We figured we should have a rad beach day at least once while we were in Cartagena, so we booked a cheap tour to the oft mentioned Islas del Rosario and Playa Blanca at Isla Baru.

I have to note that Isla Baru is not an Isla at all. It’s a finger of land south of Cartagena. Don’t know what that’s all about. Also, we shouldn’t have booked a cheap tour, but we are, as they say, on a fixed income.

The tour started early, with a cab ride to the warf. Every morning, this launch point for the Isla tours is swarming with people, people taking your money, writing your name, telling you where to stand.. It’s hard to tell if someone’s taking you for a ride, if you’ll be left stranded on the dock, 65k pesos drier.

Eventually you are loaded on a small but powerful boat with 50 other people. And when the tour guide points to you and outs you as a non-spanish speaker, and 48 people laugh at a private joke, it’s hard not to feel a bit disadvantaged. I don’t blame them! We have been doing our best to learn, but it’s a fucking language!

The first stop, 1 hour out from the dock, is… Who the hell knows? There was an aquarium that we could pay out day budget to tour, there was a snorkeling excursion that also cost our whole day budget.. Or you could sit on a bench on this tiny island, and just wait it out, hoping that you understand the flow of the day, when to go back to the boat, etc.. All the while, a noseful of seafood cocktail wafting over from the vendors on the dock, below a sign that clearly warns that they are not responsible if you get sick eating it.

When the boat departed for Isla Blanca, it did so in great haste, as 2 people were quite late for the departure, which set us up for a misalignment of services, presumably lunch.

Our guide, who as far as I could tell was named “chocolate” as seemed to be central to his shtick, took to referring to me as “man”. Not like “hey, man” but simply.. “Man”. He would pull me close and furrow his brow and get a very serious level of concentration going before finally gathering the words… “We.. Go to beach… 3..” I wonder if that’s how I look when I’m working out my spanish.

My lunch had a face. It has been a very long time since I had eaten fish.. Much less A fish.. With a face… Truth be told, it wasn’t too bad, but laugh while you can, folks, cause it’s unlikely to happen again soon.

The beach was pretty. Blue Caribbean water, strong sun, white beaches. We paid to have a little tent for shade, which was kind of nice and romantic. It also made us fish in a barrel for concession. Kind of reminded me of those old films where a harem of ladies is paraded in front of the king, waving his fat bejeweled hand to dismiss each one in turn… Until maybe, eventually the beer vendor comes by.

Jewelry, no gracias; pearls, no gracias; fruit salad, no gracias; coco loco, no gracias; helado, no gracias; massage, no gracias; coca cola, no gracias; agua frio, no gracias; snorkeling, no gracias; jet skis, no gracias…

Still, we really did have a lovely day. The water was beautiful, the cabana guys worked hard to keep you happy, and you have to know ahead of time: if the ride is cheap, the drinks will cost you.

All of this is a cautionary tale that we all know so well. We are not generally the types to buy the packaged excursion, and really, we knew what to expect. The complication in a tourism driven area is that they need your money, and no matter what you think, you are wealthy. Try as you might to be thrifty about every choice, you are also presided over by your own moral oversight. How can I come to your beautiful country and pack my own snacks? I like to think that we did some economical offset by grazing street food and buying some knockoff RayBans.