Our 3rd Day in Paradise

I unfolded myself from the tent and into the bright glare of a refugee camp. Sleep-deprived people stumbled around me while sopping bedding hung from every tree branch and horizontal string. The horrors of the previous night had affected some more than others; one woman wailed a mournful song and then lightened proceedings by giving an interview into the locket on her necklace. The most distressing absentee from the whole melange was our fastidious neighbour, who had packed away his ode to order as soon as the dastardly weather had allowed. I never managed to get a photo of his magnificent campsite…


In the style of haze only a sleepless night in a puddle can produce, we packed. We then hauled our bodies down the beach to another location in the hope of finding somewhere less overpopulated. Cabo Guia de San Juan was our destination, and it turned out to be a lovely series of small beaches, rock outcrops and coves filled with turquoise water. It was also filled with people, but by now we had lost all hope of finding that elusive empty white sand beach anyway.


The sky cleared up in the afternoon, producing some very nice sparkle in the water, and we swam and once again caught up on sleep not achieved on the night before. Angie ate a whole fried fish for dinner- the fish had been caught, cleaned and then sent swimming in a vat of oil, resulting in a monstrous, horror-movie complexion, but she assured me it was delicious.


With the sky remaining clear, a drunken singalong was well underway by the time we made it back to our tents. Completely wasted, a large group of Colombians sat in a circle shouting Spanish songs about beer while an accordion provided scathing backup. A light smattering of rain sent them tripping through guy ropes back to their tents and left us to sleep in peace, although we were a little nervous that the rain that had saved us tonight could very well turn into another torrential nightmare.