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!