Making my way up to the Caribbean coast . . .
Capurganá was hot. I'm talking searing of flesh hot. The smackdown of ultraviolet light was one of the most intense I've ever experienced. Now I like me some rays, and those who know me can verify I'm one of the more aggressive sun worshipers this side of Sweden. Even so I felt like Crème brûlée after just five minutes beneath this merciless sol.
Shady spots were crucial finds.
Strolling along the beach one day, I spotted from a distance a couple of older ladies chopping up what looked like carcasses and tossing the severed heads into a big pile. Actually when I got a bit closer I realized they were just chopping open fresh coconuts. Hey now, border areas can be sketchy and Mama said keep your guard up.
Sorry, coconuts on trees don't look like this. Some hardworking citizen has to individually hack them open with a 24 inch machete and tear them apart piece by piece. All day. Every day. Yes, even Sundays. Wait, so that means no bottomless mimosa brunch? Please give thanks to these industrious ladies of Capurganá next time you ignorantly slurp down that Vita Coco (which actually taste like sh*t when compared to a freshie).
Also! Don't even attempt to try this at home without a proper pair of rain boots. Rubbers make all the difference.