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Published: March 17th 2010
The last few days have been blissfully internet-free. As a matter of fact, there wasnt even much electricity involved after we left Manizales. Up on a high mountain in the Andes I met a fellow travelor from the states named Scott. He is a travel guide back in the states, and after a few rum-induced philosophical discussions on life, the universe, and the joys of alcohol, we decided to travel together for a spell. Our first few days could only be described in the magical realism style of Gabriel Garcia Márquez. Palm trees with leaves the size of sedans lined the swerving two-laned roads as we descended into the valley of Zona Cafetera, Colombia´s largest coffee region. Our driver and guide sped through twists and turns and finally we arrived at a little Finca (farm) called Cafetera Venecia. She wasted no time. As soon as we stepped out into the humidity of the valley, she guided us through the fields of young coffee bushes, explaining their growth and cultivation. I tried to pay attention, but the rapid-fire Spanish and the unrelenting heat got the better of my comprehension. Still, it was a beautiful farm, rich with platano trees, haciendas, pleasant farmers, and, of course, coffee. The day ended with delicious iced esspressos and a lunch of carne a la plancha, fried platanos, a small cucmber salad, and poached Ochoa (a small orange citrus berry that is sweet and suculent when cooked with a little sugar). The ranch itself was typical in Colombian style: white plaster building with bright red trim, terra cotta roof and floors, flowers everywhere, spacious rooms and patios with hammocks swinging gently in the warm summer breeze. There was also a pool, but we hadnt brought bathing suits... lastima.
The next day we took a bus to Pereira, a city little known for anything but its precarious sculpture of a nude Simon Bolívar. All I can say is, Señora Bolivar was a lucky lady. =) From Pereira we caught a Chiva (very Colombian, look it up) for a two-hour dirt road extravaganza to Parque Ucumarí. By the time we arrived, the novelty of riding on wooden benches had worn off most of my bottom and I was feeling a little ill from the jostling. The two-hour hike to a ´Refugio´ was a relief, even if it was all up-hill, and we´re not talking about Atlanta´s rolling hills; these are the Andes, people. Hills come in 45 degree angles or nothing at all. After the two-hour jaunt up an Andean hill, the Refuge appeared like a dream; the front yard was all bright flowers and lush palms with a few horses grazing in a meadow farther up the hill. The structure itself was a small wooden L-shaped building with a large kitchen, a fireplace encircled by large cushions, and a few beds piled high with wool blankets. There was no electricity, so hot showers were out of the question. However, the caretaker and one-man-show, Reiner, took excellent care of us. "Oh! I wasnt expecting visitors today!" He said. "I must get some dinner." He disappeared for a few hours and when he returned he had his rubber boots on, a fishing pole in one hand, and a few fish in a basket in the other. A little yappy dog was close at his heels, probably keen on trout as well. Our dinner was one of the best I have had in Colombia: VERY fresh trout, maize soup, baked yucca, sweet rice, and agua panela. It was all eaten by candelight and with a few shots of rum with lime Scott was smart enough to bring. I went to bed full, content, exhausted, happy.
Breakfast was prepared in similar decadence: Coffee, arepas with butter and jam, scrambled eggs with ground meat and tomatoes, some toast, and hot cocoa. I ate everything on my plate in preparation for the 8 hour hike to come.
We spent another day hiking up up up and another night in the refuge. I would like to write more about it, about the clouds climbing over themselves into the valley, the potato farmers busy harvesting, the mountains washed of all colors but green, the rock-hopping down-hill run induced by a sudden downpour, the almost obscene display of fireflies in the flower garden that night, but Scott is preparing more rum with lime and a splash of water, and well, I have my priorities. You´ll just have to buy me a drink and ask me about it when I get home. =)
I finally bought a memory card, so hopefully my next entry will come with pretty pretty pictures.
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Jeffrey
non-member comment
Que Lastima
Sounds wonderful. What are you leaving out? Love jeffrey