29.San Andres Island

29.

San Andres Island: The people here are black and it takes me a few days to figure out what language they speak—they speak Spanish with a very local accent. They also speak French and English and they speak all three languages at the same time inventing a new language of their own. When I relax and just talk normally they understand me fine and I can understand them equally well.

But San Andres is no Hawaii by any stretch of the imagination! It’s a hot, poor, sandy lump of an island barely protruding from the green sea. There are some ragged coco palms and some “wrong side of the tracks” cheap hotels and a meager scattering of international tourists—but that’s all.

Still, after the flurry of activity in Costa Rica, some time spent flopped in the hot sand is just what I need. I avoid people and just mellow out.

After a few days, when I’m nicely mellowed, I check my backpack with the airline to Cartagena, Columbia and then miss the plane! The airline holds it for me on the mainland and I learn an important lesson: never travel without carrying everything I value either on my body or in my hands!

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