From the tiny nine-seater plane window, I saw my first glimpse of the coast. Endless stretches of dark sandy beaches, lush jungle foliage and the rich, turbid grey of the Pacific Ocean sprawled wildly beneath me. I peeked over the pilot’s shoulder and a small, muddy airstrip appeared on the horizon. As the plane began its descent, I braced myself for a bumpy landing. The pilot was wrestling to maintain equilibrium, the wheels stretched out for the uneven ground beneath us. We heard a loud thud and the whole cabin rattled as we made contact with terra firma and quickly reduced speed. When we finally shuddered to a halt, the passengers united in a collective exhalation and triumphant round of applause.
The Colombian Pacific coast is sprinkled with corregimientos (small villages): Nuquí, the municipality, and eight more extending both to the south and north. Each corregimiento has its own set of characters and traditions.
Termales, where I now call home, is known for surfing, hot springs and the Quatro Encantos jungle hike; Guachalito, for postcard-perfect beaches; and Coqui, for its growing culture of gastronomy, just to name a few. I first came to the Pacific for untamed jungle, the immense ocean, and never-ending virgin coastlines, but I stayed for the people and their “live off the land” lifestyle.
There is not a single concrete home, thatch hut or wooden cabin on the coast that does not have a zotea (herb garden) on their sandy patio. The standard presentation is an old wooden fishing canoe, filled with earth and overflowing with herbaceous plants, for use both in the kitchen and apothecary. As a passionate cook and rookie herbalist, I always aspired to have my own, but without the materials to construct a garden bed that would withstand the attacks from cheeky crabs, it always got left until tomorrow
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