Tolú - what can I say? If I were told to describe this place in one word, containing three letters, it would be: WOW. Unfortunately not in a good way and I would have needed to ask, if I could put quotes around it, and add two exclamation marks."WOW!!" is probably the only way I could, would and should describe this place, even if others could, would or should remove both the quotes and the exclamation marks.

I can’t really comprehend this place. Everything seems out of place, but not really out of place - just strange. Not really strange, but more like backwards. Yet not really backwards - just weird. Not really weird, but more like misunderstood. I wouldn’t really call it misunderstood, though - maybe just wrong. And even if it is not wrong, it definitely must be really boring. Not really just boring - this place is absolutely incomprehensible and I have to wonder: why is this place here at all. Why couldn’t they, whoever "they" are, have placed another place here? Why couldn’t they have made this town a bit more normal than absolutely below average and what are the words that come out of their mouths??

When I arrived, I knew that I would probably be the only gringo in town, but I didn’t expect that I would be the only person in town. The town has a town square and it seems to have a respectable size, but I do not understand why all shops are closed during the daytime, apart from the "we have authentic Colombian art-and-handmade-stuff-and-Caribbean-shells-and-wristbands-and-whatever-you-want"-shops. They also sell flip-flops, beach sport items, t-shirts with local prints and all that kind of touristy crap you can find everywhere else. But wait - touristy means that there should be tourists here. I am the only gringo here, so that means that everyone else here, are tourists. But wait - someone is actually selling the stuff, so they can’t be tourists. I am the only gringo here, people who sells the stuff are not actually tourists, so that means everyone else here, are tourists. I guess that could be the truth. Some work in the bank, the hotels, the restaurants, the bakery and so on, but they are inside working and not walking about on the streets. But wait - there are none walking about on the streets. It’s me and almost only me. I am surrounded by ecologically friendly and economical hostile bicycle taxis and they fight for having me as a passenger. I bet, that if I fell for their not so convincing ways of selling a ride with their taxi, I could do nothing but sit on a bike all day and night and get bicycled around town - and at night, they compete in who can play their stereo the loudest. A rather fun thought actually, but "wow!!", that must have been boring.

I have concluded so far, that this place is absolutely useless and I have no intentions on staying longer than necessary. Yesterday, I managed to survive one whole day in this town, thanks to the presence of at least two Internet café’s, some homemade excitement and I have discovered the new TV channel: Stupid TV.

The Internet time, is actually nothing to write home, or anywhere else for that matter, about, but the homemade excitement probably is. The day after I arrived, I decided to only stay for one night more, because of the big score on the disappointment-o-meter. But one of the reasons that I came here, was to visit one of most densely populated islands in the world. I haven’t really done any research to see if the statement is true and since I really trust everyone right now, the statement has to be true. Apparently, there is this small island off the coast of Tolú, which have 1500 people stacked, packed and racked onto it. Apparently, this island should consist of mainly women and children, leaving no room for fantasy of what the men actually do most of the day. After one day here in Tolú, I didn’t even want to see this small island, because I didn’t want to spend a night more in this town, but as I was walking up to the bus station to buy my ticket for the next day, I passed a sign stating that they had boat trips to the island I wanted to visit. The pros and cons circled in my head, and even if there were only one of each, it was a struggle. The con was this: "this place is boring, expensive and I want to leave right now". The pro was this: "I came here to see the island, It will cost me a lot of money, I have to stay one more night and there is a semi-beautiful sunset on my left hand side". The choice couldn’t be more easy, but I should have listened to my alarm clocks as I "talked" to the woman who sold me the ticket. Following this probably half-drunk, probably middle-aged, probably overweight, probably chain-smoking and more than mumbling kind of woman into the dark "office" to buy the ticket, I first noticed the strong stench of old cigarettes. She couldn’t really find the block of tickets, she couldn’t really find a pen and she didn’t really turn on the lights. When she asked for my name, I spelled my first name in Spanish but I couldn’t remember how to say "h" in Spanish, so I presented my passport for her to read my last name using her own eyes. At this point, I noticed that she hadn’t really written my first name yet and she tried to read it off the passport as well. I have no idea of what she was reading, but it was definitely not my name. After two attempts spelling my first name, with a children’s color pen, I thought it would be best to write my last name myself, even though it in hindsight would have been hilarious to see what she would have come up with. My first name ended up being "E(kut) Kaut". Thinking she was a part-time practitioner of numerology, I didn’t think more off it. I felt like having done a good deed to myself, since I actually bought the ticket to the island and strolled out of there almost whistling a random happy tune.

Having not more than 70.000 Colombian money (pesos) on me, I decided to go and cash some money after the newly made decision of seeing the island and I went off to find the only cash machine in town. The ticket for the island cost 30.000 pesos and the ticket for the bus out of here, cost 50.000. I was 10.000 short, but the local cash machine would help me out - or would it? There are actually two cash machines in this town, they are located 1 meter away from each other and are operated by the same, and only, bank in Tolú - which by the way must be the only establishment in Colombia, that closes at 15:00. I have never had problems cashing out money before, apart from the amazingly, madly and overly expensive fee you have to pay to get the money out of any one ton robot attached to any bank by cables, bolts and security cameras. When I come home to Denmark, I think I have spent half my budged on fees. Anyway - I went up to the cash machine, almost whistling a random happy tune, and tried to cash out 300.000 pesos, which is a rough approximation, approximately US$150-160. To my surprise, the money did not come out of the regular slot, it didn’t even come out at all and I immediately thought that I just had pressed a wrong button. When cashing out money here, I get the option to get money from "savings account" or "credit account", and since I use a a debit VISA card, the first option seems to be the one I need to go for. And - the options written on the cash machine screen and the buttons on the side of the screen are a bit unaligned and you have to be a bit creative or just a bit less than 187 cm tall to really see the correlation between the printed messages and the immovable buttons. I tried everything - from almost sitting down when pressing a button, closing my eyes when pressing a button, taking a few steps back and charging at the machine in an attempt to make it believe that I wasn’t actually properly choosing between the two options when pressing a button, looking up at the roof actually whistling a random happy tune when pressing a button and repeat all the above at the next cash machine. Nothing happened and I started to get a bit nervous about my future here in Tolú. The boat to the island would leave at 8:00 and the bank opened at 8:00. The boat wouldn’t get back until 16:00 and the bank close at 15:00. I had a problem and I needed to fix it quickly unless I wanted to stay in this ghost town for one more day due of money issues. I knew that I could get money if I followed the message on the cash machine screen: "If you have any problems, please contact the bank". Oh believe me, I really wanted to contact the bank. The cash machine claimed, or since a cash machine can’t really claim anything - I guess it was the bank that claimed, that it accepted VISA. Since "V" actually is pronounced "B" down here, I assumed that my regular VISA card was no good here - I probably needed a BISA card. I ran home to get a new card and/or to try to get money from a random hotel/place on the way.

Knowing that I have three more cards with me, but realising that I only have the PIN to one of them, actually limited my options by a significant percentage and knowing that the one card that I had the PIN for, also was a VISA card, I assumed that it wouldn’t work out. I hoped that my hotel accepted the worldwide VISA, and not BISA, and trusted that I could get some money from there. They didn’t, but the hotel next door did. Optimistically walking into the hotel, trying to formulate the proper question in Spanish, the receptionist thought that I wanted to buy a ticket to the island, which I already had in my pocket. He said that I could get some money the day after - off course, no problem. But when he actually handed me a ticket for a boat trip to the island, I really understood that he got me wrong. In a few magical moments, we managed to understand each other and we managed to make a deal with the agency that sold me the ticket to the island, to wait for me the day after, so I could go to the bank. Excellent - I could get money at the bank before we would sail and I would be able to buy a ticket out of here when I got back from the island. Walking home, I wanted a bit of rest. Chasing money is hard work.

Lying down on the rock hard bed of my hotel, I wanted to watch some TV. Spanish speaking, "easy listening" TV was preferred, so I could train my ear to listen to Spanish, but I ended up watching "Travel & Living" channel. I have never in my life experienced more stupid television and I wonder who actually is entertained by the crap they show on that channel. To be brief, these are the observations I have made so far on the channel:

• The first program I watched, was a food program and was made by a half Egyptian and half Chinese (??) "chef" who toured China, making a travel/cooking program on Chinese food. Walking around in an outfit that can only be described as a bad mafia lookalike, talking rubbish and loosely about everything of interest, saying "the forbidden city blows me away" with the least enthusiastic voice I have EVER heard and his cooking abilities was not any better. Even David Beckham would have done a better travel/cooking show.’
• The second program was also a food program and was made of two New Zealand surfers (??) with the name: "Surfing the menu". They were driving/surfing through New Zealand talking to uninteresting people and making random New Zealand food.
  None of these shows were at all informative.
• The third show I watched, was at least informative, but probably one of the most misplaced shows on earth. With the title "bizarre foods of the world", or something similar, the shows concept was following a "gourmet" or "food connoisseur" around the world to - well, eat bizarre food. The informative bit of the program, was mostly about Spain having an amazing amount of really bizarre food, like bulls balls, calf brain, long roasted pig suckling, grilled sword shell, deep fried baby eel, dry-marinated some-sort-of-worms and much, much more, but most of the show was basically just about watching a semi-overweight American "gourmet"/"food connoisseur" shoving, almost Homer Simpson style, all sorts of strange food into his mouth, while he said "wow", "it just melts on your tongue", "this is one of my favorites" and "this is the best in the world" - all of these phrases were supported by him rolling his eyes, kissing his fingers in awe or waving them in the air as if "I give up - I can’t even tell how GOOD this tastes". Nothing else - no tips on how to cook it, how to buy it, where to find it (apart from in Spain) and every scene finished by a sequence of him coming out of a restaurant, patting his tummy and licking his mouth as if he wanted more.
• A "traveling program" followed a rich person to a secluded island in the Caribbean and on arrival of the island, the narrating voice of the program said: "they have really been looking forward to retreat on this island, an island so small, there is no need for cars" - and the rich person they were filming, was actually picked up in a freaking golf car(t)?!.
• If these people can make a TV program on a worldwide network, I would like to start my own show: "Gourmet food in Colombia and what I have eaten so far" (a phrase that is actually a humongously paradoxical and absolutely impossible, as rice, bean and fried meat makes up the menu - as far as I know)

Falling asleep half angry over bad TV and the money situation, I woke up the next day ready to see the island I had been chasing. Getting up relatively early, I managed to eat an overpriced breakfast before the bank opened. I managed to get money from the bank, after spending three minutes looking at the bank guy looking at my VISA card as if it was an item from a galaxy far away (it’s only Europe/BISA for Christ sake), waiting in line as people just jumped in front of me (they should be glad my Spanish is so bad, or else … ) and follow the bank employees’ somewhat incomprehensible working routines and kind of ran back to the hotel to get my day pack for the boat ride. I thought I would be alone on a small boat, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Realising that 25 middle-aged, Colombian tourists were waiting 30 minutes just for me, was the last thing I expected. Trying to sneak on board the power boat with my Crane strapped on my bag, making me look like an idiot, while saying "I’m solly for ze delaj" in "Spanish", was not what I expected and it hit me - I am on a 7 hours ride to hell. To make a long story short:

I was "forced" to enter an aquarium located on an island, but I spent too much time trying to take a photo of a Buffalo (honestly - what does a Buffalo do on an island in the middle of the Caribbean and in an aquarium - really???) so I lost the group and got lost. I had to run through a myriad of jungle paths to find my way home to the boat, unless I wanted to get "stranded" on this island, which by the way turned out to be a "luxury resort". The guide could have told me, that I needed to stay with the group - but, maybe he did, just in the wrong language.
The island I wanted to see, were a 1,5 minutes pleasure - I didn’t even get to take a close up picture and least of all, set foot on it.
I had to stay 4 hours(!!!) on an island, with an allegedly amazing beach. To bad the beach was only 15 meters long, not really amazing, a bit white and packed with street/beach-vendors who hassled me from the second I stepped foot in the water, when stepping off the boat. "By necklace for you, amigo?", "no". "Buy necklace for girlfriend, amigo?", "no". "Buy coral, amigo?", "no". "Buy water-melon, amigo", "no!". "Buy beer, soft drink, juice, amigo?", "no!!". "Buy sun-bed, amigo?", "NO". "Buy ice-cream, amigo?", "NO!". "Buy a property on the moon, amigo?", "For FUCK sake - let me at least get my feet out of the fucking water and on the FUCKING island before you start being annoying!!!! NO, NO, NO - I do NOT want to buy any of your FUCKING things!!!!". Amazingly getting my feet on the dry sand, I put my backpack near a chair on the beach and started to get all beachy - stripping off my shirt and putting on my swimming shorts. "You want to buy a chair for the day, amigo?", "Que??". "Chair and a parasol is 10.000 (US$5) pesos a day. You buy, amigo?". I didn’t even have the strength to say the "f" word and fell down on the sand, crying, hitting my fists in the sand, without a proper tan and knowing that it was 4 hours before I could get home. Looking relatively stupid - a grown man crying on the beach in the Caribbean, hitting his fists and feet at the sand as a spoiled brat, white as Moby Dick, with a stupid Crane strapped on his backpack, almost without money and with very little chance to communicate - I realised that I was just going to count the minutes until departure. Now I know what death row must be like.

Getting back to the mainland, I had three quests: getting my hair cut, eat lunch and buy a ticket out of here. "You want a taxi, amigo?", "How much to get me to Hotel La Tourista?", "10.000 pesos (US $5)", "NOOOO!!! Stop TRYING to rip me off. My hotel is right across the street and you don’t even know it - how can it be 10.000 pesos, you freak??!!". "I’m solly", he said in "Spanish".

Asking 5 different persons about where the hairdresser were, didn’t make the quest easier to achieve - very few people actually knew they had one in the town. It turned out, that the hairdresser was a womens/mens clothes/beauty shop and I had to sit in the middle of a shop, in a ridiculous baby-apron, among over sized bikinis, tank tops and low cut jeans and get a haircut while other customers just walked in and wanted to buy random "beauty products" of my "hairdresser" 30 cm to the right of me. Looking at myself in the mirror behind the rows of L’Oreal and Dove "beauty products" didn’t make the scenery better but I failed to take a photo. It was the cheapest haircut I have had in South America and it is probably the most memorable. Walking off to get some food before I bought the ticket and the food was kind of OK, but how does an order of "pineapple juice" turn into a Pepsi???

Now I have the ticket and I can’t wait to get out of here. This is a place where everything is just wrong. This is a place where "at your service" is back into the Colombian spirit. This is a place where boredom competes with loud music from pimped bicycles and this is the place where everyone is friendly to ask "would you buy a … ?", "I said NO!!!!, I don’t want your fucking, fake whatever-it-is!!!". I can understand why people drink a lot and I soon want to have some fun. I miss my friends - both here and there.

Apart from this - Colombia is actually great.