“This island is my home. I could not live anywhere else.” My instructor chats a bit with me after the dive. When I look around, I can understand it well: turquoise water and behind me imposing mountains surrounded by jungle, the highest extends up to 360 meters. And all on an island that is only a few kilometers long. Within half an hour you could probably drive around the entire island with a moped if you didn’t stop at every turn to enjoy the view or explore deserted bays.

It’s amazing: the island seems rather untouched by big swarms of tourists. Rather, it looks like a village in which you recognize some faces already after a few days. When we rented the moped, we were neither asked for a driver‘s license, nor for a deposit.
“Everyone knows everyone here,” says my instructor. “Sometimes, I see people several times a day and then I hide so they don’t think I’m following them.” He laughs and radiates what the whole island radiates – serenity and joie de vivre. The island seems so different than its neighbor San Andrés, which is only 80 kilometers away and very different from Colombia. Rather, it embodies what one would imagine under Caribbean: a lot of reggae music, people with Rasta hair and the differences in the language: A Caribbean English, which is quite difficult to understand, but also a form of Creole and influences from Spanish. I don’t even know in what language to address people.

Sometimes, I see people several times a day and then I hide so they don’t think I’m following them.

Everything is at a slow pace. Almost every time we go to our Posada, as the accommodations are called here, the homeowner sits in her rocking chair and watches TV. Every day the boys play soccer on the beach. People are always engaged in conversations. Maybe because there is not much more to do? There are hardly any cafes, no bars and certainly no clubs. Twice a week a cargo comes that brings new food and goods. Sometimes, for a short time, there are also fresh, delicious-looking fruit and vegetables in the supermarkets – which are usually put in cans to last longer. Because it is so isolated, everything is also more expensive. If Amazon delivered here, it would be a loss. The island is only reached by a cruel catamaran – not without reason the nickname for this is “Vomiteran”. It feels like you really have to earn it getting here and suffer. Or you fly from San Andrés. Both are quite expensive, and I wonder how the people living here can afford it. Or if they ever got further away from their island at all.

Anyway, my instructor would like to be in a bigger city. Maybe in a big city in Asia, to experience the complete contrast program. “But I would always choose to come back here. I do not want to live anywhere else. For me, this is paradise.”