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| sunset in Minca |
Oh Minca...A beautiful town in the hills outside Santa Marta, Colombia in which there was nothing to eat. I had planned on staying longer to relax in hammocks with my newfound literary treasure (the entire Cornish Trilogy by Robertson Davies), take leisurely walks to waterfalls, and soak in the lush greenery of the place. However, after just two days, I hightailed it out of there grumpy from the endless mosquitoes and a diet consisting of plantain chips, peanuts, and crappy chocolate bars.
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| rocking the beach hair in Tayrona |
Minca was the third foodless town I had come across in a row in the past two weeks and I was starving for anything green, leafy, or with any fibre. Tayrona Park - in all its glorious and unfathomable beauty - had me living off of corn pancakes called Arepas. In Taganga, - a steamy beach town full of macrame-peddling artisans and more than their share of armed robberies of visiting travellers - whenever I asked for the grocery store, I was pointed to one of the numerous liquor stores that sometimes also sold bread.
For Minca, I had thought to bring food, but my hostel was without a kitchen. After one night of trying to start a fire and cook on it, I had had quite enough of that. I longed for an avocado or a mango, which were rumoured to grow so plentifully that they could be simply plucked from trees as one walked into town. However, these fabled trees were nowhere to be found and no one seemed to sell or know where I could acquire such foods.
On the plus side, there were some tasty veggie options in restaurants. The Lazy Cat Cafe had a sizable salad, Hostel Casa Loma made a great curry one night, and supposedly High Sierra Cafe had options - though despite my many attempts to go there, they were never open. But eating out was eating through my already overblown budget and nowhere seemed to believe that vegetarians needed protein of any sort or believe in the powers of whole grains.
Having traveled for almost eight months with healthy and tasty ingredients inexpensively within my reach and the ability to create my own culinary fare, I just wasn't down for the gastronomical deprivation that was becoming disturbingly commonplace. So that was enough of Minca for me and on to the next place. Sometimes your stomach really is the best travel guide.
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