The Pensieve

We did it!  We did it, we left Taganga and the coast.  Naturally, after we posted about our imminent departure, we haggled a bit more about whether or not we should stay and do our Rescue Diver course.  Finally, though, when we arrived home to find Penelope, the more insane of our two kittens, stuck in the highest branches of the tallest tree in the courtyard, we decided it was time to leave FOR SURE.  Blair, had to climb the tree, full of huge spines, and grab her, no small feat for one as wily as she, and then drop her to a sheet waiting below.  She grazed the sheet in the fall but, as cats are wont to do, she landed on all fours and was wrestling with her sister in T minus two seconds.  Ridiculous.  Meanwhile, the hero Blair had to extricate himself from the tree.  He was thanked only by Camila, later that night, after he puked (as he was hit with a case of the dragon):  Camila came to lick him armpit (with Blair crying out in the night in a spasm of hilarity, ‘She’s licking my ARMPIT!  It tickles!  It tickles!)  and then proceed to pass our with her nose in said armpit and snuggle.  She is one sick kitty. 

A sight of beauty as we left Santa Marta: there was heavy, but breif rains in the hills surrounding the town and the water flowed quickly down the city streets.  Upon a corner, one could look down all the streets and see brown frothy water flowing about 4 inches deep.  The reason is slightly less beautiful as they lack a sewer system and the streets are the sewers.

But with that adventure behind us, we arose the next morning bright and early for our eleven hour bus ride to Bucaramanga, capital of Santander, City of Beauty, City of Parks, a popular spot for national conventions, and hopefully not as freaking hot as Taganga has gotten.

The bus driver tried to make us pack the cats down below, but with the proper motivation from Blair, we were allowed to board the bus with our kittens.  They didn’t complain much and only got really restless towards the end of the eleven hours.  We took them out at our lunch stop and they endeared themselves to the entire bus by trying to escape and being chased by half the passengers.  The bus driver asked (as many people here do) if they were of ‘raza’ or of a breed… no, they are raggamuffins.  He asked for one as a gift, as he says he needs a cat, but how could we make Sophie’s choice like that… though Blair may have thought about Penelope after the tree incident. 
Alas, we made it to the hotel and snuck the cats past the desk into an air conditioned room.  They spazzed so hard we thought they might knock themselves out running in to walls.  They were so so so good on the bus though.  Didn’t pee or poo, didn’t cry, were just chill.  So they deserved to drive us crazy for a bit, and now they are passed out on the bed like queens.  First leg DONE! 

The mountains are gorgeous and we have secured a quaint colonial hotel in a small village called Giron for the week.  They accept cats, just a long as we don’t let them on the bed… ah hem.  We are happy to have strawberry juice and HOT mountain coffee again.  But alas, no kitchen.  Though there are three ice cream shops within walking distance and a sweet bakery down the road… We think we’ll manage.

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