There’s a lull in the conversation, my chin juts forward hopefully, like a tentative turtle seeking water, I raise my eyes and look around, ‘anyone want to play a game?’
There’s a beat. Silence… I guess that’s a no.
Bleary-eyed and crumpled against the bus window, I roused myself from sleep and looked up at my companions. Following their gaze, I looked left and felt that heart-dropping sensation people talk about..I wasn’t looking left, I was looking down and I could have scooped some mud off the mountain floor, despite being sat in a bus.
Guess the rain and the bad roads had finally caught up with us.
A day’s rest in Santa Marta (thank you Santa Marta) and we were off to the neighbouring town of Minca. A slightly less trodden path, no doubt about to be overwhelmed by the increasing tourist flow, Minca retains the authenticity, charm and familiarity that for me, Cartagena lacked.