Tagged: Colombia

Wax Palms Valle de Cocora (1)

WE’RE OFF TO SEE THE WAX PALMS

I used to beg my Colombian roommates to bring me coffee.

In Buenos Aires (where I was working before this whole travel shebang started off), coffeebeans were expensive and hard to find.  I could usually pester my roomies to bring me a few bags of the good stuff now and then when they visited home, or at least pester them to pester friends who came to visit.

Having that special affinity, I was excited when I moved on from Bogotá to the Eje Cafetero (the coffee-growing region).  One of the things to see (which, ok, has nothing to do with coffee) is the Valle de Cocora.

This is where Colombia’s famous wax palms grow – hugely tall spindly trunks with a little poof of fronds at the very top, drifting in and out of the mist.

From a town called Salento, you can catch a ride with a group in a ‘50s-era Jeep up to hike around in the valley.  I didn’t know anybody, but ended up hiking around with an Irish couple and a few travelers from Spain.

GO HERE if you get the chance!

The day’s only drama happened while we were careening up a steep mountain road.

Just as I was wondering how people can drive like bats out of hell and never manage to crash, I heard a CRASH and felt glass shatter everywhere.  We screeched to a halt.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that a truck driving the other way had passed us so close that he’d smashed the drivers’ side mirror off!

Our driver’s forearm was gashed and gushing blood all over the place, but he just shrugged and tied a rag around it like it was no big deal.  No yelling or road rage or threats of a lawsuit – quite impressive if you ask me.

And that’s the last crashy story I have for you.  I don’t want to make you think that if you go to South America you’re necessarily destined to go crashing around the continent – the portion of my trip spent crashing into things was actually extremely small – but you know, it did make the day interesting.

Anyhoo.  Anybody else been here?  What did you think?

Street art in bogota

COLOMBIA SOUNDTRACK

I heard so much new music during my 6 weeks in Colombia that I had to go on a huge downloading spree afterwards.  So many good memories!  Here are some songs that take me back to exploring Bogota, lazing around on the beach in Parque Nacional Tayrona, and dancing salsa in Cali:

 

Quien Es El Patron? by Systema Solar.

 

Morena by Kafu Banton.  Panamanian reggae, f*ck yes.  I first heard this at a bar in Cartagena, but now it takes me back to the Lost City trek, because it was stuck in my head the entire time.

 

Cali Pachanguero by Grupo Niche.  Salsa from (guess where) Cali.  Someone sent me this song after I told them what my name was, haha.

 

Paloma by Sidestepper.

 

Cosita Rica by Bomba Estereo.  I still feel like I’m in the Caribbean when I hear this!

 

Te Estan Buscando by Ruben Blades.  More salsa – I heard this at Donde Fidel.  “Te estan buscando” means “they’re looking for you” and it’s all about somebody who skipped out before paying money they owed, and how now they better watch their back…

 

Que Sera by Sidestepper.  Someone once told me this song sounds like it came from a blaxploitation film.  Hmmm…definitely possible, but I like it anyway.

 

What are your favorite songs from the road?

Mountains 2

A RIDE AND A CRASH

When I got a couple of new roommates in my hostel and they asked if I’d like a ride to the Ecuadorian border on the back of a motorcycle, I had to say: absolutely!

I didn’t think they were actually serious, though.

I was in Cali, Colombia, to learn some salsa, so I wasn’t expecting to spend an evening hanging out with a couple of guys who were riding their motorcycles across South America from end to end.  One of the things I love about traveling is meeting people I wouldn’t normally, though, and they were fun when I understood what in the world they were talking about (that is, when they weren’t discussing things like the sulfur content of their fuel or the obscure bike parts that one must special-order from abroad).

The next day, I had my stuff packed up by the door and was looking up the bus schedule when my roommates, Rick and Rob, appeared at the door, asking if I was ready to head out.

Eek!  They’d meant the offer after all, and the idea seemed terrifying.  Should I do it?  I tried to tell myself to stop being a wuss.  After all, Rick and Rob were riding for months, and this was just another day for them.  On the other, the thought of weaving through chaotic big-city traffic sent me into a cold sweat.  I knew I’d be kicking myself later if I didn’t take them up on it, so I decided to go as long as they had a helmet I could borrow.

They did.  Rick strapped my bag to the back of his bike and I climbed onto the back of Rob’s.

We were off.  Ahhhh!  I felt so exposed out there in the open, and I was convinced that I’d meet my death getting mowed down by a semi.  Traffic behaved itself though, and we roared out of Cali without any problems.  I started to relax once we got of the city (and after Rob told me that it wasn’t actually necessary to clutch on for dear life).  For eight hours we rode over low rolling hills, whipping past grassy farmland, through tall columns of trees and quick spattering rainstorms.

Stopping a few times along the way for gas and snacks, I was surprised to discover how curious about us people were.  Apparently Colombia has quite a motorcycle culture (something I never would have found out on my own), and people would come over to admire both bikes, but especially Rob’s.

“Wow!” the gas station attendants would say, walking over to us.  “Is that a Harley?  How did you get that all the way here?  Did you buy it in the States?  Are those Fox motorcycle boots?  Where are you going?  Where are you coming from?  What are you doing here?”

It was evening by the time we got to Pasto (the Colombian border town where you cross into Ecuador), and once we arrived we rode up and down the streets looking for a hostel I’d heard about back in Cali.

Rob and I followed Rick, who at one point turned suddenly up a very steep little residential side street, meaning to go around the block.  His bike was light and fast, and he was the only one on it, so he zipped to the top with no problems.  Rob’s bike was heavier, though, and there were two of us on, so we weren’t as quick.

Halfway up the hill, we started to slow down more and more, down to a snail’s pace, stopping….and then we were drifting slowly backwards, then faster.

Then the bike tipped sideways with a crash and I was on my back, looking straight up at the sky.  Faces immediately appeared in all the windows and suddenly about five kids were standing over us, taking pictures with their cell phones and peppering us with questions.

“Who are you?  Didn’t you see this street is a dead end?  What are you looking for?” they asked, staring down at us like we were three-headed aliens who had crashed in from the moon.

“Oh, us?  This is how we park in the United States,” I told them, getting up and dusting myself off.

“Is that a Harley?  How did you get that all the way here?  Did you buy it in the States?  Are those Fox motorcycle boots?  Where are you going?  Where are you coming from?  What are you doing here?”

Rob righted the bike while I told them what we’d been looking for.  They pointed us in the right direction and we were on our way (though quickly discovering that the bike’s second gear wasn’t working anymore!).  Never shifting above first, we rolled slowly on our way, finding some greasy Chinese food for dinner, and eventually, the hostel.

Your turn to share: what’s the craziest way you’ve ever gotten to where you were going?

blue and palm trees

THE AGUARDIENTE DIARY

•Coconut pieces on the beach
•Aguardiente (Colombian anise-flavored liquor) is lovely served from a pineapple
•Horse tethered outside a restaurant
•Whole coconuts in the waves
•Sunset

•Palm trees and an incredible tropical blue evening sky
•A wheelbarrow and a coconut
•On the lancha (speedboat)
•”rage faces”
•Hammocks – the accommodation of choice
Shoe

COUCHSURFING IN CARTAGENA

Proof that the world is small: looking through potential Couchsurfing hosts in Cartagena, I clicked on the profile of a guy who, according to the message on his wall, had hosted a childhood friend of mine from Colorado Springs that I hadn’t talked to in years!  I emailed him right away and asked if he could host me.

Ricardo and his family were fantastic hosts and SO nice.  They really went above and beyond – his sister even gave me her room to sleep in, and she and their neighbor took me to the beach the next day, and Ricardo copied his whole iTunes library for me when my iPod decided to freak out and delete all my music.

Here’s the street where I stayed.


All the houses have fences around their own little plot, and in the evening when it gets cooler the neighbors go outside and exchange all the day’s gossip.

The next day, Ricardo gave me the grand tour of downtown Cartagena:

Downtown street

Shrimp cocktail stand

Lemon raspados (sno-cones) and this giant shoe I had to climb in

Five memorable Cartagena moments:

1. Afternoon beers at Donde Fidel, a salsa bar whose walls are covered with framed pictures of all the famous musicians who have played there.

2. Fresh juice from the fruit stands: mango, passion fruit, nispero (sort of vanilla-y), lulo (tart like passion fruit), papaya, and so many more whose names I can’t remember.

3. Eating patacon salvaje con todo (wild patacon with everything) and listening to reggae at a roadside bar with Ricardo and his friends.  Patacon is a patty of fried plantain, and the “salvaje con todo” part meant a mountain of three different sorts of sausage, cheese, french fries and crispy little shoestring potatoes.  This is all washed down with Postobon, a supposedly apple-flavored pink soda that actually tastes like bubblegum.

4. A spontaneous salsa lesson from Ricardo and his brother – the secret, they told me, is to start moving by yourself, and then if there are Latinos in the room, they will come join you.

5. Celebrating my 24th birthday with new friends from the hostel I stayed in for the first two days – we had drinks from a restaurant on top of one of the huge walls and watched the sun set over the city.

And the two Cartagena moments I’d like to forget:

1. Getting fried to a crisp on the beach and watching everyone flinch when they looked at my lobster legs.

2. The temperature being so searingly hot all the time that my forearms and ankles were actually sweating!

Hiking in

LOST CITY, PART II: EXPLORING THE RUINS

Picture crossing a river in four different places, hiking across boulder fields and two hours through the forest along tiny muddy paths to find a half-hidden set of narrow, mossy, worn-down stairs leading steeply up a hillside.

The ruins are huge.  I was expecting to find one or two smaller sites, but this actually is a whole city with citadels, a marketplace, a shaman’s house, and rich and poor sides of town.

Omar told us that there used to be a shaman here who was famous for being able to cure all sorts of diseases – so people would come from all over the region to be cured, and the city prospered.  When he died, a new shaman took his place…but he didn’t know all the remedies yet.  Rather than be cured, the sick began to die when they visited the city.  Rumor spread that the area was cursed, so the inhabitants fled.

The houses all used to look like this:

The best (and most famous) part is the view from the top of the hill:

 We made it!

I know, I know.  TOURRRRR-IIIIIST.  I wasn’t going to…but then I had to jump on the bandwagon :)

We made it!

LOST CITY TREK – PRACTICAL INFO

I went with a company called Turcol.  They offer 4, 5 and 6 day options.  The whole thing cost about $200.  I chose the slowest option (6 days) because 1) I’ve been sort of lazy so far on this trip and I was afraid of how hard it would be and 2) I’d rather pay $200 for 6 days/5 nights of accommodation instead of 4 days/3 nights.  I’m a girl on a budget.

On the 6-day option, the route took me about 4 hours a day.  The enormously tall, super fit guy in our group probably did each day’s hike in 2-3 hours, and it took the two people who came prepared for a walk (rather than an intense hike) more like 5 hours a day.

Our guides, Omar and Luis, were awesome.  Omar even lent me a backpack to use (I’m not really equipped for trekking on this trip so don’t have any real gear).

The accommodations were primitive, but of course they are – you’re out in the jungle.  The upside is that you don’t have to carry a tent or a sleeping bag or anything.  You also don’t have to worry about packing food either, because the guides (and mules) carry everything and cook for you.

Painfully obvious tip: BRING SO MUCH BUG SPRAY.  Also bring Ziplocs or dry bags.  Dry bags notwithstanding, though, you’ll probably have dry clothes for about ten minutes each day – it rained on us twice a day at least and was misting the rest of the time.  Plus, it’s super duper hot so you’ll probably be a sweaty mess (if you find a way to hike in the jungle without being a sweaty mess, let me know!).  Another painfully obvious tip (that I’m only including because I forgot to follow it myself – oops): Bring something to read, a flashlight and some playing cards, because you’ll have downtime at the camp.  Also a swimsuit for swimming in the Fountain of Youth.

The group also tends to spread out, also, so you might be hiking alone part of the time – I definitely was.  I enjoyed being out in nature without a phone or any of the other distractions I’m usually addicted to for once, so I was glad I left my iPod back in Santa Marta, but I can also see how someone might want to bring it.

This was definitely a huge highlight of my trip – DO IT.  IT’S SO WORTH IT.  The whole thing is incredible, but exploring the ruins practically alone is an amazing feeling.  There will be one or two other groups up there, tops.  You feel like you’ve earned it, unlike other historical sites/attractions/what-have-you where you share the glory with people who have gotten there on an air-conditioned bus.

Did I forget anything?  Does anybody have anything else to add?  Drop me a line in the comments if so.

Mountains

LOST CITY, PART I: JUNGLE TREK

There are certain things in this life that are undeniably badass – and a multi-day trek through the mountains of Colombia to explore the ruins of a lost city that wasn’t discovered until the ’70s is definitely one of them!  I love you, Colombia.  You let me cross things off my Badass List.

We had eight people in our group: Pedro and Arelis, a Colombian couple; Santiago and Paola, a brother/sister pair; Hugo, the tallest English guy I’ve ever seen; Laura, a Spanish girl, and Ben, a guy my age who recently walked across Israel.

Then there were our guides, Omar and Luis, and a couple of mules who clopped along behind us with our food roped to their backs.  Two skinny boys followed them with sticks, whacking them occasionally in the butt to keep them moving along.

This is definitely the most grueling physical thing I’ve ever done, but I also felt like Indiana Jones the entire time, which made the whole thing worth it.  The trail is spectacularly beautiful.  We hiked along through baroque greenery and layers and layers of plants all growing on top of each other, on top of enormous tree trunks, with vines snaking around through the whole thing.  The whole thing is alive.


I kept thinking about 100 Years of Solitude, which is one of my favorite books.  In the beginning, the town of Macondo is founded beside a river whose banks are full of huge prehistoric stones.  The world in the story is so new that lots of things haven’t been named yet, and that’s the way this is – fresh and new and vibrant and green, smelling of fertile dirt and buzzing with bugs.


Our first campsite was a covered bunch of hammocks next to a campfire and a couple of picnic tables, and at the base of a waterfall in the river nearby was a pool big enough to swim in!

You know those old TV commercials where they show someone jumping into a swimming pool of iced tea on a hot day to show you how refreshing it is?  It was like that.

Omar and Luis cooked us enormous piles of rice and beans that night, and I put away more food than I ever have before.

We also lost a member of the group that night, unfortunately – Ben got food poisoning.  He spent the evening stretched out, green and miserable, on a picnic-table bench, and this morning they loaded him up on a mule and sent him back to Santa Marta.  Better to get sick the first day, I suppose, when there are still mules to take you back…