Caribbean on the Cheap

As we gripped the armrests in the 10-seat plane, Cath and I looked at each other with trepidation. I’m thinking to myself, ´Is going to a beach really worth all this?’ It is officially hurricane season and we are being tossed around by a Caribbean gale. We can see the pilot and he doesn’t seem too worried, but this doesn’t reassure me. We’re on our way to Providencia, a small island belonging to Colombia, not far off the east coast of Nicaragua. 
 The island, along with its bigger, more developed neighbour San Andres, has been a bone of contention between the two countries for close to 200 years. Colombia stubbornly holds on , and the only flights to San Andres are from the Colombian mainland. From there the tiny death-cage, er, airplane, flies on to Providencia.
As we approach- much more smoothly now- I look out the window to see the island. I begin to realise this isn’t a trip to just any seaside town. It appears as if some giant painter has spilt all of his blues and greens, creating a stunning seascape. When I point the scene out to Cath, she manages to open her eyes for a second and give a half-smile through her still-gritted teeth. 

Our relief at landing is tempered somewhat by the wrecked plane next to the runway. It’s not the most encouraging sight, but whatever, it’s a few years old apparently, and anyway, we’re not getting on a plane for another five days, so I’ll worry about it then.
We ride in the back of a pick-up (our taxi) to Aguadulce, one of three towns on the island.  The driver drops us at our first choice hotel, Miss Ella’s, and asks us when our return flight is.  He offers to come get us, but I am sceptical as to whether he will remember.
Fortunately, Ella has a room available (actually all the rooms were available), and for about $US 40 we have a room about 20 metres from the sea. That night, while sitting outside our room admiring the stars, a local approaches us. ‘Are you interested in a lunch? ´ A little bit late for that, I think to myself, but listen on.  He’s actually asking if we want to go on his launch for a tour of the island later on. As opposed to most salespeople in tourist destinations, he doesn’t seem too worried if we don’t accept- he’s happy just to chat. We agree that a few days later we will take him up on his offer, at the price of 50,000 pesos each (about 15 pounds). 
The next couple of days, though, we spend cycling and lazing on the beaches around the island.  Providencia being a former volcano, the cycling isn’t always easy, but it’s a great way of working off all the seafood we’ve been eating.  

This is my first experience of the Caribbean, and it’s better than I could have hoped. I’m not really a beach lover, but the pace of life here is irresistible. It is a stark contrast to the rest of Colombia. For a start, English is spoken more than Spanish, but more than that, the chaos and intensity of mainland Colombia is absent.
Colombians, almost without exception, are friendly and outgoing, but here hospitality is taken to a new level.  When we stay at Roland’s Roots Bar too long, our new friend Peaches is more than happy to follow us on his motorbike while we cycle the 3 miles to Aguadulce, providing some light on the otherwise pitch black roads (not enough, though, to avoid the occasional crunch of running over a crab).  

Climbing El Pico, the highest point of the island, is more my holiday style, but at just over 300 m we’re not exactly scaling Mont Blanc.  Walking through neighbourhoods, then farms and then the uninterrupted greenery, we’re treated to views of the verdant island and indigo sea.  I can tell that I’ve embraced the local way of life when, just a couple hundred of feet from the top, I suggest that we head back down and have a couple of beers instead. 

The next day is the launch tour, and my eyes are opened to a new world.  At tiny McBean Lagoon National Park, an islet just a couple of hundred yards off   our guide provides snorkel gear. Embarrassing at is to admit, I have actually never been snorkelling. Ever. Now I realise what I’ve been missing out on.  Underneath, amongst the coral, are fish I’ve never dreamt of seeing in real life. The yellows, purples, and other neon colours belong in a child’s colouring book, not on living creatures. When I’m finally dragged away I understand why so many people are into scuba diving. 

The following morning, our last on the island, reminds us why there are so few tourists right now.  Fortunately, we’re not experiencing a full-fledged hurricane, but it seems pretty damn close. As the rain pounds down around us, I begin to wonder if our taxi-driver will remember us, or if we should make alternate arrangements to get to the airport.  Just then, a familiar pick-up truck pulls up, and our driver from a few days ago helps us fit our luggage and ourselves into the front cab.  Making our way to the airport, I start to contemplate our flight back. No matter what happens, at least I know I’ve managed to visit paradise. 

Miss Ella's