Looks like the map is back up and running!

Map Issues

Sorry folks, I have been having some problems with my map over the past fews. All should be resolved soon. But, to keep you in the loop I am currently in Chicago.

Ronald ha salido de Sur America!/Ronald has left South America!

It is sad, but true. The South American chapter of my current travel stint is over. Though, I would be surprised if I am not back there soon!

I have just arrived to a very wet Miami Beach, before braving the very cold North. But, I still have a couple of stories yet to recount from my Colombian coastal trip. So stay tuned!

Santa Marta - The Beaches
(Santa Marta Photos)

I have already mentioned that the beach in the city of Santa Marta is not ideal unless one was really desperate to build castles on the narrow strip of sand or go for a dip. But, I guess I do have high standards when it comes to sand and water quality, at least in how near I will let them get to touching my skin. This, however, does not stop the hoards of visitors and locals from having a bathe. Hotels in the city promote themselves by saying how close they are to this 'beach'.

There are some slightly better beach options that are relatively close to Santa Marta, and I spent my last day experiencing them for myself. Most holiday goers will he to Rodadero Beach, just 4km south of downtown Santa Marta. Remember all those honking buses that trawl the waterfront for customers? Just stand on the curb of the Carrera 1 (the waterfront avenue) and within seconds one will stop, instinctively knowing that you want to go to Rodadero. That is unless a taxi gets to you first and tries to persuade you of the advantages of his transport verses the bus. There are nothing wrong with most of these taxis, other than their advanced age, but the bus will cost you a quarter of a taxi fare.

Rodadero looks like it has only been developed over the past 25 years or so. All of the buildings are high-rise apartment blocks. Santa Marta has much more character than Rodadero, and that is saying something. Nevertheless there are several expensive hotels and resorts here and the beach is definite bigger than Santa Marta's. And being a Sunday there were not many patches of sand visible.

I made my way along the beach, across a canal using a foot bridge that really should be condemned to the north end where a collection of small motor launches were moored. I had read in my guide about a very nice sounding beach called Playa Blanca, which is only accessible by boat. There is also a small aquarium on the way. Of the dozens of launches I chose a sea worthy one (but what do I know) with some sun protection called the "Rastaferia". The fare was CO$15,000 (US$6.75) for the round-trip. Shop around as the fares vary between boats. And since you are buying a round-trip it is important that you remember your boat. You cannot hop on just any old boat for the return leg. I impressed to see that all the boats appeared to have plenty of life jackets.

The Rastaferia dropped us all off at the aquarium, which on further inspection did not seem worth the CO$12,000 (US$5.50). So I found the improvised path that takes you around the rocks to Playa Blanca. I had to take off my shoes and roll up my shorts to cross various pools. If this was low tide, I could see that the path would be a little more treacherous during a high tide!

Playa Blanca was nice beach and I had fortunately arrived before the crowds. The beach itself is quite narrow and sloped away slightly into the water. The beach is lined with tents which can be hired for the day and there are several restaurants. I walked to the far end with the idea that I was not going to stay. But I gave into to one of the tent guys and hired myself one. It came with four wooden beach chairs, three of which remained vacant for the duration of my lease. But then I did have the Sunday paper, El Tiempo, and the Caribbean Sea for company. And of course, there was the never ending stream of food and drink vendors.

After a couple of hours I had exhausted the newspaper and it was getting uncomfortably hot. So I looked out for the Rastaferia and headed back to Rodadero.

That afternoon I decided to head to Taganga, a small fishing village on the other side of Santa Marta, northeast. After dismissing a couple more taxis I found the Taganga bus (in reality it was more of a van). The trip is probably about 15 minutes, about the same as going to Rodadero. And like the road to Rodadero you have to climb of the headland to reach Taganga. But, once over you get a great view of the little village and its bay. I did not think that the driver would have stopped for a photo, so I did not ask.

The first thing I noticed about Taganga was the number of dive shops. This humble village is probably Colombia's premier scuba diving centre. Taganga is a rough grid of dirt streets, hemmed in by the surrounding hills and the bay. The various craft of the fishing fleet covers much of the beach or sits just off of it (don't get tripped by all of the mooring ropes as you walk the beach!). On this Sunday afternoon the beach was busy and the beach-side, open air restaurants were doing a good business. There were a few people in the water, though I would not have gone in. But, the southwestern end of the beach was full of bodies trying to absorb that last few rays of the day.





Taganga has one hostel that I have heard good things about and has been recommended, La Casa de Felipe. If I ever return I would try to get a bed there if I could.

After my reconnoitering of the beaches in and around Santa Marta I would by far and away recommend Tayrona. I saw just some of its many wonderful beaches. Next I would bring a tent and some mates along or hire a hammock and stay a couple of nights (I have first hand information that the hammocks can get a little chilly at night).
I got back to Santa Marta just in time to catch my last Santa Marta sunset.

Santa Marta - Parque Tayrona
(Santa Marta Photos)

The principal reason for visiting Santa Marta would be for its proximity to the wonderful Parque Nacional Tayrona, and, perhaps more specifically, the beaches of Tayrona. The park is less than an hour from Santa Marta. Probably the best way to get there is via public transport. Buses go back and forth fairly frequently, dropping you off at the main gate, which is actually at the eastern end of the park. There is the same discriminatory pricing policy (as found in Argentina) in place to enter many of Colombia's national parks. For Tayrona, it was in the region of US$20. From the gate it is a small hike along a road to the beginning of the park's various trails.

Now, in retrospect this is what I should have done. However, I chose to take a tour led by an older gentleman who was nicknamed "Abuelo" (grandad) by the mostly Colombian group. The transport was in a Chiva (a bus with long, transversely arranged benches and open sides, no aisle - also used as 'party buses' as they can be seen circling Bogotá with music blaring and intoxicated passengers bouncing up and down). There was nothing wrong with the tour, but I could have saved some money going it alone. I did meet several nice Colombian families who took me in and gave me juice, and a ride in a chiva is always fun. So I was not complaining.

There often seems to be some doubt or confusion as to whether the park is open due to security issues. This may have been the case a couple of years ago when the guerrilla forces were in the area, but the impression I got is that things are pretty safe now, as safe as they can be in Colombia.

To get from the park's small car park to the beach requires an hour to hour and a half hike through dense jungle along a well trodden path. Meanwhile you are constantly being passed by people on horseback and mules carrying to the various beach-side settlements. The mules, often going in pairs, seem to run on auto-pilot. There are several paths that lead to various beaches. Signage along the trail, when it appears, is pretty good. Though, you cannot depend on it.

Our trail led us to Arrecifes, one of the main Tayrona beaches. Here there is a large campsite, and you can also rent hammock space and a hammock. I guess some people bring their own hammocks. There are also basic cabañas if you are not into really roughing it. Other facilities include a restaurant. The beach itself is fairly large. However, the water is perilous. You pass a many signs saying that swimming is prohibited due to the strong currents and undertow. Many have lost their lives here, strong swimmers included.

We continued west along the beach and then in land slightly to join up with another trail. After about 45 minutes or so we finally arrived at our final destination and lunch spot - Cabo San Juan de Guia. Cabo is probably the most popular of the camping sites and beaches in Tayrona. The site is a little smaller than Arrecifes, but the water is calm and safe for swimming. The site boasts a restaurant and shop as well as basic shower and toilet facilities. 20 or so hammocks are lined up in a row under a thatched roof shelter immediately next to the restaurant. There were also a couple of travelers with the typical 'dread-locked and pierced' aspect selling the standard range of arts and crafts such as bracelets, earrings, t-shirts etc - no doubt to fund their gypsy lifestyle.

The restaurant has quite a varied menu, though slightly pricey menu with dishes that were almost twice as expensive as those I found in Santa Marta. I put my lunch order in and went for a swim. Cabo has two small crescent shaped beaches. As I walked along to beach in search of somewhere to 'safe' to leave my pack I could not help but notice the number of cigarette ends stubbed out in the sand. How is it some smokers can be so disrespectful. I would have expected this on the beaches of Santa Marta, but not here.

I did have a very relaxing time wallowing in the calm, clear waters of Cabo. And aside from my short dive in Santa Marta, this was the only opportunity I took to test Colombia's Caribbean waters. This was probably the closet I will ever get to the Caribbean.

At about 3:30pm our guide, Abuelo, rounded us up and pointed us toward the trail. I thought I heard him say something about keeping left. I started out following the nice family who gave me the tamarindo juice. However, after stopping to take a couple of photos, I found myself on my own, not that this bothered me. I made the best of this solitary moment. Though, it was not long before the young Swiss couple from Zurich passed me as I was attempted to photograph an 'ant highway' which crossed the path. I had been making every effort to step across these industrious insects when I came across them.


I caught up with the the Swiss who had stopped at a fork in the trail. There was no sign, of course. Do we go left or right? It was not long before someone else, equally confused, came up behind us. Abuelo had said stay left, hadn't he? So the decision was made to take the left fork and the four of us continued on together. It was not long before I started to feel that this was not the way we had come. Where as the route we had taken to Cabo took us further in land, this was clearly the coastal trail. But, no matter, we continued. The trail took us passed a couple of attractive and secluded little beaches. At every beach I made inquires with the oyster sellers as to whether we were heading in the right direction. We were, however, the others did not appear to be all that convinced. The Swiss couple spoke only rudimentary Spanish and the girl, a hair stylist from Bogotá, spoke virtually no English. This could be an interesting group to get lost with in the Jungle!

It was not long before we rejoined the original trail that led us back to the beach at Arrecifes. At the Arrecifes camp site we found most of the others, and it turned out that we had gone right way. It was their intention that we see some of the other beaches. The hairstylist looked relieved and this only improved her confidence in me.

Santa Marta - The strong currents around El Morro and the dying wish of a Liberator.
(Santa Marta Photos)

I spent that first day in Santa Marta getting my bearings and recovering from my less than comfortable overnight bus ride. I also managed to plan some activities. The city itself does not offer much to the visitor, however, it is not a bad place to base yourself.

At a New Year's Eve party near Bogotá a met an amiable Cuban gentleman who has a son who does (scuba) dives in Santa Marta. So of course I called up Alejandro as soon as I arrived. As it turned out his dive shop was right next door to the Casa Familiar, my hotel. What a convenient coincidence!

The shop's battered Land Rover was loaded with our tanks and gear and we set off. We then drove all of two blocks to the part of Santa Marta's beach which is next to the port. After unloading all of the gear Alejandro wanted to park the green and cream coloured Landie in the beach's parking lot. But, after much pushing and persuasion it would not start, and so it was left on the concrete ramp.


Our chosen dive site was the Isla El Morro, big rock just off of Santa Marta. And so Alejandro, known as Cubano, Mono, our captain and I put putted off in the launch toward the rock. After dropping anchor we kitted up. It had been two years since I last went scuba diving (Whitsunday Islands, Australia), and so I was just a tad apprehensive. It was also the first time I had entered the water by sitting on the edge of the boat, facing inward, and falling in back first.

The aquatic flora and fauna was stunning. There were plenty of tropical fish of florescent blues, greens and yellows. We came across something resembling and eel that was cream coloured with yellow spots. I will have to find out exactly what it was. However, the visibility was not great, perhaps as much as 15 meters at best. The current was strong which, at times, making the dive more hard work than fun. But, we got to a depth of about 55ft (17m), and after 35 minutes I had used up 2500psi of air (about 175bar - my gauges read in US measures, I am used to metric). I thought about doing a second dive, but the body was not feeling up to it.

That afternoon, I caught one of the many buses passing by the beach that honks at every pedestrian trying to get passengers. You cannot stand still on a street corner for more than a moment without a bus, taxi or motor cycle taxi hooting their horn at you trying to get your attention. This gets very trying after a while, particularly if all you want to do is cross the street! But, this time I actually needed one of them. I headed to the dusty outskirts of the city to the Quinta de San Pedro Alejandrino.


A quinta is like country house surrounded by some land. However, the Quinta de San Pedro Alejandrino holds great significance for Colombia as it was where its liberator, Simón Bolívar, died of tuberculosis on 17 December 1830 at 47 years of age. After winning its independence from Spain, Colombia was facing a new crisis. During his last years, as Colombia's first president, Bolívar fought hard to keep this country from splintering apart, as often seems to happen after a country gains its independence. His dying wish was that the integrity of this young nation was maintained.

The Quinta was like an oasis in the poor, dry suburbs of Santa Marta. Its gardens are pretty well watered and maintained. The compound is divided into two parts: the main house and gardens and a large monument built for the centenary of Bolívar's death. The almost penniless Bolívar was originally invited by the Quinta's owner. The most striking feature of the Quinta is the number of huge trees, their branches reaching out in all directions. A museum was built with the monument with a number of exhibition spaces. It is a very peaceful place. You almost forget how close you are to the bustling little city of Santa Marta.

Santa Marta - First Impressions
(Santa Marta Photos)

I said in my last post that Santa Marta is considered as Colombia's premier beach destination. I should qualify this by saying premier 'continental' beach destination. Colombia lays claim to two small islands in the Caribbean sea, San Andres and Providencia (that Nicaragua is contesting), which could be said to be more 'idyllic'.

Following the recommendations of my guide book, I had made a reservation at the Hospederia La Casa Familiar (said to be "highly recommended"). The infamous Miramar guesthouse was just down the street. I had read mixed reviews about the "original gringo hostel" and so chose the Casa Familiar instead. The Casa Familiar was clean, quiet and relaxed. The rooms were rather cell like, but mine had a firm mattress, a ceiling fan and a bathroom. For CO$15,000 (about US$6.75) I was not about to complain. The place was family run and felt safe (the lock on my door was a substantial looking padlock).



Santa Marta is one of Colombia's smaller but significant ports. The port installation itself is small, and along side appeared to be a coal loading facility. My hotel was hardly a couple of blocks from the port entrance. This will give you some idea what the area was like. However, my street was not much different from any other in the city. Next door was a dive shop and across the street a restaurant serving pretty good, cheap food. For CO$2000 (less than US$1) you could get a liter of freshly prepared juice (served in a liter sized plastic measuring cup).


I have to say that the city is not attractive. The majority of buildings are decidedly run down, from peeling paint - good condition - to crumbling. The streets are narrow, and often, at intersections water collects forming stagnant, stinking puddles. The odors could be strong, with tell-tale stains running from the wall of a building across the sidewalk to the curb. All of this is not helped by a bad littering habit. Filthy would not be too strong of a word. I felt sorry for the few street cleaners I saw in their head to toe suits and dust masks.

Perhaps, that was a harsh assessment. On the other hand the city can be quite lively. Walking around during a week day, the streets are busy and noisy with the calls of the various street sellers, constant hooting of taxi and motorcycle horns and shouts of children playing. Away from the water there are street, avenues and squares bustling with commercial activity. There also seem to be a lot of people just hanging around and doing little if anything, sitting on window sills, loitering at street corners.



For the visitor, the area where he would spend most of his time is Santa Marta's waterfront. The port and coal loader sit at the north end of a crescent shaped bay and to the south some headlands fall steeply into the sea. In between is a narrow strip of sand, which is the city's beach. The beach was always packed with families and the water with screaming children.


I did enjoy walking along the waterfront boulevard, taking in the scene. The people strolling was almost equaled by the of vendors. Vendors of cold drinks with their polystyrene coolers strapped to hand cards. Ice cream vendors on tricycles whose cold boxes often resembles man sized smiling penguins. (These always brought a smile to my face.) There were the men pushing carts of mangoes and then there where the juice sellers stationed under whatever shade could be found. There were men carrying what looked like old fashioned wooden tool boxes selling shrimp and oyster cocktails. But, probably most numerous where the "tinto, tinto, tinto" men carrying thermoses of coffee: black with sugar - "tinto", or with milk - "perico".

I spent the day exploring, slightly fatigued from the over night bus trip. But, I did manage to arrange some scuba diving for the following morning (not hard when the dive shop was next door) and a day tour of Tayrona Park for the day after.

Heading North to the Coast

I had some reservations about taking another overnight bus trip. Santa Marta is about 1000km north of Bogotá on Colombia's Atlantic (Caribbean) coast. This equates to a 16-17 hour trip, and so the earliest departure from Bogotá is 3pm. But, one does here stories of rebel army road blocks, where they go through all the vehicles and take anything of value, including you. However, I have not heard of this happening for some time. The fact is that this is a main, well traveled highway (all two lanes of it), and all of the principal highways in Colombia appear to be well protected by the Colombian army and highway police.

I opted for a 5pm departure with a national bus company called Brasilia, who seemed to have half decent looking buses and a good reputation. Though, I still have yet to see the levels of comfort (if one can use that word to describe bus travel) and service that I experienced in Argentina. Anyway, for those who are interested, the one-way far was CO$90,000 (about US$40).

I can now relate, with some experience, that any overland trip starting from Bogotá involves constantly winding roads, which descend, then rise and then descend again. Until at some point between the capital and the coast the mountain range peters out. As far as I can tell, Colombia has no large highways of four lanes or more (except those in and around cities) thanks to its topography. Colombian roads are also well known for their resemblance to the surface of the moon. The vast majority of vehicles on the roads are trucks, with, perhaps on in ten being a car. So when you add poor two lane winding roads into the equation you get never ending line of slow moving trucks. This, of course, leads to some very imprudent passing by private vehicles or smaller trucks. On a tight bend we passed a two-axle truck lying on its side, and next to it a man talking on a cell phone - presumably the driver. Bad judgment? Mechanical failure?

You pass an infinite number of of shacks along these mountain roads. Interestingly most have either set up ramshackle looking mechanics shops and/or truck stops where one can wash their vehicle. This would seem to make sense given the number of trucks and the grand age of some of them - they need all the help they can get chugging up and down these hills!

I drifted in and out of consciousness, but finally awoke properly at 7am the next morning. We had gone from the slow winding road of the lush highlands to the flat, straight road of the dry savannas of northern Colombia. The change was dramatic. We passed through a number of poor looking towns where the principal form of public transport was the bicycle rickshaw. Something I did not expect to see in South America. But, I am not in a region that could be considered more Caribbean than South American.

I am not sure what I expected Santa Marta to be like, but to this point it had been built up as the premier Colombian beach destination - Colombia's piece of the Caribbean. Santa Marta is the capital of the Department of Magdalena and it is he country's the northern most decent sized city (about 300,000). My first impression was that it had seen better days. My chosen accommodation appeared to be in a slightly unsavory part of town. But, I soon realised that most of town could be called unsavory.

A spot of diving, el Parque Tayrona and the beaches to come...

Villa de Leyva
(Villa de Leyva Photos)

Our base for exploring the area was Ejuenia's comfortable, rustic country house, located 5km outside of Villa Leyva. Hot water options were limited, and so I chose to shower outside, which always made for a bracing start to the day. The area was very peaceful and had some wonderful fews across the valley and of the surrounding hills. The house also sits near the Iguaque national park. So the hiking and biking options are numerous. And then of course you have the very charming town of Villa de Leyva...


Being only a few hours from Bogotá makes Villa de Leyva a popular weekend retreat for city dwellers. This sunny warm Saturday was no exception. Though, it was not as mobbed as it could have been. After having lunch we explored its narrow very rough cobble stone streets, all the time competing with the traffic. In most other parts of the world cars would be prohibited from entering the centre of a historic town like this.


Its main square, the Plaza Mayor, is large and impressive, and covered with the same unevenly sized cobble stones. The town's strict building regulations have meant that the town centre has changed little in appearance in several hundred years. It is also known for having a large artist population and this can be seen by the many boutique shops selling all manner of handmade goods. Then there are also plenty of trendy little restaurants, cafes and cake shops that cater for the sophisticated tastes of the Bogotanos that visit. Several houses have been converted into mini arcades and these shops and eateries have made good use of their internal patios and maze like passages.


I cannot forget to mention our visit to the colourful Saturday market held at Plaza de Mercados. This is tipical feature of small town life in Colombia. Local famers, assisted by the whole family (who are often to be seen sleeping under the stalls) bring their produce to market by mule, bus, car or truck. Need less to say Eujenia and Ligia stocked up here to. I was eating mangoes for a week, not that there is anything bad about that!


That night we checked out the local movie theatre and I got my first taste of Colombian cinema. This must be one of the only towns of its size to have a cinema. Looking at the building where it was supposed to be I could not figure out how they fitted one in. As it turned out it was more of a home theatre then full blown cinema. The room was located on the upper floor of one of these mini-arcades just off of the Plaza Mayor. It had four rows of leather "executive" desk chairs, eight chairs per row, with each row raised slightly than the one in front. The chairs tilted back as you would expect. At the front, to the right of the screen was a popcorn machine. Hung from the ceiling was a compact digital projector and to the left of the screen was the "entertainment centre". To top it off there was even waitress service.

The film, its name escapes me (it had 'sueños' - dreams in its title), was about an army platoon of Colombia's counter guerrilla forces that comes across tens of millions of dollars hidden in the jungle by the guerrillas. What do they do with the cash? Well, I don't want to spoil the plot, but it is based on a true story. Local critics often lament that Colombian cinema is all to often based on themes relating to the countries troubles - drugs, guerrillas, paramilitaries, kidnapings.

We did not spend the whole time hanging around town. Though, its very relaxed atmosphere, in spite of the tourists, would have made this very easy to do. One afternoon we visited the Convento de Santo Ecce Homo, a beautifully preserved monastery not far out of town. It's notable feature is how locally found fossils have been worked into the construction. The area is well known for the quantities of fossils that can be found. There is even a sight near the convento called "El Fossil".


There is also the Parque Nacional Iguaque, into which we made a small incursion. I could imagine spending days exploring its hills and canyons.


On our last night we visited a cousin of Ligia's (she has quite a family - her brother was the engineer behind many of the highways in Colombia and her nephew was the first Colombian to climb Everest), Fred Andrade, a reasonably well known Colombian artist and his wife who have built a spectacular pair of houses (one they rent out for weekends) on a hill overlooking the town. Their bathroom has a window made of green glass bottles, a large skylight (no neighbors) and a small flower bed. I wish there had been enough light to have taken a photo or two!

As we made our last pass through Villa de Leyva to stock up on some of the local specialties, we had the good fortune to find that some filming was taking place in the Plaza Mayor. The setting was the Spanish colonial period, and an elaberate market scene had been created in one corner of the plaza. The Spanish flag was flying from the baloney of a building. We learned that the filming was for a "telenovela", as the very popular Latin American soap operas aknown, called "El Zorro". Something should have clicked when I saw some crew members putting up a poster showing a familiar looking a masked man with the text "ENEMIGO PUBLICO" above it.

On the way to Villa de Leyva - Zipaquira and the Catedral de Sal
(Villa de Leyva Photos)

Although I have enjoyed the trips to San Agustín and el Eje Cafetero, they were a little rushed. Our recent trip to Boyacá, the department northeast of Bogotá was rather different. For a start it did not involve taking a bus! (You could say that I have begun to tire a little of bus travel.) So when a friend who knowns the terrain, has a car and can put you up in their country house, you know you are in for a good time. And so this is how it went when Eujenia drove us up to well preserved colonial town of Villa de Leyva and showed us the sights. It was one of the most pleasant and relaxing excursions I have taken in a long while.

Leaving Bogotá, we first headed to Zipaquira, 30km to the north, to visit one of Colombia's most spectacular man made wonders - La Catedral de Sal. Essentially it is an underground salt mine that has been transformed into a cathedral. It is a stop that has to be made.



The entrance is like that of a typical underground mine, consisting of a portal in the side of a hill and a gentle descent through a metal ribbed tunnel. This is an environment that, you could say, I am used to. Visitors are taken down in groups led by a guide (English, French and German guides are available). Once down the ramp and into the mine you are led through a long and very dimly lit passage off of which are 14 chambers, each representing the 14 Stations of the Cross. After a series of ramps, steps and narrow passageways the main chamber of the cathedral, 180m below the surface, opens up before you. Once is struck, almost breathless, by the awe inspiring sight. "Wow!" It is easy to forget that this has all been carved out of salt rock. I was amused on several occasions when I saw people in our group lick their finger and rub it on the gray walls and then taste it, just to make sure.


The main chamber, which must be 30m high by 20m wide and at least 100m long is lined with rows of pews. Mases are conducted regularly as well as the odd wedding. Flanking this immense cavernous space are two slightly smaller halls. There is also a theatre space available for hire. From what I understood there is a vehicle entry ramp for use on special occasions or emergencies. The mine is totally naturally ventilated (i.e. there are no large fans pushing air through).

We took our time meandering through the rich, hilly countryside. We stopped for lunch at a place that was clearly a truckers favorite, evident by the collection of trucks lining the highway (a sign of good, abundant and cheap food). The next stop was the famous cheese stop. Ligia and Eujenia came away with large blocks of yellow cheese that must have weighed a couple kilos each. This is dairy country, with its lush, thick and green pastures. Farmers doing their milking in the fields. I lost count of the number of people I past carting stainless steel milk vats, balanced on the back of bicycles, on mules or by hand. There was definitely something quite idyllic about this scene.

Then we made another obligatory stop in the small town of Raquira, known for its large earthenware pots and all the kitschy souvenirs you could possibly want. We passed through Villa de Leyva at 7pm, picking up some provisions on the way to the house.

Update

I recently spent a wonderful few days at a friend's country house near the charming colonial town of Villa de Leyva, in the Department of Boyacá, about 150km north of Bogotá. I will get around to writing up the trip soon. But, in the meantime, I have uploaded the trip photos.

On a slightly different subject, you may have noticed how I have greatly commented on and photographed the Colombian flora. The national newspaper "El Tiempo" had a New Year's Eve section with some interesting statistics, none of which surprise me after what I have seen:

1) Colombia has the largest variety of flowers of any country in the world;

and perhaps slightly disturbing...

2) Colombia is the largest exporter of machetes.

It also ranks in highly with respect to butterfly and frog species.

More of...Fruit(s) of the Day

Last time I introduced the granadilla. Here are a a few more fruits I have been enjoying lately.

Guanabana

The guanabana is known as the soursop in English, but I have never come across it until I arrived in Colombia and had a guanabana flavored "Alpina" yogurt. It is blended into a delicious juice. The fruit is more or less the size of a large pineapple. And the when cut open looks like...


The fruit has a sour taste, hence its English name. It contains kidney bean sized seeds, which need to be laboriously cut out before doing anything with the fruit.

Maracuyá (passion fruit)
Most of us are familiar with the passion fruit as it tends to be the main flavoring in any fruit juice labelled "tropical". However, I had never had much experience of the fruit itself.


Zapote
Now, you may have come across the Guanabana and the Marayá, but have you heard of the Zapote. To me it does not look like a fruit at all. It looks like something that I would not pick off a tree...


Its skin is fairly tough and has to be peeled away to get at the fruit. The pumpkin coloured fruit is mildly sweet and very fibrous. I needed to work the dental floss after eating a zapote. The fruit contains five or so brazil nut sized/shaped pits, which you have to work around.

Eje Cafetero - the final 36 hours: Colombian coffee, thermal springs, sausages and two provincial capitals
(Eje Cafetero Photos)

It is not necessarily a given that you will always find good coffee in Colombia. It was once said that all of the high quality beans were exported, leaving the run of the mill remainder for the domestic market. Although, the meals served at our finca were pretty good, the coffee was lousy.

From my wanderings I get the impression that Colombians have become more demanding over that past decade or so (as is the case in the US) when it comes to their daily cup. I have not found a coffee bar on every street corner in Bogotá as I found in Buenos Aires. I have come across a number of new, trendy coffee shops in the neighborhood as well as the outlets of the two prominent chains, Oma (http://www.oma.com.co/) and Juan Valdez (http://www.juanvaldezcafe.com/), which all serve "100% Café Colombiano". Oma and Juan Valdez have an atmosphere and menu not all disimilar to Starbucks. They have a strong enough foothold here that I would think the US giant would have some difficulty getting a look. However, Juan Valdez has a couple of shops in Seattle, Starbucks' home turf and New York City.

Our third day started at the unholy hour of 4:30am, so a good cup of coffee would have been appreciated! The night before we were instructed that we should get up at this hour, that breakfast would be served at 5:30 and the buses would depart at 6am. As it turned out, and this will not be a surprise now, breakfast was served at 6 (even though the three of us had been patiently waiting for half an hour, watching the sun rise) and half the group did not appear until 6:30. I think we were doing well to get away just after 7am! I was starting to understand the method behind the guides' extreme scheduling - Colombians generally operate an hour behind. I wish I had had this realisation the night before when I was setting my alarm clock.


Today we headed two and half hours north, just passed the town of Santa Rosa de Cabal to the location of some of Colombia's best known thermal springs. The thermal complex is hidden away up a small valley and you could easily pass it if it was not for the presence of a small hut with a ticket window and a chain link fence. Once past the fence you walk about five minutes up a winding stone path, through a lightly landscaped area thick with flowering trees and bushes and plants with the biggest leaves I have ever seen. Then, you climb as small rise and, as if out of no where, you are faced but a small, but stunning waterfall. Everyone pauses for a moment, mesmerised, to taken in the view, and then they continue to the changing rooms and into the pools.


For one reason or another I had little interest in bathing. Perhaps it was the fact that I had submersed myself in various thermal springs in Argentina or Chile. I was quite content to lounge in a white, plastic chair away from the pools and splashing families and read, looking up every so often to take in the lush, damp scenery.


On the way back through Santa Rosa we made the obligatory stop for a sausage snack - "el mejor chorizo de Colombia" (the best sausage of Colombia) they say. I had two with a couple of arepas (cornmeal rolls). They were good to be sure, but good enough to support such a claim? I am not sure.

We continued on to Pereira, the capital of the Department (province) of Risaralda for our city tour. The city tour consisted of being dropped off near the main square and being told that we have two hours to do what we pleased. Pereira is a city of about 400,000 and does not offer much to the tourist. Its viaduct is a recognisable landmark to most Colombians.

During our final morning we were allowed some time to see Armenia, the capital of Colombia's smallest department, Quindio. The city was devastated by an earthquake in 1999, and so the architecture is modern. I did manage to find a good cup of coffee at a stand on the edge of the central Plaza Bolívar and watched the shoe shine men at work. This was then accompanied by a slice of cake, coffee cake of course!

Eje Cafetero - Day2: Parque Nacional del Café
(Eje Cafetero Photos)

The principal protagonist of this region is undoubtedly the coffee plant. This plant is fairly easy to recognise with its dark green, glossy leaves. The plants in this region seem to be the size of a small bush, but can grow to the size of small tree. It produces small berry like fruit, which usually contain two seeds - the beans! The beans are then fermented, washed and dried. I never realised this, but the roasting part usually occurs in the destination country. Most of you probably will know the rest of the process.

By my reckoning, coffee must be one of the most popular (non-alcoholic) beverages in the world today. Coffee is grown in various Central and South American countries, as well as parts of Asia and of course Africa (from where it is thought the plant originated). It is one of Colombia's best know export products. The majority of Colombian coffee growers are fairly organised and are represented by the Federación Nacional de Cafeteros de Colombia (Federation of Colombian Coffee Growers). The Colombian coffee brand is well known thanks to Juan Valdez and his "burro", a character created out of some clever marketing by the Federation. The logo is recognisable to most in North America. They also have a web site whose address is http://www.juanvaldez.com/ (or for the Colombian site: http://www.cafedecolombia.com/). So it is no surprise that the Federation created a coffee theme park, El Parque Nactional del Café.



The park is set on a hillside with a mixture of coffee plants and thick tropical foliage. The circuit starts with a walk through the history of coffee in Colombia in the park's museum. Once well briefed, you embark on the long, winding "eco-trail" passing numerous examples of coffee plants grown in Colombia (there are about five varieties grown - all of the 'arabica' type which produces the highest quality, smoothest coffee). The park also contains a wide variety of weird and wonderful tropical plants.

Near the end of the trail is a theatre showing the obligatory 'coffee show' once an hour, every 30 minutes past the hour. I would have been quite happy to have continued to the end of the trail, but I could not stray from the group, now could I! Well, if I have to. The show started with a traditionally, but colourfully dressed couple arguing over the muchacho's (young man's) wondering eye. Every so often he would flirt with a female member of the audience, increasing all the more the jealousy and ire of his girlfriend. The lover's tiff was settled with a machete fight.

The muchacha (young lady), wanting to get her own back, started searching for eligible masculine character from the audience and ... you can see where this is going. From the moment her eyes started scanning I realised how exposed I was. I was sitting on the left side of the theatre, one row from the front. It seemed like everyone around was rather small, so there was no where to hide. With my decidedly un-Latin physical traits, I knew I stood out like the proverbial 'sore gringo'. Her gaze settled on me, and I knew it. I made a "Who, me?" expression in the vague hope that I was mistaken.

"Si, tu. Ven. ¡Ven aqui!" she called out, reading my 'who me expression.'

Every pair of eyes in the theatre turned to me, willing me up and on to the stage. And there began one of the more mortifying experiences in my life. We danced a kind of jig, I with the grace of a wooden plank, as the audience cheered (I think they may have been laughing) and clapped in rhythm (there is a slightly blurred photo that I might post). The tit for tat game continued when the muchacho then plucked some poor, unsuspecting girl from the audience, and she was made to perform. Fortunately, it was all over in minutes and the show proper began.

We eventually reached the Plaza Bolivar, a mock-colonial square, at the bottom hill. Keeping to our tight schedule and missing lunch, we caught the orchid show and then a ride on the train. The train takes you from the plaza to various other attractions, but we had time only for the outward and return trips and nothing else. On reaching the far station it became clear that we could not stay on the train for the return trip. We had to get off and line up again. The train ride was quaint, but I have little patience for queues. So I told the guides that I would be walking back. "Walk!?" It was as if they had never been faced with such a request. "It is not safe! You will get lost! One of us will come with you!" Oh, give me a break. I had a map, the paths were well signposted and it was all of 500m. I will be fine and I will not get lost. They gave me a worried look as I marched off.

I arrived back at the main plaza a good 10 minutes before their train pulled into the grand looking station - time enough for a tinto (as a cup of black coffee is known in Colombia, but in the rest of the Spanish speaking world you would get a glass of red wine if you ordered a tinto). Before catching the teleferico (cable car) for the ride up the hill I managed to find the man himself, Señor Valdez, and convinced him to pause for a photo.

El Eje Cafetero Tour – The first 24 hours
(Eje Cafetero Photos)

I first came across the word “eje” reading the ‘menu’ of tariffs at tollbooths in Argentina: autos, buses, camiones con 2 ejes, 3 ejes, etc. In this instance eje means axil. In mathematics it means axis. But, in the sense of “El Eje Cafetero”, it refers to the zone that is the centre of Colombia’s coffee production. It is located about 250km due west of Bogotá, on the western slopes of the Cordillera Central (recall that I commented that the Andes splits into three separate, parallel ranges as it traverses Colombia – the Eastern on which Bogotá sits, Central and Western Ranges). A climate with a good mix of sun and rain and an altitude between 800m-1800m makes this area idea for growing coffee plants.


Now, I am certainly not what you would call a ‘hardcore’ backpacker, but nor do I like to be herded around with 80 others as is the way of a typical package tour. However, in this instance, I relented as I was traveling with Ligia and her friend Graciela. I do not think that my improvisational form of traveling would have suited them. The (almost) all inclusive four day tour cost CO$435,000 (just short of US$200). Transport was by bus, comfortable enough for the average Latin frame, and accommodation was in a basic, but agreeable “finca” (a couple of acres dotted with a number of cabañas or bungalows, an open sided dining area and a pool).


To save time and a night’s accommodation, the 8-10 hour outward journey was overnight. I initially had two reservations about this: (1) my guidebook advised against overland travel by night due to issues of security, and (2) there are not many things I like less than having to sleep on a bus – I just can’t (there you go, the hardcore backpacker would be able to sleep anywhere). But, away we went, leaving Bogotá at about 7pm Tuesday evening, getting stuck in motionless traffic for two hours, stopping for a snack at 11pm, then for dinner at 2:30am. There would not have been any point in trying to sleep even if I could. We eventually arrived at the finca just as the sky was beginning to brighten.


“Breakfast is at 7 and the buses leave at 8 sharp for the first excursion,” we were told in no uncertain terms. This was barely enough time for the three S’s – they cannot be rushed – but little else. Did I mention that I am not a fan of organised tours?

Wednesday’s full day excursion was to el Parque Tematicos Agropecuarios de Panaca (http://www.panaca.com.co/home.html), a kind of agricultural theme park / large petting zoo. Once we had eventually set off at 8:30am (it is not just the Argentineans that have punctuality issues), our petit guide and M.C., who looked all of 15 years, Fernanda, got the tour properly underway by introducing herself. She was in fact 20, but has been a tour guide for three years and has a 14 month old daughter. Then, horror of horrors, she proceeded to drag each one of us to the microphone at the front of the bus to introduce ourselves: name, age, where we are from, occupation, marital status, family, etc.

“Oh good lord,” I thought. “Do we have to? I’d really rather not.” But, I had little choice in the matter. There was no where to run. At least I had this ‘spiel’ well rehearsed as any student of a foreign language would have.

“Me nombre es Ronald. Tengo veinte nueve años. Nací en Nueva York, pero vivo en Inglaterra (the short story). Soy ingeniero electrónico. Y estoy haciendo un recorrido por Sur America. Y…” I paused.

“¿Y estado civil?” Fernanda jumped in, a little too keenly.

“Soltero,” I replied. This answer, I kid you not, was greeted with shouts and ‘woohoos’ from the female passengers.

“¡Que buenas noticias! ¿Eh Chicas?” exclaimed Fernanda.

“Good grief!” I thought to myself. I could feel my face turning red. I rushed back to my seat in an effort to avoid further questions.

Being the peak of the Christmas holidays, the Panaca ‘Agri-Zoo’ was busy. Panaca is not the type of attraction that I would usually visit, being mainly geared for families (the majority of our group). But, it was nice to be out in the fresh air of the country side, as contrived as the park was.

Once through the gates, the herding began.

11:30am for the equestrian show.

Lunch – a soggy, microwaved hamburger.

1:45pm at the ‘canine pavilion’ for the dog show.

3:15pm at the curiously named “Estación Porcicultura” (fancy term for pigs), with a show in the “Cerdodromo” (pig race track).

And finally the 5pm “exhibición de ganadería” (cattle show).

I did omit the 4pm ‘pets doing tricks’ show. Watching a goat dance on its hind legs and distressed looking bichon frise walk along high wires was not “divertido” (fun) as the propaganda described it. I thought it was rather cruel. In spite of this, the day had some educational value for us city slickers. The park is well organised and laid out. And the animals (aside from the goats and bichon frises) appear to be well looked after – always a cause for concern in these kinds of places.

Próximamente: A visit to El Parque Nacional del Café and further unwated celebrity!