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Barranquilla! Carnaval! And I had a reservation with Airbnb in a very nice room for all four days of the festival:
What could possibly go wrong? A lot, it turns out. Here is my story.
After saying goodbye to my fellow Ciudad Perdida hikers, I took a bus from Santa Marta to Barranquilla, and then a taxi, which let me off near my Airbnb room, and finally walked to the location given by the directions in the Airbnb email I had received from Jorge. Surprise! The address is not for a private home, but for La Catera Hotel, in a not very nice part of town: loud music, shady looking people, bars, sex shops, and prostitutes.
I am met at the hotel entrance by Jorge, my Airbnb host. He said “Hi” and “Goodbye”, and that was the last I saw of him. So I went to the front desk, and the receptionist asked if I wanted a “novia”. Oh my goodness, I’m booked into a whorehouse!
My room looks nothing like the picture on the Airbnb ad (see the ad on the left). Instead, it has some interesting additions: towels embroidered with hearts and arrows:
... a TV turned permanently to a porn channel; an adjustable table with pictures on its cushions showing how it can be set up for various sexual positions:
... and a refrigerator with a nice selection of condoms, creams, and other sex aids:
Clearly Jorge is pulling a fast one. I talked to Airbnb customer service describing my situation, and tried unsuccessfully to get ahold of Jorge. It is now midnight, and bedtime - I will try to get ahold of him tomorrow. Meanwhile, my first night ever in a whorehouse! (And what a noisy, busy night it was).
The next morning I spent hours with the Airbnb folks, documenting my plight, and booking another place (Airbnb will take up to $25 off if my new place is more expensive). And here it is:
JUAN: Airbnb: 3056 Carrera 8 4 apartment 402, Barranquilla, Atlántico 080006, Colombia
I found a private taxi (the father of a mesero at a nearby restaurant), who agreed to drive me to Juan’s place. We get there, phone the apartment from the gate, and surprise! no one is home.
So I booked another place, and off we go again. Miles later we get to the right street, but it’s not Barranquilla any longer, but an adjacent township with the same street address. And a rough section of town (lots of gates and fences):
Some friendly people took me to the home of Evelyn (she is on the left in the picture, along with her mother and daughter):
Evelyn is wonderful. She figures out the problem, connects me with the people at the correct address, finds a taxi, and accompanies me to the place. She even gave me a Carnaval shirt, in exchange for mine, since mine had lost three buttons.
I was met at the door of my third Barranquilla Airbnb by Martha, the mom, with a big hug, and I’m finally set. Tomorrow: the Carnaval!
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