Hostels and hammocks have become our thing since making our way south. They're affordable and comfortable, friendly and, as far as we've experienced, safe. Lack of hygiene takes a little getting used to, coming from a germaphobe, but I've managed.
After the intensity of Ciudad Perdida, we slowed our strut slightly and headed to the coast. Neither of us is exactly a super lover of the beach, but we took a keen interest in the soft sand under our swollen feet and the cool ocean breeze, when there was one, against our ravaged skin. We arrived in Palomino by bus, walked 20 minutes to a cabana on the beach, claimed 2 hammocks on the upper deck, and succumbed to the night.
Extreme lethargy made it challenging to fully appreciate Palomino the next morning, but we rolled ourselves out of our hanging haven and dragged our listless bodies across the beach, taking in the green of the palms, blue of the skies, rays of the sun. Those around us seemed to have given in to their laze. After all, Palomino is a place for relaxation.
We made our way to Parque Tayrona that afternoon, but stayed only long enough to catch a glimpse of the mountainscape that parallels the ocean. A cup of limonada barely gave us the energy we needed to crawl our way back to Santa Marta.
