Pasto, Colombia: Carnival de Negros y Blancos

B&N Carnival Origins: During the Spanish rule, slaves were allowed to celebrate on the 5th of January, and their masters showed their approval by painting their faces black. The next day, slaves would paint their faces white, and the whole town celebrates.

When we decided to make it for the festival, we could not have imagined the magnitude and seriousness of the affair. Instead of 2 days, the festival lasted 5. Literally (with no exceptions), EVERYONE in the town was involved. The locals, the tourists, the children, the aged, the policemen, the garbage cleaners…

Let’s paint you (no pun intended) a picture. The first time we walked out of the Koala Inn, we took exactly 4 steps before being attacked with “snow spray” and white powder. By the time we had reached the end of the second block, someone sneaked up behind me with black paint and rubbed it all over my face. Our first stop: to buy 2 cans of spray and 3 bags of talc to arm ourselves. For the next four days, we suited up (sunglasses, hat/hairband, jacket/poncho) and never left the hostel without can of spray in one hand and some powder.



Shaan & Jeremy : post-party

I hadn’t had so much messy fun in a long long time. Not since the days where my dad was always the first to start a food fight (with birthday cake, or yogurt, or eggs…) and you don’t care about how you’re gonna have to spend half and hour washing gook out of your hair or how someone just threw a fistful of powder in your face while your mouth was open. We got into “fights” with groups of children, with families, with some oldies, with teenagers… pick up trucks of groups armed with sacks of powder drove round the town, hurling powder (with a tinge of water to make targets easier to hit) at anyone who walked past. Policemen were the most hilarious. Tucked on one side was their baton or gun. Stuffed in their pocket was a can or two of spray. They were the most targeted, and naturally needed defense! Can you imagine the power-hungry, grumpy policemen in Singapore ever being that fun and light hearted!!? The cops even STARTED many of the fights!



No one was spared. The old lady collecting cans, the roadsweeper man, the dogs, the man selling snow spray cans and powder, the poor people who actually had to go to work, taxi drivers stupid enough to leave their windows down, the toilet aunty… the whole town looked like it was blanketed with snow. There was music everywhere – and to leave after 4 days of incredible fun was like saying goodbye to childhood all over again. But at least we know where to go when we need to go back in time again. Back to the days where you played with everyone and they were your friends instantly, where you got dirty and laughed so much, where your heart was free, where you never cared about how you looked, what you wore, what anyone would think, and where everyone was equal.

ps- wish i could upload more pics but internet is REALLY slow.

The Story of San Blas

I´m sure you´ve all seen the photos in the ¨san blas¨ post - now here´s the story behind the photos.

Morning flights are the worst. Especially when you put 4 people (2 Panamanians and 2 Singaporeans) together on their last night. It leads to a whole string of fascinating conversations about everything from politics to religion to ambitions and travel. By the time we thought it best to say goodnight, it was 3:45am. Our alarm clock was set for 4:10am – the taxi was booked to arrive at 4:30am, we had to be at the airport at 5am for our 6am flight to El Povenir from where we would board our yacht. Turns out, our pilot didn’t arrive at the airport till 7:30am! The Bastard!! All the while in the airport lounge, I kept thinking about how I could’ve had an hour and a half’s sleep instead of none at all.

Think about how you would expect a 5 day sailing trip to be when your captain looks exactly like Tom Hanks in Castaway after having been stranded on a deserted island for 4 years. Now add in characteristics like him being Colombian and a little “pirate-ish.” It was fabulous…. The first 3 days, at least.

We sailed around the San Blas islands, ate lobster every day, swam in pristine waters and lazed on deserted beaches and slept on the deck under a million stars at night, wishing on shooting stars as they fell from the sky. Our daily breakfast was unforgettable, although at times I wish I could forget it. Take a big bowl (washed in SEAwater – hey, fresh water is more precious than a wad of hundred dollar bills when you’re sailing), now throw in one packet granola, chopped pineapple, few squeezes of honey, and then top it off with the magic ingredient- RUM. Keep going with the rum till you feel like stopping. Then, take a large wooden spoon and mix it all up till it’s the consistency of mud. Bon Provecho! Oh yeah, the RUM was the only thing on board that (to the captain at least) was more precious than water. According to him, rum cures all – sea sickness, dehydration and hunger.

From sanblas

One night, instead of hanging out with Puna (local Kuna lady who helped us with our meals) on “our” island, we sailed to a nearby tiny island which was inhabited solely by one Kuna family. We helped grate coconut on a makeshift rusty metal piece which was punctured with holes, searched the island for dried coconut leaves for the bonfire, and played with the local children. It was one of the most authentic experiences.

Ok, then comes the next few days. Sailing is fun from one island to another in sheltered turquoise waters. It’s a whole different story when you’re sailing rough waves on the open sea on a little yacht. All of us kept throwing up off the side of the yacht, and being inside was virtually impossible unless you lie down straight away. When you are outside, waves keep splashing on you, and you’re faced with 2 options: stay outside and freeze from the wetness and wind, or go inside and feel sick until you manage to fall asleep. On the 2nd night on the open sea, the boat started to flood… something with the engine or something. The boys took turns scooping water out of the boat (taking turns to come on deck to throw up before going back inside to scoop more water out) while I steered the boat at 90N, which was an almost impossible task with the scarily whipping winds and being splashed in the face on every 6th wave. Anyway, we got through that nightmare. Finally, on the 3rd night, we were going to reach the next morning. I knew I could get through one more night of puking, of not showering, of feeling like I was never gonna feel solid ground again. The next morning came… and there was bad news. Apparently the whipping winds of the night before had disappeared – which meant another day of sailing. I lost it. Jem (knowing my desperation) stole a gallon of fresh drinking water so I could have a “shower.” You have no idea how it feels to swim in the ocean for 3 days, then spend the next 3 with sand still in your swimsuit, hair the texture of grimey hay, and sticky face and skin with clogged pores just begging for fresh water. He was my hero. And with that, we made it to the 6th day and drank our last coffee on the yacht watching the sun rise over beautiful Cartagena.