Colombia

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We were given an extremely warm welcome upon our arrival in Cartagena - the searing heat that accompanies a visit to this part of the Caribbean coast means that walking the streets between noon and 2 pm is just unbearable. The historic walled city was exactly as we remembered with horse and carts doing laps of the cobblestone streets amongst the hordes of tourists. We made our way to the Getsemani area, a neighbourhood we were familiar with from our last visit six years ago. Straight away we could see that the district had undergone a significant makeover and some of the streets were almost unrecognisable. Our taxi driver explained that the town had been the subject of a ‘cleaning up’ operation three years ago when this rough and ready part of Cartagena received a facelift.

It is a lively area, popular with backpackers, with cheap bars and restaurants and where much of the city’s nightlife is concentrated; even the church next door to our hotel was rocking, it sounded like the place for a night out and played better music than some of the bars.

From Cartagena, we headed south to the town of San Onofre where we needed to make our way to the tiny fishing community of Rincon del Mar. Upon exiting the bus, we were greeted by what seemed like half of the town’s population who were all eager to offer a motor taxi service to Rincon. We knew that the journey involved a half hour ride down a dirt track, and weren’t interested in jumping on the back of a motorbike with our backpacks, so we insisted on a taxi of the four-wheeled variety. Haggling with a crowd in Spanish isn’t the most natural thing in the world, but they did manage to arrange a car, although when it eventually arrived, it appeared that we had hijacked a couple who had been out doing their shopping.

Rincon is a quiet village, and with just a handful of hostels, there were very few tourists around. The seafood here was fantastic, and when the local fisherman returned with the day’s catch late in the afternoon, it was the signal for us to make our way to their restaurant/house. We arranged a day trip to the San Bernardo archipelago where we visited Santa Cruz del Islote, the most densely populated island in the world. The man-made island was created on a coral platform and nowadays is home to 500 people who live in 115 houses, the size of a football pitch. There are four main roads - although no cars or bikes are present on the island - and ten separate neighbourhoods.

There was an opportunity for more snorkelling although the reef here wasn’t particularly attractive and on our way back we passed Casa en el Agua, a floating off-shore eco-hostel.

After three slow days, we were keen to get moving again and made our way north to the town of Santa Marta, another location we had visited on our previous trip here. From Santa Marta, we took another bus to the town of Palomino, a small village with sandy roads housing bars and restaurants and a tropical, coconut-lined beach that was perfect for a few days.

From Palomino, we stayed overnight in Santa Marta, Colombia’s oldest city, for a night before moving on once more. Our hostel was within walking distance of the Old Market where the collectivos to our next destination Minca, were stationed. The short walk was eventful - within the space of a few minutes we witnessed a lad being dragged down the street by the scruff of his neck by an elderly stall-holder while the locals stood looking on, followed by two locals taking part in what looked like a UFC bout in the middle of the road ignoring the cars that were desperately trying to avoid knocking them both over. As we arrived at the street where the buses departed, a rope came sailing down from the flats above, with a carrier bag attached. The person at street level then filled it with groceries before it was hauled back up into the residence above. Just a routine Sunday morning in Colombia.

Forty minutes later, we arrived in the tranquil village of Minca in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta mountains and on the opposite end of the spectrum to the scene we had just left in Santa Marta. It has a cooler climate than the nearby coastal towns, with cacao and coffee farms and waterfalls offering spectacular views of the surrounding area. It was hard to believe that Minca was former guerrilla territory, off-limits to everyone but locals up until the agreement of a peace deal six years ago.

We embarked upon the 22km, 6-hour trek to Los Pinos lookout, a hike that took in the Casa Elemento hostel who claim to have the World’s biggest hammock on their property – we were doubtful that it even qualified as a hammock as it seemed to look more like a giant trapeze net. On the way back to town, Melissa was on the ball for once and managed to call out just as I was about to tread on a snake before we found ourselves stranded in another downpour and had no choice but to continue resulting in us arriving back at the hotel looking like drowned rats.

The following day we hiked up to a coffee and cacao farm and took their tour which came with a free, mandatory chocolate face mask; we hadn’t had a hot shower for 17 days at this point, and it was definitely the best we had smelled for quite some time.

After travelling back through Santa Marta for a quick overnight stop, we flew down to Medellin where we met up with a couple from Melbourne for a night out. It ended up being a bit of a late one and the following day Melissa pulled her usual trick of being unable to leave the apartment, so we ended up wasting a day watching Netflix and, due to our surroundings, found it apt to give Narcos a second viewing.

The city lies in a valley between two Andean mountain ridges, a geographical position that contributes to the idyllic year-round climate which is where the 'City of Eternal Spring' label originates.

The rescheduled walking tour of Medellin was informative, and we learned about the turbulent recent past of the city through the 80’s and 90’s when Pablo Escobar conducted a private war against the government. Our tour guide wouldn’t even mention him by name, referring to him only as ‘the famous criminal’.

The tour took us through the downtown area of Plaza Botero, where local artist Fernando Botero has donated 23 of his abstract sculptures, each worth $1million - a gesture that has helped to revamp one of the city’s more run-down areas.

Throughout the city, we observed the surreal sight of people on the street giving away handfuls of Venezuelan money; the economic catastrophe in the neighbouring country has led to the hyperinflation of the currency rendering it worthless and prompting thousands to flee across the border into Colombia.

The Metro transport system is an immense source of pride for the locals (paisas) in Medellin, they see it as a symbol of the regeneration of the city after the brutal recent events. The Metro is iconic, and although 24 years old, it looks brand new; there is no graffiti, vandalism or litter anywhere. As our guide summed it up: ‘everyone behaves on the Metro.’ Opened in 1994, it was the first positive thing that had happened to a city that had been terrorised by guerrillas and drug lords for years in addition to having to endure a five-decade-long civil war.

Within two decades, Medellin has shed its image as the Murder capital of the world and residents were understandably proud when it was awarded the 2013 award for Most innovative city in the world by the Urban Land Institute.

A Pablo Escobar tour is a controversial excursion in Medellin but after careful consideration, we arranged a low-key tour with a local guide named Silvio. We wanted to be as discreet as possible as we had heard that locals could be sensitive to the idea of a tourism initiative based on the exploits of a mass murderer.

Feelings are still raw on the subject with most locals affected by the results of the drug wars; they dealt with it by trying to forget that Escobar had ever existed. However, as Silvio pointed out, the impact on the city is too substantial to ignore, and he feels that 'paisas' have a responsibility to tell the stories of what occurred.

Escobar was personally responsible for more than 4000 deaths which included the bombing of an Avianca passenger aircraft, the assassination of three Colombian Presidential candidates, a justice minister, more than 200 judges, dozens of journalists and over 1000 police officers as well as thousands of innocent citizens. The common misconception that Silvio was at pains to clarify was the widely held belief that he was some sort of Robin Hood figure; hated by the rich yet a hero to the poor. Although he bought himself some goodwill by building football fields and houses, which gained him popularity among the poor, a large proportion of society, regardless of social standing, despise him for the death and destruction he brought to the people of the city.

Escobar was often called “The King of Cocaine” and reportedly was the wealthiest criminal in history, with an estimated net worth in the early 1990s of about $30 billion.

Our first point of interest was the house in which he lived for the last month of his life whilst on the run following his escape from prison. Situated in the affluent Los Olivos suburb, we were shown the roof in which he finally met his demise – Silvio believing the theory that he committed suicide in those final moments rather than the official account that he was gunned down by the Colombian police and military forces.

From Los Olivos, we made our way to the Monaco building in the fashionable district of El Poblado. This is the apartment block where he lived and the headquarters of his empire until 1988 when a failed assassination by the Cali cartel - the first car bomb in the history of Colombia - was detonated outside; an incident that prompted the family to vacate the property. The building is set to be demolished next year, with a park to be constructed in memory of his victims.

Next up, we drove 25 minutes out of Medellin to take a look at ‘La Catedral’ the prison he built for his own incarceration after his negotiated surrender to the government. The prison was more of a luxury resort though and was known as ‘Club Medellin’ or ‘Hotel Escobar’. A list of amenities on site included: a gym, Jacuzzi, discotheque, a games room and casino, a life-sized dollhouse for his daughter, a bar, radio transmitters, fax machine and even a waterfall. There was also a five a-side football pitch on the grounds, and some of the visitors that were smuggled inside included members of the Colombian National team. He even held a wedding on the grounds. Today it is occupied by Benedictine monks and the principal use is as a retirement home.

Despite the opulent surroundings, Escobar served just 13 months of a 5-year sentence before fleeing amid the confusion during a siege on the compound by Colombian special forces.

The final location on our tour was at the Cemetario Jardines Montesacro in Itagüí, a working-class cemetery in the southern district of the city. It is here that Escobar is buried in a gravesite alongside friends and family after the government refused to allow him to be interred in the main cemetery of the city in the same plot of land as many of his victims.

That evening, we went to the Atletico Nacional v Junior game at the Estadio Atanasio Girardot. Nacional is the team that was funded by Pablo Escobar and earned them the reputation as a 'narcoclub'. The injection of wealth led to success though, and in 1989, they became the first Colombian side to win the Copa Libertadores. In 2016, Brazilian side Chapecoense’s plane crashed as they were on the way to Medellin to play Nacional in the Copa Sudamerica final -seventy-one passengers and crew died in the accident. Nacional requested that Chapecoense be named champions, and at the scheduled time when the match would have taken place, the Atletico supporters filled the Medellin stadium to sing and pay tribute to their opponents.

On the day, Nacional won 1-0, and their fans created an incredible atmosphere for the entire match, or at least the 80 minutes we witnessed as torrential rain and an absence of a roof saw us make an early departure. I felt sorry for one of the vendors who had continued selling his goods despite being exposed to the elements, although the beer he sold me was made up of at least 50 % rainwater and was weaker than Skol.

Twenty-five years ago, Medellin was the most dangerous city on earth and Comuna 13 - one of the 16 comunas that make up the city of Medellin - was the deadliest neighbourhood of all. Nowadays, it is safe to undertake a tour of the barrio with a guide to learn about how the area has been transformed in the intervening years.

The FARC illegally occupied the Barrio and sparked an urban war that led to the government launching twenty-one military operations over the years in an attempt to oust the guerrilla organisation. This conflict led to the deaths of over 3000 residents; in the nearby hills, authorities continue to excavate a mass grave where the remains of 500 people are thought to be. During the height of the troubles, the Police and ambulances would not enter the barrio, and it was a common sight for dead bodies to lie rotting in the streets.

With the world’s first outdoor escalators in a residential area, street art, galleries, performers and spectacular graffiti murals, the community has made great strides in order to rebuild and is seen as one of the most progressive districts in Latin America. The recurring theme that we came across was that it took the city to reach the brink of collapse before it could begin its transformation.

The Metrocable is an extension of the public transport system that has helped connect the inhabitants of the outlying housing zones on the slopes of the hills with the central urban area of Medellin. Before the introduction of the metro cable, a commute down the mountain would have taken hours, but for the price of $1, it is now possible to be in the city centre within 30 minutes. We set off from our stop at Estadio on the metro, transferred to a second train to Acevado where we connected to the cable car to continue up to Santo Domingo – one of the most notorious barrios in the city prior to the unveiling of the Medellin cable car in 2004.

Now outside the metropolitan area, we jumped on the next section of the cable car up to Park Arvi, an eco-tourism park situated on the upper reaches of the Aburra Valley. Although the area is located 30km from the centre of Medellin, the Metro is so easy and convenient to use that the park can be visited in half a day - it is easy to see why the Medellin Metro was voted one of the top transport networks in the world

We had initially booked four nights in Medellin but managed to extend that to a week, and I could have written an entire blog entry dedicated solely to Medellin – I’m pretty sure that Melissa wasn’t completely serious when she said she could live here but it was a sign of how highly we regarded the place.

Four hours south of Medellin lies the country town of Jardin, in the heart of the country’s coffee region. To get there, the bus crossed high mountain passes as the road wound its way through the countryside to deliver us into one of the most beautiful 'pueblas' in Colombia – one that has remained unchanged for the better part of a century. The main plaza of Jardin was declared a national monument in 1985 with the black and white tiled neo-gothic Basilica Menora de la Inmaculada Concepcion dominating the main square.

The central plaza is the focal point of the town where food stalls and a night market is situated, and musicians, artists and friendly locals gather at the end of the day. There were old men in cowboy hats riding their horses into the main square; it was like stepping back in time.

The region is the largest-volume coffee producer of any of Colombia’s 32 departments. Most of the beans sold at the town’s coffee cooperative warehouse are sold to Nespresso who grades these beans as Triple-A - its highest rating for quality and sustainability.

The area is also famous for its abundance of trout farms and to reach them we took the historic Teleferico up the mountain; the wooden car looked like a mobile garden shed, and we weren’t exactly brimming with confidence as the rickety carriage dangled us high above the Volcanes river.

Bus travel on a Sunday in this part of the world is to be avoided if at all possible but our organisational skills failed us on this occasion. It meant that we had no choice but to embark upon a soul-destroying journey that required three different bus transfers, averaging a shocking 14km per hour over the course of the 11-hour drive - a new low.

Salento was a slightly bigger version of Jardin, and when we arrived, there was excitement in the air as it was Halloween; evidently a popular festivity in Colombia. Crowds swarmed around the main square with the majority decked out in all manner of costumes and the kids, many dressed as superheroes, collected their sweets from the owners of the bars and restaurants in town. There were no half-measures when it came to the effort people put into designing their elaborate outfits, but with masked groups walking the streets kitted out with sledgehammers, machetes and even garden shears - it looked like a scene from ‘The Purge.’

From Salento, we utilised local transport for the final time in Colombia as we made our way to the capital, Bogota, another place we had visited previously.

The mountain of Cerro de Monserrate is one of the things we didn’t do last time we were here, and we had intended to take the Teleferico up to the summit. However, when we arrived, the queue stretched down the road, and so I suggested that we should walk up to the peak, which sits at 10,335 feet metres above sea level, a gain of 1312 feet from the starting point. This turned out be another miscalculation on my part; Melissa wasn’t keen as she was wearing jeans, flip-flops and still trying to recover from her Halloween hangover from hell – that’s what happens when you drink neat rum with locals. To say she wasn’t exactly a beacon of positivity for the next few hours would be an understatement, especially when it started to rain, but I think the hike finally sorted her out – it could be her new hangover cure.

A few years ago, in an attempt to shed the negative stereotypes surrounding a visit to the country, the Colombian tourist board adopted the tag-line that ‘the only risk is wanting to stay’ and that certainly rang true for us. Leaving Bogota for Fort Lauderdale was closing the chapter on our backpacking, for the time being. Time for a holiday.

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Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Columbia
Thanks for taking us along on your journey. Enjoyed a bit of history and your thoughts. Thanks