Taganga – I’m sorry but what is this?

You know those times when you are on a bus and you just think “I reckon I should just keep going to the end to see what’s there” (many people from my neck of the woods in North London know it as the “I wonder what’s actually at Morden” game), well I thought it, and so decided that on my coastal foray from Cartagena to Tayrona National Park that I would go straight past Santa Marta (a big city in which I had planned to stay) and actually stay in Tananga, the nearest town to the National Park. This isn’t a long article, or one I even expected to write, but it needs to be said: Taganga is the weirdest place in the whole world.

The entry into Taganga requires the bus to go up a big mountain, round the cliffs and then starts to head down into the town as you gaze upon it from above, and indeed from this vantage point it looks like quite the adorable little Mediterranean seaside village. The only problem with that is IT ISN’T ON THE FUCKING MEDITERRANEAN. And therefore, once you get down from the cliffs, you notice that in fact from This vantage point, it looks like quite the chaotic little Kenyan shanty town. And therefore you can probably imagine my confusion over Taganga: it looks like some Italians decided to go and colonise a generic African seaside village but then get bored after having only completed the riviera along the waterfront, therefore simply deciding to pack up and leave but not before knocking down a bunch of the houses, importing a shitload of stray dogs, cats and indiscriminate other animals and taking everyone’s money on their way out.

Before I go any further I should stress that what I am saying is not meant to be disparaging of the town; they have every right to live exactly how they please, and there’s nothing wrong with living this way – I am trying more to highlight the bizaare contrast contained in such a small area.

The fact that the place is dotted with a handful of clean, suave hostels and a couple of boutique hotels is completely out of context with the other fact that the roads (other than along the beachfront) are not even slightly paved, I mean I just called them roads but that was being fairly kind to a street network that is essentially just a large plot of dusty, rocky land with a bunch of half finished buildings standing there, some of which happen coincidentally to be in a line therefore warranting an actual map of the town. The map rather ambitiously attempts to give each street a name and a number, but I’m pretty sure street signs or any kind of town planning is the last thing on the minds of the Tagangans.

The place just doesn’t really work, it looks like a Hollywood film set for Blood Diamond 2: This Time Leo Tries An Italian Accent, and I felt mildly uncomfortable discovering this town as an out and out jumping off point for middle class backpackers (and even wealthier tourists) to get into Tayrona when there were clearly so many issues behind the scenes (the scenes being just that seaside road).

The locals are clearly bemused at our presence, we are bemused at why none of the kids ever seemed to be at school, and I am bemused as to why a town is allowed to contain such a big range between its inhabitants and its visitors. Sure, this is often the case, but not on this scale. I stayed two nights, one before and one after Tayrona, and both times I dreamt that I was being chased down an unpaved road by a stray dog dressed as Silvio Berlusconi.

Despite what probably sound like complaints, I would (honestly) recommend Taganga as a good place to see if you are heading to Tayrona or on the Carribean coast in general.

N.B. I stayed at a cute hostel called La Tortuga (The Tortoise) – to get there just head along the main beach strip past the 4 star hotel, hipster cafe and Irish pub, turn left off the sea front, go past seven shacks and a tent, dodge 18 stray dogs and the 3 legged cat, turn right at the discarded sofa and then it’s the fourth building on the left – easy to spot as it’s the slick colonial mansion in between a wooden hut selling leaves and a huge pile of old tires.