Advertisement
Published: April 28th 2010
After a busy afternoon’s travelling we didn’t get to the Colombian border until after sunset. We crossed the border and ensured our papers were in order and organised transport to the nearby town of Ipiales with a friendly old man. Some people think that even considering coming to Colombia is a bad idea. So in our situation, where we were already breaking the ‘rules of travel’ in a country with Colombia’s reputation, those people would probably be right. I would have snarled at any such suggestion until our driver picked up a younger male ‘friend’ in the car park. He then proceeded to pick up another person this time a young woman. With both of us thinking this could be the ‘welcome to Colombia committee’ we drove off into the night.
Any fear was soon erased as not one of the Colombians could keep their mouths shut for one second. With talk of the old and talk of the new, Colombia, at the very first hurdle, displayed why it’s a country shaking off its old reputation. ‘The only danger of coming to Colombia is not wanting to leave’ said an ad campaign we regularly saw. Well it couldn’t be nearer to the truth. It turned out that the old man was only taking his friends back to Ipiales (with us footing the bill of course). They wanted to know every detail about us, where we had been and where we were going - not to mention giving us plenty of advice on Colombia! They were also very keen to point out that the country is safe and that the rumours aren’t true. Mind you, they did say not to wander off into the jungle…
Right from this moment on Colombia had that enjoyable air about it, skipping along to its own individual beat. Something so many countries just don’t have. We were also introduced to Colombia’s catchphrase - ‘tranquilo’. Namely tranquil, relaxed, chilled out etc. It’s a word we heard in every other sentence as Colombians tried their best to show its visitors that, all in, the country is simply tranquilo!
We spent our first day in Colombia getting hooked on the Wimbledon tennis final before eventually making it out to Santuario de las Lajas. An eye opening neo-gothic church draped across a lush gorge. We then travelled further north to the pretty whitewashed colonial city of Popoyan. Using the city as a base we travelled well out of the way to visit the ancient pre-Colombian site of San Agustin, set in inviting rolling green hills. We stayed out of the town centre in a cabin in the isolating hills. From here we organised horseback trips into the hills to the sites where the fascinating carved stone heads lie. We spent the morning trotting around various sites and then went to the archeological park to see literally hundreds of carved heads, taken from the surrounding hills. San Agustin definitely gave the feeling of ancient South American civilizations, something that, at times, does seem to be absent.
We returned back to Popoyan in particularly bumpy style and, after spending more time enjoying the city with its colonial streets, whitewashed buildings and traditional European balconies, we boarded a bus heading to Cali - the salsa capital of the world!!
Naturally we wanted to give salsa a go. So we went to one or two of the city’s many clubs. Taking a day out from this stylish city, we embarked on a very odd side trip with a few people form the hostel. With the destination of a small town called San Cipriano, the journey to this secluded settlement was an expedition in itself. A two and a half hour bus journey into the rainforest followed by the strangest mode of transport I’ve ever seen. They call them trolleys, I call them makeshift wooden trucks running on old railway lines, powered by a motorcycle nailed to the wooden truck. An interesting ride to say the least, with the trolley actually getting up some reasonable speed, while its passengers either sat holding on, or stood holding onto the seated passengers.
On arrival, San Cipriano seemed like a completely different country. Draped in rainforest, the small local 100%!b(MISSING)lack population were less friendly but more cheeky than their counterparts - all only 2 hours from the classy metropolis of Cali. The main reason we came to San Cipriano was to go tubing down the local river, which was lined with decent rapids, gentle enough to throw a tube (big lorry innertube) down and rough enough to see riverbank walls gaining pace at the end of rapids, with only restricted hands as paddles! We all enjoyed the afternoon of tubing through the cooling waters of San Cipriano.
After the swish style of Cali and its healthy population of model-like females we travelled into the heart of the graciously beautiful Zona Caféteria. We stayed for a few days on a café finca (farm). Here we saw the coffee-making process through from fruit to the roasted bean (which tasted exceptional) and drank unlimited amounts of the freshest, smoothest café with Colombia’s friendly locals. The finca was set amidst jiggered rolling hills covered with café plantations. Tranqiulo? I’d just discovered my retirement location!
Reluctantly we left Zona Caféteria and boarded a bus bound for Escobar country, the cocaine capital of the world and a city so controlled by Colombia’s notorious drug cartels that wandering the streets means having a death wish. As we arrived in Medellin, one thing that soon (unsurprisingly) became apparent is that the city, like Colombia and the rest of South America, does not live up to its reputation. In fact, based on my experiences over the last five months, these rumours couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure the continent has had its fair share of ‘situations’, but the stories that are rife about the safety of this continent I can only say are a load of old rubbish. Of course we have heard stories of theft but that happens everywhere. In fact most of the stories you hear are from surprised travellers, for example those of people losing their ipods only to have them returned by a bunch of children are not uncommon.
So what about Medellin? It’s another very friendly and extremely well-developed city. OK so the cartels still control around 80%!o(MISSING)f the world’s cocaine supply and the city produces more fake US banknotes than anywhere else on this planet (Colombia being the worlds biggest producer), but it’s a city on the up, if not already up. It’s crammed with advanced spacious infrastructure and streets now safe to walk, made possible by the fall of Pablo Escobar.
The city has a very good cultural base and, as Fernando Botero’s birthplace, is riddled with his sculptures including the now famous ‘The Bird’. One of many, lining one of Medellin’s many plazas, a terrorist attack blew the sculpture up along with many innocent people enjoying the afternoon atmosphere from the makeshift bars or plaza centre. Botero ordered another to be cast and for the original to be gathered, secured and placed next to the new casting, thus making a further statement and reminder about the futility of terrorism with the intention of promoting peace - something of which Colombia seems to be taking note.
Nightlife in Medellin is like any Colombian village, town or city - great! They say that if you put five Colombians in a room it will end up in a party. I reckon you only need one! Walking through shops, streets or anywhere that plays music (so mostly everywhere!) locals just can’t help but dance. Even standing in a queue, the salsa soon takes over, its not a rare sight to see the locals, eyes closed, salsa stepping until it’s their turn to be served! So back to the nightlife in Medellin, what’s it like? Fantastico! The first bar we walked into, in the city’s prime Zona Rosa said a lot about Medellin and the whole country. We only had a chance to order a drink each, before two locals pulled the chairs from underneath us. Literally if you’re not dancing in Colombia, you soon will be! We were taken for a lesson in salsa, obviously I was so good that the young lady ended up having to lead. When we finally returned to our table we got the chance to have a sip of our drinks.
Next stop on our list would be Bogota and the country’s capital. We had also made another trip back into the Andes and, with it, a return to the colder climate. Vibrant and cultured, the seat of power contained nice architecture, good museos and guinea pig racing… It was also a good opportunity to meet up with a friend we met in Bolivia and his now wife Alejandra. Staying with Chris gave us the opportunity to see another side of Bogota - the exclusive and executive side! We dined well and even visited the local English pub.
We continued north in the Andes to a charming town called San Gil and Colombia’s adventure-sport capital. Wasting no time we spent the day ‘caving’. Armed with only swimming trunks, a miner’s helmet and waterproof head torch we joined a Colombian group and walked into the dark unknown. We disappeared for a few hours into the network of underground caves. At times we would have to lay flat and crawl through lengthy tunnels not much wider than our bodies. Or we could find ourselves having to walk through shorter tunnels completely submerged in water. In other areas we found ourselves in big dark caves, when lighting up the walls with our torches unsettled the resident bats and uncovered the odd tarantula resting on the rocks. It was another interesting day and although glad I walked, climbed and crawled through the cold, dark underground vaults, I think I have seen enough of caving.
The highlight for me came from a trip up into the mountains, for a flight with a parapenting pilot. We arrived at the launch pad and found a group of hopefuls waiting for the weather conditions to improve so the flights could take place. As we sat on the grass waiting, I started to think ‘what the hell am I doing?’ The longer we waited the more anxious I became. As the pilots gave the conditions a thumbs-up, the first wave of flights took off. As we watched I really did start to think that this was a bad idea. The remaining group was rounded up. Being the last to arrive I thought that I would be the last to go. We all told the pilot our weight and before I knew it I was the ‘chosen’ one.
With my heart pounding and legs turning to jelly I ‘saddled up’. I stood overlooking the valley below, strapped to a pilot who was, in turn, strapped to the parachute. With my legs barely holding my body weight the conditions deteriorated, leaving me with more time to think about why this was a bad idea. Then the pilot decided the time was right, the parachute was allowed to open and flung vertically riding the winds. I could now feel the parachute pulling us and knew that there was no way out. Before I knew it we were up in the air. The equipment used means all I had to do was essentially sit down in the safety harness. The feeling was, of course, nothing to worry about - if anything it felt like you were floating on air. The pilot steered us up over the ridge and back into the valley. The only moments of losing the floating feeling would be when we flew between air currents and the ‘corkscrew’ that the pilot thought would be a good idea. After repeating this ‘circuit’ a few times we landed back at the launch site. I was really glad that I took the flight and managed to conquer a few fears with it.
I spent the last day in San Gil walking around and taking a trip to another charming colonial town - Barichara.
Our next journey would be up to Bucaramanga from where we would catch an overnight service to El Banco. By doing so we had left the Andes and travelled into the tropical Colombian lowlands. On arrival in the early morning we could feel the ‘heat’ already charging. We organised transport to the intriguing colonial town of Mompos. We arrived and found a hostel with a couple of spare beds. It wasn’t even midday by this point but the heat and humidity was already taking effect. We headed out and had a look around. With the sun beating down on us, taking in the sights of Mompos turned more into a shade quest. This town is well and truly in the middle of nowhere. The conquistadors could have only built this place as a stop on the trade route. Living here out of pleasure would be a hard job. When you see locals sporting sweat patches you know things are pretty steamy. When all you hear from them is how hot they are, then you know you’re justified in thinking ‘just how hot can a place get?!’
Mompos certainly is one of those ‘stop off’s’ with extremely charming but subtle colonial architecture. The local tradition of the rocking chair was also another interesting sight. In a town of probably only a few thousand or so, there were more rocking chair shops than bakeries. The town is also set on the banks of the Rio Magdalena, lending it to great-value river trips. I spent the afternoon with travelling Colombians seeing the sights of the main and side river network. Being so hot the refreshing air provided a nice escape. The surrounding banks reminded me of the Bolivian Amazon. The smaller side rivers were home to more primitive locals, living in wooden huts and bathing in the river water. After what was a great afternoon trip, we watched another glorious South American sunset and then returned back to Mompos. With the evening came the main reason for the rocking chair shops - we found most of Mompos out on their porches, rocking away in the slightly cooler evening air.
Leaving Mompos we spent a day travelling by jeep, boat, bus and collectivo (via many military checkpoints) to a city that we had heard so much about, the so called gem of the Caribbean, Cartagena. Romantic, draped in pirate history and a city that would consume you for days - well so we were told. The truth is that I can see why people would say that. But coming from the cultural riches of Europe it did disappoint. The old town is extremely nice, reminding me very much of Prague, if not a smaller, less restored version. But outside the classic beauty of the old town there really isn’t anything else to Cartagena. In fact, so much so, that the old town really is its saving grace. A day was enough to walk within the old city walls, admiring the tight cobbled streets, stately buildings and impressive churches.
Our hostel was located outside the atmospheric old town and in the city’s red light district. Regeneration is taking its time it seems! Being on the Caribbean coast, thoughts of tropical beaches soon faded as we spent a wasted afternoon on Cartagena’s so-called best beach - I think I prefer Gt Yarmouth, yes it’s that bad. We bumped into old friends and shared nights out in the rather expensive confines of the old town. Unfortunately we used the rest of our time messing around in the Venezuelan consulate trying to visas that it turned out we didn’t need (nice one to the British embassy). But we did manage to squeeze in a visit to a mud volcano. Yep Volcan de Lodo El Totumo is a mud volcano. At 15m high it has formed from the underground pressure of decaying organic matter. It’s also not alone, there are hundreds in this region. We climbed the mud mound and enjoyed a mud bath. We then washed ourselves off in the nearby river. One of the smaller volcanos I’ve scaled with quite an interesting twist…
On returning to Cartagena we left for Santa Marta via Barranquilla. With one main reason in mind for Santa Marta we were quick to arrange a jungle expedition to Cuidad Perdida, quite simply the Lost City!
Full Las Lajas Photos
Full San Augustin Photos
Full Popayan Photos
Full San Cipriano Photos
Full Zona de Cafe Photos
Full Medellin Photos
Full Bogota Photos
Full San Gil Photos
Full Mompos Photos
Full Cartegena Photos
Advertisement
Tot: 0.103s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 7; qc: 46; dbt: 0.0464s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
