Colombia, S.A., a Beauty Queen

---

I have added new friends. If you are interested in previous blogs, go to www.travelblog.org and go to CharlieM. My only other SA entry is Venezuela. The other blogs are on India. I also did blogs on China under CharM

You can enlarge pictures by double clicking. Also, there are more pages of pictures at the end of the writing. Just go to page 2,3,4, etc. if you are still enjoying yourself.

To all my friends. There is something I don´t seem to be able to do. That is to get the pictures to be where I am in the blog writing. That´s probably because I do too many pictures. Sorry about this.

BEGIN!

Ah, Colombia! What a beauty she is. Several of you have exclaimed on the mere idea that Colombia was even on my itinerary. Well, a lot has happened in the past 10 years or so. The land is peaceful for the most part, which is a gift to us travelers because the country is one of the most beautiful I have ever visited, possily the ´most´. Except for the Northwest coastal area, it is a greeeeeen paradise. Lush tropics, rolling, flat cattle land and the mountainous Zone Cafetera, the home of Juan Valdez.

I’ll start where I began my journey through this magical country, on the Caribbean. Thank goodness for the LP. The plan was to find a nice place to spend a week on or near the beach. The LP had ferreted out the perfect spot, Toganga, a little fishing village on a bay 15 minutes from Santa Marta (where without the LP I would no doubt have landed and stayed). Apparently this place was discovered by non-Colombians from the backpacker set some years back. Of course, the Colombians have known about it a wee bit longer. Fortunately for me, it is at that spot in it’s history where it isn’t overrun by foreigners but there are enough of us to have brought small local entrepreneurs in to set up restaurants, tours, and places to stay. The perfect time as far as I am concerned. Although, I would imagine that the original discoverers would lay down their heads and cry because to them it is already spoiled.

Luckily, I had called ahead for reservations. Then, when I got there, whittled down the price of the place I stayed by paying for a week in advance. It was a perfect week of doing nothing. The Casa Blanca was right on the beach and my room had a balcony that overlooked the whole area. This little getaway is on a smallish bay, fringed with palm trees and barren hills on three sides for a backdrop. The water was aqua and so clear you could look down and see the sand below. And, the best part of all, my balcony had a hammock that, when I laid one way, I had a perfect view of the bay, hills and entrance to the ocean. Laying the other way, it was water, beach and hills behind. I think I read at least 4 books in that hammock. Then, occasionally, I would trip down the stairs out the front door and splash in the sea for a while. The weather was perfect, warm; but the room had a fan and it cooled off fine at night. Meanwhile, in the ‘town’, which consisted of about one street paralleling the beach, there were a big enough variety of restaurants. Several were definitely geared toward gringo tourists which meant I got my fill of pasta and hamburgers that week, a welcome relief from the far-from-remarkable cuisine of northern SA.

Toganga has another side, though. On the weekend it is crawling with daytrippers from Santa Marta and around. Lots of kids, screaming, swimming and parents all having big parties. While it certainly did change the atmosphere, it was a nice mix, quiet weeks and busy noisy weekends with Colombians. I have always believed that life is best appreciated in the contrast. The quiet weeks wouldn’t have been so much appreciated without the totally different tempo of the weekends…and vice-versa.
I only made one side trip that week. Farther east and into Venezuela the ocean is met by jungles rather than bare hills. One such Colombian place is Parque Nacional Tayrona.

The Tayrona are one of the indigenous people and their story, along with some other small groups is interesting. Millions of people were killed through the conquest of SA. If they weren’t killed by disease (which many were), they were killed in battle or put to work under incredibly horrible conditions mining salt, silver etc. But, some of this group managed to escape by climbing high into the jungles and mountains. They set up whole communities that the Spanish never could get to and eradicate. Some traces of them still exist today, but too inaccessible for me to visit.

Since the LP is so keen on these SA parks I decided to go to Tayrona It’ll probably be the last park I visit alone. Not that it wasn’t beautiful, rather it wasn’t fun. Hiking or going to remote spots alone just isn’t. First, there was an hour’s walk in along a trail. Now, by the time I started in the trails were inhabited. Plus, I met a young couple who walked with me to my destination, Jimmy and Monica. More about them later. As a result, I was mentally comfortable going in. But, physically…that’s another matter. How many of you have tried walking through a jungle. The mix of heat and high humidity is stifling. I wasn’t 15 minutes in before my shirt was soaking wet. By the time we reached my destination, I was dripping gallons.


I keep saying ‘my destination’ because in a place like Tayrona there are plenty of places to head for. The thing I found is that if you are a woman travelling alone, it is definitely best to stick to the populated parts. Further down the line, where Jimmy and Monica were heading was a lot more desirable bay where one could swim and camp. But, traveling that extra portion of the trail alone seemed unwise, so I went to the biggest and most populated spot, got myself a hammock for the nights sleep (in this huge covered structure with at least another hundred hammocks), walked along the beach that, in that spot, had magnificent waves but no swimming and that was it. Nothing else to do. I spent the afternoon with a chair facing the beach and reading a book. Once it got dark there really was even less to do, couldn’t even read in the hammock area for lack of lighting. Here, I was lucky, though. I had remembered to bring along this little ‘miners’ head light that my SFO friend, Jeff, showed up with in Goa…and I begged and whined until he let me have it. One more item he has provided to make traveling easier. At least I was able to read some after dark.

The next morning I was up and out of there bright and early, so early, in fact, that I had the trail to myself for the first half. Not an easy feeling to be out in the jungle alone and it reconfirmed my feelings about parks and trails not exactly being the best place for lone females. Again, I got lucky. A woman and her son came traipsing along and she seemed to think I needed help or probably just thought it was better for me to have company. So, I walked the rest of the way with them. The upshot, though, is that if I to go into parks in the future, it’ll be with a group, or not at all. As I said, it just wasn’t just the safety issue, it really isn’t a lot of fun alone…at least for me.

Back to Topanga for another night, then on to Cartagena. Gorgeous, fantastic, lively and unforgettable Cartagena. First of all, this is a city I have wanted to see since I was in my 20s and working for United. I always imagined taking one of those Princess cruises that stopped in this legendary city of the Caribbean. I’m glad I didn’t get my wish back then. Those cruises stop for one day and have tour guides take you to all the must-see sights and hustle you back on board. I know, I saw the tour groups in my wanderings. Probably, too, back then Cartagena, while undoubtedly,a memorable tour, is not the Cartagena of today. I have come to the conclusion from my travels that sometimes a country is lucky if it doesn’t have early modernization. Many of the wonderful restored and refreshed towns I visited here would most probably have been knocked down to build high rise apartments if prosperity had hit 50 years ago. Not that there aren’t high rises in Cartagena, they just aren’t in Old Cartagena. Somehow, the city fathers had the foresight to leave this marvelous example of the colonial period alone and build another modern city close by. I was reminded of this when walking on one of the walls surrounding the city… I looked up and there in the slightly smoggy distance was a huge city traveling along the beachfront about 5 miles or so away. I never got there. Didn’t see any reason to. Old Cartagena was the draw.

Old Cartagena today is for tourists. To live here would be both expensive and difficult. There are no super markets and places to park one’s car. Limited other services too, like medical, schools, etc. But, for the tourist, it is a feast for the eyes. Definitely put it on your must-see agenda if you like old restored cities. It’s an outdoor museum. The perfect amount of time for me would have been 3 full days of wondering. I ended up with 4 and spent the last kind of just sitting around. It’s a smallish place so that by then I pretty well knew every nook and cranny. Although, there were old sections of Cartagena that I skipped because the LP said they were a bit rough and the area I was in gave me such satisfaction. I mention this because had I vetured a bit farther another couple of days might have been nice. There were lots of museums …one even in a large building bordering Plaza Bolivar that had been the home and palace of the inquisition. Another was an old slave market. These sorts of reminders keep one from getting too envious of those who lived in those periods. And, no, I didn´t go into look at all the torture instruments of the inquisitors. Too much reality can be bad for one. But, the main thing, is the city itself. To just wander around and see all the old buildings, painted different colors, with balconies overflowing with tropical flowers and vines. Every street and alley provided more than enough beauty and differences to keep a smile plastered on my face as I wondered for hours. Then, when my feet tired I would stop and people watch in one of the parks or an outdoor coffee house…or even better, one of the many juice bars in town.

Ah, the juices of Colombia, even better than Venezuela. Fruit I have never heard of. Lulo, one that is so tasty that when my favorite juice bar didn’t have any lulos, I went and found some on my own and brought them to the shop. Lulo, nespira, arbul tomate, zapote, etc. Who could imagine there were so many fruits we don’t have in the U.S. Plus, let me not forget the common-but-oh-so-hard-to get passion fruit juice - one of my very favorites. In four days I probably had a minimum of a dozen juices since they were also served with the luncheon specials.

The only problem with this magical place was the weather. Even with the stops described above, I couldn’t stand being out in the heat of the day more than a couple of hours at a time. It was back to the hotel, fan on full blast, off with the soaking top and laying on the bed until the fan did it’s work…or into a cold shower if I couldn’t wait for the fan. Then, once cooled down and refreshed, it was off again.

The evenings were a blessing. It cooled down. And, at night it is all lit up and one can sit in Plaza Santo Domingo and listen to the music of the local musicians. Both the days and nights ..it was all so captivating and beguiling that every now and then I would have to remind myself that this wasn’t the real world. But, one could be lulled in to wishing it were.

Let me tell you about Jimmy now. They live in Cartagena so when I got there we arranged to spend an evening together. What a story he has. First, of all, Monica and he were just about to get married, are by now,I am sure. She is an attorney and he is in the army. Her English is limited so it was Jimmy’s story I heard that night. He has been in the army since he was 15. He is now a 30 year old Major. During that time he has spent at least a couple of years being trained by the U.S. He spent time at our Camp JeJune, or something like that, plus training with both the CIA and DEA and is lucky beyond belief to be alive to tell me his story. He has been shot twice in the head. One bullet entered at the side of his nose and traveled at a downward angle to the back of his head, where it is still lodged (I felt it.)., The other went in his cheek and out somewhere close to his ear. Then, he was almost strangled to death, which put him in the hospital for months. Can you imagine. Boy, his guardian angel sure deserves kudos for a job well done. Being shot in the head once and surviving is remarkable enough but..twice, that is a miracle. And, I saw all the scars. They are having a civil service wedding soon and a big church wedding in December, which they invited me to. While I’ll be in Argentina by that time, being invited was so thoughtful and I’ll always remember them and his story.

One last story. In SA in areas where people congretate there are mimes. I first ran into them in Cartagena. Also, I had seen some great scultures in my wanderings and, one day I saw this interesting piece, all in black of a young African with a begging bowl on the ground. It looked so good and I got up and really looked close all around him. Then, I backed off just a bit to get a more distant look at this remarkable sculture. At this point, another couple came by and dropped a coin in the bowl. Well, then the 'sculture'began to move, doing thank you signs. Gave me a good jolt, I´ll tell you. He sure kept to his role as I was up close inspecting him from every angle. Not one twitch. I had to have a good laugh on myself after I also put something in the bowl and walked away.

Departing Cartagena, I was to travel south through some more of the hot and humid lowland until reaching the more pleasant temperate zones of the Andes. Weather is a lot about height in this part of the world. The higher you are the cooler, and vice versa. For the next 10 days I was to visit 4 lovingly restored colonial villages/small towns enroute to Bogota, the closer I got the higher I climbed and the cooler it got.

First stop, a little out of the way trip suggested tour by the LP to a place called Mompos. To get there I travelled first by bus, then by boat and then by share-taxi. Mompos is a river town more like Mississippi than SA. Very slow paced. I was there on the weekend and it was deserted almost, except for the evenings…a very intelligent reaction to a hot and humid climate. Even during the week, which I saw a bit of on Monday when I left, people take it easy, walk slow and stay inside if possible. Being there on the weekend make me feel like I wasn’t really in a living breathing town. All the streets are lined with white one story buildings adjoining one another with shut doors in them and no windows or a few closed shuttered windows, Just street after street of these long blocks of white buildings with green or blue doors. With the heat, I am sure this is a good design. Windows would let the sun in and probably the most important effort is toward the opposite, keeping it out. Slowly walking along the tree covered areas along the river was the most pleasant daytime activity. While at night in the square next to one of the churches, food vendors set themselves up and one could have anything from a steak dinner, to pizza to roast chicken to a nice cold beer. This is where most of the citizens of Mompos congregated in the evening.

There is one unique local practice that distinguishes Mompos from any other town I have seen. In every home (that I was able to peer into) and every hotel the people of Mompos repose in rocking chairs. There must be thousands in the town and they look much alike. Whoever has the rocking chair concession there is a rich man. But, my lingering question is Ìt is such a wonderful idea, why just Mompos.' It also made me think to put this piece of furniture on my list when I get around to furnishing a place.

From Mompos, I traveled to Bucaramanga, indeedy that is it’s name. Actually quite a sizeable town, a half million, and just enough higher that I was beginning to leave the tropics behind. Bucaramanga itself was not a destination, rather one has to have places to stop in travels, timing departures and arrivals so they make sense and there was another charming little restored town, Giron, a half hour bus ride away. So,it was two nights and one day there. This city is Monica’s hometown and far more pleasant than most of the bigger towns. A place one might like to live, good weather, walking streets for shopping, good restaurants, good transport. By other Colombians it is highly considered But, other than Giron, which was the second small lovingly restored colonial town I was to visit, not much for tourists to do. So, after two nights it was on to my next restored town, Biachara

Biachara has heavenly weather, whitewashed buildings and cobblestoned (or at least stone, come to think of it I am not sure what cobblestones are) streets. A perfect place to make a movie. And, a perfect place to wander around in and explore back streets, which is exactly what I did before I was off to my last remodeled, restored colonial town, Ville De Leyva.

Just north of Bogota. it is the proud owner of the biggest central plaza in all of the country. At one time, it had visions of grandeur and thought it might become the leading city, thus the huge stone covered plaza, not a plant or a bench to be had. That didn’t happen, leaving it a population of 13,000, a fabulous array of great restaurants and lots of weekend tourists from Bogota. It too was worth wandering around. Even got up early Saturday morning to go to the big local weekly market. Nice, but since I have lived in so many places that have these local markets and actually done a lot of my shopping in them, it is not quite the treat for me as it is for others. Plus, the daily market in Goa is much more interesting and has oodles more stuff. Besides fresh fruit and veggies, there is all the fresh seafood and live chickens and lots of other things to buy.

During my exploration I ran into a couple close to my age. He was a retired doctor who had spent time in the US being trained. As I said, Villa De Leyva is only a couple of hours from Bogota so they have retired there. They weren’t the only ones retiring or buying homes in the area. Right outside the old town there were a lot of mcmansions being built.

Quite a few people I ran into in the country were returnees from other places who once more are happy to be living in their home country now that it isn’t a battlefield. The other faction, FARC, according to Jimmy is only minor trouble nowadays. They have run out of sponsors and their main source of money now is kidnapping and ransoms. Apparently, though Chavez does support their ideas, he is trying to be a good neighbor and doesn’t support them monetarily. (I think he has bigger ideas, a united northern SA, including Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. According to a sympathizer I met in Ecuador, this is the ‘dream’. May sound extreme, but Boliva, Ecuador and Venezuela have leftist governments..and I’m not sure about Peru). Back to my topic. That is why the buses in Colombia run in the daytime, not at night. But, even with the threat of FARC, I saw far fewer military and police types in Colombia than I saw in Venezuela and in the whole time there was on one bus that was stopped by them. Whereas in only one day in Venezuela one bus I was on was stopped about 6 or 8 times (that was extroadinary, but they did stop buses a lot more in Venezuela).

My wandering around the town had unintended consequences. I was in a skirt and had bare legs….and was attacked by a local itty-bitty no-see-‘em mosquito, indigenous to the town. I could feel these little bites, but at first couldn’t see anything. After a couple of hours these little welts with red centers became apparent. I went back to the place I was staying and asked the owner who told me what they were and not to worry they weren’t poisonous but they would itch. Frankly, right then I doubted her because they didn’t itch. All I had to was be a little patient. By the next day the itching started and went on, and on and on. I thought I was going to scratch them into infections before they started to go away. But, it has been over two weeks now and the marks are still there. Funny part is, that I have not had one bite since Villa de Leyva.

One last small piece of information. When I was there I saw some remarkable art work of a Colombian artist. Louis Alberto Acuña. (there´s a special key on SA computers for that little 'ñ') I thought I had pictures of some of the pieces but apparently not. If you do ever get a chance to see his work, it great.

I will include some photos of these unarguably beautifully restored colonial towns, but after town four I was ready to focus on other parts of Colombia and scratched several towns in southern Colombia that I had intended to see, feeling I was ‘colonial-towned’ out. True, they all had something unique to offer and I am glad I saw them, but enough is enough. On to Bogota, in the mountains, deliciously cool…even covers on the bed.

This too was only a stopover. I stayed two days and three nights. Day one was Sunday and I made an out of city tour to something I will probably never see again, an underground salt cathedral built by the salt miners in a town called Zipaquira. Actually, what is there today is a replication of what once was. When they were doing some work 15 or so years ago the whole cathedral collapsed. As result it had to be moved to a safer place close by. But, then there are thousands of rebuilt temples, monuments, churches all over the world that we visit. This seemed the same to me. It is totally underground and all along the route to the actual cathedral there are religious icons, crosses mostly, that they have placed in these vast auditorium-like spaces that have been mined out. The whole thing is like an underground warren of caves and these huge mined out areas. If you saw “The Fellowship of the Ring” the first ‘Lord of the Ring’ movie and remember when they were forced to go through the dwarves’ region of Moira, that gives you an idea of what this looked like, minus the foreboding feelings. The cathedral was on the lowest level and much like a catholic church. High ceilings, and a space far longer than it is wide. They were even having services down there. That is one thing I haven’t talked about, but these S. Americans are, at least from what I can see. as devout as any Christians I have ever been around. But, give me a Catholic anytime over a born again fanatic. They love to go special places to worship, sort of like pilgrimages. Many people were down there and at least attending part of the services. Also, at the bottom, they have tours of the old tunnels and how the miners worked. I went on one as I had been advised by a very nice Australian couple I met in Mompos. Got to mine my little piece of salt with a pick axe One of the first things I had done at the very beginning was wet my finger and rub the wall, as high as I could since I am sure I am not that orginal, and taste. Tasted just like salt. On the tour, however, I was told that only a small percent was actually table salt quality, the rest had other industrial uses. Quietly taking the tour guide aside I told her of my experimenting and she assured me that, while not cooking grade, it wouldn’t harm me. After the tour there was a complementary animated video of the life of salt done in 3-D. It was cute but I wish I had a nickel for all of that sort of thing I have watched and never remember any of. I will always remember my tour of the salt cathedral, though.

The next day was for touring Bogota. The LP had a walking tour I could do that wouldn’t take too much time, so off I went. Probably got about three quarters of the way when I decided to mix shopping with walking and started looking for a pair of jeans. Went into several stores and quickly discovered the difference between me and SA women. They may be big on top, the upside down pear shape. But, their legs are slender. Now, my figure is the opposite. I couldn’t get my legs into the jeans, too small. Finally, I was directed to a shop that was about a block out of my way. I thought, I can do this and not get confused. Well, I found the store and they did have a size I could get into. They seemed somewhat big on top, but doable. I was forgetting the stretchability of jean fabric. By the time I had worn them one day, I could slip those babies down off my hips without undoing even the top button. By day two I gave them to a lady I met and told her to give them to a charity, I truly was afraid of losing then or, at the least, exposing my bloomers for all to see. Not a pretty picture. Now, back to my story. I exit the shop and start on my way. Well, after a minute or so I got to thinking that this didn’t look like the secondary street I had come in on, but more like the main street I had been walking on before my detour. So, I stopped and asked where Independence Park, my destination , was and was told it was the direction I was headed. I began to see shops I thought I had passed, and stopped and asked again. Same answer. Stopped again, same answer. Three times I asked before I came to main artery by where I was staying and I knew for sure I was within a few blocks of my hotel, the exact opposite direction from my goal. I had been traveling by foot all morning, seen a lot and figured what I hadn’t seen would just have to remain a mystery (mostly the upscale shopping district which is not on my budget anyway). After a quick lunch, I put on my walking shoes again and hiked up to where there is a cable car that takes you up to Cerre de Monserrat, the mountain overlooking the whole city. Quite a view. Plus, it made me realize how big the city was. The part I was running around it was only a speck of the whole. It spread for miles. By the time I started down the sunset was gracing us with a beautiful red/orange/pink show and the lights of the city were beginning to come on. A nice way to end my short tour of Bogota. From here it was on to the coffee growing region of Colombia.

Zone Cafetera is in a lush mountainous region between Medellin and Calli (the notorious drug capitals of the 80s and 90s…and to a significantly lesser extent today). Aside: Pablo Escobar was the drug lord of Medellin before he was killed. How many of you know that he was elected to congress? I don’t know the whole history, but self interest was surely a part of our helping the Colombian government break the backs of the drug cartels. Had we not, Colombia today would almost certainly be a narco-state. So, even if it was self-interest, I think we probably helped the country avoid a terrible fate.) Regardless of the calmer situation in Colombia today, neither of these cities had anything in them that I wanted to see bad enough to stop. I did pass through Cali, on the trip south to Ecuador. From what I could see it is an uninteresting looking place. But, then bus routes don’t always take you through the most glamorous parts of cities. Do remember, though, that I mentioned in my Venezuela blog that Cali is the reconstructive surgery capital of (at least) Northern SA. So, I was on the lookout from my bus window. Didn’t see much confirm this, though, on the streets we travelled on.

As I started to tell you. Zone Cafetera is in the higher mountain areas of Colombia, as is Bogota. The scenery through long twisting roads and vistas far and near was mind boggling. Endless rolling hills of greenery, river, streams, blue skies with pillowy clouds and plenty of roadside flowers to accessorize the scenes. Plus, those beautiful yellow blossomed trees I mentioned in my Venezuelan blog were still in bloom here where it was colder and they flowered later. I should say that, Charlene, who wastes more time than the average reading, has passed through both of these countries without a book in her hands. The scenery has kept me mesmerized throughout. And, this may have been the most beautiful spot of all. First stop was a Manizales, a town of almost a half million. These ‘towns’ spring out of nowhere here. You will be travelling for ages with just nature to view, turn a corner and, there, before you, lies a big metropolitan area...almost no warning. Manizales is like that. It was also the first city that I had not made advance reservations in. All along the way I had faithfully made sure I had a room before I arrived…and I had yet to see a place that was full. Well, something got in the way and I just crossed my fingers…to no avail. Sure enough, in the place I wanted to stay a group of 20 Colombians had arrived and taken all the remaining rooms, plus the owner had no luck trying to find me another place. Fortunately, I kept my taxi driver with me and he finally took me downtown to a decent and inexpensive hotel that I would have been glad to have gone to in the first place and it was probably cheaper than the other. Sometimes I feel that getting ones name and praise in the LP allows these places to charge more. But, for me, who loathes the hassle of arriving and then trying to hunt a place, they are a blessing and I am glad to pay a little more. Anyway, it was only a stop over to my real destination, a tour of a coffee plantation that my new Australian friends had told me about when we were in Mompos.

Next day, I was up bright and early, made my way, with all my luggage to the next stop which was farther down, to a little town near the coffee hacienda. Took a taxi down a dirt road through a poor neighborhood, that turned into a nicely graveled road that ended at this gracious house atop a hill with a big swimming pool in front of it. This day was an extravagance for me. A private tour of the coffee hacienda and a lovely lunch, best meal I had in all of Colombia, all for 40,000 pesos….about $18. (while we are on this subject, let me just say that I never got used to all those zeros. 10,000 sounds astronomical and it is $4.). Besides being a garden of Eden,unbelievably beautiful, with high rolling hills planted with coffee, surrounded by other green spaces of bananas, flowers, bamboo groves that looked like a small forests from a distance, biggest bamboo I have seen and a multitude of other flora and fauna, which were not indiscriminately chosen. They were growing coffee in as near an eco-friendly environment as possible. The flora was all chosen to compliment each other, using eco-friendly practices. The outside parts of the coffee beans were recycled for fertilizer and many insecticides were natural. The hacienda existed in a micro-climate that the Colombian government had recognized as a superior growing region, so this was special coffee. From what I was able to discern, the farms here were of small acreage, no big industrialized growers and they all got together to sell their coffee. Their job was to grow it and get the outside coverings off the bean, dry it and sell it to one source. It was then marketed to the world.

Still, even though the environment was undeniably magnificent, Colombian coffee has had its problems. On this hacienda and most they used to grown nothing but Arabica, which is high grade coffee. Sometime in the past, though, a fungus attacked the Arabica. Colombian scientists set out to solve this most serious problem, which they did. Colombian coffee plants today are healthy, that is the good news. The bad news is that they are a hybrid of Arabica and Robusta. Robusta is what our instant coffee and brands like Folgers, Maxwell House, etc. use. It is not nearly as good. Thus, Colombian coffee is nothing to yearn for. Even the coffee he served me for a tasting, the hacienda coffee, was nothing I would buy. So, while it grows in paradise, you aren’t going to find it at your favorite coffee house. Same goes for Brazil, it mainly grows all Robusta. When you think about it, you do not usually find beans from these two countries available in good shops around the world. It may be one reason why all coffee drinkers in Colombia seem to prefer their coffee with sugar or with sugar and milk. A couple times I couldn’t get it black so I tried the kind with sugar. I would have to report that the sugar kind of ‘lifted’ the coffee taste, making it better than just straight.

The coffee may not have been the best but the lunch was to die for. The senora doesn’t believe in having guests eat alone so my guide joined me. We had the best salad of little bits of shredded beets, carrots, palm hearts, and other veggies around the plate and in the center were these two little halved bird eggs, all drizzled with a tasty but not overpowering vinaigrette. The main dish was a breast of chicken with a delicate sauce and for dessert it was passion fruit mousse. Best meal I have had in SA. No dinner for me that night. What a treat the whole day was. Now, it was on to my next and last stop in the region, Salento.

This little town is different from the other white washed towns of Colombia. Here, as in Cartagena all the buildings are painted colors. But, there was a instantly recognizable difference. In Cartagena the colors are vivid but subtle and all go together. In Saleto they are vivid, loudly vivid, with no apparent thought to coordination. However, the overall result is a delightfully colorful town square unlike any other in Colombia. The real reason for visiting Salento is the nearby Valle de Cocora. Here, almost on the equator is a Switzerland like high valley surrounded by high mountains and hills covered with these palm trees that tower about cloud forests that allows them to thrive here. These trees reach for the sky and are so tall and thin looking, with just palm fronds on the top that they are quite a site in this setting. I took a share jeep out there with a bunch of locals and tourists and wandered around the area on the road that had enough life on it to make me feel comfortably safe (horses and men and flocks of sheep with shepherds, in addition to the occasional farmer and pickup). Back at the ‘hamlet’ of Cocora I took the LPs advice and went into one of the 4 restaurants that make up the hamlet and tried one of their trout dinners. I haven’t mentioned this because I am not much of a fish eater but trout is a much enjoyed common dish here in the Andes. Not surprising, when you think of all the streams and rivers. But, their way of cooking this specialty was not so delicious. They dunked it in hot oil and deep fried it. I have seen other places I have eaten where it is prepared that way. Of course, I try to always keep in mind that I am not eating in 5-star restaurants, so what do I expect.

After this it was back to Salento. Unfortunately, I had picked up a cold. I knew the next day was going to be tiring. I was making a run from Salento to Ecuador, starting at 5:30 a.m. the next morning. I was feeling crumby enough that I went back to the hostel and laid down, intending to rest. Fell asleep for a couple of hours and, when I woke up, decided the best place for me was right there. So, I slept off and on until 4:45 and threw on my clothes and took off for the bus.

Fortunately, just sitting on a bus seemed to be the best way of spending the day.Just what my cold seemed to need. But, what a long day it was…17 hours on 3 different buses. I had intended to just go to a town a couple of hours short of the border but when I figured out that the bus I was on went all the way to the border, I figured I could endure a couple of more hours. My bus driver wasn’t so keen on taking me though because in the beginning of our trip together he had insisted on blaring music. After 2 other passengers asked him to turn it down a little, which he did for about 5 minutes, I, lady that I am, yelled at him from my seat that it was too noisy and to turn it down. Pissed him off but that was the end of blaring music. However, when I told him that I wanted to continue on beyond my destination he let me know that maybe I should try another bus because I didn’t like the music. It was just a spurt of anger though and he took me to the border.

Am glad I went that far because in the LP it talks about this special church that was built just outside Ipiales, the town. Here I quote the LP, “The church was constructed to commemorate the appearance of the Virgin, whose image, according to legend, appeared on an enormous vertical rock 45m above the river. The church was set up against this gorge cliff… over the river”. So, I was up at 6:00 am and had the hotel get a taxi for me who charged me probably a bit more than he should have but ended up taking good care of me. We went to the church area, he even stopped so I could take pictures of the surrounding hills that were gorgeous that time of year, all small farms climbing up the hills, green with growth. Then, to the church. I am glad it was worth seeing because it was a bit of a trip. I realized this immediately when the path, lined on both sides with tourist shops, led straight down. I had told him I’d only take a half hour so I had to really hustle. Took me almost 15 minutes to go down. But, it was worth it. I will include a picture of the church. It is in a unforgettable setting. Here are the high hills on both sides and the river at the bottom with the church spanning it. The church is neo-Gothic and magnificent in this setting. There are paths all around it and even a picnic area where people can rest and eat food from the various shops down there. But, the shops are kept to one side and don’t disturb the natural beauty the church is in.

After only a short visit I had to high-tail it out of there. The climb ahead was going to take me longer than the trip down had. I was huffing and puffing by the time I got back to the cab but the driver was courteous and he took me clear to the border (which we had agreed on ahead of time) and even waited while I got an exit stamp from the Colombian side and drove me across the border to my next adventure…Ecuador. But, that is for the future.

Before I close, I’ll throw in a few odd-ball comments.

As I said in the beginning, this may be the most beautiful country I have ever visited. And, of course, this means the natural beauty, However, while I saw cattle and sheep, I have no idea, other than in the very far south, where they grown their wonderful fruits or their veggies and such. Never saw much farming. Plus, every meal has rice in it and I have yet to see a rice paddy.

I saw exquisitely restored towns here. But even in the poor areas, people love to paint their homes in bright and enjoyable colors.

Noisy neighbors. As in India, if I were ever to live here, one of the most important things to discover ‘before’ moving in is are there neighbors who love to play their music at decibels that will destroy your hearing from a block away. In India it is mostly Hindu temples and Christian churches and weddings that can destroy your hearing and make you want to kills someone. Here it is the neighbor with a big boom box.

Directions: SAs remind me of Africans. If you ask them how to get someplace or where something is, it seems to be almost impossible for them to say they don’t know. They will say, tentatively, where to go. I have discovered that the key indicator is ‘tentatively’. If they don’t speak with authority, they don’t know. Although, there have been a couple of times that the ‘speaking with authority’ was a false indicator also. But, 99 times out of 100, if you ask a SA, they will give you directions. Their hearts are in the right place, even if their directions lead you to the wrong place

Bees: I think I have discovered something. SA bees do not like the hot weather. In Merida there were bees all over in the Panaderias (bake shops). Not one in Cartagena or the lowlands. But, once more I ran into them as we got to milder climates. I didn’t know this. I know there must be some way of transferring pollen in the lowlands, but I swear I never saw a bee after Merida until I started climbing again in the Andes. Here in Quito, though, it must be too high, because they do not live in the bake shops. This I do know because I visit them frequently.

Colombian women nurse anywhere. Colombian couples neck anywhere and they smack their lips when they kiss. I am too old for these displays…or too old fashioned. (Did I ever think in my wildest imagination that I would call myself that??) Plus, the young girls here giggle,very loudly, which I also find most annoying, Wow, am I getting old… or what!!! However, these are only things you discover, along with a whole lot of really amazing things, if you travel the way I do.

I have found out that medical care can be more expensive in SA than India by many multiples. Met a British guy who broke his leg. Costs about $4,000 to fix. Please keep me well!

Colombians are much prettier and handsomer than both Venezuelans and Ecuadorians (that’s where I am writing this). And, surprisingly, considering Cali is in their country, not so evident in their reconstructive surgery as the Venezuelan women.

Cows: They and the Venezuelans got their cows from India. They are a combination of Braha and Saba cows and were brought here from India because these breeds thrive in the tropical conditions.

Food, don’t come to this continent, if you are on a budget, to enjoy the cuisine. Other than the delicious juices, it is still a lot of rice, yucca, beans French fries, plantains, lentils, plantain cabbage/lettuce salad and a slab of tough meat. I did find out, though, that yucca are not so yuka if they are deep fried. Fortunately for my backsides, not many places do this.

Finally, I loved Colombia. Hopefully, some of you more adventuresome travelers will believe what I say when telling you this is a different time and the country is far safer than it was…and come see for yourself. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.

So long for this blog. Enjoy the pictures.

---

Photos

Toganga Beach on the Caribbean
From my hotel room

Inner courtyard restaurant.
Many in SA cities

Scultures of Everyday Life
One of my favorite forms of art is scultures and I love this stuff made out of tin-aluminium-whatever. There were many in different corners in Cartagena

Top of the Cathederal
Do you non-catholics know what makes a cathederal a catherderal? I didn´t. It´s where the bishop gives services

Modern Cartagena from the walls of Old Cartagena
Never made it here. Jimmy and Monica said no reason to go. Just another big city

Monica, Jimmy and I
Our evening in Santo Domingo Square. Aren´t they a beautiful couple!

Mompos
Pineapple seller along river

Mompos Church
I ´think´this is the church where the big night ´restaurant´market was.

Mompos Cemetery
Typical SA cemetery

Mother & baby along river
Notice...she is in one of the ubiquitous Mompos rocking chairs. Even outdoors!

Night Market,Mompos
Only food. Everything from a steak dinner to fries and soda.

Another style of rickshaw...
Shade is much valued in this country. This was the only bicycle rickshaw I saw. Imagine doing this for a living.

Bucaramunga
Walking street by my hotel. Monica´s hometown. Kind of place that would be nice to live. Decent climate and pleasant areas.

Guin
The restored area of town. Close to Bucaramanga.

English class students and me
Taken by their English teacher

Inside of bus
Like these drapes!

Lobby of my hotel in Biachara
I am including these 'lobby'photos to show you all what you get for $15 in SA

Comments

[Nancy Tonkin]

Glad You're Okay
Always happy to hear your wonderful tales of your travels. It sounds like you are in your element. Keep having a great time. Love, Nancy

[Lance]

Wow!
Hi Charlene, It looks like you are having a wonderful time. Thanks for sending us your blogs so we can live a life of the world traveler too. I'm sloggin it out to finish the semester at my new school and trying to stay cool in the Japanese humidity. I only get a month of vacation now, so we are off to Michigan on Aug. 22. We will stop in Portland to see Eve for two days on the way, and will miss picking blackberries out in the burbs with you! (It might be too late by then anyway.) Take care of yourself (it looks like you know how to do that!) and keep us on the list to see what you are up to. You've made me want a hammock to sway in the breeze! lol, Lance and Norio