So from Cartagena we need to get to the island of Providencia, in the Western Caribbean. How hard can it be? When our days in Cartagena are spent looking at that very body of water. The problem is that bodies of water are big. Unlike, say, human bodies or glasses of water. And furthermore, access to places is ruled by the gods of the skies. The airlines. Who decide that to fly from Cartagena to Providencia is just too easy. It might encourage tourists and you wouldn’t want that. So on xmas morning we woke at 3.30 to go to the airport to fly… south. Away from the Caribbean, to Bogota. From there, after a suitable wait, obvs, we few north and west, over the coast, to the island of St Andres. Which is so close to Providencia you can almost smell it. Ish. And only after waiting for another 3 hours at that tiny little island airport do you qualify to get on a weeny little plane (because Providencia is a weeny little island with a weeny little runway) and be among the 18 people who finally arrived where we wanted to be, just about 15 hours after leaving our hotel that morning. You could almost have swum it quicker. Well, Mel could. Though I’ve never seen her swim carrying suitcases. Whilst I cheer from a boat, sipping margaritas.

Providencia is Colombian like the Falklands are British. Or Gibraltar. Along with St Andres, the two islands are much nearer to Nicaragua than Colombia. And Panama lies between those 2 fine nations, should you be looking solely at the land. But Colombian they are, which you can tell because you have to pay your excess baggage fines in Colombian money. Otherwise the island is just like any other Caribbean island. Nothing works properly. But that’s because its really ‘unspoiled’ here. No massive, luxury hotels ‘spoiling’ all that coastline. No spoiling workers coming out to mend the wifi, which is patchy at best, because its Christmas and the locals don’t work that day. Or on many of the others. The great thing about the unspoiliness is that the beaches are simply wonderful. Just beaches and tropics. Nothing commercialised. No hordes of great fat Americans breaking the sunbeds and blocking out the light. Mainly because there are no sunbeds and the light is spectacular.

When we arrived, the rather immense feeling of ‘middle of nowhereness’ almost overwhelmed my inner princess who bemoaned the lack of luxury… then I got back in touch with my long-lost back-packer-dude and embraced the fact that Providencia is just different. In a good and fab way.

And when the wifi returned, learning that Harry Kane had scored his second hat-trick in 4 days to become the best goalscorer in the ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD, was the icing on the cake. Even if the cake tends to be a bit stale.

Buenas Dias

A xxxx