***It’s been hard to gauge how long these are because I’ve been writing them on my phone. This one runs a little long—feel free to skim! 

Most who know me also know that New York is one of the great loves of my life (I may be borrowing a bit from Carrie Bradshaw here, but it’s true!). I love the skyscrapers and the brownstones, the grid of midtown and the winding streets of the West Village. I love the suits on Wall Street and the characters on the subway. I love Union Square Park and Madison Square Garden and, hell, I even love Times Square, too. 

To me, the Big Apple is like the epicenter of civilization—and I like it that way. I like that a run by the river also involves a skyline that can’t be beat and that a picnic in the park can be bought at a supermarket on the same corner. What can I say? I’m a city person, not a nature girl. Always have been. 

So when I announced I was heading to South America for a few months, lots of people asked, “Why?!” From the Amazons to ancient ruins, from salt flats to sand dunes, this continent has a ton to offer … and its cities aren’t always top of mind. But if I had to embrace nature at some point in my life, this would really be the place to do it. 

Part 1: AHHHHH!?! NATURE!

Park Tayrona, Santa Marta

After Cartagena, El (my college roommate and travel buddy for the past two weeks) and I boarded a four-hour bus to the Santa Marta region of Colombia. Nearby, there’s a park called Tayrona that she (and I, albeit more trepidatiously) wanted to hike. It’s about a three-hour trek through the forest to a beautiful beach. But it was too much to do both legs in one day. So, we opted to do the most outdoorsy thing I’ve ever done and get the closest to camping I’ve ever come: sleep in a hammock that night. 

We began our journey bright and early, pulling up to the park around nine. Through jungles, rock formations, and canopies of sea grapes, we made our way inward. With so many different natural environments in one hike, it felt like we’d been walking for days instead of minutes—and the heat didn’t help. But even through the sweat, things were going pretty swimmingly. That is, until El rolled her ankle. I’d nearly forgotten about her soccer injury two years prior that required two surgeries and multiple pins, screws, nails, etc. Shit. She sat to rest a few steps ahead, where another Colombian girl was also nursing a scrapped knee. I had bandaids and Advil on me (just call me Clara Barton, y’all) and started dishing them out—all the while, internally freaking out. What if El couldn’t walk? How would we get out? What would we do? Toto, we’re not in Central Park anymore. Luckily, El was able to power through, and though I was later almost run over by a horse barreling along the trail, we ultimately made it to Cabo San Juan, where we promptly laid out our towels and remained completely inert for the next five hours.

But staying put for so long caused El’s ankle to stiffen. Some broken Spanish helped us procure some ice, which was placed directly in El’s bare hands (a few seconds later, someone gave us a plastic cup sleeve to jerry-rig into a makeshift bag for said ice … innovation!). After dinner with newfound acquaintances, we faced our next challenge: hobbling up an incredibly steep rock right on the water to our hammock in pitch black darkness. We made it, but the experience that followed was anything but celebratory. Because, hammocks? Not actually that comfortable. Unrelenting wind, close quarters (in which I was basically spooning a random Europe man because our hammocks were tied so closely together), and damp, sandy “bedding” (countless people had rested in our hammocks during the day) led to a highly uncomfortable night. 

We awoke the next morning exhausted and in dire need of a bathroom (which felt like an odyssey to get to from our rock). Thankfully, El’s ankle had stopped swelling, so we put on our disgusting clothes once again and went back out the way we came. 

Tayrona is a beautiful oasis…and I’m really glad I went. In the end, it was worth the effort to see such a pristine park. But, if I’m being honest, when it comes to beaches, I still prefer the two blocks to the Boca Grande gulf coast than this two plus-hour walk any day ☺️

Part 2: Ahhhh, nature

Cocora Valley, Salento

The Tayrona hike was enough nature to hold me over for a while. But three days later, we were back at it in Salento—hiking a gorgeous five-hour loop in the breathtaking Cocora Valley. 

By now, I felt like a seasoned pro (does one hike, feels like Bear Grylls, amiright?!). Together with an ankle-braced El, we made our way through rolling hills; past a hidden waterfall; over rickety “rope” bridges; and up steep paths that might as well have been mudslides. It seemed like every part of the hike was one chapter in a greater story. Was this middle earth? Some fantasy land à la Harry Potter? Each hour brought a new awe-inspiring landscape with it. And I was singing the soundtrack to “Pocahontas” in my head the entire time.

After stopping at a “hummingbird house” for some brief birdwatching and hot chocolate, and snacking on a quick lunch at another viewpoint (which involved squeezeable queso and mini bread rolls … the jank is still real 😂), we made it to the main event: el bosque de las palmas. Here, majestic palm trees grow hundreds of feet, right out of the mountainside. Eerily beautiful, these tropical trees seem jarring in their foggy, unfamiliar environment. But that’s why so many flock to see them. Pine trees sprouting next to palm trees. A diverse collection of flora and fauna simply coexisting. To me, it was like nature was setting an example for how the human world might be one day. And fittingly, as visitors from different cultures and countries descended onto this ecological phenomenon, a group of friends started playing a song on their guitar: “One day” by Matisyahu. At the top of the lookout point, everyone sang together—and then took a group selfie. If that’s not natural harmony, I don’t know what is. It’s a moment I’ll never forget. 

I’m always going to love the energy and vibrancy of cities. But over the past week, I’ve learned to appreciate the peace that trees, and streams, and mountains, and beaches can offer a little more. And when all was said and done, I even survived with zero mosquito bites—so this New Yorker is doing pretty well.

Abrazos!

Caroline