Because Tolu isn't popular with foreigners, my expectation was somewhat low. I wasn't looking forward to the night bus from Medellin, but it wasn't bad at all. No crying babies or freezing air conditioning. Other than a tedious police checkpoint where several Colombians were treated with shakedowns, they pretty much left me alone other than a quick look in my bag. The policia asked where I was going & coming from in Colombia, but I misunderstood the Spanish & thought he was asking where I was from. When I answered, "Texas" he basically rolled his eyes & dismissed me as not worth the hassle. Score!
Tolu is bustling with Caribbean bicycle taxis that are all customized in candy-colors with boom boxes blasting all varieties of Salsa & Caribbean rap music. That sounds like an auditory assault, however the mix was strangely melodic & fun.
I was incessantly approached by the bicycle taxi dudes as I lumbered along the muggy boulevard toward the malecon. I thought for sure this was going to get old fast, but after telling them "no gracias..." I just want the exercise to work off too many empanadas, they'd just respond with bright smiles and say "Bueno!" as they peddled away to a rhumba beat.
The rest of my time I spent wandering about the town & trying to avoid the areas at night that Rosa, the hotel clerk, warned me about.
The Hotel Caribe is situated right on the malecon with wicker rocking chairs & a patio terrace. After some fish & yucca from one of the primitive huts along the beach and a couple Aguila beers with locals at the corner tiendas, rocking in the wicker chairs & watching the parade of bicycle taxis contraptions boom-boxing along carting whole groups of rhumba partiers was just the vibe I'd been looking for.
There was a boat island tour offered, but to save money I opted to try and find the volcanic mud baths instead. Had I to do it again, I would have spent another night there & done both.
There's a nicer beach nearby in a place called Covenas. I had to catch a minibus there & then find another one going beyond a second town to a place called Volcan de Lodo. The minibus dropped me on the middle of some farm country & pointed toward a dirt road for me to follow.
A little nervous about how I'd get back, I trudged my way up the hill until I arrived at this giant mud hole with slippery ropes to get in & out.
The mud itself was much more pleasurable than I thought it would be. Cool & soothing, but a bit tricky keeping it out of you mouth & eyes. So thick you could just lay back flat into the mud & stare up into the blue sky without sinking.
The farmer charges a small fee & tells you the women can wash you below the water tank for a tip. I only had enough money to get back, so the washing would be on my own. I tried to explain this to the avocado-shaped Colombian woman wearing turquoise polyester shorts. She had her hair messily pulled back, a cigarette dangling from her lips & kept insisting on rubbing the mud off of me despite me telling her I had no dinero for a tip. She just looked kinda drunk, smiled & said "No importa" as she rubbed mud odd anyway. She stood there watching me with intoxicated glassy eyes & I can't recall her even taking that dangling cigarette from her lips. A bit awkward trying to wash thick mud out of your bathing shorts without privacy, but the experience was definitely a highlight.