Beautiful beaches to beautiful cities

Parque Nacional Tayrona is an absolute utopia of stunning beaches. Tropical green mountains brimming with wildlife keep watch over deep Caribbean bays with pristine white-sand beaches littered only by massive boulders and shade-yielding palm trees. The hike in is like walking into the pages of a National Geographic.

After a 3 hour hike, I eventually arrived to a camp site situated on the third beach from the entrance. The fascinating beauty of the hike was still distracting and added to the confusion as I arrived… I had missed the camp site and instead stumbled upon an Israeli refugee camp. I heard no Spanish or English being spoken… just Hebrew. I felt overwhelming relief when I discovered that the person sitting behind the reception desk was Colombian. I rented my locker and hammock and quickly got ready to hike up the mountain to a small indigenous Tayrona community called “El Pueblito.”

Since I was traveling alone, that evening I decided to try and talk to one of the large groups of Israelis. It’s hard enough approaching a group of complete strangers, but when they are all speaking an unfamiliar language and you coming up means that each and every one of them would have to start speaking your language, nervousness increases exponentially. Like going in for the first kiss, I approached cautiously and waiting for rejection.

“Hi. How are you all?”
“Fine.”
“Where are you from?” (already knew, but wanted to make conversation)
“Israel” (with a disgusted look because it was obvious and a waste of their time for me to ask)
“What do you all think of the park?”
“Nice.”
“What did you all do today” (still not wanting to give up)
“Swam.”

I was done. After giving me more one-word answers than a kid gives his mom when she asks about his school day, they had successfully made me feel as welcome as a black lesbian at a Republican Convention. (Don’t let Condaleeza Rice throw you on this one… I firmly believe that in her original state, she was as much of a dirty, white, old man as Dick Cheney…At least until some top Republicans in the 80’s happened to be watching the movie Soul Man while Michael Jackson was playing in the background… gotta give them points for creativity). I walked away with my tail between my legs and ended the night early, drifting asleep to the soothing sounds of the ocean, the breeze wisping through the tree tops, and very ‘vocalized’ Hebrew.

Taganga is a small fishing village situated a few kilometers outside of Santa Marta. The town offers very little other than scuba lessons, relaxation, and some brutal hikes in the surrounding mountains. I spent 2 nights and days lounging around the hammock laden hostal, La Casa De Felipe (which I recommend to everyone). On my second day, I hiked up the surrounding mountains and got a beautiful view of the bay and sunset. Hiking alone in the mountains of Colombia wasn’t part of my original plan, but I couldn’t resist.

After 15 hours of winding roads, my bus finally pulled into one of the most attractive cities I have seen, Medellin. The City of around 2 million people is spilled into a massive valley, surrounded by mountains speckled with poor communities. Medellin is more famous for being the world´s leading cocaine exporter, home to Pablo Escobar, and producing some of the ugliest paramilitary/guerilla conflicts in Colombia. All of that is history, and I from what I saw, the city should be more famous for its beautiful public art, amazingly clean and safe transportation infrastructure, stunning women, and the friendliest, most helpful people I have ever met.

Speaking of interesting public art, there is a very unique view in one of Medellin´s main squares. There are 2 Botero (famous Colombia sculptor) sculptures of birds… only one is blown to smithereens. In 1995, guerillas planted a bomb at the foot of one his sculptures, “The Bird.” The bomb killed 23 people and wounded 200 others. In response, Botero created a second sculpture, “The Bird of Peace,” which was placed a few meters away from the remains of the original. The 2 statues (one only shards of metal) stand side by side as a monument to violence and peace. (Of course, I didn’t have my camera with me when I saw them so you will just have to take my word on how fascinating of a site it is.)

Although my hostal in Medellin (The Black Sheep) was great, it was full of only guys and was therefore more of a bachelors’ pad than anything else. It made it difficult to try and get people to do touristy type stuff around the city. My suggestion of going and looking at statues didn’t stand a chance to “well, I’d rather go sit at the mall and look at girls.” I was able to get some guys to go up the Teleferico to get a good view of the city and even take a day trip to “La Piedra,” a massive rock sitting in the middle of picturesque man-made lakes.

I just made it to Bogota where I will spend a few days before heading down south towards Quito. The city seems amazing and I look forward to making the most of the little time I have to spend here. Presidential elections are coming up in a couple of weeks so things here seem a little edgy. There have been a few public bus bombings and kidnappings, but the thing that stands out the most to me is the massive police and military presence. You can tell that everyone is on edge, waiting for something big to happen and my embassy just raised the alert level here. But throughout it all, Colombians have been the most friendly and helpful people I have encountered. They are always offering to help me find a place to stay (if not offering their own), get a taxi, find a place to eat, etc. I couldn’t be happier that I decided to come!

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