I love the Caribbean, and I always wanted to go to a small dive town, live off the grid and experience how the locals live. I heard of Santa Marta, and heard it was better than Cartagena (which it was not even close) and in researching Santa Marta, I came across Taganga. I was single at the time and I like to live on the edge and sometimes practice in dark tourism, so I thought, lets try Taganga. I was a bit hesitant though, when I came across articles like “sex, drugs and crime in Taganga”, “robbed in Taganga”, “DON’T GO TO TAGANGA”. But what did I do? I went to Taganga.
Taganga is known as a small Caribbean fishing village, with only one paved road in town, and it is where people go to get a diving certification for cheap. I wasn’t diving, but I wanted the small town feel and wanted a bit of adventure. Although, I didn’t just go for the adventure; Taganga is a starting point to get to Tayrona Park, one of the most beautiful parks in South America. It is also known for its stunning views and photos you can get of the bay.
I stayed in Cartagena for a night, then took a dodgy bus, packed to the seams, with people sitting on the floor to get to Santa Marta. The bus didn’t have any AC, and it was packed. But it was an interesting experience and some cool views of the coast and we even passed through a town with the houses built on stilts on the way. From Santa Marta I took a bus through the rundown part of town, then got a taxi to Taganga.
When I arrived in Taganga, it was packed with locals and my taxi driver didn’t know how to find my hotel. The town is small so I figured I’d find it. I got out and wheeled my suitcase across the sand in search of my hotel. After walking for a minute, an old hippy looking Colombian came up to me and said “my friend, thank you for believing in Colombia.” I continued to run into this guy the rest of my 4 nights there and he continued to repeat the line and proceeded to tell me about history of the town and Colombia. A couple of minutes later I found my hotel, a cheap budget hotel right on the beach, the Taganga Beach Hotel. The rooms were big but worn down, but the location was great. The staff were also extremely friendly, helpful and welcoming. I met a girl there who I was having a drink with at their bar, and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t a Colombian woman trying to rip me off so he proceeded to interrogate her. She was a super nice girl and would never have ripped anyone off or done anything like that, she was just a tourist. But I guess because of other horror stories, the owner wanted to be careful and look out for his guests.
There isn’t a lot to do in Taganga, and very few of the Colombians who live there speak any English. But there are the tourists, some Colombian or some being the hippies who came to receive their diving certificate. One of those types approached me at one point during my stay in Taganga, cigarette in mouth and no shoes on with blackened feet. You will see Colombian youth bumming for smokes and sometimes locals lurking in the shadows of the boats on the beach at night will to sell you whatever you desire. But it is all part of the experience and the fun. You are forced to step out of your comfort zone, make some new friends and practice your survival skills.
Making new friends is what I did the first night. Taganga Beach Hotel has a wicked taco restaurant and after a good taco dinner on the beach, I was off to explore. I hit the streets to buy some beers, try some street food, wander around and meet the locals. There aren’t many places to wander, as it is a small town. So you can walk about a kilometer down the main road and back, unless you dare to wander down the unlit side streets, I only did it for a few blocks until I got nervous and walked back to the main street. But when I arrived at the other end of the town, the power went out. Taganga is a small town with limited infrastructure, but every bar and restaurant blares the music at full blast, draining the grid. The power went out when I was on the sketchy side of town, and it wasn’t the only time it went out while I was there. It was restored within a couple of minutes, but it was enough time for me to witness a girl attack a dude who was standing only a few feet away from me. After the power was restored I headed back to my side of town and met some more locals. I ended up hanging out with two guys for the majority of the night. One of them was a normal cool dude (Cristian), the other guy seemed sketchy. The sketchy one ended up buying me one beer, and he continued to remind me the rest of the night, even after I bought him like 5 more. His main line was “recuerdo la cerveza.” Well it was under a buck a beer, so who cares I guess. We were up late, and in our drunken conversation with my broken Spanish, we almost planned a fishing excursion in one of their friends boats the next day. It never ended up happening though. Well, it was getting late, so I decided to call it a night.
The next morning when having breakfast on the beach, a chicken casually strolled by my feet as I ate. Then just down the beach there looked to be a commotion. There was a gathering of police and some of the locals. In typical Taganga fashion, two more police ran across the beach to join the fray. They were young, they couldn’t have looked more than 21 years old, and as they ran to assist their fellow officers, stray dogs began to chase and bark/bite at their legs. As the police were running and avoiding the dogs, they tried their best to swat them away with their batons. It was the perfect comical start to a morning in Taganga and a memory I will never forget.
There wasn’t much to do in the town though, that’s why at every opportunity that presented itself I would practice my Spanish and mingle with the locals. Asides from the first night (which was on a weekend), the nightlife was quiet. Nightlife would consist of a few beers on the beach or eating and drinking at a restaurant lining the beach with a few other tourists or Colombians. And throughout the day you could enjoy fresh juice, it was some of the best I have ever had. My favorite was a Colombian fruit called Zapote.
The two locals I met the first night were two guys I’d never forget. I hung out with them the rest of the time, but the “recuerdo la cerveza” continued to pester me the rest of the trip with his signature line. He lied to me and told me it was Cristian’s birthday (the other guy), and convinced me to buy them more beers. Later, Cristian, who was a good guy, told me he was sorry and it wasn’t his birthday. The other guy was looking for gringos to scam. Funny thing was he was one of the guys in the scuffle with the police the first morning there. Cristian, who was truly a good guy, knew very little English but carried around a small beat-up book with English phrases and vocabulary that he could practice.
Another Colombian I met was a girl from Bogota. I was chilling on the beach and had no one to talk to so I approached her. We ended up going to Tayrona Park together. She was also the one who the owner of Taganga Beach Hotel interrogated, making sure she wasn’t a scandalous woman, which she was not. To go to Tayrona Park, there were two main methods to get there. There was a boat which takes you through the rough waters directly to the premier beach in Tayona, Cabo San Juan. This route gives you a lot more time on the beach but less exploring of the park. We took the other route, a van into the park, and there you’d be dropped off and could hike through the park. We hiked through the jungle, witnessed indigenous tribespeople cutting down coconuts, had some amazing views of the blue water and had a short period to enjoy Cabo San Juan. The water is blue, but Cabo San Juan is famous for its lookout point, jutting out from the sand which separates the two beaches. There is a hut at the top, and it makes for some amazing photos. On our ride to the beach and the hike there, I met a Slovakian tourist who became a good friend. Instead of taking the van back, he took the boat back. He was a professional diver, and a fellow adventurer. When I saw him in Taganga later in the day, soaked and shaken up, I knew the ride must have been a rough one. His story about the danger of the boat ride was hilarious and terrifying all at the same time.
I hung out with him another day and we went snorkeling at a ridiculously cheap price. We saw lots of colourful fish and despite the fact that the boat owner wanted to wait for more tourists, we convinced him that it was time to go, so it was just us two on the boat. It was well worth the money and I think it only cost something like $10 CAD each.
There is also Playa Grande, the main beach which is about a 15 minute walk from the main town. The walk there goes over a few hills and through some small pathways. You also pass the fisherman’s beach on the way. There are some amazing views and opportunities for photos. I was warned to watch out for bandits on the walk, but never encountered anyone other than police while walking there. When I decided to make conversation with the police, what did they do? They decided to search me. After searching my backpack, I continued on my way. Playa Grande is nothing special, but it is a change from the beach in the main town. There are plenty of beach chairs and umbrellas to rent and a number of restaurants lining the beach. I misunderstood the ladies Spanish at one of the restaurants, and thought I had enough for Taganga’s signature dish, the Red Snapper. Sure enough, I didn’t hear her correctly and didn’t have enough money with me in my bag. I paid her what I had, and for once I was the scammer in Colombia. I was worried it might cause some trouble, so I packed my things and headed back to town before she could sick her goons after me.
After the first 3 nights in town, I had spent tons of time on the beach, went to Tayrona Park, went snorkeling, met a bunch of new friends and drank a lot of beer. I was ready to relax for the night when I heard “recuerdo la cerveza!” Shit, he was back. I eventually had enough of him and basically told him to screw off. Then he stuck his hand out to me, which I thought was to shake hands. I aggressively slapped and shook his hand thinking he would respect it, until he began to wince in pain. He showed me his hand which had a big cut down the palm. “Que Paso?” I asked. It was then that he pulled out a butcher knife from his pants and told me “policier”. My assumption was that the police found the knife on him and pulled it out of his pants; in the process he cut his hand. Great, now the guy who continued to harass me for more beers was packing a butcher knife. I bought him one more beer and he didn’t bug me after that. I spent the final night drinking with Cristian and was off to Santa Marta the next morning.
Would I recommend Taganga to others? That depends. If you are in Colombia, and visiting Cartagena and want to visit Tayrona Park then sure, go for the day or a night. If you are getting your diving certification, then definitely. Or if you just want an adventure, full of comical stories and memories, then there is no question about it. I had a lot of fun but was single back then and looking forward to a wild trip. As a family man, would I go back? Nope. But that’s not to say that I have anything negative to say about Taganga. Taganga was a great experience and I have lifelong memories that I’ll never forget. I met some great locals and other tourists who were great friends. I saw Tayrona Park and Cabo San Juan. I went snorkeling, got a tan and enjoyed the beach. Also, the views of the bay were breathtaking. Taganga is a small Caribbean town that is raw around the edges, full of character and has a personality of its own. It is one of the places I’ve been to that I’ll never forget.
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