The smell of corn that defies time
If you walk along Calle 10 between Carreras 5 and 6 in Mamatoco, before the sun gets too hot, your sense of smell will guide you. A sweet, smoky scent, of freshly ground corn and bijao leaves sweating over embers, grabs you without warning. On this block, since 1950, the neighborhood grandmas sit at their doorways selling corn buns made the way they were made before electric fryers and supermarkets existed. There is no sign. There is no menu. Just a wooden table, a plastic cover on top, and a lady who looks at you with the confidence of someone who knows her bun will change your day.
Mamatoco is a neighborhood that carries Santa Marta's history in its bones. Before tourism exploded in El Rodadero, this is where the people who worked the land lived. And the grandmas, the same ones who still sell today, learned the trade from their mothers. Doña Mery, the oldest on the block at 82, still sits down to shell corn starting at 4 in the morning. "This isn't a business, this is an inheritance," she told me on a Tuesday in May 2026, as she wrapped an ear of corn bun in a plantain leaf. Her stall has no name. Ask for "the pink house" or "where doña Mery is." Everyone here knows.
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This guide is not for tourists looking for selfies with the sea in the background. It's for those who want to understand what resistance tastes like. How an entire block refuses to disappear while buildings grow around it. There is no wifi here. There is a wood-fired oven, hand-cracked corn, and a silent threat: the urban displacement that has already knocked on the door of several of these houses.
What to do: the stove corn bun route
Come prepared to get your hands dirty. There are no fancy plates or cloth napkins here. You eat standing up, sitting on a sidewalk, or on a creaky plastic chair. The main activity is one: try as many buns as you can. But there are nuances.
The friendly competition of the block
On Calle 10 there are at least five active stalls. Each grandma has her specialty. Doña Mery is the queen of the ear of corn bun: the tender corn is ground with a little salt and wrapped in a bijao leaf, which gives it an almost floral flavor. Next door, doña Rosa (70 years old) makes a cassava bun with anise that tastes like dessert. Further along, doña Nelly (65) sells the coconut bun, which is the most sought after by those in the know: the dough has grated coconut and a touch of panela, and it's cooked in a wood-fired oven until the leaf turns golden. There is no fight between them. "Each one has her clientele," says doña Mery. "Whoever comes for my bun doesn't leave empty-handed."
My recommendation: arrive early, buy one from each stall and do your own tasting. Note differences in texture, sweetness, and aroma. If you feel like it, ask each grandma why her bun is different. They will tell you stories about their mothers, their daughters, how they learned to gauge the exact point of the fire.
Shelling corn with doña Mery
If you arrive before 6 a.m., doña Mery is still outside her house, sitting on a wooden bench, with a sack of dry corn between her legs. She is not shy about asking for help. "Come on, if you have time, sit down and shell corn with me." It's not a tourist show. It's a genuine invitation to share the work. You will feel the hard corn under your fingers, the dry sound of separating the kernels, and the smell of wet earth rising from the ground. While you work, she will let slip the recipe for her coconut bun, a secret she only shares with those who sit beside her. "I add a little bit of cinnamon, but don't tell anyone," she whispered to me.
The walk through the neighborhood
After eating, walk around Mamatoco without rushing. The neighborhood has a small church in the main square, colorful houses that are falling apart, and murals that tell the story of indigenous and Afro resistance. There are no tourist maps. Wander aimlessly. Talk to the neighbors. Ask about the "bun path," which is what the locals call Calle 10. If you're lucky, a neighbor might invite you for coffee at their house.
Where to eat or drink: the stove kitchen
There are no restaurants with menus or digital menus here. You eat on the street or in the grandma's kitchen, which is sometimes the same space where she sleeps. But if you want to complement the experience, there are nearby options worth trying.
The corn bun stalls (Calle 10 between Carreras 5 and 6)
The prices are laughable. In May 2026, an ear of corn bun costs between $2,000 and $3,000 COP. The coconut one is a bit more expensive: $4,000 COP. The cassava with anise one is $2,500 COP. All are accompanied by a cup of black coffee or suero costeño, which they offer at no extra charge if you buy several. The hours are from 5 a.m. until the merchandise runs out, which is usually before noon. On Sundays there is more variety because the grandmas prepare special buns with cheese or shredded meat.
The corner eatery (Carrera 5 with Calle 10)
On the corner, with no visible name, there is an eatery that sells coconut rice, fried fish, and patacones starting at 7 a.m. Doña Elvia, the owner, is doña Mery's sister. The menu changes depending on what the neighbors caught. Try the coconut rice if you want to understand why Caribbean cuisine is so powerful: the coconut is toasted before cooking the rice, and the result is a dish that smells like the beach and firewood. Prices: dishes between $10,000 and $15,000 COP.
Corozo juice at don Luis's store (Calle 10 #5-30)
Don Luis has a store that looks like a museum of time. He sells everything from sodas to artisanal panela. His specialty is corozo juice, a red, sour fruit only found in the region. He serves it cold, in a plastic cup, with crushed ice. It costs $3,000 COP and is the best accompaniment for a hot bun. Ask him about the history of the neighborhood. Don Luis arrived in Mamatoco in 1965 and has known all the grandmas since they were girls.
How to get there and transportation
Mamatoco is not in the tourist center. You have to move like a local, not a tourist. But it's worth it.
By bus from downtown
From Parque de los Novios or Calle 22, take any bus that says "Mamatoco" or "Gaira." The route is direct and takes about 20 minutes. The fare is $2,200 COP (reference price from May 2026). Tell the driver to let you off at "Calle 10, where the grandmas are." Almost all of them know. If not, tell him "where doña Mery is."
By mototaxi
If you are coming from El Rodadero or Bello Horizonte, a mototaxi will charge you between $10,000 and $15,000 COP. Negotiate the price before getting on. Tell him "Mamatoco, Calle 10 con 5." The mototaxi drivers know the block because many are from the neighborhood.
By private car
If you are driving, look for Calle 10 from Carrera 5. Parking is complicated: the streets are narrow and full of potholes. It's better to park in the main square of Mamatoco (three blocks away) and walk. That way you can also see the neighborhood.
By bicycle
Santa Marta is flat in this area. If you rent a bike (from $20,000 COP per day downtown), you can get there in 15 minutes from the Public Market. Bring a lock because there are no guarded parking lots.
Local tips
You won't read this in mainstream travel guides. Here's the real deal.
- Arrive before 6 a.m. At that time the corn is freshly ground, the embers are alive, and the grandmas have time to chat. After 8 a.m., the pace changes: hurried customers arrive and the conversation becomes more commercial.
- Bring cash. No grandma has a card machine or accepts transfers. Coins of $1,000 and $2,000 COP are the most useful.
- Don't wear strong perfume. The smell of corn and firewood is part of the experience. Plus, the grandmas will look at you funny if you arrive smelling like cologne. Better to come in fresh clothes and without pretensions.
- Learn to say "bollo" like a local. It's not "bollo" with a closed 'o'. It's "bó-yo", with a soft 'y', almost like "bó-llo". If you say "bollo" with a Bogotá accent, they will correct you with a smile.
- Ask for the coconut bun before it runs out. It's the most popular and the one they make the least of. Doña Mery only prepares 20 units on Saturdays and Sundays. If you arrive late, you'll be left wanting.
- Don't take photos without permission. The grandmas are friendly, but they don't like having their pictures taken as if they were an attraction. Ask for permission, and if they say yes, offer to send them the printed photo later. Some don't have cell phones.
- Support the resistance. Several of these houses are at risk of forced sale due to real estate projects. If you can, buy several buns and talk to the grandmas about the future of the neighborhood. Ask them how to help. Sometimes, just a foreigner taking an interest in their story gives them the strength to continue.
The threat of urban displacement
Mamatoco is in the crosshairs. Since 2023, purchase offers have arrived at several houses on Calle 10. Builders want to put up tourist apartment buildings, just like what happened in El Rodadero and Pozos Colorados. Doña Mery showed me a letter she received in April 2026: they offered her 80 million pesos for her house, which has one room, a kitchen, and a yard where she stores the firewood. "And where am I supposed to go? And my buns?" she told me, her eyes fixed on the clay oven her father built 60 years ago.
The entire block is organized. The grandmas meet on Sundays after mass to discuss the issue. They have created an informal association, "Las Bolleras de Mamatoco," which seeks legal support to stop the sales. But money talks. Some neighbors have already sold and gone to live with relatives in other neighborhoods. Those who remain, like doña Mery, doña Rosa, and doña Nelly, are the last guardians of a tradition that could disappear in less than five years.
If you come to eat, don't just be a customer. Be a witness. Ask, listen, and if you can, share their story on social media with the hashtag #BollosDeMamatoco. Visibility is their best weapon against concrete.
Frequently asked questions
What exact time should I arrive to find the best buns?
Between 5:30 a.m. and 7:30 a.m. is the ideal window. At 5 a.m. the grandmas are just lighting the oven, but there are already buns from the previous day. From 6 a.m. onwards, the first hot buns of the day come out. After 10 a.m., most have already left or only cassava buns remain, which are the least sold. If you want the coconut bun, arrive before 7 a.m. on Saturdays or Sundays.
Can I buy buns to take to Bogotá or abroad?
Yes, but with care. Corn buns last up to three days at room temperature if you keep them wrapped in the leaves. If you put them in a plastic bag, they sweat and spoil faster. It's best to carry them in a cotton cloth and consume them within 24 hours. If you travel by plane, the grandmas wrap them in newspaper and plantain leaves so they survive the trip. We do not recommend freezing them, as the texture changes.
Are there options for vegetarians or vegans on the block?
Most buns are naturally vegan: corn, cassava, coconut, salt, and spices. The ear of corn bun and the cassava with anise bun contain no animal ingredients. The coconut bun sometimes includes condensed milk, but doña Mery prepares a dairy-free version if you ask her in advance. However, the suero costeño they offer as a side is made from cow's milk, so ask for just black coffee if you are a strict vegan.
Historical or contextual introduction
Calle 10 in Mamatoco is more than just a simple street; it is a space where tradition and community intertwine through time. Since 1950, the grandmas of the area have kept alive the tradition of selling corn buns, a dish that not only represents local gastronomy but is also a symbol of resistance and popular culture. This place, with its characteristic aroma and family atmosphere, has witnessed the passage of years and changes in the city, but has managed to preserve its essence.
The corn buns are made with a recipe that has been passed down from generation to generation, uniting families and creating bonds among neighbors. In every bite, you feel the history of Mamatoco, a neighborhood that has known how to adapt and evolve without losing its identity. The simplicity of these buns, which are steamed and served with cheese or chocolate, reflects the warmth of its community.
Visiting this block is not only a gastronomic experience but also a cultural one. Talking to the grandmas who sell their products there is to learn about life stories, effort, and love for cooking. Don't forget that often the best recommendations come from those who have lived the tradition firsthand.
So, if you find yourself in Santa Marta, don't miss the opportunity to walk this block and enjoy a bite of history in every corn bun.