, but the rock walls eventually became too steep and we would have had to swim to get anywhere. A week later I tried the same thing again with Nato. When you know the river is the trail, you can have a lot of fun. Over and over we swam the river, jumped from rock to rock, and did headers and flips in pools of water. I love natural water parks like this.

Neighbors

When we talk about neighbors here, it doesn’t mean that you can just walk over the fence and have a chat. The closest neighbor is half an hour away and you have to cross the river twice to reach them. The other neighbors are at least an hour’s walk away. I went there a couple of times to pick bananas and other fruits from their trees, but I never saw them. You are very cut off from everything here.

Two other neighbors, Javer and Lillet, live about an hour and a half downstream. Kristina, Samantha, Nato and I have visited them on two weekends. They are currently hosting a volunteer who previously stayed with us at the hostel. They are wonderful hosts and treated us to all sorts of goodies and entertainment. Javer is Venezuelan who worked as a programmer in the US for 20 years and at some point, just like me, had enough of the madness. It was very exciting to hear his story and what it means to move from “civilized” California to nowhere. He said that when you make such a move, you should be aware of a few things. You’re not trading the work you did before for a lazy life in a hammock. Rather, you trade the monotonous workday at the keyboard for a varied and satisfying job on your own land. There is not a day in his life when he has nothing to do. He says the daily variety in his little kingdom makes him happier than ever.

We talk about the ecological aspect of his business. He tries to build and live everything as ecologically as possible. But to believe that everything goes completely ecological remains a dream until you shit the money like the fairy tale donkey. Nature makes sure that the house decays faster than you can renew beams and walls. It hardly works without industrial helpers. The same goes for building without concrete, possible, safe, sensible, another question.

I was impressed with what they’ve been able to get up and running in the last 5 years. Their own house rises two stories into the sky and sleeps five, complete with three bathrooms, kitchen and living room. Further down the property is another house that was originally their home and now serves as housing for the workers. Their cocoa plantation is about to have its first harvest. Two bungalows have been inaugurated by us, and a third is under construction. Now they are in the process of attracting the first paying guests.

Familiar stability

Due to the strong sunlight, work is never done at full speed. People take it a little slower, sometimes standing in the shade and chatting or watching the others at work. You have to slow down in order not to fall over in the shortest time. I tried German productivity in the beginning. The result was a heat stroke that confined me to bed for a day. Yes, again. Meanwhile, I collect them like badges. Two in the last four weeks alone.

At home, we’re just used to having stable water, electricity and internet. Here in Colombia that’s not the case, but you don’t insist on having full service all the time either. People are used to not having everything working 100 percent all the time. That shows up in many little things in everyday life.

What I noticed right away is that no one here seems to really notice that there’s something that needs to be done. I immediately notice things that could be improved. Here, these things are approached with acceptance. Only when the pressure of suffering is very high do things really start to move.

After about a week, suddenly no more drinking water comes out of the hose, which otherwise spouts water constantly. It is the only source of fresh water available to us. It is fed by a hose from a stream about a kilometer away. Since it has not rained for a few days, the creek has dried up so much that no more water comes to us.

The guys who live here all the time don’t seem to mind. At least we still had a few liters of water in a canister. At some point, someone went to the beginning of the hose to see what exactly the problem was. It turned out that the filter was a little dirty and the water was not being properly directed from the stream to the filter. Shortly after cleaning, the water came back, not at full pressure, but at least enough to cook and drink again. The whole thing repeated itself a few more times. At some point, you really do get used to it.

Monkeys in the Jungle

Already in the first days some gorillas visited us. They seem to make their rounds here more often and to look after what is going on. Daan, the owner, has already gotten used to their visits. They let us give them water and are happy to join us. As dangerous as they look, they are not at all at second glance. Somehow they are friendly, like all the neighbors I have met so far. They always joke and greet friendly. Every now and then they are out in larger herds, roaming their territory or hanging out in the shade of a tree. When one of the big monkeys is around, they seem to congregate everywhere. There is one at every corner. Sometimes they just greet, sometimes they seem to want to know where you are going. You get the feeling that they belong to the forest. Sometimes you don’t see them at all because they blend in so well with the surroundings. The one or other time I was supprised because suddenly one was sitting in the middle of the path.

I haven’t heard anything about their screaming during conflicts. I have only heard that the conflicts can sometimes last several hours and that there have also been deaths.

My journey now continues to the desert in the north of Colombia and then probably further to Ecuador. I don’t have a flight for that yet though.

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