No Dar Papaya

I returned to La Playa Blanca last week for the third time in my Colombian experience.

This tropical paradise is a slice of heaven complete with white sand (hence the name), crystal blue Caribbean Sea, delicious Coco Locos and fresh fried fish. I take a motorcycle taxi there from Cartagena with my new friend Laurie-from-Canada.  The trip, combined with the bus to get to the moto-taxis takes around 2 hours and costs about $8 USD.

The motorcycle driver is attractive in a dark and mysterious way that is closer to dangerous than sweet. His voice is soft and suave and he stops more than once to help Laurie and I find our footing on the small bike. We race towards the beach with the wind in our hair, smiling and laughing at the dangerous road rules (or lack thereof) giddy with youth. As we near the beach, the dreaded question arises.

"Tu tienes un novio?"

His voice is so soft, I make him repeat his words. This time, more slowly, he asks me "Tu tienes un novio?" while he covers my hand with his. We are very close to the beach and there are plenty of people around, but I can't help but feel a little threatened.

"Oh! Si. Yo tengo!!" In broken spanish I explain that both Laurie and I have boyfriends waiting for us at the beach. I had previously thought of this excuse as a precaution on the bus ride to the motorcycles - just in case this exact situation arose.

The motorcycle man tries to explain that he'll be better than our boyfriends. He'll be enough for both of us.

"Oh, haha... No gracias!" I make a joke out of the situation and pretend to be at ease, although this man is starting to genuinely get under my skin. He grabs my hand tighter as he slows to a stop at the entrance of the beach. Before he lets me go, he cracks three of my knuckles. It doesn't hurt, but it is a warning. If I stay longer, or speak more to this man, I will be his. I pay him quickly and rush Laurie to the beach before explaining why we ran out so fast.

This was my first uncomfortable experience in the paradise of La Playa Blanca.

The second came that night.

I start drinking (but not too much) with a group of new friends and we decide to make some music. I know Jorge, a musician in the next hostel, from my previous times at this beach. I interrupt him to ask for his guitar and he says, "Ahhh! You are the girl with the beautiful voice!!" I thank him, and he offers to play drums while I play his guitar.

"Por supuesto!" I say.

Jorge and I jam until 11pm before we realize everyone else has gone to bed. We want more beers and more music so we ramble down the beach until we see an open hut. There is music and dancing, and we sit for drinks and conversation.

While we chat of hometowns and jobs with a small group of locals, I start to notice the beauty of this Bogota-born man. He has stunning green-grey eyes and his golden skin stretches sweetly over his active body like caramel sauce on a Golden Delicious. Trouble.

All of a sudden, a hermit crab catches my eye. I squeal with delight and get up from the circle to chase my new friend. I love the funny way they walk, scared and sideways, their eyes bugged out in constant surprise. Jorge picks it up and places it on my arm. I scream, laugh, and ask for it again. I realize, perhaps, I can't handle the crab legs on my arm and return the five paces back to my chair.

My phone, which I had left on my chair in the circle of four new friends, is gone. One of my new friends has acquired a new phone, and I have no one to blame but myself. Pero...una rata!

Luckily, I know Jorge is not a culprit. I would have hated to imagine such a pretty face stealing my phone. But the man who took it (it is very obvious) starts screaming at me when I ask for it back. I decide to let well enough alone and chalk it up to a stupid loss. I have not been physically hurt, but if I pressure the thief much longer, my chances of getting out unscathed lessen.

Jorge takes my hand, apologizes profusely and offers to take me to the police station in the morning. I thank him and tell him I'll figure it out later. In situations like these, I know it is unlikely the police will be of any help, but I keep my mouth shut. It is a beautiful night and I am alive.

"Swim?" Jorge asks.

"Porque no?" I reply.

We undress in the moonlight and leave our clothes on the beach. Together we enter the warm waves of the ocean, the stars our only audience. I look down and see glitter trailing behind the movement of my hands.

"Bioluminescence" Jorge explains. "It happens at night when there is little light from the moon."

I have never seen such incredible beauty. I feel like I have magic powers as I kick up specks of shiny green light that glitter in the black sea then fade away.

"Float?" He asks. I say yes and he lifts my seemingly weightless body to the top of a wave. The only sound in my ears is the hum of the current. The only thing I see is an ocean of sparkling stars.

There is a saying in Colombia, "No dar papaya". Literally it means, don't give papaya, but the phrase itself is a warning to take care of your belongings. Don't give a thief easy access. Don't wear expensive jewelry or take photos with a fancy camera in an impoverished neighborhood. And for God's sake... don't leave your iPhone 4 with your shiny pink case on a plastic chair in La Playa Blanca.

But if every victim of petty theft had a night that ended like mine, perhaps papaya would be given more freely.