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!