Caribbean coast to the coffee plantations

---

Hello folks, we are in Mexico now, chilling out before venturing into the Yucatan and more temples! Its Thursday night here so hopefully you will get this on Friday. Apologies to those of you readng this on Monday morning.

Leanny’s cold had cleared up enough for us to have a look around some of the local attractions to Santa Marta. Our first trip was a short bus ride to the fishing village of Taganga, about 5km north of Santa Marta. Whilst a laid back little place, it's pretty gringo and the beach was full of crap (rubbish, not sewerage). It is predominantly used as a place to catch boats out to other local beaches, which we did. Playa Grande was the next beach to the north-east and was a short boat ride around the headland. The beach was a little disappointing (for the Caribbean) with little shade and large shed type grass hut restaurants flanking the back of the beach. The sand was not too great either, but the water was lovely and warm and clean enough for a swim, although I did get a plastic bag caught around my foot at one point. Still, it was better than Ilha Grande in Brasil in that the sea bed was not littered with rubbish, but that’s only a matter of time. At 3.00pm we ventured back to Taganga and then local bus to Santa Marta. We had both caught the sun, but not so bad as to be burnt.

The following day we ventured to Tayrona national park, about an hour east of Santa Marta, where I thought that we would enjoy a leisurely walk along the beach. For ease we caught the hotel bus to the park entrance which was due to leave at 10:30am, however at 11.00am we finally left and then stopped for fuel. It was past 12:30 when we entered the park, which placed a bit of a time constraint on us as it’s a 2 hour walk up the beach, but an additional 4km extra on the return to get back to the main road to get a bus home. Surprisingly the first part of the trek was through jungle, not the beach. We heard some very strange dinosaur noises walking along the track and spotted a group of monkeys in the trees (we think they were titi monkeys, but they were pretty flat chested tee he he!). Forty minutes later we were on the beach and the Caribbean was coming to life. It was overcast so the beach was not picture postcard stuff, but still rather nice. As you head west along the beach to other inlets the scenery becomes much better. The park is famous for large granite boulders on the beach and in the sea which makes for an interesting landscape. Swimming is only allowed in two bays, La Piscina and San Juan. We reached La Piscina bathed in glorious sunshine and debated having a swim, but didn’t due to our perceived time constraint, so we headed off to the last bay, San Juan. When we reached the beach we were met by a very friendly man (Leanny thought he was a long lost friend the way he spoke with me) who asked if we wanted to get a boat back to Taganga. ‘You beauty!’ I thought, just what we need. After agreeing a very reasonable price he advised he was going in about 20 minutes. Great, just enough time for a swim in the clear turquoise water of the bay. Yep we really were in the Caribbean, this place is beautiful and I was waiting for the Black Pearl to round the bay and drop anchor.

Having cooled down we dried off a little and wandered over to our boat back. The bays are protected by a reef (actually looks like a submerged wall) but once on the sea, the swell was about 2 metres, which made for an interesting ride in our 3 metre boat! It was a great way to get back (not least because we didn’t have to walk) as you can see all the little inlets and bays that are not accessible other than by boat. The girls behind us quietened down once we got though the big swell (they didn’t like it one bit) and an hour into the trip we passed an island which sheltered us from the swell, so it was plain sailing from there on. Our arrival in Taganga was met with a local who had caught several blue fin tuna and was washing them on the beach. Nice to watch, not so nice to walk through. Anyway after a quick wash of our feet in a cleaner part of the beach we sought a local bus back to our hotel.

Thursday we were on the move again and we arranged for a hotel bus to take us to Cartagena at 9:30am. It was a transit van with air con and went direct. Whilst a little more expensive than local buses, it took a little over 3 hours, compared to anywhere between 4.5 to 6 hours by local bus (and then you have to get a taxi from the bus station). So overall probably not really a more expensive option.

Cartagena is a lovely colonial city on the waterfront and is mooted to be perhaps the most beautiful city in South America. Well so far the guide books have it pretty right. There is not so much to do here other than walk around, drink coffee and go to restaurants. Sounds pretty good to me. Although being a major city, we do get pestered by the homeless and hawkers, which gets a little annoying after a while ("Hello mister, you have money for me" - "No!", sometimes a bit of colour follows). Overall the people here are pretty friendly and the town has a nice atmosphere. We found a nice restaurant and splashed out with a bottle of wine on a couple of nights (Santa Rita Chardonnay and Carmeniere). It was only the wine that was “splashing out” as the food was well priced. We paid about 90,000 pesos for a 2 course meal which was excellent. A few nights before we had paid about 70,000 pesos for pizza, so +20,000 (about $13) for a decent meal is not really splashing out.

The only excursion we managed in Cartagena was a local bus for 1,200 pesos (70c) to the bus terminal to purchase bus tickets to Medellin. The bus wound its way through the suburbs of the town and gave us a good insight into how people live. We priced up a day trip to the Islas del Rosario which worked out to be 90,000 pesos each. That’s an expensive day at the beach and later reports confirmed we were right to give it a miss.

With bus tickets in hand we caught the 7.00am bus to Medellin, expecting an arrival time of about 7.00pm which would give us time to get to our accommodation and get something to eat. Well, South American time just doesn’t work that way. We arrived at 10.00pm to find our reserved room to be taken. As it was late we had little choice but to accept an alternative room at a higher price, although not that much higher. We stayed at the hostel as we were hoping to get info on buses to Solento, our next intended stop but the staff were unhelpful. The room was basic with no ensuite so alternative accommodation would be sought. The following morning we heading into town to find the tourist office, and as has become par for the course, our guide book had the location wrong. However, after meeting many very friendly Colombians we wound up at the office of tourism and a very helpful girl took half an hour out of her day to find us a hotel and get us some guide books. We returned to the hostel to check-out and caught a taxi to the recommended hotel. We were bemused by the look of the taxi driver until he stopped at our new hotel, 5 blocks away. Well, we wouldn’t have carried our packs that far anyway! With a nice self-contained apartment, we set off for a look around the town.

Medellin is an old town but has little of it's colonial buildings remaining due to earthquakes. It is famous for Pablo Escobar, the infamous drug lord, who is rotting away happily in the cemetery. The town is much safer now and has a proliferation of military keeping an eye on things. It is also home to the sculptor Botero, whose works are proudly displayed in one of the squares. His sculptures are rather good and depict overly large people and animals. He was also an artist, but the only painting I liked was his version of a rather chubby Mona Lisa.

With Medellin visited we arose early to get to the bus station for 9.00am. We snagged 2 seats on the 9:30am to Pereira and set off to Zona Cafetera. The bus travels through the mountains and within half an hour we were jostling with large trucks on the tight twisting road (it was about that time that the bus staff handed out the sick bags). The bus has GPS, which would be handy to recover our bodies when it falls of the road. Soon we were in the clouds passing mist covered tropical jungle and palm trees, a very odd combination. The bus is rather comfy and it's like riding through Colombia on a velour laz-e-boy recliner. The road is busy and when the bus is behind a truck, it makes for slow going. However, when the first clear spot occurs, the bus lurches violently to the wrong side of the road as we accelerate to overtake everything in sight.

We had to change buses in Pereira to get to Solento and had a one and a half hour wait before we could board the local bus. This gave us time to grab something to eat and get some money in case Solento has no ATM (it does). We boarded our bus and the driver appeared to be having some difficulty. After starting he would grind the gears without being able to select one. He then started the bus in reverse gear a few times and, as would be expected, the bus kept stalling (luckily it didn‘t hit the bus behind). After a few attempts he gave up. The conductor came on board and advised us that we needed to change buses. Well, better there than halfway to Solento. It had started raining more heavily in Pereira and our trip to Solento was in heavy rain, the first real rain we have had in 4 months. Our arrival in Salento was in the wet and the bus dropped us a few blocks further away than we would have liked. We realised later that the bus actually turned around in the town square so we could have stayed on and got off closer to the hostel. Salento is a small town and very charming, we immediately liked it. It was reasonably late and as it was raining we ran to the local shop for a healthy dinner of banana chips and peanut chocolate. Saturday morning was spent walking around the village relaxing with coffee and peering into the souvenir shops. The local men dress in traditional dress of white top and pants with a poncho. Some wear white open back espadrilles with laces up their legs. It looks rather gay, but the machettes they carry suggest it is a subject best not raised.

The hostel owners have a little coffee plantation a few hundred metres down the road and provide tours which tell you all you need to know about growing and harvesting coffee, worth the hour it took. We met an Aussie and Pom couple in the hostel and chatted for the afternoon and, deciding that we were hungry, headed to the plaza for some dinner. We selected a restaurant that served two meals, trout in mushroom sauce and fried trout. I thought this was a little odd, until I noticed the restaurant was called the place of trout (it is farmed here and very popular with locals and Colombian tourists). Fed and at a loose end, we wandered in to a local pool hall, to be surrounded by gauchos playing billiards with 3 balls. A game which was our own version of Kelly Pool ensued, assisted by ample amounts of beer. The gents toilet was a tiled alcove with a plastic curtain located in the middle of the room. At first this was a little bizarre, but as the beer made its way through my body, I started to realise what a good idea it actually is. At closing time we wandered back to the plaza to a bar for a few night caps and they too had the same gents toilet arrangement, although this was in a darkened bar full of couples dancing salsa. It was 2.00am when we got back to the hostel and a little sore head occurred the next morning!

Sunday was a lazy day, as they should be, and it was lunchtime by the time we wandered into the plaza. A very nice lunch was had alfresco at a café providing a rather nice view of the adjacent hills - green and amassed with coffee and banana plants (the banana plants shade the coffee plants in case you were wondering). The afternoon was whiled away in town and whilst standing in a shop, a local man passing asked if we would like to buy some of his wares. He was selling hoses, as in the garden variety. Now I am not quite sure what he thought two backpackers would do with a garden hose, but he gets full marks for seizing an opportunity. Before we knew it we were eating a local dish in the plaza for tea and as we got up to go, the heavens opened. We crossed the road and waited in a dry spot, but no sooner had we stopped than we were accosted by a Dutch man asking us on behalf of a Colombian, where we were from. The Colombian immediately became our friend and invited us to join his group for coffee (his friend and their wives). My Spanish is a little better but I still had some difficulty understanding him. The Dutch fellow told me that he had been pulled off the street to join them at lunchtime and they had consumed several beers and bottles of local liquor. He was a very patriotic Colombian coffee grower and he invited Leanny and I to stay at his farm just outside of Pereira for as long as we wanted for nothing. Had we had more time I might have taken him up on the offer, although he may have been a bit confused why he had a couple of backpackers in his house in the morning! He was a really nice chap and was so keen to talk with us, but his wife suggested it was time to go. It took him several attempts to leave us once the car pulled up and eventually his wife started to shout at him to leave those bloody gringos alone and get in the car! He waved to us all the way down the road, bless him.

The main attraction at Salento is the Cocora Valley a few kilometres away. The valley is protected due to the proliferation of palm trees in the mountainous jungle setting. There is a walk that takes about 2 hours up to a waterfall. However, we decided to hire a couple of horses to do the trek. The horses were pretty docile and provided a pleasant ride to the waterfall. It had been raining the previous two nights and the river was pretty high so crossing was not an option. A bridge existed some time ago but has been washed away, so we re-mounted our horses and headed back.

Inspired by our previous days trek, we hired horses and a guide for a 3 hour trek through the country side up to another private waterfall. Things went pretty well till my horse decided that he wanted to run and tried to buck me off. Our guide advised me to be mean to the brute (language has been tempered here), so I did and things went okay after that. The excursion was awesome, but we were a little bruised and tired after. Actually, totally buggered was how we felt, so it was a just as well we were leaving for Bogota the following day.

---

Photos

Tayrona Park
Now thats what I call a Carribbean beach

Taganga
This boat was going backwards, but you can't tell from the photo.

Cartagena
View of the old city.

Cartagena
View from the old town.

Cartagena
A local character.

Cartagena
Typical street in Cartagena.

Medellin
Botero sculpture of a man on a horse.

Medellin
Botero sculpture of a dog.

Cocora Valley
View of the valley.

Cocora Valley
Wish I was a cowboy, but certain parts of me are glad I am not!

Cocora Valley
The view from my "nice" horse.

Shoes say gay
But the machette suggests not!