Back Enjoying Colombia

I am currently sat on a bus about to start a 24-hour journey that will hopefully mean I end up in the Amazon. The bus I am on has just left Bogota at 4:30pm (actually 5:00pm) and will arrive in Puerto Asis at 8am the following day. That gives me 15 hours to fill you in on everything I have been up to in the last month or so. Or I would do if I wasn’t constantly interrupted by the lady working on the bus. It’s quite rare to have someone working on the bus as normally you just have the driver, or 2 drivers for the longer journeys.

I am travelling on a Coomotors bus, not by choice, but because it’s the only company doing this route. It’s my first time travelling with them so we will see how it goes. The first impression has been a bit bad. Because of the length of the journey, I wanted to pre-book my seat to make sure I had the most comfort I could get. I chose the seat at the front as they always have the most leg room and I would be furthest away from the stinkin’ toilets. It turns out that the front four seats actually have the least legroom out of all of them. Not the companies fault but a bad start to my journey.

From here onwards it just got better and better. This lady who kept interrupting me was actually interrupting me with presents. First off, she gave me a blanket. This is amazing as all bus journeys that travel long distances have the air con on full whack for the whole journey. You need winter clothing for these journeys and I’m not kidding. I don’t think it is done because it’s so warm outside but, because when it’s so cold, no germs can breed or survive. The second present she gave me was some chicken flavoured snacks, which have actually made my stomach feel bad but it’s a nice gesture. And lastly she gave me a bottle of water.

Other companies that I have travelled with in the past provide you with nothing. They all have plug sockets under the seats and Wi-Fi, but they rarely work. This bus has a working plug socket which is enabling me to write this, but the Wi-Fi is being silly at the moment. The true judge of a bus will depend on how my butt feels tomorrow morning. The journey can also be ruined if a larger figured person is sat next to you, but fortunately, for the first time, I have a small person next to me. Let’s hope he doesn’t snore. Anyway, I can’t believe I have spoken so much about the bus when I have been having a lot of fun recently.

The last time I wrote to you, I was about to head to the beach to try out scuba diving. The beach I was heading was called Taganga and it is situated about a half-hour bus journey from Santa Marta. Rumors were told about Taganga being a dangerous place to go to for tourists, with lots of people being robbed or attacked by the locals. I think these stories were out-dated and the place has been cleaned up a lot recently. Supposedly there was an area of Taganga that was Israeli owned and full of drugs and prostitutes, but I was unable to find it. But seriously, the locals all seemed really friendly and the place seemed safe, especially whilst I was walking around at night time.

Taganga meant to be the beach to go to if you are staying in Santa Marta. It’s probably a little bit better than Rodadero Beach, which is frequented by the locals. Rodadero is full of locals, people selling you things, and it seems a little bit shady. Taganga is more relaxed but it is full of boats with not much of a beach to chill or play on. But that is what Taganga is all about, scuba diving. Everyone I met there was there to scuba dive, apart from three Israeli guys who wanted to party. For the record, I don’t think they were there for what I mentioned above but you never know.

Taganga is the place to go if you want to go diving in Colombia and possibly in South America. Central America has Utila Island in Honduras which is famous for its dive spots and its low prices for the courses. Taganga can compete with this, with Open Water Beginner courses costing around the same price, US$250. All of the dive companies – and there are many – take you out to the reefs that lie of the coast of Tayrona national park. I visited Tayrona the last time I was in Colombia, but that time was over land. This time I was going to see it from a different perspective.

I chose to go with a company called Ocean Lovers on the recommendation of Max and Marthe who I worked with at Jungle Land. Everything they told me about Ocean Lovers was true, including the slightly higher price but it was definitely worth paying the little bit extra. Everything about the experience was what I was looking for and more and after speaking to people who were diving at my hostel, I was 100% with the much better company.

Where to start? All of the equipment at Ocean Lovers was new and therefore in great condition. When you rely on your equipment to survive, I feel this is quite important. I heard a story of a girl whose equipment failed on her beginner course. Maybe this is good because then you learn to cope with this situation, but I still practiced these situations, only I had the backup of working gear. Other companies had boats full of people and bigger groups of beginners with one instructor. I was fortunate to be the only diver on my course, meaning I had a private instructor, Edwin.

When I was introduced to Edwin, it seemed like he had experienced a heavy one the previous night. The more I got to know him, the more likely this probably was. Edwin was a local guide who had that Caribbean vibe about him. We started off speaking in Spanish before I realised it was probably best that I learned how to dive in English, you know to be certain of surviving. I soon realised that although Edwin’s English was good, I was still having to double check things in Spanish. So we proceeded in Espanglish to make sure.

On the first morning, we headed out on a boat along the coast to a place near an island. The waves were increased in size as they were squished between the island and the mainland, but this was our spot. It was the first time I have ever done this so I’m not gonna lie, I was a little bit worried about how rough the sea was. But anyway, I was told to jump in before Edwin joined me and we began to sink down beneath the surface. To be fair, whilst you are beneath the water, you don’t really notice the waves.

At first, it’s a little bit strange, you know, the whole being able to breathe underwater, but within seconds it felt completely comfortable. We did some exercises underwater that Edwin had explained back at the office (and I had completely forgotten). But he showed me himself first, and then I would complete them afterward. All communication was through sign language but it involves basic hand signals that are easy to remember. After the exercises, we had about 10 minutes to swim around and enjoy the reef and all of its occupants. After this dive, we boated to the land where we had a drink, a snack and a relax for a bit.

After this we went out for another dive, but this time in a different location. More exercises and training was done again before we had 15-20 minutes of swimming around. Edwin managed to spot a Green Turtle hiding beneath some vegetation. A girl at my hostel told me that she did her first two dives in a swimming pool at the dive centre. I had seen a turtle. I was definitely relieved with my choice of company. The second dive was the last of the day and we were done by 12:30pm and free to enjoy the rest of the day, well almost. I had a book to read, reviews to take and online exams to pass.

The next day was much the same but with a little more exploring time and fewer exercises. The idea was that it was a three-day course including six dives and then I would be ready. The first day we went down to about 12 metres and the second day we progressed to 18 metres beneath the surface. This is the maximum you are allowed to dive on a PADI open water beginner’s certificate. On day two’s dives, I managed to complete all the days’ tasks with ease allowing us more time to explore. We managed to spot a few different eels, including a moray eel and another one that I spotted buried beneath the sea bed.

Day three was the best day. I had one exercise to do on the first dive and then the rest of it, including the second dive of the day, was all about fun diving and not learning. Because Edwin could focus all his efforts on his sole pupil, me, the lessons were completed quickly leaving much more time to enjoy the experience. If the group was larger, I would have been waiting around watching other people go through the motions and taking up my free dive time. I think the best thing I saw on day three was a Stingray chilling on the bottom before he gracefully swam away. For each dive, we had enough oxygen to last for about 40 minutes before we needed to surface safely with spare oxygen in the tank.

Having completed my certification, I contemplated doing the Advanced Open Water course straight away. That was a testament to how awesome the experience was but I thought better of it due to the money factor. I wanted to treat myself after working the last six months but didn’t want to spend all my money in Colombia again. I thought about doing just a day’s diving but Ocean Lovers were full for the next day and I didn’t want to go elsewhere. So it was time to leave Taganga seeing as not much else other than diving was happening there.

I went from Taganga to watch the England game at El Rio Hostel, followed by visiting a friend’s house in the jungles of Guachaca. A guy they were living with had built this house and its location was beautiful. A small walk from the main house brought you to some cabins he rented out on Airbnb that overlooked the river below. So peaceful and quiet, I went down to the river to have a look. I wanted to swim as it looked so nice but had left my trunks back in the house, up the small hill. Seeing as there was only nature around, I decided to go skinny dipping as to not miss this opportunity. That’s when I realised that there was a jungle track that was, for some reason, now busy with motorbikes going back and forth from homes situated deeper in the jungle.

The water was very clear, I mean I could see everything when I looked down. Whether the passers-by could, I don’t know, I hope not for their benefit. Unable to leave the water due to traffic, I waited for my moment to go and get some breakfast. Before I had the opportunity, three Colombians decided to park their bikes where I was swimming to stop and have a smoke. There were many spots along the river they could stop, why here? I could understand if they wanted to chat with a gringo, but they weren’t very social or interested in talking. So breakfast was delayed a little bit until they had left to go on their way.

That afternoon, I made my way back to Santa Marta to wait out on a bus to a town San Gil. There was a night bus leaving at 10pm meaning I would arrive in San Gil at around 8am. San Gil was a town based around a river in an area that has lots of canyons, valleys and then obviously mountains. It is known for its extreme sports and adrenaline-fuelled activities. I didn’t really know much else about the place other than this, but I had heard good things about it from other people. I did a little bit of research on hostels but didn’t want to book anything until I had seen the town for itself.

Arriving at around 8am, we drove through San Gil to get to the bus terminal and it seemed quite busy, at least with traffic, noise, and people. I had seen a cheap hostel that was 6km out of town, up atop a hill, so I thought that would be a better place to stay rather than in a busy town centre. It was called the Lost Inn and not many locals had even heard of it. I found a moto-taxi driver who said he knew it and was willing to take me for 3000 pesos (the price should be 8000-10000 normally). This rang alarm bells for me so I double checked he knew where it was and I even showed him on a map its exact location. Yeah yeah yeah, it was fine, he knew it, no problem. Still cautious, I double checked the price. Yeah yeah yeah, no problem 3000 pesos, it’s fine.

So off we headed, back through San Gil and out the other side of the town. He stopped by the side of the road to ask a lady selling tours where the hostel was. She was unsure but pointed in the correct direction. I asked him if he needed me to direct him, seeing as I knew where it was. The same response came and we continued to head out of town. A little bit further down the road, we stopped again. This time he asked me to get off the bike and told me he can’t go any further. He said moto-taxis weren’t allowed to pass a police control over the brow of the hill so I had to find another way. I saw other passengers getting off bikes so I believed what he was saying. Then the other people started to get back on their bikes again. There were no police at the control today, so we were able to pass without problems and we continued.

We turned off the main road and headed uphill along a windy steep well-paved road. I told him there was another road on the left we had to take and he told me he knew which one and we continued. We clearly went far too far up the hill and I asked him to stop and turn around. I got my phone out and pulled up the map with directions. I had no faith in this guy now and I had already had my 3000 pesos worth of a journey. We found the road on the way back down the hill, and this was where the road became a gravel track. It was very steep, very rocky and very sketchy. This guy had clearly never been up here before and wasn’t filling me with confidence with his riding ability. It didn’t help that I had my big backpack pulling me backwards off the bike every time we went up a really steep part.

My body was getting a thorough work out trying to stay on the back of the bike whilst my heart was racing thinking that this dude was going to drop the bike or lose his balance. At one point it was so steep, and he was so scared, that he asked me to get off. He drove off up the hill leaving me behind to walk up the hill to meet him. I wondered what I was paying him for. Well, I wasn’t really paying him enough anyway. I think this path went on for about 2km and I had my heart was in my mouth, and poop in my pants for the whole distance. It doesn’t help when the driver is constantly shouting “whoa” and screaming in fear the whole way up. The route up was nowhere near as bad as the paths in Minca, but the driver was twice as bad so it made it a more terrifying experience.

Making it to The Lost Inn was a huge relief and a most welcoming experience. As soon as I arrived I was greeted by Jane, the manager, and the other 5 or 6 guests who were eating breakfast. I immediately felt at home and there was an amazing vibe present at this place, especially for so early in the morning. I arrived at around 9:30am and was given a bed and then offered to go out on an excursion. Eight people from the hostel were doing a trip that involved many activities and lasted the majority of the day so I thought I would join them. It was a canyoning experience that involved 10 different things to do throughout the day. I was told to get some swim shorts, shoes and then we were on our way.

The briefing for the trip was done at the centre and we were given a harness and a helmet. We started off on our first activity for the day, an eco-walk. To be honest it was just a 10-minute walk to the first real thing we could call an activity. We walked down towards a river that had carved a canyon through the hill and left loads of massive rocks lying around. Once there, we had a jump off a big rock, 5 metres down into a narrow pool of water. Then we walked back up a little bit to a ‘bridge’ that crossed the shallower part of the water we had just jumped into. The bridge was actually just two wires that crossed the water, one for your feet and one for your hands. Easy. Except once you started walking across, the guides started furiously shaking the wires to make you fall off.

You were clipped in so death wasn’t possible and to be honest, it was just really annoying what they were doing. This was unless you were watching and then it was absolutely hilarious watching someone struggle so much to do a simple task. The guides were funny guys and they didn’t give up until you had fallen off. Even if it meant climbing out to you and shaking the wires from inches away. The two guides were twenty-year-old Colombians who didn’t really install confidence but they were entertainingly funny. They made the experience much better than it was because so far it wasn’t very extreme.

The following activities included a 12 metre abseil, a climb through a whole a huge rock that led you into freezing cold water and then onto a 25 metre abseil. On the way down this abseil, you had your feet on rocks for a bit and then they disappeared so you had to rappel the last 15 metres or so. This was when the guy, who was supposed to be belaying you (your safety guy), was swinging your rope around causing you to do the same. I’m sure it would have been funny had it not been for the fact that I trod in a load of ants on the way down and they were now having an all you can eat buffet on my right foot and ankle.

The following activity was a rock climb. This was actually having to climb a rock, one rock, on the walk back up the canyon to the activity centre where we started. From here we walked a bit and ended up and another site where they had activities. This was where there were two zip lines of about 600m each. They both went from one side of the valley to the other with spectacular views all around. After this, we went to an ‘Extreme Swing’ and the last activity of the day. This was by far the best activity of the day and I think that was an opinion echoed by the majority of the group if not all.

Imagine a ginormous swing, maybe 15-20 metres high, on the edge of a mountain. You were well and truly strapped into the seat with two harnesses, many clips and safety belts everywhere. You were then dragged backwards and upwards until you were more or less level with the top of the swing in front of you. This was when, without warning, the clip was released and you sort of dropped down before you were swept across the floor and out over the valley. It was funny listening to everyone and seeing their faces as the swing caught your free fall and swung you out into nothing. Even though a lot of the activities were a tad lame, the whole day was well worth the money and a really good laugh. The swing was probably worth half the entrance fee alone.

Once back at the hostel, you could relax in the peace and quiet of nature and enjoy the cooler air at a higher altitude. The fresher air was a welcome relief, not only from the heat in town but also from the insects that were there. It meant that I could comfortably put my pyjamas on to protect my legs from the midges without being too sweaty. The evenings here were very relaxed, normally with a few beers and a family meal. Jane cooked every night and she cooked well. Everyone gathered around a big table and the food was chucked in the middle to help yourself. Accompanying Jane’s delicious food was Felipe’s home-made bread. Felipe was Jane’s Colombian husband who was a trained chef. The thing was that Felipe didn’t really like cooking anything other than bread. He actually loved making bread, it was his passion and this showed in its flavour. It was always better than amazing, no matter whether it was naan, pizza or pitta.

That first night, we met one of Felipe’s friends, Sergio, who lived on a farm outside of a nearby town called Curiti. We had planned to go to Curiti the following day, more specifically Pescaderito, a river that carved through the valley creating natural swimming pools along the way. To get there, we had two options, a bus or a walk. So about 12 of us set off on the walk which should take us an hour and a half as we passed along the top of the hill down the valley back up and down again. It was a really nice walk, if not a little slower than expected after missing a couple of turnings, but we ended up in Curiti in time for a spot of lunch. We had already lost 2 people who were walking slower and Sergio as well who was coming by motorbike.

You can walk the extra hour from Curiti to Pescaderito but to save time, it was easier to take a tuk-tuk. We arrived at the starting point where there was a big swimming pool but there was so much more to see further up. We walked along the river, following it upstream as it passed over, and through large rocks that had been deposit through ancient heavy rains. The path upstream ran alongside the river, but sometimes 30-40 metres above it. Coming off this path were many smaller trails winding down to the water itself. We took one of these trails and found an area to swim and relax. The steep rocky sides meant there were lots of places to jump in, along as the water was deep enough below.

After playing here for a bit, we wanted to head further upstream to see what we could find. That’s where we found Sergio and the two others we had lost earlier. This was Sergio’s home patch so he knew it like the back of his hand. He took us to a spot where there was a tree that hung over the water creating a 10m jump. I followed him across to the other side of the river to get to the tree. I then followed him up the tree, which was easy to climb, and then he back-flipped perfectly into the water below. It looked a lot higher from up the tree when you were looking down, but not too high to jump. There was no chance I was backflipping it though, I will leave that to the pros.

Further up the hillside, behind the tree jump, was a little cabin-like house. It had 2 bedrooms, a balcony, nothing else and was apparently $8 a night, according to Sergio. It seemed too good to be true but worth looking into. Three of us were keen to stay there a night and then walk up the river the following day where we could find a massive waterfall after a 2-3 hours hike. The following day I went on the back of Sergio’s bike to go and speak to the owners of the little house. After speaking to the lady, she agreed that it was 25000 pesos (about US$8) for the house with as many people as we wanted to stay. Brilliant, we told her that we would return the next day.

After speaking to the lady, Sergio and I head further up the road, into the mountains and to Sergio’s parents’ house and farm. With this being much further up the mountain, it was a little bit colder. His mum provided me with some lunch which was very kind of her and then we made our way back to the hostel. True to form, it started raining as we left his house. At this altitude, the rain was freezing cold, as was the wind, and they both started to get stronger. I remembered on the way up Sergio telling me about how he fell off his bike on this road the other day because when it was wet, it was really slippery. Brilliant, it was now really wet. We made it down it one peace and even back up the steep road that led to the hostel without any problems.

The next day someone was ill so we delayed our stay in the house by a couple of days. We eventually arrived back at the little house with all our stuff ready to go. I walk up the side of the valley to speak to the owner. This time it was a man and he said it was 25000 for just one room. He also said that there was no key for the other room. After discussing with him for about 30 minutes, I had called him up on about five separate lies. I don’t know why but he really didn’t want us staying there. So, in the end, I gave up listening to his excuses and we went back to the hostel. It was a shame because it would have been amazing to be there at night and wake up there, with the whole place to ourselves. But never mind, maybe next time.

I spent a little more time at The Lost Inn, which gave me the time to do a bungee jump. There were two choices of bungees, one at 70m and the other at 140m. We had heard from many people that the 140m bungee only had a 70m bungee cord so it was more or less the same as the 70m one. What made the 70m one better was that you were much closer to the floor when the cord (hopefully) pulled you back up. So we decided to do the 70m bungee as it was heavily recommended over the other one. Four of us did it, including Sergio, which was hilarious. He had never done it before and was bricking it. Having seen him jump out of the tree with consummate ease, it was funny to see him so scared. I took it as my responsibility to make it worse for him by constantly winding him up and talking about death.

The location for the bungee was really nice with a crane raising a platform 70m up over the river Fonce, which ran through San Gil. As you jumped, you headed straight for the shallow, rocky water. The views from the top were amazing and I wanted to try and keep my eye on them for as long as possible as I swan dove off the platform. Unfortunately, I could only focus my attention on the rapidly approaching river as I fell to within 5-10 metres of it. It was a short but sweet experience and definitely worth the 20 bucks to do it.

Next on the list of things to do in San Gil was white water rafting. There were a few options here with lots of valleys, a few rivers and many locations with raging water powering over the rocky river beds. So I chose the one everyone else had done or was doing as it had rave reviews as one of the best experiences they had done in this area. We were picked up early by minibus and were driven out of town to the River Suarez. On the way we stopped to pick up other people and also fill out all the paperwork that says it’s my fault if I die etc etc. As per normal, there were troubles arriving at our destination. The road was blocked, traffic was at a standstill and cars were going in all directions trying to achieve something but actually achieving nothing.

We turned around and took a track that ended up at the entrance to a farm. The guys went looking for someone to talk to but there was no one there. We were looking for a short cut across the mountain to get to the valley and river on the other side but we couldn’t pass this farm so we had to turn around. This would have been easier had it not been for the two inflatable rafts on the trailer behind the minibus and the narrow track we were on. Either way, we manage to turn around, take another path and then make it to the other side and close to where we were heading. This was when we hit the police roadblock. There was a cycle race going through the area so it was impossible to get to where we were wanting to get to before the race had passed by.

With this knowledge, we decided to go into the town on foot and get some lunch before the rafting. After an early start, it was actually lunchtime already so that was a good plan. After lunch and a few beers, we watched the cyclist steaming through the roads of Socorro, a small town with a big history. It is the town where a smaller scale revolution against the Spanish rule (mainly because of a rise in taxes for tobacco and brandy) was said to be the precursor for Colombia’s independence from the Spanish. Once the cyclist had passed by, the roads opened immediately and the lives of all resumed back to normal again.

When we arrived at our location, we went down beside the river for a safety briefing and explanation of what to do if we were catapulted out of the boat. Supposedly we were about to pass through some grade 5 rapids which are classed as pretty intense and dangerous. We had 4 people in our boat and a guide, as did the other boat, and there was another dude in a kayak as support for people who ended up in the water. With a little practice in the calm waters edge, we were ready to go. At the front of the raft was myself and Quinn, a young Aussie guy who was fit and healthy. The front was the more intense position where the more experienced and stronger paddlers were needed. The next row back was a French couple, and at the back in the middle was the guide and the only experienced one who was steering the raft with the paddle-rudder.

We passed down the river with relative ease through some basic rapids before our guide told us to prepare for the tougher rapids. As we entered the rapids, it all went a bit wrong very quickly and I am not sure what quite happened. I think the boat flipped over because I remember being in the water and holding onto the raft, but in the next moment, it had all changed. I was in the raft, the correct way up. I looked to my right to find Quinn, he wasn’t there. I turned around to see the others. They were not there either. I was in the boat alone as even the guide had ended up in the drink. I reached out with my paddle so Quinn could grab it and also grabbed the paddle of the French guy. Whilst rescuing two people, the guide had entered the boat and rescued the other person.

Apparently, the guide was catapulted out of the boat and flew through the air, but in the middle of all the action, there wasn’t time to see this happening, unfortunately. It all passed really quickly and there was no time to think, instincts kind of took over as the adrenaline kicked in. With everyone back in the boat and all ok, we continued down the river on relatively calmer rapids. There were opportunities to get out of the boat and float down the river when there were no rocks or strong rapids. With the help of the buoyancy aids, you could just sit back, relax and enjoy the beautiful views as you floated wherever the river wanted to take you. Then in the distance, you could see some rapids approaching so it was time to return to the safety of the boat.

As we neared the end of the 2-hour journey down the River Suarez, we approached the ferocious, fierce, and final rapids. These were the strongest and most violent of all the rapids, but now we were experienced, seasoned pros at this rafting malarkey. As soon as we entered the rapids, it went to pot. The raft hit a big rock on the right-hand side which catapulted Quinn into me. Basically, he flew into me like a spear tackle in rugby and took me out of the boat. I remember being underwater and feeling him next to me before he and the boat were gone. From this point onwards, I was taking the rapids on by myself, under the water without the chance to take a breath. I tried to get myself in the safety position that we were told but I was being tossed around like a washing machine and every time the surface appeared, I was back beneath the water before I could think about taking a breath.

Having been in this situation before whilst surfing, I knew it was not a good idea to panic because you burn more quickly what oxygen you have left. I sort of just waited around, covering up my fragile parts, hoping not to hit any rocks and hoping that I would surface soon. And when I did eventually surface, I breathed, I breathed a lot of air. I turned around to see the raft 2 metres behind me with everyone on board. We were now floating on a calm bit of the river so I took my time to relax and get my heart rate down before getting back into the boat. I think the chances of death were pretty slim, but in the moment of not knowing, that feeling is what makes it more fun.

With the fun in San Gil over it was soon time to make my way to the Amazon to start the next volunteering role. After contact with Jurgen, the owner, I had some things that I needed to buy before I arrived at his lodge, lost in the jungle. The best place for this was Bogota seeing as it had many shops available and many cheap places to make these purchases. Bogota also had the overnight bus that took me to where I needed to go to arrive at La Isla Escondida. Other people may disagree, but for me, Bogota is a little bit boring. There isn’t much to see or do there so I took this time to organise myself and prepare for the next month in the Amazon.

Whilst I was in Bogota, there was a free concert going on. It was a concert to celebrate 25 years of partnership between French schools and Bogota so it involved French and Colombian artists and groups. The music started off pretty suspect but got better as the night grew on. There was an especially good Colombian group I didn’t know called Borojo and another one I did know called Systema Solar. It was basically music to make you dance and shake your ass. Even better was that it was free and also not too busy so we could position ourselves right at the front of the crowd before the party kicked off.

Not much else other than this happened in Bogota before I started making my way to Amazon. And that brings me to now, although the following morning after I started writing this. Last nights sleep wasn’t very good at all. Space was limited and the positions I could find weren’t that comfortable. I probably got an hour’s straight sleep and another hour’s sleep broken up by tossing and turning. But waking up as the condensation cleared from the windows was something magical. It was like waking up amongst old friends in a familiar place, I was in the jungle again. The plants and trees were recognisable to the ones I had lived amongst in Panama and as time passed by, I was seeing other friends. Many of the birds I was seeing, were birds that I knew, birds that I could name. I now had this sense of excitement for the next few months, curious as to what else I was going to see, what I was going to experience.