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So another big city, and to be honest I have started running out of energy for this traveling lark (finally). My theory is that to properly get a feel for a city you either need friends there or at least 3 weeks. I had neither in Medellin so after a cursory look around the sights like the plaza de esculpturas.....actually that was it, there are lots more sights but I couldn't really be bothered....I took a trip up and down the metro instead. The metro in Medellin is elevated so you get a great view of the city without doing any leg work yourself. It looked like a lovely city and I was impressed by how green it was. Because the buildings are mainly no more than 3 storeys high you can see along way along the valley from the train. The metro also passes through some of the poorer areas which are always fascinating to see and connects up with a cable car which took me up one of the valley sides for a great view back down the valley towards the city centre, plus a great view of every ones washing out on their roofs drying in the sun.
I also went up to a recreated pueblo paisa and sculpture park called Cerro Nutibarra which was so dull its not even worth this mention. Luckily there are a few interesting places to visit outside of Medellin too and so I caught a bus to the beautiful colonial town called Santa Fe de Antioquia and just mooched around a bit, sat in the square and read the newspaper whilst drinking fresh lemonade before heading back to Medellin where I spent some suspicious looking minutes in the station trying to get some photos of the fantastic neon lights they have on all the buses here. Some even have big strobes on top which they put on specially to distract other drivers as they are overtaking!.
The next day I went out to a huge volcanic rock called El Peñol looming out of the rolling hills around it. All around the rock was an artificial lake created by flooding the valleys and the original village of El Peñol but it made for a truly stunning view after climbing the dodgy looking concrete steps to the top.
On impulse I then decided to head to Valledupar form Medellin. My original plan was
to head to Cartagena and meet Guy, the Canadian with a boat, but my last call to him had revealed that he is having visa and boat preparation problems and we would have to delay the trip and week or so. I had forgotten that there is a Vallenato music festival in Valledupar at the beginning of May (to be honest I though I would be long since departed by May so put it out of my head).
The best thing I discovered in Medellin is nothing to do with the city, its art or its attractions....it is the Granadilla. Granadillas are the wierdest and most delicious fruit in the world. A girl in the hostel offered me one and now I am hooked. It looks a bit like and orange but the skin is hard and when you crack it open it reveals a mass of seeds covered in clear jelly sacs kind of like some kind of alien being. There is no way to eat them gracefully you just have to kind of stick your face in it and suck the insides out. Shortly after deiscovering this remarkable fruit I also discovered that it is forbidden to eat
in the metro stations, the explanation being that I might drop the peel and cause an accident. What? Health and safety in South America?! Only in Colombia!
And so I left one of the most beautiful parts of Colombia (although I say that about every bit I visit), Antioquia, and headed back to the first area I had seen, up near the Pacific coast. I hadn't taken a night bus for months, in fact since arriving in Colombia just before Christmas, and it was just as uncomfortable and cold as I had remembered, maybe even more so because I think you actually get used to them. But when we arrived I was immediately taken under the wing of a young female student who was visiting her family and was concerned that I might not find a hotel, so I left my bags in their house and went on the cheap room hunt in the centre. Of course they offered me a room in their house but after a sleepless night the last thing I want is to make polite small talk in someone elses house, usually I just want a shower and a few more hours sleep. Of course it
was easy to find a hotel - you just have to find a dodgy looking area and be able to cope with threadbare sheets, doors that you can open by sticking your hand through the slatted window and a fan instead of air con. I would say I like my home comforts as much as anyone but somehow I just seem to be able to switch it off while I am traveling which is very handy. I just treat myself to a nice place every now and again and that seems to work fine.
Valledupar was a hot, bustling and very pleasant town very much like Santa Marta and due to the festival it had a lively party atmosphere going on, a multitude of black and yellow straw hats and Vallenato music on every street corner.
There was one main plaza with a stage, on which a constant succession of incredibly fast accordion, bongo and cheese grater players were banging out tunes. I wandered the streets a bit, stood around a bit, drank a few beers and chatted to a few people but that was about it really, a short distraction and then off to the town of Mompox.
Mompox
is called the Colombian bayou, a village from times gone by, where people sit with their rocking chairs on verandas along streets of whitewashed colonial houses while the river flows quietly by. Each house has a fantastic old wooden door and shuttered windows, layered with years of paint in slightly varying shades of the same colour, greens, reds, and browns, and as you walk past you can glimpse shady green courtyards and armies of rocking chairs inside each one. One for each of the aunts, sisters and grandmother and grandfathers I suppose. It is hot, hot, hot and theres not much to do other than hang out and I am the only tourist that I have seen in town so far, which is maybe why I feel like I have had more hissing, whistling and cat calling in the street here than I have recently. Or maybe I am just reaching saturation point with South America now. I am certainly looking forward to walking down the street in the UK and not being noticed (but I know that after I while I will probably miss all the attention)...Oh God... and curry and cider, and italian cheese, and proper milk, and
a sofa, WH Smiths, not having to stuff the cash down my bra when I take money out......
I see that this is only a short blog and thats partly because I have traveled faster than my usual pace since leaving Cali and with so many things seen in a short space of time it all just becomes a blur, I have even started to get tired of writing a blog - something that until now I have really enjoyed doing. Maybe I am just generally tired of traveling or maybe its a product of speed travel. Still my next plans should fix that. If I know anything about sailing, its that its a slow pace and for once I will have my own room (well cabin), one bed and all my stuff in one place for a while without any buses involved. If all goes well I will be leaving Colombia in about a week to help a Canadian guy, called Guy, sail with his wife and son up as far as Mexico. We are planning to pass by the Bay Islands in Honduras for some diving, sail up river in Guatemala and drop in on Belize on the
way to Isla Mujeres and Cancun. I feel nervous talking about the plan as if I could jinx it because nothing ever quite goes to plan on a boat. I just hope that I get on with them OK because its close quarters on a boat if not.
Tomorrow I will get the bus to Cartagena again with my fingers crossed for a cock up free start to the final leg of my trip from Colombia to Mexico to get my plane home. Wish me luck!
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Sebastian
non-member comment
Maracuyá, not Granadilla
The fruit on top is not a Granadilla, but it is Maracuyá. A Pomegranate is a Granadilla