Mud Volcano

The Mud Volcano was one of the strangest things I´ve ever experienced. After a couple hours on a bus you arrive on the banks of a lagoon at the base of a mini-volcano made entirely of dried mud. After changing into your swim gear you ascend the 100 foot makeshift wooden staircase and peer into the crater. The crater is a 15ft by 15ft square reinforced with planks and entirely filled with mud. There are already about 20 people in there but apparently there is always room for more. So you slither down the mud caked ladder and plop into the mixture which is remarkebly like chocolate pudding. The crater spout descends a mile and a half into the earth´s crust but is absolutely impossible to sink. You can´t really move but the resident "massuers" grab you and shove you, flat on your back like a log to the far side of the pit. Here your remaining surfaces are covered in mud and you are given a 10 minute massage. As you are shoved aside to make room for yet another tourist you begin to get the claustrophobic sensation of an over-occupied seal colony and, in an effort to ensure your survival, make a grab for the bottom rung of the ladder. No, no, cuarenta minutos! an authoritative voice dictates from above and you gingerly lower yourself back into the mass of bodies. Actually the mud is surprisingly cool and quite enjoyable. I spent most of my time in a standing position with the top of foot and a half of my torso protruding like a buoy from the mud. Once your egress is officially sanctioned you stand at the top of the ladder and use your hands to spatula off the inch of mousse de chocolat that is coating you. The runoff slops noisily back into the trough splashing in the open mouths of the other guests remonstrating the waterfall of mud cascading over the edge. The sloppy noises verge on the obscene. You are now guided to the washer ladies in the lagoon who make it their business to cleanse you. You are entirely divested of your attire, surprised screams from the lady travelers, and are scrubbed from head to foot. Still in a bit of a daze you make your way back to the bus wiping and spiting to remove the remaining grit, have a snack of ripe mango and a whisked back to the seaside metropolis that is Cartagena.

Mud Volcano