After a bus journey that was 5 hours more than scheduled we make it to the coffee zone of Colombia. The town is typically small, with a nice square (Colonial of course), a few police men lazily leaning on their m16s and at least 10 restaurants advertising trout as their dish of the day. Feeling peckish, I have trout, and head back to the only hostel in town, the plantation house. This is owned by a friendly but eccentric english guy, who as the uncanny ability to be able to say the same tourist speel to every new comer to the
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