Colombia: Arboletes

In the coastal town of Arboletes, we reached the border of Antioquia and Córdoba, wallowed in the mud volcano, relaxed on the beach and made new friends.

Arboletes is a slighty chaotic fishing village, and a local tourist destination for the nice beaches and a mud volcano. Arriving in the late afternoon, we were tracked down in the town by a hotel owner who had seen us on the road and we were shown to Mi Remanso on the beach. After a long hot day on the way and dinner overlooking the water, a good nights sleep was in order but not to be had. The excessive noise that characterised this region peaked to a new level of annoyance with a party raging all night in the beach bar below, and even worse early morning aerobics on the beach with dance party volume music. After moving to room with no view but no noise we enjoyed the stay and were well looked after.

Enjoying dinner and sunset by the beach

We walked via the beach on the way to the mud volcano, and were surprised when a man playing with his son started talking to us in English. I certainly look like a tourist, but it is unusual to find anyone here who speaks English (we met an English teacher who could barely have a simple conversation). Our new friend was Edinson, a Colombian who had lived in the States for twenty years, and is a naturally friendly and hospitable soul. Within 10 minutes of meeting us, he had invited us to stay with them in his beautiful big house. They joined us for a "swim" in the volcano, quite a surreal experience. The mud is extremely thick (impossible to sink into), and smells like crude oil. Apparently the mud is therapeutic, and it did seem to clean the skin (maybe no better than a bath in petrol). It took many showers and some days to remove all the mud, and using earplugs a week later (to block out another Caribbean party) I discovered my ears were still black inside.

Crossing the river mouth by canoe, and bathing in the mud at the volcano

We spent some days exploring the beaches around Arboletes, eating lots of cobs of corn (roasted over a wood fire on the streets), drinking wonderful juices, and enjoying the company and hospitality of our new friends. We stayed a couple of nights, camping on the verandah of Edinson's palacial beach house, a beautiful two-story thatched bungalow filled with treasures from his travels in Asia and Africa. The "winter" has started here, and most evenings it rains heavily all night. One night we were awoken by a terrifying crack of thunder as lightning hit very close to the house (close enough to burn out some lights). The dining table, kitchen benches and bed-heads were beautifully crafted from slabs of an enormous tree that used to stand in the garden and had succumbed to a lightning strike. In the evening the house was visited by frogs, large toads, and pretty moths and when the lights were out we watched the fireflies dancing on the ceiling.