251-254 J / Last Days in British 
Cartagena, Colombia post old city, which saw many galleons from Spain anchor there to unload and load the gold slaves. We come to Cartagena for its history and its beauty but also to find a way to reach the nearby Panama. We explored the trail aircraft but it proved quite expensive for an hour and a half flight. We still have two options: one, along the coast by bus to Turbo to get as close as possible to Panama and then take a multitude of small boats to reach Colón in Panama, it would take four or five days. Two, find a sailboat that reaches directly Colon Cartagena, with a stopover in the islands of San Blas. We hope to find the answer in the streets of Cartagena, where there will certainly be people to inform us, this passage is a outstanding issue since we left, because there are no roads linking Colombia to Panama. There is a forest and inhospitable tropical refuge for many drug traffickers, guerrillas and others more or less frequent depending on how adventurous you want to introduce into his journey.
Under cover of night we landed near the ramparts of the old city. With our backpacks we are experiencing, the sole slamming the pavement and the nose in the air and admiring the beautiful hotels in which we will not sleep. We come through the front door and we head into the neighborhoods most popular. We arrived on a street alive, salsa music from small shops, sidewalks full of people still talking and others to stumble or already collapsed with their dear and loving bottle of rum. We are far from the historic downtown streets already deserted by the vendors of all kinds, where only someone 
are tourists still pass under the lights of the lampposts. No problem we find our hostel travelers. No sooner have we had time to launch a "buenas noches" reminds us that the receptionist a "hello, do you need a room?". With humor you might have answered "Yes, if we can! Pay in dollars?". I do not like much that we respond in English alors que l´on a entamé la conversation en espagnol. Nous aurons l´occasion de rediscuter de cette forme d´impérialisme culturel dans un autre épisode. Revenons à Carthagène. Une fois posé nos affaires dans notre chambre sans fenêtre, nous repartons en quête de notre pitance quotidienne. En passant nous voyons sur le comptoir de l´hôtel une annonce pour un bateau qui part pour le Panamá dans deux jours. Nous appelons et prenons rendez-vous pour le lendemain avec un certain Marco à l´accent bien québécois. Nous grignotons quelque ACPM (Arroz Carne y Papas Maduras c´est à dire le plat typique colombien, riz, viande et bananes mûres) dans un petit resto à la lumière crue. A short walk to get out and admire the beautiful homes that haunt the old city and we throw ourselves under the sheets.
noon as expected we find Marco in the hotel lobby talking to a guy in English tinged vocalise post-Soviet who is also interested in: Slava. All together we head toward the port, we board a small motorboat not quite brave to join the boat, a twelve meters. Do not long for us to decide the solution on the Caribbean cruise and abandon that of Backpack trip through the forests of Darien. Rendezvous with Captain Marco in two days on the dock a few cubits his sailboat. 
We hold these days as he must for anyone traveling in foreign countries. Visit the old town, walking along the ramparts facing the sea, passing through a contemporary art museum to vomit. At a breakfast in a place where they serve nothing but the CMPA in the morning, we met two tourists and of course once again we realize that it is easier to bond with other travelers with the locals. Between tourists we have shared histories, we Butinone the same places and sometimes we recroisons, while for the locals that we are people of passages, here for three or four days at most. So beyond "what country are you from?" and other forms of politeness, there remains much to say, sometimes with luck we can talk about politics or football sometimes even Sarkozy! And yet, Colombia is perhaps the country in which we created as many links with the locals. Even try to spend some time in some places, we travel too fast, he should be able to stay at least ten days to begin to intrude into the real life of the country and move this layer to which we stop most often. So as expected we bind ourselves with a few passengers in transit ephemeral and we end the evening on a small place where kids play "futbal" while discussing the oldest sitting on the benches at the foot of the church. A small grocery store allows everyone to provide beverages and other treats. We will make many return to us for this divine drink that loosens tongues for thousands of years.
And inevitably the time comes for us to go to the marina. We find Slava and we ship in a small taxi deposited us near the dock. Four other people waiting, we 
s welcome, we present ourselves. Morgan quickly Foam Marco (a French Montpellier) arrives with the boat and load our business to put them on the boat. For our part, we remain dockside until Captain Marco to go buy something to live on the boat for five days. We comply with two good carts, I pass the details of racing, your imagination is fertile enough to imagine the content. We ship one after the other on the small boat to reach the boat. Captain Marco Morgan, Slava Russian, two Colombian relocating to Panama, Erik American, Kalin and Jason the british and us two worthy representatives of the French Republic. We weighed anchor and take direction due west.
Farewell beloved Colombia.
246-251 J / Travellers Caribbean 
No rest, heaven awaits us. Before leaving we enjoy a good coffee mocha coffee with Rafael that we prepared and we eat mangoes that Victor has picked from the garden. We leave the bulk of our business in the house, take only our small backpacks with next to nothing in and take a minibus to the city center, before we climbed Victor ensures that the driver drop of good market Hence we can take another bus to the park entrance. We arrive at the heart of the market still dirty from the previous day, with the heat rising odors, purgatory before paradise? The bus is here, wisely we expect it to fill. Twenty minutes to simmer in the heat of the bus and finally we leave the purgatory, the wind rushes through the windows wide open and quickly cools the air. We cross a few problems areas bordering any city. Gradually the houses goes missing blocks, pavements are cleaner and green, the trees make their appearances. On our left the jungle on our right the Sierra Nevada. Thirty miles further bus let go, that's it we are there. A few more steps, a few pesos and we have our ticket for the coconuts, white sand and the turquoise sea. We pay our entrance fee much higher for foreigners, it gives us a pretty bracelet to keep the time of our stay. But before crossing the barrier we must open our bags, like the couple in front of us. For us it will be fast, is more problematic for them, the young man is Colombian, manufactures craft and has a good stock of bracelets, hats and other trinkets that you find on every self-respecting tourist spots. The goalkeeper makes his junk repack, prohibiting her from selling the site which is located in a national park. Our craftsman argues that it is not there to sell but to prepare a festival. Nothing to do his b 
Abiola and equipment will have to wait her out of the park. Still
10 km before the beach, two solutions: to walk along a paved road in the heavy heat and humid jungle, or pay a taxi to take us to the end of the road. We choose the taxi and an old pickup dating from between the wars comes spluttering and smoking. We load the bags, the driver restarts his old jalopy over, we start with a nice roar of diesel and a beautiful plume of black smoke. We finish the journey on foot through a heavily wooded path to the various sounds of the forest, the Amazon back memories. The light step back and sweating we finally arrived on the beach just in time for sunset. No chance we are facing due east and the sun is already behind the mountain. We return to the campsite, the closest there is a luxury hotel in the park and found two hammocks for the night, we put our business back on the beach to enjoy the last light of day in love's hand in hand, feet in the water, listening to the waves, losing our gaze into the starry sky. We reach a corner of paradise, but the happiness is short drive ed, we're hungry ... Our stomach gets back to restaurant the beach. We meet and Hélène Florent, French guests very friendly. Sated we will swing in our hammocks and dreaming of white sand and warm but with the idea of waking up at dawn to watch the sunrise, having benefited from his bed. It is 4:30 ET we're back foot in the white sand for a sunrise worthy of the finest posters on display in the first tour operator nearest to you. After all the emotions we go back to bed. 
I'll spare you the details of these two days of intense activities in this place where the turquoise water mingles white sand licking huge round rocks emerging sandbars backdrop of virgin forest. Moreover nothing to spoil this atmosphere, the beaches are deserted. We will find another place to swing our hammocks among old-timers who are settled there for many years. They were well Penard the siblings before the Colombian government does not leave the management to a private company and settle other campground owners to the tune of baksheesh. Maybe we live the last years of this paradise lost soon ... Their site is not maintained very small family but a little crazy is really nice. The last day one of the brothers learn a few steps from salsa Laetitia while we await a deluge of rain and tropical 
ceases. Even in paradise Heaven has its quirks, this gives an alternative view i which would be interested in our dreamscape, but prevent us from exploring the jungle. The rain lasted three hours and we will have to walk the walk we will return with Marielle, a French expatriate in Quebec. Resuming an old taco to join the main road from there a bus that drops us at the market in Santa Marta.
time to do some shopping in town to eat and what to drink tonight Marielle and Florent come to eat at home. The time to install, Victor tells us that tonight is her birthday. We are preparing the grub and invite Victor and his buddy to share a meal with us. Marielle and Florent arrive independently of each other. Good evening to get to know us and toast to 50 years of Victor. It will not stay long with us. Slowly the conversation is ongoing and sometimes even on her favorite topic of expatriates - Marielle 5 years, Florent over 15 years and we've only been 10 months - Our dear and loving home that we all left for some time. The result is that France is seen from afar not as beautiful and romantic that foreign tourists would have us believe! Especially when it comes to the next star system and neo-capitalist of our new super president and his government. Short between leftists and after many cervezas, we agree with France, Europe and the world go wrong. On this observation we go to bed and maybe we'll dream of a world less selfish, consumerist, and hast thou seen perhaps another revolution useless ...
The next day, we spend our stroll in town, eating ice cream on the seafront, wander the shops for tourists, go to museum museum : All closed on Sunday and forget our good resolutions revolutionaries of yesterday. Back home in the cart loaded commissions. We discuss anything and everything in us swinging in the hammocks. Meanwhile Marielle we prepare a nice meal with seafood that we enjoy around a nice cold bottle of white. Happiness and satiety. Just
time separations, little by little the house is empty. Florent was going back to continue his southern sojourn of several months in Colombia, Marielle share further north perhaps we shall find on the road in Central America. It is noon, we catch a bus leaving in the direction of Cartagena. Is not as the first class bus, but it is early and not much in demand.
242-245 J / All aboard for the Caribbean 
A quick hug and Tomas is very late to get his son to drop its football game. One last kiss Olga hair all tousled and still fast asleep. Bag before the big behind and we close the door on Bogota. Light rain. At the gate we salute the guard, jump in a taxi. fifteen minutes later we are at door number 5 of the station in Bogotá. A week has passed. We decide to a stop midway through the small town of San Gil. Soon we hole
soaps a minibus, barely time to smoke a cigarette we're on our way. We go up the entire area north of Bogota in search of another s passengers. Once we take our full speed. After a few hours drive, we arrived at night in the small town. We find a hotel within our means, that night in our room overlooking ra parking. Around town, restaurants and chatter that tells us that there is a lovely village called Barichara to visit nearby, we perfect our program for the next day. 
The sun rises, start the car in our parking lot, it wakes us up but not for lon gtemps we re ndormons until about noon. A bad coffee and good pastries and we go to the small static are minibuses which loosens the surrounding pueblos . Just returned to the chamber that we are flagged down and headed towards the right bus. It is almost full and soon started. Half an hour of winding roads and mountainous and we arrive in a quaint little village, where an immediate urge to lazy and live over you. We we head to the nearest cafe, just to plan this grueling day of sightseeing ahead. Result, we will visit the village. As usual, we go through the churches, the watchtower of the city, the cemetery, the small local museum, the cemetery, some pictures. In a church we admire a holy wonder, to 
start he is black, so far nothing serious but it's what he holds in his hand that surprises us. Another feature of the region, ORMIG culonas. Almost all small spice ries had posters announcing they had to sell. We put a mome nt understand what it was. In English, una ORMIG is an ant and you could not see the report. In fact they are big ants, culonas mean with a big ass and they are roasted and sold by weight to be eaten as an appetizer peanuts. Were tested but not approved, the taste is a bit much and in fact we prefer peanuts. Here is the sad and hard day of a tourist. After the grueling afternoon we return to our hotel overlooking underground parking. The next morning we visit the amazing city park and the trees of a parasite invades makes you thousands of filaments light green plants q ui hang from branches to the ground. We collect our belongings and jump into the first bus to Bucaramanga. From there we reserve a bus to Santa Marta. Check twenty-three hours. That leaves us 
time to discover the city that has not much special. Back to the bus station, we slam a few pesos in a slot machine, which are omnipresent in all the British like the casinos. Then we patiently await the boarding time watching TV in the waiting room. The bus neither new nor old between the parking lot. We pay our tax station and pass the portal. Bags in the hold up and we go to sleep very quickly. Waking at dawn, we are approaching Santa Marta. Temperature shock when we exit the bus. We have won ten degrees from Bogotá. It is 6 hours in a dilapidated train station, cafe and call Susana caregiver of the house. She arrived ten minutes later. Big smile, skin color by the sun, dressed in white. No doubt we are in the Caribbean. Within minutes the taxi drops us off at the family home of Tomas. Susana we leave in the hands of goalkeeper Victor and tells us to call if you need anything. Victor, who seems very nice welcome us, shows us around the smallholding, shows us our room, we up hammocks on the veranda, we bring mangoes and eventually to accompany us to the beach which is nearby. This is not a dream beach, wedged between the buildings and constructions fo rages offshore oil, but enough to spend the afternoon s oleil. Paradise is scheduled for tomorrow in which we plan to visit the park of Tayrona. 
The house is a bit far from the city, in the late afternoon we take a bus to the center. The bus takes a detour into a barrio, far from paradise. Bumpy road blocks and houses barely covered with paint, roofs jail. We walk in Santa Marta in the search for our sustenance, take the opportunity to discover the city and take great care not to miss the last bus home. Eleven o'clock we fall asleep just blocks from the Caribbean Sea, but tomorrow we tread the sands of paradise.
235-242 J / Amazing Colombian Episode III following 
Sunday, May 5, 11:00 Bogota wakes. Nelly, lady of their house brings us coffee, orange juice, bread: not so bad to live in comfort! It is the day of Mother's Day in Colombia. Olga quickly leaves us to join his family, there are some three dozen people expected. Tomàs behind us a little time to give me two new chess lessons and starting to turn and late to join his family. Few tens of minutes later we are in the streets of Bogotá towards the flea market to flea market has it that the name is a craft market earlier, it suits us very well to take up this Sunday sunny. After this first glimpse of day, we can not say that Bogota is a beautiful city, but several an early c apital to live. Surrounded by mountains, huge arteries which pass through at all hours moving bus, motorcycle, cars, many of n bone legendary R12, Colombia is another country of the Renault 12, as Morocco is the land of the 504, Mexico one of the Beetle. The buses there are all sorts of recent, old, customized, small, big and very very large called "TransMilenio" they function as subways, they traverse the city on dedicated lanes that you can admire the city without wasting too much time in traffic, watching the graphite are back. Since Rio de JANEI ro we had seen more of interest. One may wonder whether the graffiti is a sign of a society in dustrialisée. In these modern bus, a strange thing hit us, signs giving priority to children for head and Laetitia was a victim when a young father asked him to get up to make room for his 6-brat years. The boy king, a scandal, for cons, the old can stay standing.
We'll do u week in Bogota, we thought we spend a little less time but Olga and Tomás would not let us go until we have a celebration on Saturday Next. Bogotá, c APIT nearest stars, a title somewhat usurped by us after going to La Paz bordering the 4,000 meters while a small Bogota reached 2000. Finally we are close enough to the Milky Way and the clouds to get dressed warmly against the cold and protect us from the rain. Take care our week to not get up too early, visit the places we have recommended Olga and Tomas. Wandering in the city between the buildings, strolling through the shops, notamen t the memorable French bookstore. We spend over an hour to choose books, we come to the box with our pile of books in his arms, satisfied with our choice. The lady is the first book, without another word ad "45 mile cada" "45?" "If 45" "porque, no es 22 mile per libro" the answer is "45" up to the tone of both ammabilité and so little explanation. We understand for ourselves that the label on the books are just code, we also understand why these so-called nine books look as old and dusty. We rely stack of books on the counter and win the street where the atmosphere is much nicer despite the rain. We jump into the first bus to downtown where we walk all the shops pounds res occasions, always with the same phrase in the mouth "Tiene literatura francesa en Ingles?" in 80% of the responses are negative , but we eventually find our happiness as classical, but in quite different genres, science fiction, thriller, romantic ... After this very exciting adventure it's time to eat a little. We are winning "The Wrong Door" a little rest aurant Olga advised us near the place where Simon Bolivar agitated at the sound of the band a thousand soldiers. We eat u tom n al, a preparation of meat and vegetables wrapped in banana leaf, typical and very good. Leaving the restaurant we admire a few minutes the soldiers while smoking a cigarette, you can not smoke in the restaurant, but I assure you it is still possible in most places in Colombia because it is the owner of the premises which nicotinic chooses its policy. In short one can choose, not as in some country, maybe this democracy. 
Unless democracy is more than a mask for a minority right-thinking and leadership that only the consumption e t profit must prevail while preserving the appare nce be a benevolent for the mob - today ' Today we're nothing but a rabble po rtant our politicians and our bosses like the Pharaohs - it stops listening day by day. End of the parent hese. On we leave this room to take a bus to the casino, we also tonight we will burn money on the altars of the god dollar. We pay our entrance fee for the poker game, 30 pesos for 20 chips, that's all. It sets in, the game begins: the blinds are 1 and 2, depression smells a scam this tournament. Ten minutes later the blinds go to 2 and 4. Five minutes later Laetitia is out, very very disappointed with his ace-queen, as for me I want an hour longer and makes me go out second in the final table. You take a taxi, which starts up a u floor the apartment management. On the edges res deserted at this hour, he charges more than 100 kilometers per hour slowing down just a red light, preferring to play the horn. Arrived at our destination we sill 20 000 pesos more. Some days better than others. We joined our little cribs (we occupy the chamber's son Tomás Mateo) and we fall asleep.
We realize that our visa is only thirty days, and four weeks for C olombia is not much. We ask Tomas where the immigration offices for n e would extend it. No problem for him it gives us an appointment the next day at his office to take us there. The story will not be as simple as it para
it and we will deprive him of precious time probably in the Administrative Body wandering before finding the right office. In passing he gives us a very good Italian restaurant. Our visa is in any case be extended by two weeks.
Another walk takes us to the botanical garden, where most Colombians are reproduced climates: desert, mountain, jungle ... then we win "the city" neighborhood of buildings at the foot of the slopes of Bogotá, on top some 500 meters above dominates a small white church that is beautifully sunlight in stormy day. Arrived at the top after taking the cable car, we can admire the city who s'ettend our eyes in his haze. The small church was so beautiful from below quickly loses its charm to get a closer look but that does not stop some crazy race to join her feet in less than 20 minutes from the bottom of e the mountain. Back to the downtown by more economical means calorie and sweaty. No us go through a house that was inhabited by Simon Bolivar, the founder of the great liberator of Colombia and much of Latin America from the yoke of the crown of Spain. Simon should not have life uncomfortable when he was staying in this house on one level surrounded by a lovely garden in full bloom. A final passage through the heart of Bogotá and business buildings and we reach the apartment of Olga and Tomas. Tonight we do a poker game every four Tomás strategist quickly understand the principles of the game and put Olga but that will not pick up the final pot with a style more than a little disconcerting. 
The next and last day for us in the capital. Tomas share the care of his son's birthday and we went for a walk with Olga, profi As of this Saturday holiday for her to hang out and enjoy a coffee in a luxury troquet Juan Valdez. As it should, we end our trip by getting all four in a Rumba. We drink, we dance while listening to songs from the past 33, a group of salsa on the rise and dusts off the spirit of this music is often a bit conservative.
The next day we took our backpacks direction north to Santa Marta to the seaside where Tomás lends us his family home for a few days, they are really incredible these Colombian ...
234 J / Amazing Colombian Episode III There's the rumba in the air Midi. Bogotá. Tired, we call Olga. She told us to wait outside the door of the vast number 5 bus station, she adds that it will be easy to recognize because it will be with her husband in a dark red Chevrolet! A little info about Olga. Young woman of thirty years who has studied French six years ago at the Sorbonne. There she became friends with Paula that she also studied French in this venerable institution. Paula is married with Arnaud's cousin Laetitia. Paula knowing that we go through Bogota, called Olga to see if she could help us during our stay in the Colombian capital. Olga's reply was very clear: no seuleument she wants to meet us, but we host home for a few days we'll go to Bogota. End of digression. While we are beginning to fall asleep standing up, a horn us out of our torpor and Olga arrives with a smile. Actually her husband Tomas is black, also tall and big smile, he is also a small Mateo, son of Tomas to the rear of the car, he too is smiling. Landed at the apartment, we sit in the chamber Mateo sleeping now with her mother. We discuss about a plate. Tomas has to leave to join a friend for a pool French, I asked if I could join him. Yes, for what does 
ime girls go shopping. Here I am with Tomas and his friends in a huge room French billiards. This type of pool is an institution in Colombia, you can find in almost any middle of nowhere in the country. Result friends with Tomás mark of 100 points, 85 and Tomàs me a superb 20 points and I also learned a lot about how to play. Back at the apartment, I see a chess game, I suggest part. I take a rouste in less than a quarter of an hour, we must say that I have not slept much! I promise him the beautiful tomorrow when I'm in shape ...
We discuss the rest of the evening, they offer us a Bogota by night. Perfect. A micro-nap and we leave every four to visit the city. We go through the hills for a quick bite of corn while watching the glow from city lights below, we return to the old Bogotá, we take a short break in a small troquet riddled with small parts lit the candle, the night will be long, so with Laetitia we order a coffee, mild stimulant to compensate for our lack of sleep. We drive back towards a rumba, where they dance salsa. Once in place, Tomas gives a hug and there, shaking hands with it, in short it is like a fish in water. Except here it feels more Rum than mineral water. "Then the Muchachos, you drink something?" Tomas leaves us no time to respond "I'm sure a small bottle of Rum, you would do the most good hahaha!" "Of course" - A few minutes later the bottle, ice bucket and there are lemons. The glasses are filled and we toast. Olga, Laetitia and I drink a lot more Tomas who often plays the card of prudence and wisdom from the top of his feet 90 and 50 years. It was he who led and well-versed in laws - Mr. holds a law firm - he prefers not to drink too much, by cons that does not stop filling our glasses as soon as he realizes even the darkness of this place hot and humid that the level of our glasses appears in the red zone. On the dance floor couples chain the dance steps like us glasses of Rum. Laetitia with us are a little shy in front of such virtuosity. All couples are dancing on the runway salsa with such ease that we hesitate to contact us to them. We end Venturing out onto the dance floor, hoping that nobody will pay attention to our poor performance. The bottle is nearing its end, signs of fatigue begin to be felt. We try to slip a note to pay the bill, but Tomas has no intention of letting us do the rating and rule. Motor direction home. I believe that our stay in Bogotá looks good, we get along very well with Olga and Tomas. Curtain. Send Plumard and spins the snorers.
We have a good week to move to Bogotá, Olga and Tomàs we have prepared a program of visits with subparagraphs inevitable: the church and its point of Monserrate incredible view over the city, the museum Botero, the Simon Bolivar, the small restaurant "The false door", the Gold Museum, Flea Market, the botanical garden ...
continued in the next episode
233-234 J / Interlude: sleepless night for a black coffee After three hours by bus in the Colombian Cordillera with a driver inside foot, outpacing cars, trucks and other obstacles impeding his route. Safe, we arrive in Ibague. Rendezvous with Rafael same time, same place at the coffee kiosk terminal bus. He joins us, frank embrace. A few minutes later we're in his apartment where we see enthroned on the coffee table with chrome gleaming machine. Rafael proudly explains that he just brought this machine to roast coffee in Minneapolis and has not yet had time to try it. We ask our business and we're off to a restaurant 100 "% Carne. Everyone says what he has lived the last ten days. Ana-Lucia's marriage with his friends whom we had been to a concert, Rafael and his trip to Minneapolis us our kidnapping by Colombian Santa Rosa. Back at the apartment, I asked Rafael if he did not want to test his new toy, smile. He takes the baby in his arms and carries no delay in the kitchen. It takes a good kilo of green coffee from his store, leafing through the manual quickly as we abandon our mutual English level is too low, to explore for ourselves the possibilities of the machine. The first roasting which takes a good twenty minutes is a complete foirade despite 
sweet smell that emanated from the coffee machine is burned. Rafael is preparing a new dose of coffee while the machine cools. It then modifies some curves of temperature and time and we repeat the operation. This time the coffee will be barely browned. New dose, this time to Rafael looks more like the result, but apparently not enough. It is two o'clock in the morning and we all rise tomorrow around half past six. Rafael and Ana-Lucia had more than three hours away to join the family of Madame, for our part, we must take a bus to Bogotá where we need to find Olga before noon. New roasting, it is still not satisfied. Laetitia replace me with a bit of Rafael while I relax on the internet playing poker. I have time to play for an hour and return that Rafael is still not happy with the result. We stay with him until 5 am. When he finally turned to us and said that he had finally found the right setting and it will now be able to roast a selection of the best two bars he noted last week during a catation that pitted more than fifteen different cafes. Still half an hour and we go to bed tired but with the pride of work well done, especially Rafael! I've lied a little in the way about the sleepless night, but it was not far. We sleep just half past one ET here we are again in the kitchen to grind the coffee and bag. Of course Rafael is preparing its espresso machine for final sanction. Verdict, this coffee is 100% pure, 100% fuerte, 100% black and wakes us up therefore 300% and we need it! 
Adios y Muchas gracias Rafael y Ana Lucia, our vamos Bogotá.
Cartagena, Colombia post old city, which saw many galleons from Spain anchor there to unload and load the gold slaves. We come to Cartagena for its history and its beauty but also to find a way to reach the nearby Panama. We explored the trail aircraft but it proved quite expensive for an hour and a half flight. We still have two options: one, along the coast by bus to Turbo to get as close as possible to Panama and then take a multitude of small boats to reach Colón in Panama, it would take four or five days. Two, find a sailboat that reaches directly Colon Cartagena, with a stopover in the islands of San Blas. We hope to find the answer in the streets of Cartagena, where there will certainly be people to inform us, this passage is a outstanding issue since we left, because there are no roads linking Colombia to Panama. There is a forest and inhospitable tropical refuge for many drug traffickers, guerrillas and others more or less frequent depending on how adventurous you want to introduce into his journey. 
are tourists still pass under the lights of the lampposts. No problem we find our hostel travelers. No sooner have we had time to launch a "buenas noches" reminds us that the receptionist a "hello, do you need a room?". With humor you might have answered "Yes, if we can! Pay in dollars?". I do not like much that we respond in English alors que l´on a entamé la conversation en espagnol. Nous aurons l´occasion de rediscuter de cette forme d´impérialisme culturel dans un autre épisode. Revenons à Carthagène. Une fois posé nos affaires dans notre chambre sans fenêtre, nous repartons en quête de notre pitance quotidienne. En passant nous voyons sur le comptoir de l´hôtel une annonce pour un bateau qui part pour le Panamá dans deux jours. Nous appelons et prenons rendez-vous pour le lendemain avec un certain Marco à l´accent bien québécois. Nous grignotons quelque ACPM (Arroz Carne y Papas Maduras c´est à dire le plat typique colombien, riz, viande et bananes mûres) dans un petit resto à la lumière crue. A short walk to get out and admire the beautiful homes that haunt the old city and we throw ourselves under the sheets. 
s welcome, we present ourselves. Morgan quickly Foam Marco (a French Montpellier) arrives with the boat and load our business to put them on the boat. For our part, we remain dockside until Captain Marco to go buy something to live on the boat for five days. We comply with two good carts, I pass the details of racing, your imagination is fertile enough to imagine the content. We ship one after the other on the small boat to reach the boat. Captain Marco Morgan, Slava Russian, two Colombian relocating to Panama, Erik American, Kalin and Jason the british and us two worthy representatives of the French Republic. We weighed anchor and take direction due west. 
