I SPEAK BECAUSE I CAN

Do you want to know what the worst word is, in the english language? It's not hate; it's not greed; it's not jealously. No, it's CAN'T! It is a word that should never have been introduced into the vocab. It is a word that should never be learnt. Unfortunately it is a word I learnt a long time ago and a word that I have been using too much ever since. It is so imbedded in my psyche, that I believe I can't really do anything anymore. I say I can't do it before I have even tried. It is an unhealthily disposition to have, a loss of ones faith in ones self. My Achilles heel in life is when some one calls me stupid. I get defensive, even when it's meant as a passing joke. This is because, I have grown to actually believe that I am stupid, I even play up to it. I set out on this trip to challenge myself again and try new things. One of these things was to try and learn Spanish!
I had done two weeks of lessons for four hours a day in Costa Rica, which I was a little bit like a rabbit in the head lights. It was one of the hardest things I have done in a long time. I came away from those lessons thinking I hadn't learnt anything and that I was rubbish. I had once again gone back into my bad thought zone. Since then I have been taking the easy route hanging out with Gringo's, and talking English.
One thing I will say about me is that, I get knocked down very easily, but I will always get back up again, and so I decided it was about time I went back to Spanish lessons and try again. Laura and Luis also run a Spanish school, so it was perfect. I signed up for a week of three hours a day.
My new teachers were Sonja who I did grammar with and Carlos who did conversation. Sonja who is sweet and patient, knows English as well as Spanish, which has helped me so much, as she can explain to me the difficult grammar. All those notes and hours of grammar in Costa Rica that made no sense to me, are slowly all now starting to slot into place. Thank God!
The real revelation of these lessons though was Carlos! He is one of life's real characters and one of the best people I have ever met. Even though he speaks really no English, I have become very close to him and his wife Cecilia, who have become like parents to me in the very short time I have known them. I'm only meant to have three hours a day but it's more like five, as every night I have been asked to stay for dinner with him and cecilia, and they make me the best hot chocolate in the world, which they dip cheese in over here, which I get nausea over and can't do (me and my food phobias)! We talk art, as Carlos paints and I showed him my drawings which he got very excited over. He encourages me talk, (actually he makes me talk until I have no more brain space to learn) never laughs at me, only with me and I feel comfortable talking Spanish with him, some thing that has not happened before. He and Cecilia call me their adopted English daughter and when they walk me home every night back to my hostel, they proudly introduce me to their friends like I'm part of the family. On one of our evening walks around the town, which we usually did, to practice vocab, I told Carlos how much I wanted to speak Spanish. He laughed and said I will then. I told him I was no good at it and he laughed again and said you can speak, and you will learn to speak more and then more and then more, so do not say anymore you can't, you can!
I wish I could stay longer with Carlos, he has such passion for wanting you to learn and has ignited this passion in me as well. I will miss him and Cecilia a lot, my adopted Colombian parents. I will miss Laura, Luis and family. This place as well. There is something very special about here. I will take away from here a lot, but the most important thing I will take is the word CAN.

Im going to leave you with an Argentinean song by a lady called Mercerdes Sosa. I listen to it every day on my way to lessons. It's called la pobrecita, which means poor thing. Even though I cannot yet understand all the words, I think it's a beautiful song and she sings which such emotion. It makes me want to understand Spanish more.

TRANQUILO

Life is one big party; isn't it? Well I always thought so, being the party girl I am, or maybe I was? After over a week with the Aussies and two late ones in Bogota, I was feeling worn out. I guess I'm getting too old for it all. My skin was bad, I had bags under my eyes and even I realised, I looked too thin. It was to time to get some calm, some tranquilo. With Colleen gone and Martin working all the time, there was nothing to keep in me Bogota. Besides it's cold, wet and ugly and was the first place on this trip that I felt really unsafe as a woman on her own. My friend, Billy, had told me about a place called villa de Leyva four hours from Bogota, in the hills. It sounded like the perfect place to chill. After navigating the bus network of Bogota, finding a bus to take me to Villa, the bus getting wedged between two trucks, mudslides, crazy winding roads and once again one mad bus driver, I arrived in villa in heavy rain. After walking the streets for ages and getting very wet, because I could not understand the directions people where giving me (it's always a problem when you can only ask questions in Spanish, but not understand the God dam answers)! I eventually arrived at my hostel: Rana.

Billy had stayed at Rana too and had loved it so much he had ended up staying two weeks. Rana is run by a English wife and Colombian husband; Laura and luis. As soon as I walked through the door I knew I had made the right decision. I felt right at home straight away. I walked into craziness! Kids running everywhere, lots of noise and no room to move. Luis and Laura have three girls and it was Maya, the eldest birthday. It reminded me of my home when I was growing up, it was so full of life and warmth. In no time I'm dragged into having my nails painted as it's a manicure party (eleven year olds these days are so sophisticated) and was given a huge piece of birthday cake. It felt so nice to be around a family again. Thats the amazing thing about this hostel; it feels more like a home than a hostel and no one can ask for more than that. That night as I tried to sleep, I realised how much I missed my family, even though I say I don't miss them, I do. I always feel so loved and happy around them. I told myself that night I will make a big effort, when I get back, to see them more and not make my excuses that make me a stranger to them some times.

Even though I came here to chill, I've actually been quite busy, but in a good way. Apart from doing more Spanish lessons (which I will talk about in another post), I have been making the most of seeing the local area which is so beautiful. Beth, laura's sister, who is out here for a vacation with her daughter Carmen, has been coming on a lot of excursions with me, and as her Spanish is as bad as mine it's been quite interesting. As no one really speaks English here( thats why I came!) Trying to communicate to our taxi driver on where we want to go has been a mission, but also extremely funny as he usually takes us to the wrong place first, but I find life more interesting when it goes wrong. The other day I got a taxi to some hot springs on my own. My taxi man was a young local, who I think fancied his chances, even though he didn't speak any English. After having to strip off to my bikini in front of a load of local builders who were building a house next to the spring, I then turned round to find the taxi driver had stripped down to his Y fronts and was getting in the spring with me. Oh God! He then proceeded trying to talk to me using all his best lines. Luckily some old people who could speak English got in too and I started talking to them and practising my Spanish. As he was not getting anymore attention,the taxi driver then got out of the spring and then proceeded to stand there posing talking to the builders in just his Y fronts which were so unsexy, I can't tell you! I couldn't stop laughing which pissed him off even more. He just couldn't understand why I didn't want him! I find out later, off others, that he really wants a western girlfriend, even though he is married with two kids. Men hey!

As I was a good horse rider in my past, I've been doing quite a lot of horse riding here. My guide who again speaks no English is great and we go off galloping in the mountains. The only problem is he keeps trying to marry me off to his farm friend who is about 100, but who he keeps telling me has lots of land and property. No thanks! In fact the other day I had a sore back and even the guide started to rub my back, while he felt my bra a lot doing it. God! The men are on heat around here!

I spend most of my spare time eating (I've put on weight which is great), writing, reading and in the evenings I hang out with my friend Cyril, a French guy who I met in Bogota, who also works in the film business. We usually moan about the industry, talk football, music and then have a good old debate on politics (I love a good debate)! I feel so happy here. Everything is tranquilo.

OBSERVATIONS

* It appears you can do DIY funerals in Colombia, as I observed the other day when I saw someone with an estate car, driving around the streets with a procession following it. It wasn't as big as a hearst though, as the coffin was sticking out the back.

* You know that you have a really bad bus driver when even the local sat next to you makes the sign of the cross!

* So Latin America's are the most amazing dancers, they put us to shame and make us look like idiots on the dance floor; well that's with their music, because I realised in the nightclub the other week, they can't dance for shit to western music. There is a God!

BLONDES HAVE MORE FUN, DON'T THEY?

Before I went away, loads of people were telling me to dye my hair dark, to go traveling to south America. Even the west ( that's the actor Dominic west aka McNulty to you!) was telling me I was crazy not too and that I was going to get molested! I told him to shut up and go and do something useful like acting or something, because we had that kind of relationship where I could talk to him like that ( in fact I seem to have that type of relationship with most actors)! Anyway back to the subject at hand: BLONDE! Because I'm as stubborn as a mule I refused to. I've had my years of experimenting, red, brunette and pink (that was an accident!) and I have come to realise I'm a blonde through and through, besides blondes have more fun, don't they?
It was quite apparent from as soon as I started my travels, that blondes are something of a rarity over here (apart from some local women who try to dye it but it looks more like some bad orange sun kiss)! I had survived it in India; the staring and the touching of hair, but here I have been finding it more difficult. The men here are much more vocal and full on and leave you feeling a lot more uncomfortable, especially as a woman on her own. It becomes quite tiring as well. It was on a day in Cartagena, walking around on my own, when after feeling fragile still from the boat; sick and tired of being harassed by the local men and sad for reasons I will not talk about; I met Martin.

I was standing at the fort taking pictures when a tall, dark, good looking guy approached me. He spoke to me in Spanish and from my little understanding, I guessed he wanted me to take a picture of him, which I did. He carried on talking to me in Spanish, asking me questions like my name, where I was from and wether I wanted to go for a drink with him. I looked like a rabbit in the head lights, but mustered through and explained to him I knew a little Spanish and was trying to learn. We went on like this for a while, me suffering why I fluffed my way through my terrible Spanish conversation skills, Martin listening patiently. Then he turns round and said "We can speak English for a while if you want"?
"You can speak English fluently, then why didn't you"? Was my response.
"Because how are you meant to learn Spanish if you don't try to speak it"! Was his valid reply. Point taken then. It turns out Martin is a Spaniard living in Bogota, Colombia, working in human rights. He also happens to be very good company too. We spent the rest of the day together walking and talking, sometimes in my bad Spanish, most of the time in English. It's funny how you can meet a complete stranger and pore out some of your most deep thoughts and feelings, but that's what I did and him too. As he was leaving that night to catch a flight back to Bogota we sat on the old city Walls and watched the sunset go down. We were exchanging email addresses and as I was typing mine into his phone he grabbed my face moved it to his and kissed me. When he had finished, I sat there completely speechless for once in my life and blushed like a little girl. I had not expected it, but I was completely blown away by it. It was one of the most romantic and passionate kisses I have ever had in my life. We told each other we would meet in Bogota and he left on a plane that night.

Two weeks later I found myself in Bogota. I was unsure whether to call Martin. I guess I wanted to preserve that perfect day and moment between us and not tarnish it with the usual disappointment that follows with these things. I pondered. While I was pondering, I met my new room mate at my hostel: a Bubbly Canadian called Colleen. She was hitting the bars that night with her fellow class mates from language school and asked me if I wanted to come a long. "Why the hell not!" I thought, which seems to be my motto these days. After walking for what seemed like miles to try and find the cheap bars, and having an accidental detour into a brothel thinking it was a bar, we eventually ended up in some cheesy night club as the only Gringo's. Now I have been to a few night clubs in my time but I have never been to one where the playlist ranges from shakin Stevens to the violent femmes. Crazy, but not as crazy as the drunk Colombian guy who wouldn't leave me a lone all night and kept saying he was in love with me and that if I didn't kiss him he was going to die from a broken heart. He then vomited in a glass and passed out, (actually he is probably one of the better guys I have been chatted up by in my life)! I crawled in the early hours of the morning again.

I eventually decided to take the plunge and contact Martin as I figured I'm a lot more use to dealing with the disappointment of the reality of men, than the disappointment of the not knowing. We arranged to meet at his apartment in the city. I was wondering if I was going to feel weird meeting him again, but as soon as he opened the door I knew it was going to be alright. What was weird was being in such a modern fancy apartment after being in such simple surroundings for over 2 months. We started to talk again, drank beers and I realised Martin is one of the most interesting and intelligent guys I have met in a long time. We talked for hours, listened to music and then.....? ANYWAY, later he took me to the good area of Bogota for dinner (as believe me Bogota doesn't have that many of them) but the real treat of the night was going to a real salsa club that all the locals went to. It was amazing and so different from the nightclubs back home. Everyone dances in couples and watches everyone else. Martin dragged me onto the dance floor and tried to make me salsa, but dancing as a couple is something I'm not use to and left me feeling like I had two left feet. I went to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. God I felt so unattractive. I was wearing the same clothes I had worn for the last three days as they were the only warm ones I had (Bogota is freezing); had hardly any make up on; and looked tall and gangly compared to all the curvy beautiful latino women. I look like a tramp, I thought and would never be seen dead like this in London. I came back to the table feeling a bit out of spirits, while Martin departed to go for a cigarette. As he left a Colombian guy came up to the table and asked if I would dance with him. Being very proper and English I said I was here with some one else. As he left Martin came back and asked what happened. I told him and he laughed and told me that I should dance with as many men as I could and he women because that's what everyone does here. It's like one big melting pot of sexual tension and flirtation. How wonderful. The latinos are the most sexual people ever and very open with it, it's very catching too as I found that me and Martin couldn't keep our hands off each other. I have never given or received that kind of public displays of affection before, but I loved it. I was even starting to love salsa, as every time Martin left the table I had a new guy come and ask me to dance and this time I did not refuse. Every single one of them asked me where I was from, what was my name and that they loved my hair. After salsa-ring the night away we left the club in the early hours of the morning in cab driven by colombia's answer to Micheal Schumacher, who I'm sure was trying to kill us. What a night! The next morning, I left Martins with a smile on my face and thought to myself; its true; blondes do have so much more fun.

ONE OF THE GUYS

I've never really been a girly girl. I don't like pink; I hate chick flicks and I don't cry if I snap a nail; in fact I don't give a shit about my nails! Even though I have lots of girl friends, who I would never be with out and mean the world to me, I've realised most of the time I very happy in company of just men. Why I'm not quite sure, I just find it easier sometimes. I found myself after the lost city trek, back in Taganga sharing a dorm with Seven of the guys: the Aussie dingos; the two swissy fags; Italian Ed and Jess the Brit; plus another Aussie who was already there. I was asked if I wanted to stay in a dorm with more girls, to which I replied, "why would I want to do that!" Much more more fun with guys. Besides they don't take as long in the bathroom, though it does smell more. Now the rules of being like just one of the guys are as follows
1. First and most importantly you have to be able to drink beer. I did well, but not to Aussie standards, but they are in a league of their own!

2. You have to be able to quote loads of bad stuff from the urban dictionary.

3. You have to be able to put up with peer pressure, and having the piss taken out you all the time i.e. Pussy fag and slag!

4. You can't take to long in the bathroom or getting ready to go out.

5. You must be able to put up with burping, farting and gross talk while eating ( this one I really struggled with)!

6. And finally you must not have any meaningful or serious conversations. This is just boring.

These are the rules of being one of the guys!

There is one problem with being one the guys though! I have breasts and a vagina and no matter what, you will always a girl; you realise this when everyone still keeps smacking you on the arse or telling you to get your tits out! Anyway I like being a woman, so I became the female mascot among the men instead.
Our trek group all decided to have a big night out that night. My Colombian husband Carlos came along too and insisted on sitting next to be at dinner. After dinner we hit Taganga's one and only night club which played awful music but you don't really care when your that drunk. I then had to dance with Carlos and I had to keep removing his hands from near my arse a lot! Most of the boys were trying to get it on with some Argentinean girls with very little success, which I found very amusing and the Aussies got German No 1 wasted again. In fact German No 1 seems to be having the time of his life. After the night club finishes we all still want to party and hear of a party at the Israeli hostel, which turns out to be shit as Israelis are really anti social and the drinks cost loads, not like I had to buy any, but that's not the point. So we decided to do like thirteen year olds do, and go and sit on the soccer playing field stand and drink and smoke while playing music on our i phones (how cool are we)? We crawled in the early hours of the morning, at what time I do not know.

The next morning I woke up feeling very rough and didn't really feel like doing anything much, but was dragged out of bed by the guys as they don't get hangovers, because they just get straight back on it. I was told we were going on a boat trip for the day to our own private beach. Great a day trip with a group of dysfunctional's, when I have the hangover from hell! The guys stocked up on provisions which was beer of course and off we went.

The guys got very excited when we got to the beach, and shouted "look, girls", as there were three girls already on the beach. It's like there on heat and have never seen women before. I just roll my eyes. The guys all sit under a thorn tree, like pussy fags (I'm so sorry I keep using this term but after 8 days of this being the main vocab used by people it's going to take a while to get it out of my system), while I seem to be the only one sun bathing. Not quite sure why we came to a beach then? Oh yes that right! To drink beer! Some of them did come out of the tree eventually to snorkel and harass the three girls. All that said I had an really amazing day. I guess they all amuse lots.

Even though I had protested all along that I was not going back to Cartagena with them, I found myself on the bus the next day, doing just that. The bus journey consisted of the guys asking the driver to stop for beers every two seconds, Craig cutting up a plastic bottle and shoving it in the air con to direct the air flow to him, Reuben and Craig slagging off my music (just because they have no taste!), and then them all passing out and snoring (Craig with an eye mask!)

Italian Ed left us by getting dropped off at Barranquilla, to stay at the home of some girl he had met the night before. Such a tart, but then he is Italian!

We checked into medina Luna hostel in Cartagena which is the coolest hostel ever, and the guys got straight on it, because Wednesday night was the big roof top party at our hostel and it was the place to be.

The night is all a bit of a blur, but I do remember meeting two great Canadian girls, Daniella and Angela; telling Craig and Reuben they were arse holes and all the girls becoming part of team Biskey. Actually Rueben went to bed and nearly killed himself by falling out of his bunk and was only stopped from smashing his head on the floor when his jeans got caught on the ladder, so he was just left hanging upside down from his bed until some girl found him, (God I wish I had seen him)! So all in all another crazy night. I woke the next morning feeling shit again and decided I just couldn't keep up with them anymore. It was time to admit defeat: I am not one of the guys! Our final night together was quite a mellow affair as I only drank a couple of beers, 2 mojitos, half a bottle of red wine, a margarita, and 2 vodka and lemonades and was in bed at the reasonable hour of 3.00am. It was weird saying goodbye, even though I knew I had to go for the sake of my liver and sanity, I have really enjoyed their company and have had the best time with them. I have even grown very fond of them which you would never think of for people that call you pussy fag and slag 24/7. I miss them, but thank them for one of the best weeks ever and there is not more you can ask for than that. It's time to return to being a girl again.

IMPULSE

Thomas (remember him; my German fling from the start of this adventure) once told me there was a tribe found not so long ago deep in the jungle. It was discovered, that in their language they had no words for the past or the future, only for the present. When western man introduced the past and the future into their psyche it ruined their minds. This is because life is all about living for the now. Maybe sometimes I think of the past too much; I hate to think of the future as it scares me, but there is one thing I know; I'm an impulsive person, always have been and always will be. I live for the moment, it excites me, I get a thrill from it. Maybe that's why I love traveling so much; the fact you never know what is going to happen and you just go with the flow. You live for the now, and it was precisely one of these implusive moments that happened to me the other week.
I traveled to Taganga a beach side town, with the Canadian couple Lauren and Travis. Matt and Nathan left to go to medellin and probably get drunk again! I checked myself into a dorm and decided to have an early night, as the room was empty. I was having a wonderful sleep until I was woken at 3am by my drunken room mates. I tried my best to ignore them but it was pretty hard especially when the bunk bed above you is rocking for half an hour ( he later said that was, because he was packing his bags; hmm is that code for something)! I was so annoyed, I thought they were a bunch of wankers! When I woke I was ready to give them a piece of my mind. This was really hard as they were still drunk and running around the place packing their bags. I sat on the outdoor hammock and waited for them to leave, but they kept chatting to me. They were three Aussie guys called Craig, Ruben, and Arnold, and actually as we got chatting, I realised I found them highly amusing. They were packing to go on a trek for 5 days to the lost city or Ciudad Perdida as it's called. Now I had really wanted to do this but still only had a pair of shit converse and wasn't sure on my fitness level. I told them this but they said I should go with them as there was a space free. F**k it, I thought, you only live once and my impulse told me this was going to be fun. So after only knowing these three guys for half an hour, I packed my bags and headed off into the jungle with them. This now, what follows is the story of my 5 days in the jungle with them. One word: CRAZY

DAY 1
We get picked up from our hostel and driven to meet the rest of the group in Santa Marta. I'm very aware that the Aussies are still wasted, especially Biskey (Arnold's nick name) as he is still drinking straight rum from the bottle! We get to Santa Marta where we meet the rest of the group, who are Swiss and German and who look very serious. The Aussies want to get provisions which consists of a bottle of vodka, two bottles of rum and beers which they drink on the way and make me have one too as I get called pussy fag if I don't! ( pussy fag will be a term used a lot in this post, I also get called slag a lot just due to the fact I'm English and I told them a story about some Israeli guys calling all English girls slags, which they found great)! We then set out on a three hour drive, on which the Aussies drank the whole time; they start calling the Swiss, swissy fags; the driver looks scared as Ruben and Craig have told him in bad Spanish that Biskey likes men and he fancies him; Biskey is sat next to the driver still pissed leaning over to him asking questions like is there Wi Fi in the jungle, totally unaware of the fact that the driver thinks he's coming on to him and I'm just sat there thinking what the hell have I done coming on this trip! We eventually reach the start village of our trek, but that's not before a local woman that was sat on the roof of our jeep, that none of knew was up there falls off on the Rocky road. She just got up and laughed and got back on, while we were all sat there in shock! We meet our guide, Carlos who has the greatest handle bar moustache ever and doesn't speak a word of English. He gets my rucksack and puts it on a mule. Great! I think, we don't have to carry our bags! Wrong! I don't have to carry my bag, but everyone else does, why I don't know! The Aussies soon pick up on this and as we start walking, shout out, so everyone can hear, "carly, why are you not carrying your bag"? The rest of the group give me evil looks. I go red. As the real walking begins, the Aussies begin to suffer and they are even sweating alcohol, especially Biskey, who stinks of rum. After over four hours of mainly uphill walking, we reach our first cabina for our food and sleep that night. Now most normal people after suffering so badly from alcohol, would eat and go to bed early. Not the Aussies! The first thing they get is beer, in fact that's the only word they know in Spanish. While the rest of the other trekking groups sharing the cabina that night, have nice talk and play cards, the Aussies get very drunk and loud. Even when going to bed ( which is just hammock with a mozzie net, they are loud and get told to shut up by everyone, but they really don't give a shit! Day one and they have managed to piss off the entire cabina. God help me!

DAY 2
I wake early to find the only member of my group awake, is the middle aged German business man who I still only know to this day, as German number one ( the Aussie dingos just referred to all the Germans as one, two and three and the Swiss were just referred to as swissy fags, so I never knew anyone's names). German No 1 is moaning to me about the Aussies behaviour and how loud and rude they are. He asks me if all Aussies are like this. I reply "most of them"! We set out on day two, to lots of mud as it rained a lot the night before. My converse are covered and I'm sliding everywhere, but luckily Carlos makes me a stick. Today is our shortest walk, so we all go for a swim in the river, where we can jump off a 10m rock into the water. When it get's to my turn I get scared as it's so high up, and don't want to do it.Then I stand there for 5 minutes being called a pussy fag by the Aussies until I do it ( there is nothing like peer pressure)! Craig tries to be fancy by diving in but fluffs it and we all start laughing and calling him a pussy fag, but then we realise there is something very wrong! He has dislocated is arm. It's awful! He can't get it back in . Everyone starts to get very worried. I start to shout to Carlos and the other guide in bad Spanish. The fat guide who is with Carlos summons poor Craig over who is in so much pain, and calmly puts his shoulder back in. Relief! That night the Aussies buy a ton more of beer, as the excuse is to num craigs pain! The local indigenous people are very happy as the Aussies are making them lots of money by buying lots of beer.

DAY 3
I wake to find Carlos has made me my own special hot chocolate as I don't like tea or coffee, he also makes sure I get my food first. Biskey has been given the new name of el Tigre as he snores so loud he was made to go and sleep in a hammock far away from everyone else last night. Today I have to carry my own ruck sack as Carlos will carry Craigs! I suppose it's only fair as he did dislocate his arm! The first part of today was all up hill and is tough but I'm keeping up with the guys. We even have to do big river crossings. As we stop for refreshments we are joined by two new members of our group; Ed an Italian and Jess a fellow Brit, who have caught up with us as they are only doing the trek in 4 days. Now I don't what happened here but I suddenly got a huge energy surge and I just want to keep walking and before I know it its just me and Ed with the porter way out front. I can't believe it and I'm carrying my backpack and wearing converse. I feel like action woman. Amazing! As to keep up with the two guys I do what they do I cross the rivers with my shoes on and take the short cut climbing up rocks. We make it to the Cabina. I feel so proud of myself. We wait and we wait but there is no sign of the group. It's over an hour later when the first of them start to show and everyone is walking very slowly with the biggest grin on their faces. It soon becomes apparent, the rest of the group are stoned! Brilliant! Then last but not least German No 1 appears. Oh my god! Yes the middle aged German is completely stoned too. He is so bad he is walking up the river the wrong way. The whole group starts cheering. I'm in shock! After lunch which, Carlos cooked me my own special meal as I don't like sandwiches ( for you who don't know I have a phobia of them!) I went for a little siesta as I was tired. I was woken an hour later by cheers. I went down to the stream to investigate, only to find the Aussies had brought a huge big box of beers for all the guys and they were all now playing some stupid retard game of throwing rocks at rocks ( it doesn't take much to make men happy!) worst of all they have got Carlos our guide completely drunk and all this while I had a short siesta. The Aussies seem to have corrupted the whole group. Carlos gets one of the group to translate that we are the best group he has ever had, and the indigenous people love the Aussies because they are alcoholics and make them rich. What the hell! The night only gets more crazy when the Aussies decide to buy a 100 beers for the night, for our group to consume. They also think it is funny to tell Carlos who is now known as my Colombian husband what number bed I'm sleeping in. Arse holes! Luckily that night I didn't have any visitors!

DAY 4
we wake early to start our climb to the lost city. I realise now that walking through the river with my shoes on was not the best idea. They are still soaking and it's so cold, but I have no other choice and just have to bare it. It is so hard to get my shoes on and off now, that Carlos insists on giving me a piggy back across the river. Well it's the least a husband can do! I am now given the name of princess, which I think is better than slag. Carlos also has a big head ache and asks for pills ( funny that).To get to the lost city we have to climb nearly 2000 steep very slippery steps, but it's worth it. Ciudad perdida is beautiful. The sky is blue and the view is amazing. A wonderful moment. As I'm taking this in, my moment is shattered by "Cerveza frio"! Yes the Aussies! They are really excited as they have found a shack at the top of the lost city that sells cold beers! Can you believe it? Well yes I can as nothing on this trek shocks me anymore. We then bump into the army as they guard the lost city as the area is in the heart of the cocaine growing industry and can be quite dangerous. The Aussies also seem to piss off the army guys as they want to get Biskey to have his picture taken next to their military radio and pretend it's jungle Wi Fi. Carlos drags us away before someone shoots them. We have a long walk back to the next cabina and I start to get terrible stomach pains. My feet are also starting to get cut and blistered from my shoes. Carlos insists on taking my bag again and again, mainly from the girls, I get evil stares, but I don't really care by now. We reach the cabina and of course it's beer time again, but I have a early one as I'm so tired. As I've not been sleeping well the Aussies give me a Valium, which mixed with beer was actually a great feeling and I'm out cold in no time. Thank god for the Aussies.

DAY 5
It's the last day, but we have the biggest hike today. It actually hurts to put my shoes on now, but I do. God dam converse, I should of learnt my lesson by now with them after that volcano in indonesia (actually I have erased that event from my head after what happened on that trek! Read the blog post because I can't talk about what went on there anymore)! I am soon at the back of the pack as it hurts to walk. The boys tell me not to be a pussy fag! I tell them to shut it! Four hours in, the pain is unbearable and there is no other option. I have to do the rest of the trek bare foot! I take my shoes off and my feet are bleeding. Bare foot is not easy and it's sore but better than those shoes. Everyone tells me I'm crazy. I don't care. If the indigenous people can do it bare foot, so can I! The end village is an amazing site. I did it! We did it! I'm not going to tell myself I can't do anything anymore because I can. My confidence since I have been traveling on my own has been soaring. We celebrate with a great meal and guess what? Yes that's right! BEER. The Aussies even buy the local school teachers having lunch next to us beer! Right near the end of the walk German No 1 was walking with me and said, " when people will ask me what I think of Aussies, I don't know what to say! You really shouldn't really like them but you do"! He summed it up in one. The 5 days on that trek has probably been the highlight of my trip so far. I'm having the time of my life. I'm glad I followed my impulse and will keep doing so, because I'm living for now and that's the best way to be.

CARNIVAL

I have always wanted to go to the Rio carnival; it's a dream of mine. The only problem being though, it is so expensive, just going there for the carnival would probably be the budget of my entire trip! Another time maybe. Not to worry though, because it appears that it's not only Rio that has the Carnival. No! They happen all over south America at this time of year, and guess where the second biggest one is held after Rio? Barranquilla , Colombia! And guess where I am right now? Yes that's right; Colombia, right near Barranquilla! Brilliant! So me and the troops thought it would be rude to miss it, and headed on the bus there, with a few bottles of rum and vodka and Matts giant sombrero, which Travis insisted on Wearing. The bus dropped us at at small parade of children, who all seemed very excited to see a load of Gringo's, to the point of us becoming minor celebrities! Everyone wanted their picture taking with us; especially Travis in the giant sombrero! He even had to get into the spirit of things by having to dance with them all. I filmed this little video of it here. Dance Gringo, dance!

The parade which lasted only an hour and only had children in it was nice but hardly anything to compare to Rio. The second biggest! Hmm! We were all a bit disappointed, especially Matt and Nathan who had not seen any scantily clan women with big breasts, nor had they had the big party atmosphere they wanted to get pissed in! We made our way back to the bus to get to Cartagena. When we got to the station we started talking to a local, telling him how small and short the carnival was.
"What were we talking about" was his reaction. We had not seen the carnival, only the kids parade. He got us a taxi straight away and off we shot. This time it was the real deal. As soon as we got out of the taxi the streets were filled with people, scantily clan girls ( Matt and Nathan were very happy); scantily clan men ( I was very happy); lots of beer (Matt and Nathan were very happy again); and music (everyone was very happy). Bingo! The atmosphere was electric. I can honestly say I have never seen anything like it. There were Samba troops that went on for as far as the eye can see and the parade went on for hours and hours. It was still going when we left. The dancing was amazing. The Latin Americans have rhythm in their blood. God! Us Gringos are no competition to them in the dance floor stakes. I wish I had been born south American and not with two left feet! One of the best days ever. Here are a load of videos I filmed of the day. Sorry I went a bit crazy, but I just couldn't get enough of it. I hope you enjoy them, though they can never capture an event like that through film; you have to be there and I feel very lucky I was.

THE ROUGH WITH THE SMOOTH

My mum said to me once, she always worries about me the most out of all her offspring, because I give the most reasons to, was her explanation. The loose cannon, I suppose. My friends, especially my housemates are very protective over me, trying to act like surrogate parents who want to steer me in the right direction, though most of the time their efforts end up in vain. There must be a side to my nature that people feel the need to look after me, or maybe it's me that wants it? Either way it's not good for me. I become this feeble little girl who believes she can't do anything for herself, I lose my confidence, I become reliant, and I lose a bit of Carly. You see underneath it all I'm very tuff and independent, I have just forgotten that. I always came on this trip to travel most of it on my own and get back that confidence I have lost in myself. I have been traveling with Angus now for nearly a month and as nice as it has been, I find that even on the other side of the world we have reverted to our roles of back home; Angus always helping me, protecting me and taking control and me the willing puppy. It was time to go our separate ways and it's time for me to take control again. So Angus went north to Belize and I headed out on a new chapter on my journey: SOLO! I have taken a boat from Panama to Colombia. What follows is my ships log of my time on the boat ( I think ships log sounds more dramatic than boat). OMG! What a journey!

SHIPS LOG DAY 1
After a very dodgy bus journey through Colon where the bus driver tried to get more money out of me (I refused with a Kevin) I finally make it to the port of Portebelo. As my boat was now leaving in the evening I had the whole day there. I stored my bag in at a bar called Captain Jacks and as it seemed the place to be in town I decided to have lunch there. I soon realise this is the place that all the Captains of the boats hang out and sat as the only girl at the bar I soon have them all talking to me. Now most of these guys are old enough to be my dad but it really doesn't stop them and in no time I get a beer brought for me and a free boat ride round the bay with an American sailor called Russ. I'm also asked by Keith the Captain from Hackney if I have ever poled danced, because I really should as I have a great little figure!!! I also have Marco the French canadian captain asking me what boat I'm going with and that I should leave it and come sailing with him. He is saying all this while hugging me and kissing my forehead. I think Marco wants to take me home with him and do very bad things to me!!! The main conversation at the bar is about the serial killer captain that has been killing backpackers and was arrested 3 weeks ago, who use to drink at this bar. I thought they were joking! It turns out there not! I then turn round to find a guy in front of me with an eye patch. Yes! A eye patch, I'm not joking!!! I realised on that note it was time for me to leave, though I actually loved it there and wished I could of stayed longer. It had so many characters. I boarded my boat which is called the sancanagem and captained by Fredrico a French Brazilian. My fellow passengers are a Belgium called Ken ( I know!), two young English guys called Matt and Nathan, a Canadian couple called travis and I can't remember the girls name, I'm sure I'll get to know it and an Israeli called Asif. They all seem very pleasant if not a little young, some of them. So we set sail with our main supply being alcohol. Now Fredrico had warned us this was going to be a rough crossing which most people ignored and started drinking, especially the English guys who got pissed in no time. He was right; the sea was terrible. I was sensible for once in my life and did not drink, not like it helped or the sea sickness tablets I had taken, as I was sick; violently! A least I was not the first to go, Travis and Asif went before me. Unfortunately I didn't stop. I was sick all night until there was nothing left in body to give. If this is day one God help me!

SHIP LOG DAY 2
Day 2 seemed to merge into day 1 as I did not sleep one wink last night. I only emerged from my cabin when I felt the sea was calmer and I heard we had arrived in the San Blas islands. I was so weak I could hardly walk but I hauled my self on to deck and collapsed on the floor at the back of the boat and then I did what I didn't think was possible anymore. I threw up again! The guys were worried about me so threw a bucket of cold water over me to revive me. You know when you have those moments in life this was one of them. I'm collapsed on the back of a boat, dripping wet, with sick in my hair, with yesterday's clothing on, I'm pale and can hardly walk and I'm thinking I paid to do this! And you know what I did? I laughed. I laughed hysterically. Everyone must of thought I was losing it. Then Travis ran up next to me and threw up over the side. It only made me laugh more. Life's moments hey!
The rest of today has been spent getting fluid and food back into my body which is hard when you feel sick, but I have to as I feel so weak. We took the boat over to Porvenir island to see the Kuna people, who are all like migets and kept trying to sell us stuff we don't want as usual. The most entertaining part of this excursion was the English toffs that turned up from some huge lords ship that's sailing around. They looked like proper sloane rangers and came and asked us, "where one could partake in a little bit of marijuana?" The guy who asked this was wearing pink linen shorts. Need I say anymore.
I retired to bed early tonight as I could hardly keep my eyes open. Everyone looks very red. I think their all sunburnt? I can hear the English guys getting pissed again!

SHIPS LOG DAY 3
I awoke feeling much better today. Almost human in fact. Fredrico moved the boat onto chi chi may island or paradise as I would call it. The San Blas islands are some of the most beautiful I have ever seen. Throwing up none stop seems worth it now. We gained a new passenger today; a Dutch guy called Miguel ( well that's what he calls himself as no one can pronounce his real name). He seems very nice as do all my fellow passengers. Not much to report today other than the English boys got drunk again and still don't know the Canadian girl's name!

SHIPS LOG DAY 4
I woke up this morning looking like Mick Jaggers love child as my bottom lip was very swollen. It seems I have had an allergic reaction to something. What I don't know! This a long with the big coral cut on my foot is not really great, but there is nothing I can do. The wind has got up and we delay moving. Also another backpackers boat has sailed in from Portobelo. The captain tells Fredrico the weather was so bad he is scared to do the rest of the journey and wants to sail his boat with us. Fredrico sits us all down and tells us that we must not tell the other backpackers that their captain is scared. He also tells us the weather is really bad and we might be stranded here for a bit as it's too dangerous to sail to Cartagena. Even though Fredrico is a bit serious and grumpy sometimes he is a good captain and would never endanger us or the boat, unlike some of the captains I am starting to learn about who drink too much and don't care about anything. I am lucky to be on his boat, there are too many cowboys out there. The wind calms a little and we sail to the Hollandise islands. On the way though Fredrico starts to panic, because coming straight towards is a massive sail boat and it does not seem to be changing it's course. He gets on the radio but it's still heading towards us. As we are heading with the wind it's harder to change our course, but we have too and so it's all hands on deck as we rush around to change our course and save our boat. Fredrico manages to just in time and as the other boat sails by, Fredrico uses cunnard, mother f**cker and some thing in Italian that I don't think is very nice as I've heard the Italians in my building say it a few times. The other boats captains response was to grab his balls. It turns out they were Italian and very stoned. Very scary. I'm starting to think this journey is not without it's dangers.
Tonight, with us all in good spirits we rowed to a new island and gathered wood and made a bon fire. We drank and chatted to the early hours and later I sat on deck with ken, Miguel and Asif and drank rum. The English guys got really drunk again. Still don't know the Canadians girls name but it's too late to ask now. Lip swelling has gone down. A good day.

SHIPS LOG DAY 5
I am woken by the wind howling outside and to find my lips are now blistered: what the hell! It turns out I have had a reaction to all the salt water. I go on deck and see the waves in the distance; there huge. Fredrico says they are the worst waves he has seen in two years and that it is too dangerous to start our journey to Cartagena. We are stranded here, but I guess there are worst places to be stranded in than paradise. We swim, sun bathe, eat, the boys get obsessed with spear fishing and the
English boys have ran out of beer so can't get drunk anymore (thank the lord!) Oh! I also found out the Canadian girls name: it's Lauren! Thank God for that!

SHIPS LOG DAY 6
I slept well last night. I needed too. Today we leave. The waves have died down enough, but it is still going to be a rough crossing. I'm filled with a sense of dread. I could quite happily stay here forever, being cut off from everything and everyone, but leave we must. I eat just a bread roll and sit myself up on deck with my I pod, cut myself off from everyone and focus. I am determined not to be sick. The other boat with the backpackers and the scared captain is following us. The journey starts well. I focus all day and don't really speak to anyone. The sea gets rougher and by the end of the day I feel exhausted and really sick. I force myself to eat some noodle soup, which is hard when the boat is rocking so much. As I'm feeling to ill to sleep down below, Miguel takes my cabin and I take his place on deck. I try my best to sleep but the boat is rocking so badly and the next thing I know, a wave crashes on to deck and throws me to the ground leaving me soaked to the bone. Fredrico tries his best to dry me off, to no avail. There is nothing left to do but to lie down wet and try to go to sleep. I'm really scared now as the boat is rocking so bad and things are flying around everywhere. I close my eyes and wait for the morning.

SHIPS LOG DAY 7
I haven't slept all night and I feel as sick as a dog. The sea is still rough and I finally lose my battle. I go to end of the boat and throw up. We have lost the other backpackers boat during the night. Fredrico tries to radio contact them but there is no response. There is nothing we can do but hope they are OK. I sit at the back of the boat in a trance like state; not awake; not asleep; just out of it. Matt the English guy feels guilty to see me in such a sorry state when he feels perfectly fine, so he decides he wants to make me feel better. He does this by playing me his Xmas songs of Rudolph the deep throat reindeer and Frosty the pervert. Crude, tasteless and extremely stupid it's just what I need with the whole silly situation and I can't stop laughing. It's true laugher is the best medicine. Then the waves started to calm and I became a little bit human again. I hope that the worst is over with as my body can't take much more. I am sleeping on deck again as I have decided, getting wet is better than being sick.

SHIPS LOG DAY 8
I didn't sleep again all night and I'm wet again, so while everyone is still asleep I get up on deck and decide to watch the sunrise. With the first rays of light I get to finally see Colombia. Then something magical happened. A dolphin jumped out of the water in front of me and swam a long the boat. It was a beautiful moment and I'm glad I'm the only one that saw it (how selfish)! Suddenly the misery of the last two days seems a distant memory. After a couple of hours Cartagena comes into view. I have never been so glad to see somewhere in my life. I haven't had a proper wash in over a week, I'm wearing the same clothes I have worn and slept in for the past 3 days, I smell, I have blistered lips, my hair is forming dreadlocks and I haven't really eaten or slept for the past 2 days. As we get ready to leave ship Fredrico comes up to me and says "well done"! He says I have suffered more than anyone on the boat and have never moaned once, and for the first time in ages I realise I can look after myself, even in the toughest situations. It's a good feeling. I guess life is all about taking the rough with the smooth.

BENIDORM BAD GIRL 1: PANAMA CANAL

So here is my first picture of the challenge set down to me by my friend Debs; to have my picture taken around as many famous sites as possible in central and south America, wearing this awful vest, thus making a total nob of myself. May it long continue.