Goodbye Bogota

Diego and I set off from the hostel around 3 PM on Sunday afternoon, intent on seeing the Carlos Moreno film “Todo Tus Muertos” (“All Your Dead Ones”). It was a Colombian film based on the political reality of the country, and both of us were looking forward to it. Getting to the theatre was no easy matter; it involved two bus rides and a twenty minute walk. We talked the whole time, so it didn’t seem like a long trip, but by the time we arrived and made it through the ticket line, our movie was literally about to start. Diego suggested we buy tickets for the next showing and have dinner together first, so we went to a restaurant across the street. Some of the soccer match and a whole lot of talking later, we realized that the next showing was starting and we were about to miss that as well! We ran across the street and were seated just in time to take in the film.

Thank goodness I saw it with him, because between the accents and my poor knowledge of Colombian political history, much of the true humor/sadness went over my head. To make a very long story short, it referenced politicians and their desire to be reelected irrespective of the best interests of the people, as well as the paramilitary groups and the fact that they still wield a bit of power from the shadows. Talking about these issues literally took us all the way home again, and it was really interesting talking to Diego about his perspective, because even in his younger years he remembered some of the urban

warfare that occurred and shared those memories with me. He also gave me a great potential idea for research next time I’m in the country.

Once back in our area of Bogota, we went to Whitney’s house and the three of us spent the next few hours hanging out. Finally, Diego and I caught a cab home (no easy feat in El Chorro at 2 in the morning), and stayed up watching movies and talking until 6 AM, when I had to prepare to leave. I sadly left the hostel at 6:30 in the morning, went through airport security, and scared my seatmates on the plane by sobbing all the way back to Miami.

I can’t easily summarize everything that Colombia meant to me, even after being back for almost three weeks now. I can say for certain that it

was rejuvenating. Something about being in a beautiful place and meeting so many amazing people reinforced my inclinations to see the best in life and to be the best version of myself possible. It reawakened my thirst for travel, certainly, and made me even more sure that teaching, and helping other people to improve themselves, is the path in life that I want to take. This next year of school has already proven itself to be an intense experience, but it’s worth getting through because at that point, I can literally go anywhere in the world and drink in all that it has to offer.

And none of this would have happened without the people I met along the way. Whitney Pray was my inspiration to travel to Colombia in the first p

lace, and despite the fact that it meant I would leave her, encouraged me to get to know the entire country. Teresa Ingram welcomed me to travel at her side, stimulated my intellect at every turn, and modeled for me a clear vision of what a good human being should be. Daniel Dobleu, our gracious host at Musicology who also traveled with Teresa and I, showed me the country through the eyes of its people, making it even more fascinating in the process, and being a constant source of thought-provoking conversation. Diego Romero, the constant dialogue between us is something I still think about, and you made the last few days in Bogota eminently enjoyable. There are so many other people who impacted my trip and continue to be a part of my life, and I hope they do long into the future…thank you one and all for a life-changing experience.

Back to Bogota

I'll start this post with an advisory to anyone who may enjoy the photos more than the stories: there aren't many here. I was too excited to be back in Bogota, and having too much of a good time with everyone, to be bothered with my camera. In hindsight I regret this, but it was nice to fully participate in life as opposed to being stuck behind the lens for the last few days.

Between the ever-long busride and getting stuck in a cab during rush hour traffic, I finally rolled into Bogota somewhere around 5:30, which was 29.5 hours after I had left my hostel in Cartagena. Clearly, a shower was in order. Whitney materialized as I was getting ready, and we made the executive decision to eat some delicious Middle Eastern food a few blocks down Carrera 4. After that, we called Diego, a Colombian friend who works at Musicology, to meet us for drinks in El Chorro. Drinks, in this case, meant cheap boxes of sweet red wine. Between the three of us plus Whitney's new roommate Hazel, we had maybe 4 or 5 boxes of wine, and also lots of great conversation. Soon we decided to head to Rincon Cubano (I love finding the Cuban dance spots in Colombia, haha) and Whitney paired off with our new friend Carlos as I salsa'ed with Diego. After El Chan Chan played, Diego and I decided that more wine was in order, and set off to find some. Unfortunately, all the local stores that had been plying their wares were already closed, so we returned to Musicology for a few more nightcaps, and spent the night hanging out.

After breakfast with Diego the next morning, I met up with Whitney and Hazel, who were attending casting calls in the La Suba neighborhood of Bogota. We were all slightly unclear as to whether they were going to be in a show, movie, or what, but for a week of work as native English speakers they were going to earn the equivalent of about $700 US, so why not try? After reading short parts each, we hopped back on the inward bound bus, but stopped to check out the pet store district of Bogota, located around the 54th street stop on the Transmilenio. Whitney and I had notice this on my first full day in the city, being particularly amused by a store whose title in Spanish translated to "Seagulls and Canaries". We searched for this store to no avail- perhaps in the 4 weeks since it was first seen, the owners quickly realized that not many people were interested in seagulls for pets. Nonetheless, the puppies were adorable and we had a great time.

Back to the hostel for a quick nap and some dinner, then I was meeting back up with Whitney, Carlos, and Cesar en El Chorro. After a failed attempt at going to the reggae bar (it wasn't a good night by the

standards they know), getting a street arepa loaded with roasted veggies- mm- and some walking around, we all ended up spending the night hanging out at Whitney and Hazel's new apartment. Cesar is a street performer and we watched him do some juggling-type acts as we gazed out the windows over the city of Bogota. Around 2 AM, Cesar walked me home, I spent some time learning about soccer from Diego, and then it was time for bed.

Saturday morning I met up with Whitney and we walked around the city, just enjoying the gorgeous warm of the sunshine that does not always fall in Bogota. We also spent some time in this arcade where you can go and play any game on whatever gaming system you want- we chose Guitar Hero since Whitney and her friend Daniel (neither the Dan mentioned here nor the Daniel that I spent time with in Tayrona and Medellin) had scheduled a competition later that day. We met up with Dan and Raquel for lunch, and watched the first of the two semi-final games in the Copa America. Colombia lost :( After that, Whitney and Raquel headed for ice cream while Dan and I bought some wine and headed back to Musicology to watch the second game, since

Diego had already told me that he and his friends would be watching there and we were welcome to join them. Sadly, Argentina lost too. Two expected victors were down.

The rest of the night for me was spent drinking and hanging out at the hostel. Whitney, Dan, Raquel, and their friend Ani all decided to go out dancing, but I felt that it was beyond me at that point. I alternated between watching a movie with Daniel, and talking with Diego and his friend German. We ended up staying up and talking until about 5 AM, since we had excitement around 3 in the form of a girl returning to the hostel, vomiting and semi-hysterical. Diego, who was working reception at that point, had to call an ambulance, and it was a long ordeal, after which we relaxed by watching some Ali G and planning to see a movie the following afternoon. German finally had to sleep around 5 to get rest for his soccer game at 9, and I didn't last too much longer, but it was definitely a memorable night by any means.

After a brief nap (I only slept about 4 hours) I woke up and met Whitney and Dan. Thanks to the panaderia across the street from her house, we were able to have a delicious breakfast of fresh bread products (pan de coco, anyone?) and enjoy the morning. After hanging out with Whitney for a few hours, I made it back to the hostel, where I took one last nap in the hammock outside my door before waking Diego. We got ready and headed out on an adventure, to be detailed later since I am about to start moving!

Volcano Here, Tattoo There

Tess arrived in Cartagena as I was finishing my last post. We spent the afternoon moving down the street to the sister hostel of the one where I spent the first three nights (so we went from Makako Chill Out to the Chill Out hostel). Both are owned by a lovely gentleman named Rafael, who kindlyaccompanied us to a bus station so th

at Tess could retreive her violin, which she had accidentally left on the bus.

Later that evening, we met up with Eran, who had also come to Cartagena, and Bao, who had participated in the dive class in Taganga with Tess and Eran while I was off in other parts of the country. We all enjoyed a nice sunset/moonlit walk around the walls of the Old City, and also ventured out a bit into Getsemani. However, between the dive courses and the general heat of the city, we called it an early night.
The next morning, Tess and I decided to make our own adventure. Our destination of choice was called the Volcan de Totumo, description coming below. Most hostels offer tours there for 50 mil pesos, but we knew that by taking colectivos we could easily cut costs. We walked a few blocks from our hotel and hopped on the first colectivo, which journeyed for about an hour until we arrived at the Transport Terminal at the outskirts of the city. We definitely enjoyed getting to see other areas of Cartagena, and spent much time talking about how we will be making the world a better place throughout our lives. At this point, we needed to find a second colectivo taking us to Lomo de Arena. A guy directed us onto a bus, and it was underway in a short amount of time. The fee for this bus was 6 mil per person, so I decided to pay for both Tess and myself in order to break a 50 mil bill. The change I should have received was 38 mil, for you math whizzes out there. The man who had first led us to this bus hands me 30 mil, and jumped off as the colectivo was en route, effectively stealing 8 mil. After talking with other people on the bus, including the other money collector, it seems that this guy was not actually working for the bus line, and there was no way to get our other 8 mil.
Now, since that equates to around $4 US, it's not a big deal financially. However, for Tess and I it was slightly disheartening, since it was the first negative experience either of us had had in the country. However, the reactions of everyone else on the bus shortly restored our faith in humanity: the collector didn't make us pay the fee again, everyone kept shaking their heads and voicing their dismany at the situation, and an older gentleman sitting next to us bought us biscuits and yuca sweets to make us feel better! The sense of community felt was really incredible.

A ride of 1.5-2 hours eventually brought us to Lomo de Arena, where we then hoppe

d on mototaxis for a 5 minute ride over to our destination. The Totumo Volcano is a mud volcano, and you jump into a big pit of mud at

the top, supposedly with great benefits for your skin. I'm not sure about that, but it was quite the experience. Between the gooey texture of the mud itself, and the fact that its buoyancy prevents you from doing much more than floating at the surface, I have never seen or done anything similar in

my entire life. We enjoyed about 20 minutes of muddy pleasure, including massages by men in the pit, then made our way to the lagoon to be rinsed off by local women. Once rinsed off, the tourism of the entire situation hit us: suddenly, the men who massaged us wanted money, as did the women who rinsed us, and ditto the boy who took photos of us throughout this whole process. Since it was only total about $10-15 US in tips, it was not a big deal for the experience, but definitely a reminder that certain areas

are touristy, no matter if you arrive on the tour bus or in colectivo like the locals. The other interesting part of this experience was that MANY people wanted pictures

of the gringas who had been mudbathing. I think we posed for at least 10 pictures between the top of the volcano and entering the lagoon for rinsing. I didn't think we were that interesting...

Our motorbike men came back for us and

we made the return trip to Lomo de Arena. Here, we found out that our next bus would not be coming until 3 PM. It was only 1 PM. Mototaxi and regular taxi drivers alike began offering us prices to get back to Cartagena. Luckily, at the same time a car passed by with a woman in it who had been on our original bus ride out. She was going back to the next little town be

tween our location and Cartagena, and we would easily be able to catch a colectivo there. We could ride in the car also for 3 mil pesos each ($1.50). We hopped in and chatted with her and the driver all the way back to the little town, got on the bus, and continued talking. Sandra, the woman, was very sweet. She did get a bit religious on us, imploring us not to get the tattoos that we were planning for the night because "we should give our bodies back to God in their pure state". However, as I said, she was very kind, and even invited us to her house for lunch after the adventure. Since we A) felt bad putting her out, and B) Tess had a Skype date with her family, we politely declined.

After some rest, Skype, and dinner, it was time for tattoos!

Luckily, there was a very reputable place a few blocks from our hostel. The whole idea behind our tattoos should be explained at this point. Back in Bogota, when drinking before the Gay Pride Parade, we had seen that our friend Daniel (same as participated in the trip to Parque Tayrona and my visit to Medellin) had a tattoo reading "Por que no?" (Why not?) on his chest. Ever since seeing it, Tess and I had loved the idea- we only have one life, and why not experience everything that you can throughout it? It would also be a great reminder of the trip and all that we had experienced. We made our way over, selected the font for the tattoos, and got prepared for the needles. Tess went first, feeling slightly nervous as this was her first tattoo, but was a total trooper, especially considering she got it directly above her ear. I went second and was unpleasantly surprised at just how much it hurts to get a tattoo on the inside of your foot! However, I was definitely pleased with the final result.

After tattoos, we headed back to the hostel, where we were planning to drink and go out with various people, including Diego, a Chilean with whom I had many discussions, especially about imperialism in the Western Hemisphere. It was fun! We all had a few beers at the hostel, went out to go dancing, found the club to expensive, and ended up drinking and talking more beneath Quiebra Canto again. Around 2 A

M, we eventually went back home, where everyone else went to bed but Diego and I continued our discussions. Another relaxing yet fun night in the Caribbean...

Wednesday morning Tess and I woke up to tour the Castillo San Felipe, built in the 1500s as part of the defense system of the city. It was gorgeous and offered great views of the city, but knowing that it was our last morning together after some epic travels, we mostly just talked about life, the future, and the future of our lives post-Colombia. For sure we'll get together and save the world, the rest is all up in the air. We stopped by an artisan market, had the most fresh shrimp cocktail of our lives, and ate our last together-cooked meal in the park, then she escorted me to the Terminal de Transporte for our last goodbyes. Without getting too sappy, there are few people in the world as terrific as she is, and it was really hard to know that it'll at least be some time until we get to see each other again. I also have to credit her with giving me the inspiration to keep traveling around the country, and the courage, through her example, to go it alone at various points along the way. Tess, may the rest of your travels be as good to you as these weeks were to me!

Off then on a legendary 25 hour bus ride, through most of which I thankfully slept, arriving Thursday early evening to enjoy my last four nights in Bogota...

Cartagena, Jewel of the Indies

Forget the FARC, your biggest problem in riding a bus in Colombia is definitely the possibility of getting frostbite while on board. I was glad to roll off the overnight coach into the steaming heat of Cartagena. I rethought that feeling an hour later while I was sweating even though showering in cold water...

Once you get over the sweltering heat, though, you fall in love with Cartagena. It's beautiful and fascinating and, for me, a little sad because it's as beautiful as Habana could have been if all the deterioration hadn't taken place over the past 50 years. From the walled in old cities with their Spanish architecture to some of the newer skyscrapers, all lining a beautiful coast, there are so many similarities. Yet in contrast to Habana's decayed glory, the majority of buildings in the Old City here have been well-preserved.



To make my acquaintance with the city, I left the hostel, walked to a small, lush park down the street, and from there headed for the Muralla (the wall around the city). After following this along the sunny coast, I eventually dove into the warren of old streets in Cartagena. The buildings are most often painted in bright colors from yellow to orange and blue, with lovingly crafted wooden railings on their second story balconies, and often brilliantly colored flowers creeping along the outer walls. It's cliche, but Cartagena's Old City really is a bit of a tropical paradise.

After walking around for some time, I came back to the hostel to meet a group of fine folks: Mario, a Mexican-American school teacher who was celebrating his birthday, Justin and Hayden, South African online casino designers, Joel, Karina, and Dan from Australia, and Peter from Ireland. We all sat around with some beers while watching the end of the Chile-Uruguay match, then went out for dinner and continued watching the Mexico-Peru match. We were also joined by Tatiana and Daniela from Germany, and Bilad from Spain.

On the way to dinner, we ran into Johnny, the King of Cartagena. Johnny is a man who the others had already met, and he is best described by saying that he has many irons in many fires. Johnny can get you anything you want, and due to the picture of a coca leaf on one guy´s shirt, Johnny assumed that we wanted some cocaine. He was also willing to take us to his cock fight, to which he was bringing ¨his chicks¨and to which he would arrive in ¨fucking 7 minutes¨- the whole time he was walking with us, he was also on the phone with someone, ostensibly at the cock fight. Anyway, thankfully he was easily convinced that we weren't interested, and we were left to eat dinner in peace. He departed saying, "If you don't like the food I´ll fucking pay for it"; he was certain he was leaving us at a good establishment. He was actually quite right. After dinner the real fun started. We went to a few different dance places and essentially salsa'ed the night away. It was a great first night in Cartagena with terrific people!

The following day, Saturday, started for me with a lazy morning, recovering from dancing and Skyping with the family. Once I finally got things together, I set out to take a certain tour. It's called the Cartagena of Garcia Marquez, and it's an audiotour of Cartagena which shares not only the history of the city itself but the importance of various points in the life and literature of famous Colombian author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. He's the pioneer of magical realism and his books, whether in English or Spanish, are very entertaining to read. Books and history together? Count me in!

Of course, it wouldn't have been a proper visit if it hadn't started out with getting hustled. A Colombian gentleman in his 50s came up to me and wanted to know where I was from. He supposedly had children in the US, and told me he had been the tour guide of the year last year. He insisted that the Garcia Marquez tour would rip me off. He wanted me to go on a tour with him, then we'd get drinks, then he'd teach me to salsa. Tomorrow we would go to the beach. As great as this all sounded, I gave him a fake email address and bid him adieu. I should point out that things like this are pretty typical, and as there are lots of people around, and he wasn't menacing or anything, that it's not a concern, just a slight inconvenience. Part of the price of being a gringo.

My tour, which lasted almost hours, was really fun. It helped me get to know both the city and the author better. I loved learning about how the wall was built to defend against pirates, but the only successful breach of the walls was accomplished by the British. My other favorite fact was that when Garcia Marquez arrived in the city, he was supposed to spend his first night in essentially a hostel with friends. His friends hadn't gotten here yet, and he didn't have money, so he tried to sleep on a park bench but was arrested for breaking curfew. However, before he was put in jail, the officers took him to dinner because he was hungry. Pictured here is his old property in Cartagena, though he now lives in Mexico and rumor has it that the next owner of this house will be Julio Iglesias.

After the tour I was starved so I grabbed a salad at Crepes and Waffles, sister store of the one in Bogota. WHitney, your salad was so good that I basically tried to recreate it. THe other cool thing about this place, besides the food, is that it's a social project as well: all the women hired are single mothers.

I headed back to the hostel and took a much-needed shower, then a group of us set off to watch the sunset from the Cafe del Mar, a little restaurant/bar on the Muralla. The clouds obscured the setting sun quite a bit, but the clouds were beautiful and the atmospheric music added greatly to the night. A few drinks there, a few drinks elsewhere, and somehow it was midnight. Both Justin and I were extremely tired, so we said goodbye to Hayden and Tatiana and came home. Good thing, too, because Hayden didn't make it home till 6:30, and he was skipping the afterparty that Tatiana attended with other friends!

Yesterday was a calm day for me as well. I spent much time just enjoying the moments of life. There were two soccer games happening on fields down by the Muralla, so I sat on the wall enjoying the breeze and sun and just checking out the games. These kids have skills!! I also went to a place called Las Bovedas, which used to be jail cells but have been turned into a series of artesan stores. Perhaps this was where Garcia Marquez spent his first night...

My other main attraction was hitting up the Casa de San Pedro Claver. Pedro Claver was a monk back in the 1600s and he was one of the biggest defenders of slaves who had been beaten or mistreated. He ran infirmaries and taught them about Christianity and often intervened when their masters were too harsh. He was eventually made a saint by the Roman Catholic church. His house has now been turned into a museum of Afrocaribbean history, religion, and preColombian history. It was an esoteric blend and I was the only person in the museum at the time. I really thought the one statue was going to come alive and talk to me, but it may have been the heat and lack of food at that point...

After grabbing a delicious Pan de Mozarrella (think of it as a warm loaf of bread with a big hunk of mozarrella baked in) for fortification, I headed outside the Old City wall into the next neighborhood, called Getsemani. We had entered Getsemani during the nights to go dancing, but I hadn't seen it during the day. Sadly, being Sunday, many shops were closed, but I was able to walk along the water and scope out the bridge to Boca Grande, the highrise area of the city that reminds me of Miami, although I've never been there.

All the wandering warranted another shower, and by that point Peter (from adventures in Bogota) stopped by to say hello- he was in a hostel right down the street after having spent time surfing up north. We caught up on some of our adventures (he had also had some run-ins with Johnny!), and made plans to meet later. Tess, who was also supposed to arrive, was sidelined until Monday morning due to a sick stomach.

Justin, Hayden, Daniela and I went out for a delicious dinner. When you ask for a fried fish, that is literally what you get! And it was delectable. The rest of our night was spent drinking at Zorba's Whiskeria two blocks from our hostel, and exchanging travel stories. Irish Peter and then American Peter both joined us at points as well, and American Peter and I must have spent an hour solid sharing information about other areas of Colombia and some of the intriguing things we've done and seen. Late into the night, Justin, Hayden, and I walked Daniela back to her hostel then went to bed.

Today I decided to spend more time outside the walls, and took a new route into Getsemani. I passed by an old castle which several people had recommended that I see, and also got to experience the bustle of this part of the city now that it was a work day once again. They must not get many tourists in the area, because while in Cartagena's Old City you can't walk two steps without being offered a soda, candy, or fruit, barely a person said more to me than "Buenos dias". It was a nice change! I also passed by the area which allows you to walk to the Boca Grande beaches, then wound back through the Old City streets to the hostel. At this point I am awaiting Tess, and from here we'll make some plans about the rest of Cartagena and beyond. I'm entering my last week of time here, and am no more ready to come home than I was two weeks ago!

Update 2

Hi all,

I'm still in Cartagena and loving it. Have worked on a post for this location but the computer deleted it. In the meantime, go back and check out the photos I've added to some of my older posts to see the reality!

Adventures with Petrus and Ollie

How quickly things change! Literally as soon as I finished typing the draft of my last post, I was invited to join others in the hostel bar for pool and drinking games. Somehow the drinking games never materialized, but I spent the night talking quite a bit with Petrus from England. I had also played poker with his friend Ollie the night before. Petrus and Ollie's next stop planned in Colombia was Salento, in the Zona Cafetera, where I also wanted to go. Before long, we had made a deal to trade my Spanish skills for their manly protection, and we would leave the next day for Salento after my Pablo Escobar tour. Happy with the plans, the rest of the night was spent playing pool with a beautiful Brazilian man, then debating Dutch politics with someone from Holland. Here they our in our hostel in Salento.

As it turned out, not everything can go perfectly- I awoke to find out that my Pablo tour had been cancelled. I caught up on some reading and emails, then Petrus, Ollie and I decided to set off for Salento. We made the rookie error of going to the wrong Transport Terminal in Medellin (there are two, one with buses departing for points south and the other for points north). We went north when we should have gone south, so after about an hour setback we were on the bus for Salento. We passed most of it alterately sleeping, listening to music, and discussing books and movies (that is, Petrus and I discussed these things). Somewhere around 8 PM, though, we realized our driver was having some problems with shifting gears on a hill, and eventually our bus shuddered to a dead halt. After a few false starts, everyone from our bus was transferred to a smaller colectivo, which was headed towards Armenia, the town past Salento- our destination. What to do? First our plan was to just spend the night in Armenia, then take a bus to Salento in the morning. However, upon learning of our plight, the entire bus of Colombians took it upon themselves to help us sort things out. The bus driver flagged down other smaller colectivos in Circasia to find out whether the last minibus to Salento had passed through. When they learned that it was still coming, our driver detoured to let us out at the right place and gave us instructions on what to do. And when I say he gave us instructions, I mean he gave me instructions, as I was the only one with reasonably fluent Spanish. So, we spent about 15 minutes watching a boy play-fight with his dog, then we were picked up by the Salento minibus. After about 45 minute ride, during much of which we had to stand because it was full, we arrived in Salento, only to trek around to three different hostels before finding one with available beds. We grabbed some street food (delicious hamburgers) then it was time for bed.

In the morning we decided to go on a coffee tour. Having been told by our hostel owner that the tours were in English, a group of us (Ollie, Petrus and myself plus two New Zealanders, Fiona and Allan), set out on horseback for the finca de cafe (coffee farm). Some of you might remember my Arabian ponies of death story from the time we tried to go on a midnight horseback ride to the pyramids in Egypt. If not, we'll just sum it up by saying it was a terrifying experience and so I haven't ridden a horse since then. I was extremely nervous, but ready to try again. Thank goodness I was mounted next to Ollie, who was calm and looking forward to the ride- it made me feel much better, as did the continual surveillance by our excellent guide, Jose.

After about 40 minutes, we made it to the coffee farm, where, as it turned out, tours were NOT in English. Guess who was the only Spanish-English speaker, and thus translator? Yay for practicing languages! The coffee tour was super fun and informative. A brief summary about the process of growing coffee:

Plants spend the first three months in tiny seedbeds. After this, they spend another 8 months in slightly larger beds. For the next two years, then, they are transplanted to the ground but still do not produce. Finally, after that total of three years, they begin producing, but the best year to harvest beans is the 5th year of bean production. At that point, the plant is cut down to the ground and left to regrow, so that it's quality stays high.

While beans are being produced, they are picked every 14 days in order to A) get the maximum harvest and B) prevent a certain worm from attacking the beans. Some farms spray pesticides to prevent the worm, but ours was completely organic and did not use that. OUr farm was so organic that their fertilizer is straight-up pig manure, from pigs that they keep on the farm as well.

We got to spend about 5 minutes harvesting beans, but we apparently wouldn't be hired, because between us we picked maybe 1-2 kilos (enough to eventually make about 12 cups of coffee). We were told that, during high season (April and May), there are 20 workers who each pick between 100-250 kilos EACH. During the rest of the year, they have 3 workers who each collect between 40-50 kilos/day. From each kilo picked, though, only about 10% actually remains at the end of the process to be made into coffee. Why is that? Because around the coffee bean is actually this thick husk and mucus that need to be removed. In the old days, it was done with a hand crank machine, but now this part has a machine for the work. Next, the beans dry for 7-20 days, depending on the sun. Next, they are separated according to quality. First quality beans (98% of the farm´s production is this good) are separted, taken to Armenia to have the inner skin removed, then shipped abroad- whatever country they go to will then toast and sell them. First quality beans (in left hand) are pretty much sold only abroad, where companies like Weis groceries will mix them with less quality beans to improve the taste, and sell it as ¨Colombian blend¨. Second quality beans (right hand) are kept for consumption within Colombia...not quite fair, is it?

After all this, we were able to sample some coffee. Let me tell you, I am accustomed to drinking mine with milk and sugar. This cup was mostly black, though I added some sugar, and it was delicious- smooth, not at all bitter, and definitely had caffeine (my hands were shaking at lunch two hours later!). Definitely bringing some of this home...

After a galloping ride back to the hostel, I showered and our group from the coffee tour all went to Restaurante Lucy for another comida tipica (y deliciosa!). Fiona and Alan went souvenir shopping, while Petrus, Ollie, and I got some ice cream while I waited for my bus. Saying goodbye to those great guys, I boarded for Pereira and immediately met another American. His name was Brian, he was a teacher in Boston, and was volunteering in a Salento school for the summer. We spent the ride to Pereira talking. In Pereira, I found out I couldn't go directly to Cartagena, so I booked a ride to Medellin. On that bus, I met Luis, a Colombian student studying water engineering, and we talked pretty much the whole way to Medellin. In Medellin, I got a taxi to the other transport terminal, and at 10:30 PM was finally on the way to Cartagena! I arrived here about an hour ago and will be staying at the Makako Chill Out Hostel for the next 3-4 nights. Peter might be here, Tess will be in on Sunday, and in the meantime I can't wait to do the Gabriel Garcia Marquez tour! Time to go shower and begin exploring the city!

Medellin

Daniel and I embarked on my second (of total 4) overnight busrides in Colombia. Thanks to the carried-over exhaustion from Tayrona and other exploits in Taganga, we slept pretty much the entire time, arriving in the former most murderous city in the world around 9 AM Monday morning. He ended up having forgotten something on the bus, so we cooled our heels in the terminal while waiting for it. By 1030 we were golden and stepping about the city´s Metro system, which I have to say is fantastic- it´s well organized, there are signs in each station to let you know what attractions are nearby, and it runs quickly.

We soon arrived at our stop, Poblado, in the city of Medellin. It´s a beautiful, mostly residential, neighborhood, with a few high-end shops mixed in. We meandered for a bit before happening upon our hostel, the Pit Stop. It´s huge, much more so than any I´d stayed in previously- there are over 100 beds here. After putting our bags down, we took ourselves on a walking tour of the nearby environs. And let me tell you, that´s not much, because, although I think population wise Bogota is still bigger, Medellin is sprawling. It´s situated in a valley, like Bogota (or like Salt Lake City, for example), but the city moves onto the various hills around and winds sinuously with the curves of the Andes. The temperature here is partway between the chill and rain of Bogota and the heat and humidity of the coast- aka perfect. You can wander in jeans and a tank top and it´s perfect. So that´s what we did for a bit, taking time to get a dried fruit snack in the Colombian version of WHole Foods (Pomona stores), and passing through the Zona Rosa. Like in Bogota, it´s the upscale area with lots of great restaurants and nightclubs. It was beautiful. Daniel also told me about about the comunas, which are the Medellin version of the favelas in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil- the sprawling shantytown communities pushed further up the hills and out of the city proper, where poverty and increased violence tend to be more common.

We needed a bit of a break then, and came back to watch a bit of a movie and shower. After that, we headed to a nearby food stand in a shopping center to grab some Comida Tipica (detailed in 15 Questions). We came back to the hostel and mostly spent time hanging out with others here- it´s a mix of Brits, Aussies, Americans, and Israelis. Some poker, drinking, and movies were involved, and the next thing you know, we were being woken in the TV room at 2 Am by the concierge, telling us to go to bed.

A good night´s sleep helped us to finally kick the last of exhaustion from the Parque Tayrona experience, and this morning we set off raring to explore the city. We stopped for breakfast in a local panaderia, and we both had something along the lines of a cheese croissant, with coffee for Daniel and Milo for me (essentially chocolate milk). This in general represents a pretty typical breakfast here, or you might have cereal and yogurt (yogurt here is a bit more thin and mixes well with cereal). We then hopped on the Metro system and headed for the University stop.

A brief history of Medellin- in the 1970s, 80s, and 90s, Medellin had a terrible reputation- it was rife with drugs and gang warfare. Does the name Pablo Escobar ring a bell? Police were major targets, and people didn´t feel safe. However, a major effort was made to change the city, and from everything I saw, this effort was a resounding success. Now there are tons of green spaces, places for people to convene, and huge efforts to bring culture and learning to the city, such as a science museum (much more affordable than in the states for only $7.50 to enter), and a free botanical garden. This was Daniel and my first stop on our self-tour. It was a great way to practice my Spanish vocab concerning fruits, veggies, and spices, too!

Next we meandered up through some random streets, apparently going through a semi-red light district, with lots of "by the hour" motels. Apparently you should never tell someone here that you are staying in a motel- it gives the connotation that you are staying somewhere just to have sex. Good to know...

We next ended up at the city´s cementary. Ranging from standard hole-in-the-wall burial arrangements to grand tombs, this place had it all. It was amazing how much color and expression people put into decorating the tombs of their loved ones, as well- it seemed to be a way of keeping alive their family members.

Some more twists and turns brought us to the Plaza Botero, right outside the cultural palace of the city. The strong lines of the center´s architecture next to the curvy pieces of Fernando Botero made for a beautiful contrast to the eyes. We also decided here to stop into the Museo de Antioquia (Antioch Museum, Antioch is the department (aka state, for Americans) that Medellin is in within the country of Colombia). The museum was full of pieces, both international and Colombian, with an entire gallery devoted to Botero, who was himself from Medellin (he´s the man who paints everything much larger than proportion. Some would describe his subjects as plump or even fat, but according to the artist he ascribes size to the subjects to demonstrate their importance or vitality, to make them momentous within his works).

After lunch, we headed back to the hostel (by this point it was already past 5). We spent some time with others watching a Star Wars movie, then unfortunately Daniel had to leave for Bogota- he works tomorrow at 7 Am and had to take a bus back. This leaves me in Medellin by myself, which (sorry Mom and Dad, I know you won´t be thrilled) is really truly my first time travelling ALONE. My plans at this point are to join some other people at the hostel for a Pablo Escobar tour tomorrow, then to catch an overnight bus to Cartagena, where I will reunite with Teresa, who has been taking diving classes in Taganga this week, and possibly Peter. I feel a mixture of emotions- excitement at trying something new, sadness at missing Daniel, who was a fantastic travel companion, and relief that it will only be for a few days until I´m back with someone I know. It feels strange and almost babyish to admit these feelings, because most of the others who I´ve met are sort of expert backpackers, used to going it alone and not getting caught up in travel companions, but there´s a first for everyone for everything, hey? I´m interested to see how I feel at the other side of this, once I´ve met Teresa and will be heading back to Bogota, which feels a bit like my long lost home at this point.

15 Colombian Questions

As always, I have Dale and Judy to thank for asking me many relevant questions that are good for the blog...here you are for answers!

1. Have you had any Juan Valdez Columbian coffee?
I tried a bit of a friend´s coffee from there. It seems that more or less, it´s the Colombian version of Starbucks, so in general it´s more fun and feels more authentic to buy a small cup of tinto (espresso) from a guy on the street instead of from a major company. According to a Colombian friend, the actual brand name was fabricated...the company picked a name, asked a real coffee harvester to serve as their original image, and just built up a brand name in this fashion. The brand name is intended to signify that is is purely Colombian bean in the mix, with no beans from other places.

2. Do the bars serve a Columbian beer or Budweiser?
More Colombian beers are served (I am partial to the Aguila brand, which is probably very akin to a Budweiser). However, they definitely sell Budweiser in the liquor department of most major grocery stores I´ve been to. The major grocery store chain here is called Exito (literal translation: success) and they actually have their own theme song, which you can here if you ever walk in first thing in the morning.

3. Does Bogota have rush hour traffic congestion? Yes, but it´s hard to distinguish from the normal traffic congestion haha. That´s been one of the major boons of visiting some of the coastal cities; much less traffic. However, depending where you go in Bogota and where you live in the first place, it´s pretty easy to get around by foot and avoid it.

4. Does Columbia have private banks or nationalized banks?
There was a financial crisis back in the 1980s, which led to major government intervention in the banking system, but now banks are privately owned. The biggest by far seems to be Bancolombia. Happily, they allow withdrawals from American debit cards. Our friend Eran from the trip to Parque Tayrona is Israeli and he unfortunately found that he wasn´t able to withdraw from Bancolombia and had to use Santander instead, another major bank.

5. Do Bogota stores take Discover Card?
Mastercard and Visa are the preferred credit cards here. However, many places charge you a 30% fee to use it, so I´ve been relying heavily on cash.

6. Does Bogota have an subway system? Nope. They do have a great bus system, though, which covers the main parts of the city. Medellin, however, does have a Metro system (though aboveground) and it´s been a pleasure to use so far!

7. Where is the Columbia coffee grown? In the Zona Cafetera, concentrated a few hours outside of Bogota. The main cities are Pereira, Armenia, and Manizales. Hopefully I will pass through there and be able to write a bit more on this delicious beverage and how it is grown.

8. Can a tourist get by only speaking english? Definitely in the major cities as well as on the hostel circuit. It´s quite surprising the number of semi-fluent to hardly speaking Spanish at all people that I´ve met, and how much they´ve been able to do. That said, it does restrict some of the fun of being able to meet locals and really engage in the culture if you don´t speak it. It would also be very difficult to travel outside the main tourist path.

9. What is the best Columbian meal, Breakfast, Lunch or Dinner? I like them all! I´ll have to go with lunch/dinner, because often the same types of food are served. A typical meal would include rice and beans, lettuce and tomatoes (generously called salad), a plantain slice, meat of your choice, and perhaps an egg or mini arepa included in that. It´s also relatively cheap- Daniel and I had this for lunch at a cost of 6000 COP, or about 3 USD. My other favorite food here has to be the arepa, which is essentially cheese covered in cornmeal and baked. Delicious!!

10. What country do Columbians go to for vacation? According to Daniel, alot of the wealthier set will go to places like Miami. However, Colombians also like to visit their own country to enjoy the beaches. For instance, this past weekend was a long weekend for a Monday holiday, and we encountered TONS of people who had come from nearby cities to enjoy the beaches at Taganga. In-country flights are also relatively cheap, so it makes it possible for those with some money.
In general, too, the perception that many might have of Colombia as a very poor country is only somewhat true. There are certainly poor areas, especially outside of the cities. But within cities, you can find the same amount of wealth as in the states, depending on the area. I have definitely seen Porsche dealerships and home decor stores where I may never be able to shop! It´s a fascinating blend, to be sure!

11. Are there many American tourists? More from other countries, in particular the UK and Israel. However, I have run into some Americans...most of whom I end up trying to avoid- too many of them have said things like "I¨m trying to get a blowjob" or "Hey, did you score with that chick from last night?"

12. Is the unemployment rate low in Columbia? According to the internet, which knows all, the unemployment rate is 11.8%. However, it does make me wonder whether that includes the more informal businesses, such as the woman near Lake Guatavita selling arepas in her front room, or the people in the city with small pushcarts of their own baked goods. My observation is that people are very enterprising, and certainly nothing goes to waste- one of the best art pieces I´ve seen was a sculpture of bottle caps twisted and dented to look like flowers.

13. What is the favorite make of car driven in Columbia? Renaults and Toyotas are EXTREMELY popular. There are also a decent number of Chevrolets. Also speaking of cars, there seems to be a movement on here to increase the use of natural gas as fuel for your car. Though it´s currently still expensive to get cars prepped for this type of fuel combustion, it seems that a change is being made in that direction in order to save the environment and people´s wallets. Incidentally, the cost of gas here is higher than in the states (about $4.40ish for a gallon).

14. Do Columbians like the USA and Obama? Actually, great question. I need to ask more especially about Obama. I´ve gotten some things both ways. For instance, an older woman heard me speaking in English and asked where I was from. On hearing the United States and Great Britain (the friend I was with) she began exclaiming in Spanish, "God bless you both, your countries give so much to help other people, God bless you!" which was certainly heartening. On the other hand, one gentleman gave me a bit of a rough time over the issue of people coming to work in the States. However, in general he didn´t seem to have a great understanding of politics, so I´ll brush that off. I would say the underlying sentiment above all is that Colombians are both polite and kind, and so if you get to know them and make an effort to converse, they will almost certainly appreciate that, which leads to a better understanding between countries.

15. Why is Bogota the capital of Columbia? Was it always? From my general understanding, when the Spanish landed in the 1530s they began in the coastal city of Santa Marta, where I was recently, and basically fought their way inland against the various tribes who lived here. Spanish numbers went from 500 people down to 70 by the time they had defeated the Muisca (El Dorado people who used Lago Guatavita for sacred purposes) who were living in the Bogota region. So the city was founded, basically out of relief at having "made it", and was the capital since then. It´s name comes from Boyaca, which was an indigenous name for a nearby town.

Costa del Norte

One more brief update, since the telling of the story of Parque Tayrona will take much longer than I currently have the attention span for at this point. Basically, I decided to extend my vacation (bless Karen Schloer for giving me the opportunity to do so!), and came to the North Coast of the country, where we were doing some Andean jungle hiking through a national park. MANY fun details to come, but for now I am based out of Taganga, a sleeping fishing town on the Caribbean. Planning to spend a few days here recovering from recent adventures and planning the next moves, since I will now be in Colombia until July 18. Dale and Judy, you will also get the answers to your questions shortly :)

Santa Marta, Parque Tayrona, Taganga

Tuesday morning saw Tess (Teresa) and I rising early-ish to pack up, check-out, and buy some last minute supplies for our journey to the coast. We moved on to the bus station, which was basically a pimped out version of Port Authority in New York. First, as a whole, it was much less grimy than Port Authority. It definitely had better food- not only were there fruit stands every few feet, but the bakeries were baking in-house, and the typical foods were also created on-site. Then there were the casinos...I kid you not, within this bus terminal were at least 3 casinos. There was also a bar. Trust me, it would have been hard to be bored there.

The bus ride took 19 hours; we left Bogota at 2:45 on Tuesday and arrived in Santa Marta around 10 the next morning. We encountered some interesting situations along the trip, in particular when a truck ahead of us went over a bridge and cracked the bottom part of the structure. We had to wait until the truck could be moved from the bridge- then we proceeded forward, crack or no!

A note on drivers in Colombia. They are crazy. It´s much like New York City in that aspect. We were talking about it the other day, though, and came to the conclusion that because there are no road rules in Colombia (or at least only loosely followed), it actually forces drivers to be more awake and alert, and therefore better than people who drive mindlessly because they've driven this road a million times and it´s just a highway and how bad can it be? The low number of accidents is truly impressive- I've not seen one pile-up or accident that required an ambulance so far.

The bus ride, though long, was pleasant because we were able to see so much of the country side go by. A good part of the trip had us winding through the Andes mountains, and getting a birdseye view of life in the countryside. It was also absolutely incredible to see the stars at night from the bus window. In the remote areas, you almost feel as though you´re at the end of the world, because you´ll look out, see hundreds of stars in the sky, and also other lights twinkling down near the horizon- and you can´t be sure whether they are stars or the lights of someone´s home, and it´s a completely magical feeling.

Wednesday we arrived at the Dreamers Hostel, recommended by our friend Peter. It was a nice atmosphere, and had a pool, which alone was a definite win. Since it´s a bit far from town, we took a cab into the city to see more of Santa Marta. SM seems a bit confused about its identity; apparently it used to be more of a quiet fishing town but has gained notoriety both with the backpacking set as well as other Colombians who appreciate the beauty of the Caribbean coast. So there´s an interesting kind of urban sprawl going on, and overall the city seems relaxed but with lots of life and character. Our self-guided tour included trying kebabs, baked yuca, mamones, and a fresh fruit bowl. Yes, we like food very much. We also took a walk down to the pier and back towards the main shopping center before catching a cab home. A pool ride and dinner then found us making our way to Taganga, another town about 15 minutes down the coast where our friends Nancy and Daniel were staying. Before we spent time with them, I was able to call my boss and get permission to miss the rest of work to stay in this beautiful country for a few more weeks- thank you Karen Schloer!! We sat with the gang while they ate dinner and made plans for the next two days...

Said plans included Daniel and our new acquaintance, Eran from Israel, meeting us on Thursday morning at the hostel in order to catch a bus to Parque Tayrona, a national park located on the coast. The game plan was to walk into the park, go to a beach and reserve our hammocks to sleep in at night. The reality was that, after a 40 minute bus ride, we arrived to find that we had to walk 3 KM to even get into the park. From there, we hiked at least an hour before arriving at our first beach. All of us were so exuberant to have made it that we threw down our bags, took off our sweaty shirts, and plunged into the water. Other explorations on the beach included Eran pretending to be a monkey-cave man (he suceeded in breaking open a fresh coconut for us all to share, seen in photo next to a grenadilla fruit!), coming up with fun movie names, and taking lots of photos.

We eventually realized that, as no hammocks were within site, that we needed to continue back on the trail. Said trail actually winds through the forest, and let me tell you, stepping back into the density of plants is HOT and STICKY. We trudged on about another 45 minutes to arrive at a hammock spot, but it wasn´t the area we wanted and had expensive food, so we trekked still more. A note on this- we came to find the following day that in some instances, we had taken more difficult trails than were necessary, but I´ll explain how that was revealed shortly.

Anyway, after goodness knows how many hours of walking, we finally arrived at Cabo San Juan and reserved our hammocks. In all honesty, we had a piece of heaven right there, all for the price of about$30 (park entrance fee and cost of hammock rental). After short showers in a public stall area, we decided it was time for dinner. We had to make smart financial decisions, because Eran hadn´t yet found an ATM where he could use his card, and there were no ATMs in the national park, so our monetary reserves were limited to what we had in cash. We realized that instead of buying food from the restaurant monopolizing business, we would simply buy rice from them and cook it in Eran´s pot, augmenting the meal with tins of tuna and some avocados that we had carried along. I don´t know how we did it, as it was pitch dark when we started cooking, and the fire sputtered and didn´t want to produce coals, but somehow after an hour of painstaking work and patience on the part of Eran (he kept us from opening the pot and ruining the rice) we ate what was made by hunger and exhaustion to be the most delicious meal of my life. We then all sat up, getting eaten by mosquitos and talking for a short while longer, then fell asleep in our hammocks.

I confess that I had no problem sleeping whatsoever, and slept pretty much the entire night through, but I know others in the group weren´t able to sleep as easily. So I´m not sure what the overall consensus on hammock sleep is, but I definitely support it! The next morning I was up by about 7:30, and Tess had been up even earlier, so we hit the beach and spent a couple hours catching early morning rays and realizing how lucky we were to be in such a beautiful place. When Daniel woke up, we transitioned to the top deck of a cabana on the point of the rocks, where I will return and sleep again someday. Staring at the rocks and the ocean in between pages of my book made for an amazing morning.

Around noon we realized it was time to hit the road soon. We were planning to hike out by a different route, passing an indigenous historical site called Pueblito, before coming out on the main highway. We embarked on the hike, which was steep, humid, and thankfully full of monkeys to distract me from the other downfalls. Seriously, I got to see monkeys up close. Awesome!!! Anyway, after huffing and puffing along for a bit over a hour, we ran into an Argentinian fellow named Maxie, who inquired if we were heading from Calabazos (the towndown on the highway where we were supposed to end the day´s hike). No, we told him, we are on the way to Calabazos from Cabo San Juan. Confusion grew as Maxie related that he had also begun his hike at Cabo San Juan and was on this path, hoping it led to Calabazos. We decided to all stick together, and continued on our path. In about 20 minutes we arrived at Pueblito, which was this amazing clearing in the middle of the jungle. There were (reputedly) over 250 sacred circles in the entire area, though I did not count them. We unfortunately did not spend much time in Pueblito, as it began to thunder and clouds to roll in ominously.

A decision was necessary at this point: where to go? We checked every angle, but the only two distinguishable paths were those traveled by ourselves and by Maxie, both of which seemed to lead back to Cabo San Juan. We decided to continue our route, that is to say we were backtracking Maxie´s route, in the hopes that we would see a signpost to Calabazos, which was supposedly 2.5 hours away. In retracing Maxie´s route, we climbed some of the most arduous rocks and skidded over giant gaps. In some time, it began to rain, which increased our urgency to make it out of the jungle. It was also much darker under the tree cover, and I honestly started to think that every branch I was about to touch was a snake. Thankfully, the worst thing we saw was a giant cockroach. FINALLY, after about an hour an a half, fording a river, straddling boulders, and all that, we made it back to Cabo San Juan. We had a new dilemmna. One was that we really didn´t want to spend another night in a damp hammock, with no fresh clothes, and nothing dry (our bags had gotten wet between the actual rain, our sweat, and sliding on our asses from rock to rock at certain points). We also didn´t have enough money for hammocks, food, AND transportation home the next day. What to do?

Luckily, fate in the form of an ice cream man intervened. God bless this gentleman, and I realize now that none of us ever asked his name, but we encountered a man who, every day for 27 years, makes the hike into Tayrona to sell ice cream, and out again at the end of the day. This was the same hike that had us all exhausted the day before. This man agreed to guide us out of the park (the way we´d come). Thank goodness for him. Not only did he keep an amazing pace, carrying a huge insulated box as well as a backpack, but he took us on routes at certain spots that were much less taxing than those we had traversed the previous day. He was also immensely enjoyable because he often poked fun at the boys, because Tess and I kept up with him better than the rest. He said that we were the generals of the group. Bless him! So through the rain and muck, we somehow made the trek out just as the sky was darkening. We attempted to repay him to some extent by purchasing celebratory ice cream snacks as we left the park. We then sat through a 40 minute bus ride, soaked with sweat and rain, before being able to take a freezing cold but thoroughly enjoyable shower at Dreamers Hostel back in Santa Marta.

Was our day over, though? Of course not. Tess and I rounded up our things and procurred a taxi to Taganga, where we had decided to continue our visit to the coast. Though it was Friday, and hence party central in Taganga, we all only had it in us to have a few beers and a hot dog before sleeping soundly. A note on the hot dogs- Colombians know how to make them! It´s not a simple diggity in a bun, my friend. Add on fried onions, crushed potato chips, melted cheese, and any number of delicious sauces, and you start to approximate the joy of this experience. Just do yourself a favor and get one.

Saturday was fairly relaxing- spent some time in an internet cafe catching up on things in life, went into Santa Marta with the gang to do some grocery shopping as well as help Eran finally track down an ATM he could use, and then we had a delicious dinner of brownies, Doritos, bananas, and rum. The rest of the night passed in a quiet haze. Sunday morning/afternoon was equally relaxing and slow-paced- some lunch on the beach front with Daniel (as I mention in the 15 Questions post, things were super swamped with out-of-town Colombians who had come in to enjoy their long weekend), exploring the second, quieter beach, and taking a quick shower before getting on the bus to Medellin with Daniel...Medellin post coming soon!

Update

Things have been amazing here in Bogota; we've done everything from play basketball to touring the city on bikes (after these hills at this altitude and the traffic here, riding a bike in Baltimore this fall should be no problem!!), drinking, and attending the Bogota Gay Pride Parade. All of it's been enchanting; I really don't ever want to come home.

In order to get some more experience out of my time here, I'm leaving in a few minutes for Santa Marta, which is up on the Caribbean coast. I'll be going on a 2-day bus trip to get there with Teresa, from Great Britain. We'll also meet up with another girl from our group here at the hostel, Nancy, also from Great Britain. I'm looking forward to soaking up some sunshine for a few days before returning to Bogota Saturday for Rock the Park, a large 4-day long outdoor music festival.

Drums, Gays, and Crepes

After the fun of Friday night, most of us were feeling the need to have a relaxed and laid back Saturday. The morning was spent lounging and watching movies, followed by some delicious Asian rice and sushi at a little place in El Chorro. Then we decided to walk around, ducking into little stores as they caught our fancy. One of the places we really liked was a hair salon which also sold clothing, journals, and knicknacks. It's manifesto was related to providing an open space for creativity and self-expression; it appears that they hold cultural and musical events there each Friday night, so I will have to check one out.

On our walk, in the Parque de los Periodistas, there was a Colombian drumming group playing. It was definitely the kind of music which compels you to dance, demands that you do not sit still. We spent at least 45 minutes in thrall to their rhythms.

To clarify the 'we' to whom I refer, I was spending the afternoon with Tess, Nancy, and Alex, all from Great Britain. Those of you who have followed my travels know that this has been my first experience with hostel life. I love it! It's quite incredible to have the ability to meet all different people, and as you are drawn together in the pursuit of travel, you already have certain base commonalities. Once you find people you really click with, then it is truly an amazing find. There are people from this trip that I may never see again but will certainly never forget.

Saturday was also the birthday of Whitney's friend Raquel, so we had a delicious Italian dinner, albeit with lousy service, and later drinks and a shisha bar. It was a quiet night, followed by a few rounds of Never Have I Ever at the hostel to keep it interesting.

Sunday was a exuberant day in Bogota. The annual Gay Pride Parade was on, and everyone was out in their most fantastic gear. Everyone was drinking in the streets, dancing to the music, and celebrating life. The parade wound from the La Macarena neighborhood down Septima towards PLaza Simon Bolivar, where it ended in a concert performed by Lady Gaga impersonators. It was my first gay pride parade, but it certainly won't be my last!

Thanks to the day drinking that occured, I decided not to join the groups going out. Instead, I stayed at the hostel, discussing Canadian politics with Cam (hostel worker from aforementioned country) and playing cards with Frann.

Monday was Alex's last say, so we went out ot lunch at a nearby Italian place. I wasn't hungry yet, so I later joined Whitney and Yoav for some food at Crepes and Waffles, which is as delicious as it sounds. The rest of the afternoon was passed with Whitney meditating in the park. At night, we drank a bit, and I ended up watching another movie with Frann.

Lago Guatavita and Biking in Bogota

Thursday morning, we set out from Bogota and headed for the Transmilenio station. This is the main form of transportation around the city, which I´d already experienced when accompanying Whitney to her class. Luckily, this time we were not taking the bus during rush hour, and we were able to get seats. Good thing, because the ride to the other side of Bogota had to have taken 40 minutes to an hour. We spent all of it talking nonstop. At the Portal del Norte station, the last on the line, we switched to a smaller bus, a bit bigger and nicer than the one pictured here. This next bus took us to Sesquile, a small town maybe another 40 minutes from Bogota. I have to say, I´ve never had a trip with better conversationalists than Peter and Tess!

Sequile was a small and beautiful town set in the foothills of the Andes mountains. It was a bit of a foggy morning, as you can tell from this picture, but it only added to the mystical atmosphere of the mountains.
Despite its relative lack of size in comparison to Bogota, Sesquile hosted one of the most impressive pastry shops any of us had ever seen- we´re talking possibly thousands of croissants, watermelon decorated cookies, and a giant coconut and cream ball that, much to our chagrin, we never got around to tasting.

From Sesquile, we boarded a smaller colectivo bus like the one pictured above, and our driver dropped us off at a lane which led to Lake Guatavita. A fifteen minute walk led us to the entrance to the park for Guatavita, and another fifteen or so led us to the beginning of the actual climb. Besides the continued discussions about random topics from vegetarianism to movies (both seen and in script form) to outer space travel and death, we were able to enjoy being out of the city and really in nature- see side picture. Finally, I got my wish to hike in the Andes! Parts of the upward climb definitely had me out of breath, but once we got to the top it was absolutely worth it.








As I mentioned, it was a foggy day. I´m sure the lake would be beautiful under any circumstances, but I think I prefer the view that we had. It made things seem so mysterious and incomprehensible. Muisca (people indigenous to the area) chieftains in the past had painted themselves with gold dust and immersed themselves in the lake as part of religious ceremonies, which is how the legend of El Dorado began. To be honest, the way we were able to see the lake, and given that there were few other tourists there on a rainy, gray day, made you feel that at any moment the low hum of beating drums would be heard, and a brightly decorated boat would emerge from the riachuelo into the lake for the ceremony to begin.

Alas, it didn´t, and instead we eventually walked back down from the lake. The colectivo driver who had dropped us off was supposed to come back around 5:30. Since it was only 2:45, we decided to stop by one of the small restaurants along our walk up. We were accompanied much of the way by an adorable black lab puppy dog, who was our self-appointed guide for the trip. We ended up eating in the foyer of a lovely Colombian woman, who served homemade arepas, agua panela, and cafe tinto. Muy delicioso.

At this point, we realized that it was still nearly two hours earlier than we were supposed to be picked up. We decided to start walking to Sesquile, since it was only supposed to be about 4 kilometers (less than 3 miles). Shortly down this beautiful country lane, though, some lovely gentlemen in a wood truck passed by and we were able to grab a ride with them into town. We passed the trip singing and dancing along with the music they were playing.

A note on the people of Colombia. It's incredibly impressive how nice and generous people are. For example, these guys gave us a ride with nothing in it for them. People routinely will offer to help you if it seems that you are lost. Everyone is ready to provide advice and the drop of the hat, and it all contributes to making your experience in Colombia very heartwarming.

After the trip, we eventually arrived home and bought some rum from our favorite little shop in the barrio, run by an older woman who always wears a crisp white apron to serve her customers. A few mixed drinks and some dinner later found us in the Hostel Fatima, where Tess, Alex, Peter, Eli and I spent the night drinking beer and requesting fun songs. It was an awesome night, and I do believe there are some pictures on my disposable camera that may eventually be posted.

Friday morning we woke up and went to work off the hangover by playing some basquetbol in a local park. Dad, you would not be proud of how many peepers I missed at first. A few hours of basketball got us ready for a bike ride. We were able to rent bikes for 4 hours for only about $6-7, which seemed like a great deal. Eventually we realized it was because the bikes were so crappy. Thank goodness for Frann and Victor- I'm not even sure how many times they had to help me put the chain back on the bike! We did get to see much of the city, including the bullfighting ring, and although it was difficult biking on some of the hills, it was a great feeling to have been able to accomplish everything.

At night, there were supposed to have been street performances occuring, but we must have missed some of them- not sure what happened. After a failed attempt at a reggae bar, and finding the jazz bar to be too expensive, some of us ended up back at Fatima with pizza and beer again. My night then ended with watching "Un Novio para Mi Mujer" with Frann (great movie, fans of foreign films should definitely check it out!).




occer, bike ride, drinking/out same little bar