Mompos, in Colombia, is not a popular tourist destination. Lying with a drip in my arm, watching the bats flitting between the rafters of the hospital, I could see why.
After six months in the Andes, I desperately missed open water and oxygen, and enthusiastically accepted a friend's invitation to his family home on the Caribbean 'coast'. Now here I was, 12 hours from the nearest beach, with an unco-operative stomach and a monster beetle making steady progress up my leg.
Despite the lack of sea, Mompos has plenty of water. It perches on an island in the vast Magdalena river delta. The area consists of a raft of swampy islands, mostly populated by sunbathing iguanas. The town's inaccessibility within a country renowned for violence and drugs has allowed Mompos to preserve its character and laid-back charm.
Mompos can be reached only by boat, in our case a wooden canoe. As we drifted into the current, the boatman was still wrestling with the motor. Everyone crossed themselves vigorously until finally it started.
As we rounded a bend, it was a dazzling sight. The endless green banks suddenly gave way to white colonial buildings - the towers of the seven Catholic churches tall among them. The town appeared to have been transplanted straight from the Spanish countryside into these swamps.
Despite appearances, Mompos's culture is distinctly un-Spanish. From the sloths and monkeys in the park to the pervasive vallenato accordion music, the town is proudly Colombian. Canoes laden with bright fruits and disturbingly large fish line the marketplace. I was quickly absorbed into its relaxed routine.
The town is safe and welcoming, with pristine colonial architecture right down to the cemetery. Haggling in the bustling market is a popular pastime, and the traders soon know your name (I was 'La Barbie' because of blonde hair and an unpronounceable name). Friendly craftsmen eagerly demonstrated their traditional work making intricate gold filigree jewellery, in return for a sale or a beer. Days were otherwise spent sitting in the shade in the cafés and parks; chatting or just watching people and donkeys go by. For even lazier days, Mompos's hotel has a pool - a welcome relief from the unrelenting heat.Every evening, spectacular black and white clouds of cormorants and garzas descended to roost in the few trees standing in a nearby lake.
Illness struck in December, but fortunately I had recovered in time for Christmas. Multi-coloured lights and nativity scenes decorated the streets. All night the rum flowed freely, and we danced in the dusty streets.
I spent a month in Mompos, taking the children out, going to market and removing frogs from the kitchen. A strange holiday, certainly, but a complete break from the outside world (especially when the Telecom office burned down) and an unforgettable experience.
I remain forever grateful to the doctor who took the beetle off my leg.
Heather Buttivant, 23, from Newquay, Devon, is a fast-stream graduate working for Customs and Excise in Brussels.
