We went to an island off the coast of Colombia near Cartegena. I hear Cartegena is not what it used to be. I was starting to get this feeling right about the time that random man on the street accosted me and requested that I eat his ... err ... excrement. I politely declined. It's still a beautiful city and I want to go back once they decide it's time to rid the city of the plague of vendors that is currently swarming their streets.
The island was very remote and very private, it took a very rocky 2 hour speed boat ride to get there. Friends with sea sick tendencies would have been toast. Upon arrival we were welcomed with a nice young gentleman handing us chilled beverages as we exited the boat, had lunch immediately and then headed off to settle in the room. Nap #1. On average, we took 2 to 3 naps (ranging from one to three hours) a day .... some in the room, some on the beach under the huts. I had no idea how tired I was till I got there and had nothing to do but sleep.
Dr. J and I had different ideas about a pleasant day on the beach. I was looking forward to flying through a couple books (sadly, I inadvertently abandoned Harry Potter on the plane) beneath the huts, getting an afternoon massage, and sucking down one pina colada after the next. Dr. J had starry eyes dreaming of the kayaking, snorkeling and sand castle building that lay ahead. Most of the week was some combination thereof, but it's terribly difficult to have productive reading time when your child is in the water constantly screaming, "look at me! look at me! come see this!". Sadly, I didn't have the camera with me the day the Grand Castle was constructed so I can't show you Dr. J's handiwork that was so extensive that it nearly caused us to miss lunch hour. (Also, let me point out that there were a couple dozen children under the age of 12 and NONE of them built sand castles until after old school Dr. J took the initiative)
I did manage to get that massage, oh and to have a friendly native woman spend two hours braiding my hair (photos to come). The only bad thing about the week was that the food wasn't really up to par. This could be considered a good thing since we didn't eat ourselves into oblivion, however, by "par" I mean that I spent one night Praying to the Porcelain God until the island nurse came and injected a syringe into my bo. On my honeymoon. It was most embarrassing, yet somehow very fitting for me. It was sort of another welcoming ceremony to Dr. J so he could really see what he'd gotten into.
I suppose there is more, we'll see if I get to it later.
Moving Forward vs. Moving On
2 months ago