I`m here with Gab, Natalia and Claudia. Last night we went to Claudia`s father`s country house, deep along the dark, rough roads amongst the rolling vallies. There are no lights out here and the sky had clouded over. The house was pretty sensational. Using the local igneous landscape as structural support, wide panes of glass support the high, peaked ceilings. The daughter`s bedroom actually contains a massive boulder as part of the side wall.

Claudia`s father Eric is Swiss but moved here over 30 years and says he could never move back. The lifestyle and I imagine, the lack of rules and a woman snared him. Dinner involved using the open fire to slow cook the salted short lion of a cow. Coupled with some Swiss cabbage made by Claudia, some hash brown potato and Spanish wine, it was delicious.

The true event of the evening was meeting Rex, Eric`s Fila Brasilero. One of the four banned breeds in the UK, Rex was no only big, athletic and energetic, he was also hungry. His breeding wasn`t the best. As a pup he was fed too much bloodied meat, developing intestinal problems but now, nursed back into health by Eric after he adopted him, he was full of beans. He was a truly intimidating sight. His best friend Scratch, the German Shepherd wasn`t as interested in us or the food but he out-matched Rex for size and apparently strength.

The town got quieter the next day. Gab, Natalia and Claudia left the next day along with most of the crowds.They have to work. Every day is a long weekend for me right now. I decided to stay and read and write a touch. I have about two more weeks in Colombia and for the last six weeks, I haven`t been able to stop, read, think or even study Spanish as much as I wanted. Still I have this year for that.

Abi and frailejone in Chingaza National Park

I just got back from Colombia, safe and sound.  I say this right off the bat because the first thought that many North Americans – even you, maybe? – have is that Colombia is not safe.  That may have been true some years back, but is not now.  Most of the country is perfectly fine for visiting, as the last two presidents (Alvaro Uribe, 2002-2010, and now Juan Manuel Santos) have succeeded in reducing the crime rate tremendously.  If you are an aware and savvy traveler (my apologies to the synonymous NPR program), you will find a country with rich, regional cultures and traditions, and friendly, generally well-educated people proud of their heritage and diversity.  And, if you’re into nature, you’re in real luck.  Colombia is one of the top three most biologically diverse countries in the world.  For example, it has about 1880 bird species, more than twice the number of the U.S. and Canada which, when combined, are 17 times larger.

The purpose of my trip was two-fold:  to scout out sites and logistics for an ecotour to Colombia – which I plan to offer in early 2013 – and to assure myself that the country is, indeed, a secure and wonderful place to travel.  I was successful on all accounts.  International tourism is on the rise, with increasing numbers of tour operators from around the world offering trips to Colombia.  (For instance, the day after I got home, Eileen showed me the 2012 Overseas Adventure Travel catalog, touting it’s “NEW! Colombian Colonial Jewels & Caribbean Coast” tour.)  And, the government is taking the bull by the horns.  Aware of its image, it adopted a marketing slogan of “The only risk is wanting to stay,” and has posted security guards throughout the cities, towns and rural areas.

I started and ended my trip in Bogota, a huge and busy city 8600 feet high on the edge of the eastern cordillera of the Andes (consisting of three ridges in Colombia vs. two in Ecuador and one further south).   It has small colonial center, with a large plaza – Plaza de Bolivar – surrounded by government buildings and a huge cathedral.

Colombian desserts (dulces)

The day I visited, the entire surface was covered with small vendors displaying productos campesinos – cheeses, processed meats, corn cakes and breads (including the very popular arepas), desserts made with milk, cream and fruit, organic vegetables and handicrafts.  The place was crawling with Colombians eager to indulge their sweet tooth.  I found respite in the Gold Museum, housing the largest collection of pre-Hispanic gold in the world, including the Muisca raft associated with the El Dorado legend.

In contrast, the northern part of the city, where I stayed (thanks to the generosity of a Colombian friend’s mother), is full of shiny high rises containing offices and residences.  It’s quite upscale, with luxury condos and an international assortment of bars and restaurants, but still full of traffic.   There’s plenty of construction of offices, international hotel chains, malls and retail business, as well as residential units creeping up the hillsides to the east.  On the most northern edge of the city are a series of private high schools, country clubs and well-endowed cemeteries.

But, with nearly 8 million people, Bogota has too many people and too much traffic for my tastes.  The drivers are amazingly assertive, driving on the lane dividers so that they easily switch into which ever lane is advancing faster, switching lanes whenever there are just a couple feet of space between cars, and nosing into intersections to take advantage of any momentary hesitations of oncoming cars.  I guess driving small cars allows for a reduced amount of personal auto space.  To its credit, the city is working hard to reduce the number of taxis, personal cars and soot-belching buses.  Bogota now has an extensive network – 186 miles worth – of bike paths on sidewalks or as dedicated lanes, which serve 300-400,000 riders per day.  And on Sundays, an additional 74 miles of roadway are closed to cars and open to cyclists, bringing 2 million people, rich and poor, out and onto their bikes every weekend.   In fact, Colombia’s biking culture and its amenities are a highly touted model for the rest of the world.

Since I didn’t have my bike with me and wanted to avoid the traffic, I got out of town as quickly as I could.  I visited nearby Chingaza National Park, consisting of montane forest and vast open paramo.  The natural area provides water for 80% of people in greater Bogota and also is famous for its lakes, frailejones – very tall daisies found only in high altitude areas of northern South America (see earlier photo), – endemic birds, and other fauna (including a friendly white-tailed deer with huge antlers that let me get to within 10 feet of him).   My guide and I were the only visitors to the park the day we were there, and I gather that outside of birders looking for the dusty gray Matorral Tapaculo (an endemic) and Nature Conservancy staff (establishing a conservation trust fund to assure a continuing supply of drinking water for Bogota), we may have been among the few visitors at all.

The Catedral de Sal

Just about every Colombian I spoke to before my trip told me that I had go to La Catedral de Sal - 30 miles north of Bogota in Zipaquirá – the country’s most highly visited tourist attraction.  I acquiesced, not quite knowing what to expect.  Turns out that it’s a creative and lucrative way to make use of a huge hole in the earth, while also promoting Catholicism and the history of Jesus.  Visitors descend 200 meters into a former salt mine (operating for hundreds of years) to be guided along a dimly-lit 1 km trail that passes the 14 stations of the cross and then into a huge cathedral.  Each stop has a large cross, carved out of salt and lit with colored lights.  The cavern is huge, somewhat damp and cool, and slightly sulfurous, but the religious statues, the salt waterfall, the rather hokey 3D film about the history of the salt mine (featuring a rather weird robot), and the souvenir vendors at the end of the tour bring one back to reality quickly enough.

Main square, Villa de Leyva

About 3 hours northeast of Bogota is Villa de Leyva, a very old (founded in 1572) colonial town maintained (and renovated) to preserve its original character.  It has one of the largest squares in all of Latin America, now treeless and paved with cobblestones.  All the nearby streets have also been re-paved with stone, which requires some concentration while walking around gazing at the many stores, museums, inns and restaurants geared towards an increasing number of tourists.  The majority of visitors I saw there on a Sunday afternoon are Colombian, but there is incipient attention being made to accommodate international visitors.  Aside from the quaint “downtown,” the Villa de Leyva outskirts offer paleontologic and archeologic attractions, including 110 million year old fossils and phallic rock monuments erected (catch the pun…) by the Muisca Indians for astronomic and agricultural purposes.  And, there are waterfalls, caves, a wildlife sanctuary and a couple of wineries to visit – on my next trip.

Stay tuned for Part Two: Colombia’s Caribbean Coast

Before hitting the Caribbean coast, I took the bus ($20 r/t) for four or five hours outside of Bogota to a charming old Colonial town called Villa de Leyva. This small village overwhelms the senses as you make your way over cobble stone streets with the smell of flowers permeating through the air and soft yellow lights reflecting off of white one-story houses with terra-cotta roofs and dark green doors.

It was really refreshing to be in Villa de Leyva after five days in bustling Bogota. The bus ride also gave me my first look at Colombia’s beautiful countryside with rolling hills, rich green valleys, as well as indigenous Colombians wearing coarsely woven ponchos and bollo hats.

In de Leyva, the primary form of entertainment is found at Plaza Mayor, a huge square (one of the largest in the Americas according to Lonely Planet) where everyone gathers at night with beer and rum bought from small kiosks along the perimeter while locals strum on guitars and music blares from nearby restaurants.

We arrived in the evening at El Solar Hostel and Campesina, where friends had stayed a few weeks earlier and raved about the property, which sits on an acre of land, has an area for nightly bonfires and is run by a lovely French woman named Martha who showers you in hugs and sings “mi amor” as your arrive. While she had not received our reservation and didn’t have any room, she served us coffee and called a nearby friend, Luis Miguel, who agreed to put us up for the night. His house was perfect with a courtyard, an adorable kitten, and enough space that I got my own room (first time since being in Colombian hostels, dorm-style).

Fate seemed to be on our side that day since we barely made the bus from Bogota and then we arrive with no place to stay only to get the equivalent of an airline upgrade from coach to business class. With a roof over our heads secured, it was off to Plaza Mayor to join the laid-back party scene and later head over to El Solar for a bonfire that went until sunrise.

I recommend a visit to de Leyva to anyone who comes to Colombia. Compared to Bogota where walking around at night is discouraged, de Leyva is very safe and you can walk around at all hours of the day and night. For those looking to get out into nature, the area has a couple of waterfalls within hiking distance as well as mountain biking and horse-back riding for the more adventurous.

On Sunday afternoon, we sat across from the bus station contemplating the ride back to Bogota… a few minutes later, we found ourselves back along those cobble stone streets to the Square where we found a hostel to stay another night.

One of the lessons that I’m picking up about long-term travel is you gotta know when to stay and when to go – and the tranquil Villa de Leyva was a great place to wind down and rest up for Colombia’s crazy Caribbean coast and Carnivale!

Villa de Leyva is just a few hour’s drive from Bogota but in essence, both are thousands of miles apart. The New York Times posted this article on Villa de Leyva in 2009, which led me to do a lengthy web exploration of Latin America; the fascination finally depositing me in Colombia. And boy was I grateful.

This small town sits in a valley, surrounded by green and blue mountains. The streets are all cobblestone. The houses all whitewashed. The doors and windows, all a deep shade of green. The lanes and courtyards embellished with geraniums and electric bougainvilleas. On the outskirts of the town, on a slightly higher altitude, surround olive groves. And in the middle is Plaza Mayor, a vast expanse of multitudes of cobblestones, undulating in uneven waves. The plaza is fenced in by rows of two-story high houses, all with sloping red-tiled roofs. This is one of the largest town squares in South America.

Villa de Leyva was established in the 1500s, and is perhaps still as tranquil as it was back then. Thanks to it being a National Monument, its beautiful colonial architecture is well preserved.

I woke up in the morning to the smell of fresh bread baking down the street. Ran to get my fill before the current batch sold out. Then ambled around through the day, in a lazy pace that matched the town’s. I imagine that things get more hectic here during festivals but in their absence, especially on a week day, this place is an oasis of calm, a perfect retreat. It felt akin to being caught in a time warp, where time moves so slowly that its passing is hardly noticeable.

The evenings are something else. Sunlight caresses the large plaza and its wavy ground with such golden beauty. As the sun sets, the perimeter of houses is lit up with bright yellow lights – the white walls changing to ochre. The music fills everything up, drowning the local chatter.

Here I am now, playing my Villa de Leyva slideshow, with Clair de Lune floating in the room, every time I want to go back there.

Without a doubt, Colombia in one the most underrated destinations in South America. If you don’t agree with me yet, you will! – Just a few more posts down the road. Stay tuned, folks.

Caldo de Costilla/Beef Rib Soup
2 pounds bone-in beef rib, preferrably and cut into 8 2-inch chunks
4 whole scallions plus more garnish
½ cup cilantro, leaves and stems, chopped, plus more for garnish
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
2-inch chunk of fresh ginger, peeled
2-3 teaspoons kosher or sea salt
1 ½ pounds potatoes, peeled and quartered
1 medium carrot, peeled and chopped into 1-inch chunks (optional)
1 chicken bullion cube (optional)

In a large heavy pot, combine first six ingredients with 8 cups of water. Bring to a high simmer over medium heat then cook until the beef is tender, about 30 minutes.

Add the potatoes, carrots and bullion cube in using and return to a simmer. Lower heat to medium-low and continue to cook until the potatoes are tender, about 15-20 minutes. Remove whole scallions and ginger.

To serve, the beef can be left on the bone or cut into pieces. Add a portion of beef and vegetables to each bowl then ladle in broth. Garnish with more chopped scallions and cilantro. Serve with arepas in the morning or white rices for dinner.

Serves 4.

A nice spot for dinner!

With high expectations and rumbling tummys, we set off into town last night for dinner at Zarina. Once again we were struck by the sheer beauty and romance of the town as the wandered the quiet cobblestone streets lit by traditional lanterns…with not so traditional energy saver light bulbs Unfortunately the price of wine continues to be prohibitive outside a tetra pack so we settled for the standard (and cheap!) Aguila beers and placed our order for a starter of marinated peppers and sun dried tomatoes with bread and a mixed platter main.

Full stomachs and gorgeous sights make for smiling faces

As the first wafts of garlic floated to our noses upon arrival of the starter we knew we weren’t going to be let down and the first mouthful more than confirmed it! The starter was absolutely divine and was soon followed by a stunning main of stuffed vine leaves, tabbouleh, hummus, falafel, plus three other things we couldn’t identify but drooled over and devoured nonetheless. All absolutely gorgeous and we lingered over the remainder of our beers discussing the possibility of binning the other restaurant we’d decided to eat at tomorrow night for more of the same!

After dinner we meandered our way across the plaza, soaking in the atmosphere and taking a few photos before ducking into a corner store to sample some Besos di novia, or “Girlfriend’s Kisses” – some sort of local sweet delicacy. Not having a clue what they were we ordered one each and were delighted when the very sweet owner gave them to us for free! We’re unsure if he was just exceptionally nice or whether the treats are so tasty he knows we’ll be back to clear him out once we’ve tried one. As we made our way back to the hostel we were in for some more lovely friendliness as Felipe, the owner of La Casa de Felipe where we stayed in Taganga, happened to be driving past (and happens to be staying at the same place we are, not taking a monumental evening drive…) and offered to give us a lift the rest of the way back. Given it’s all uphill we were only too happy to accept! Following some online research for somewhere to stay in Cuzco in a few days over some wine, we eventually decided to get a relatively early night as we had an early start for a day of trekking.

Hello Mrs Ostrich!

We were up at 7am, keen to get on the road early in an attempt to avoid the weather mishaps of yesterday. Following a very brief workout and an equally quick breakfast we were on our way across town to the start of the walk. We followed one of the main roads (by main I mean it has bitumen) out of town and were soon wandering through some lovely hilly scenery as the sun made a welcome appearance. Our first stop was an Ostrich Farm, about 6km outside town, which we reached after about an hour and a half. We weren’t too sure what to expect from an Ostrich Farm and were a bit shocked at the $9,500 pesos entry fee but figured we may as well take the opportunity to get up close and personal with some funky birds. Unfortunately on arrival (after paying) we discovered that we would be escorted on a tour the entire time rather than being able to wander freely which was a bit annoying but what can you do? After watching a fairly dull video introduction about the local area, the Ostrich Farm and ostriches themselves we wandered outside to meet the birds. We got to go into one of the enclosures where you can feed some of the females which is quite cool…we didn’t bother forking out for the feed but it was probably more fun watching everyone else having their hands pecked by the greedy buggers anyway.

The blokes are a bit cranky

The rest of the tour basically consisted of a quick look at the other seemingly random animals (a couple of ponies, a llama, some buffalo and goats) at the farm before we were escorted in the direction of the ubiquitous souvenir shop. We bailed at that point, ate a quick snack of bread, tuna, mayo and sweet corn before carrying on our walk towards El Fossil, a dinosaur fossil a few kilometres away. Given the last time either of us saw a fossil was back in school, we weren’t expecting too much but it was actually quite interesting and surprisingly impressive. The fossil is of a 120-million-year-old baby kronosaurus and is apparently the world’s most complete specimen of its kind. Some 7m of the original 12m creature remain and have been preserved in the exact location they were found. They’ve built a museum around it containing a bunch of, again surprisingly interesting, other fossils of fish, molluscs, wood and various other unidentified objects.

Mega fossil!

With our archaeological urges satisfied for another 20 years, we continued down the road in the general direction of Villa de Leyva hoping that the rain clouds that were starting to loom would hold off until we got back. The walk again was stunning with gorgeous, lush scenery and even more gorgeous colonial villas dotting the countryside. Either construction is incredibly cheap here or they make a hell of a lot of money off tourists because some of the villas are incredibly grand and almost uniformly beautiful.

Yep, it's definitely a piano house!

Two of the more interesting examples were the “Piano House” which, though pretty much exactly what it says on the tin (i.e. it’s shaped like an open grand piano), is actually much more attractive than you might imagine, and the “Clay House” – again pretty much exactly what it says i.e. a house made of clay (not much for imaginative names here clearly) – but in a very cool, melty Dali like style. We stopped off for another snack while there of more tuna and a fabulously juicy orange and while eating watched on in fascination as a group of ants manhandled (anthandled?) a scrap of bread a few centimetres long at speed towards their nest. Given they were individually around 2mm long this was a pretty fantastic display of organisation and strength and equally impressive was the way they tipped it straight into their nest! Intelligence may not have been equally apparent though as it got stuck half way in, but undeterred they started picking away at the edges to transport it piecemeal via another entrance. Persistent little buggers!

Dali would be proud

With the crazy houses out of the way it was a short remaining walk back into town where we stopped off out our now favourite coffee shop for some much needed rest, even more needed strong cappuccinos and a piece of less needed but definitely desired cake. Today’s choice was Ponque Vino, an incredibly dense and moist sponge coated in wine soaked prunes that was absolutely delicious. After lingering over some more conversation and patting the rather mournful looking labrador that wandered into the cafe periodically for a while, we headed back to the hostel to pack and prepare for our criminally early departure (5am bus!!!!) to Bogota tomorrow. Despite the temptation to head back to the Lebanese restaurant for dinner we’ve decided to try some more local cuisine and will be dining at the joint the Lonely Planet dubs “the place to take your sweetie” called Antique – here’s hoping it can come close to the standards of last night!

While we were expecting the journey to take 5 hours at the most (the guidebook and alternate sources advertised it as a 4-hour journey), we can’t really say we’d been surprised when we were still firmly seated (or squished, rather) on the bus at 16.00, following yet another hair-raising journey full of near-collisions, extremely dodgy use of the gearbox and more than questionable lack of use of the brakes (I’m guessing brake pads are more expensive than Saffron in Colombia). Starting to panic slightly given that the last bus to Villa de Leyva leaves Tunja at 18.00, I was relieved when we finally pulled into the Bus Terminal at 16.40 (making it a whopping 6.30 hour journey, which can be a ridiculously long time to be wedged into a mini-bus older than Bren and I together).

We swiftly managed to organise onward travel from Tunja, however (in fact so swiftly we hardly had time to go to the toilet), and reached Villa de Leyva just before 18.00. As was to be expected, the weather chose the exact moment we got off the bus to turn from not-so-great to pretty-spectacularly-bad and by the time we arrived in the Renacer Guesthouse, it was coming down in bucket-loads. Given that we were planning on camping in the garden (yup, we’re cheap!), “oops” was the word we probably heard most from the staff on our arrival. As it didn’t look like the rain would stop any time in this century, we’ve enquired about a private room and while none of the “usual” rooms was available, they did find a small room with a slightly-bigger-than-single size bed – I immediately fell in love with it (and not only because at COP 25,000.00 it’s only marginally more expensive than the camping), seeming to confuse the lovely receptionist even further (she seemed convinced that it was pretty tiny, but then I guess she never rented in London ).

After scoping out the hostel (which is very nice and the gardens would be lovely in the sun!), we headed down to town to find some grub and check out what exactly makes Villa de Leyva “unmissable” (according to the Lonely Planet). Its appeal is definitely not hard to see, as the whole colonial town with its whitewashed houses is laid out in (ankle-breaking) cobblestones and specked with little shops, cafes and restaurants. We spent a good hour strolling the town and its adorably cute courtyard restaurants trying to find a nice-looking pizza and finally settled on a little place overlooking the Plaza de Mayor, which, according to the LP, is the biggest Plaza in South America and is a bizarre sight – largely because, at 120 x 120 metres and with only one water feature in the middle, it’s probably the emptiest space I’ve ever seen in any city!

Once we’ve devoured our gorgeous pizza, we had another quick stroll through the gorgeously (and very romantically, I might add) lit-up town centre until the chance of more rain made us head off back to our hostel (at 1.5 km from the town centre, not a mean walk in the rain). As usual the evening was spent drinking wine (this time the real stuff out of a glass bottle, with distinguished grape variety and all!) and playing backgammon.

We started this morning early and made the most of the garden by doing some exercise since we’ve let ourselves go a bit over the past 8 weeks or so. After a (mercifully hot) shower and a quick breakfast of cereal and (free – and strong! ) coffee we wandered back into town to do some basic shopping (more gorgeous fruit, wine and water, as the water here is unfortunately not drinkable) – looking forward to some nice coffee, we had to quickly find out that Villa de Leyva seems to get up late, as none of the Cafes opened until 10.00 a.m. and in many cases even later than that! True caffeine addicts that we are, we simply passed the time by wandering around the absolutely gorgeous town centre before heading to “La Galleta”, which not only sported some pretty amazing-looking pastry but also the probably nicest cappuccino we’ve had in South America (the secret being that there was actually some coffee to go with your milk).

That's one big mother of a Plaza!

Being the way we are, we soon lost ourselves in conversation (“films and actors – the good, the bad and the downright atrocious” having been today’s topic of choice) and by the time we left around midday, the clouds had started to draw back in from the mountains. The initial plan was to spend the afternoon walking around the countryside surrounding Villa de Leyva, and while we did set off after a quick lunch of more beautiful pineapple, we soon got caught out in more heavy rain and, after 1km, decided to head back to the hostel. As the rain never really ceased enough for us to head back out, we spent the first part of the afternoon researching hostels for our next destinations and quietly wondering what exactly happened to the the “year-round dry climate” that, according to the LP, draws masses of bogotanos to Villa de Leyva (maybe it never rains on weekends?).

Driven by hunger, we descended back into town in the late afternoon to pick up some tuna, mayonnaise and bread for tomorrow’s walking tour (although a snorkel and fins may well have been a better choice) and stopped off at “La Galleta” once more for a dose of coffee and a delightful Genovesa de Maracuya (that’s sponge with a lot of maracuya in and around it). Later on this evening we’ll then be off to “Zarina”, a Lebanese place which, once again according to the LP, has been crowned the “best eatery in town” by locals. Mmmhh, Falafel!

Road Trip Destination, Villa de Leyva, 3 hours outside Bogotá (if there is no traffic)!

I recently started my second year in Colombia and I am beginning to see the typical signs of settling into a new home. I ordered a year subscription to the local newspaper El Tiempo and bought a city bike from my local cyclovia mechanic. I now have Colombian friends who invite me on weekend excursions to nearby pueblos. I can officially say, I live here.

This weekend, we chose Villa de Leyva, a colonial village frozen in time three hours outside of Bogotá. Although, in true road trip form, we took eight hours to get there. It is famous for its cobblestone roads and white washed buildings and seemed like the perfect destination for five vagabonds in no rush.

The view from the back seat, heading towards Guatavita.

Our hosts had endless ideas of places we could stop along the way: the famous fossil museum (one thumb up), a french organic bakery where we saw a famous a local TV novella star with his motorcycle gang (one thumb up), and the Laguna Guatavita which you can see at the top of this pyramidesque mountain through the windshield (two thumbs up)! This is a sacred site for the indigenous Muisca community. We climbed behind a young Muisca to see a 50 meter lake which is supposedly filled with gold. A former Muisca king used to throw gold items into the lake as offerings to the gods and most of the pieces have been retrieved and can be found in the stunning collection in Bogotá’s gold museum.

Are we really supposed to believe someone found this in the lake?

In addition to unplanned tourist excursions, or three-hour car ride became eight as we stopped to eat roadside food. In Colombia, there are a few staple road trip foods–the beloved mazorca pictured above, the corn-based arepa, and fresh fruit pops. These all seem a lot healthier that what we usually get in the states. When my family stops to eat en route from Chicago to Neebish Island, my mom always wants to stop at A & W root beer drive-ins for floats in Michigan, and my brother and I are happy with gas stations where we get Nestle Crunch and ice cream sandwiches.

This is an election rally for the mayor of a nearby pueblo

In addition to the mythical indigenous lake and the corn on the cob, we were also pleasantly distracted by a local mayoral election rally in this unnamed pueblo. Cars weren’t moving, horses filled the road, and the campesinos were out in numbers wearing the t-shirts of their favored candidates. This was totally fine by me as I was getting a much-needed tutorial in Colombian music. We listened to Reggaton, Cumbia, Bachata and Salsa, but my tutorial focused on Vallanato. Vallanato is the country western of latin music. You can tell your listening to it if the main instrument is an accordion. I have heard this Vallanato classic more than any other song during my first year in Colombia. It is a good intro if you aren’t familiar with the genre.

Pre-Taboo dinner with a view!

Finally, no road trip is complete without games. Taboo was the hit of our weekend. We sat at this restaurant, dying of laughter, while other guests tried to eat dinner. We had to change all the rules to accommodate the Spanish speakers, we gave up buzzing, didn’t use the timer and just let one another pass if you didn’t know what how to describe a “stool pigeon, ape, or mongrel.”

At least the journey up to Colombia was pretty interesting. By now my Spanish has gotten good enough where I can hold actual conversations with people and bring up all sorts of fascinating bits of information to impress and wow the locals (at least I think so). So on this bus ride north from Quito I met a nice guy named Edwin who was a young lawyer from the town of Pasto, Colombia. Well that’s where we were hoping to get to by the end of our bus rides for the day, lucky us! The border crossing from Ecuador to Colombia is a little trickier than most: it involves one bus to the bus stop 20 km short of the border, a cab ride to the border, a walk across the border, cab for about 10 km to the Colombian bus stop, and after that two more buses to the town of Pasto. My new friend Edwin told me he was in Quito for a marathon, which he won. Sure enough, when we made our first transportation switch of the day, along with his backpack he lugs along a giant lottery-winner type check for $500. It was hilarious. He stayed with us through each transportation change, and was another example of the wonderful people you meet while traveling.

The fantastic Ecuador-Colombia border crossing

The next day we got ready for a short flight from Pasto to Colombia’s captial- Bogota. We were cautioned to fly this stretch because kidnappings from FARC rebels still can happen through this area, and we thought it would be better to exercise caution. After all, our friend Cody from Orlando was arriving the next day and we didn’t want to be absent for his arrival! The flight from the Pasto airport was another memorable one. Nestled in the northern extent of the Andes mountains, this would be one of our last opportunities to enjoy the low-hanging clouds that drifted between the valleys. The clouds surrounded the airport and made you feel like you were really in the middle of nowhere, and all of a sudden an airport appeared out of nowhere.

Our plane getting ready for our flight to Bogota

We arrived in Bogota and got ready to see our friend Cody. This was his first time travelling abroad and he was really excited to see us and experience some new things. The first thing we did was take a trip to Monserrate, a mountain in Bogota that has a Catholic church at the top. The cable car whisked us to the top and the views of the city were amazing.

The cable car to the top of Monserrate

Hanging out with Cody - only our second visitor of the entire trip!

The view of Bogota from Monserrate

Our next stop in Bogota was to check out the Museo de Oro - the Gold Museum. We heard from many people who have visited Bogota before us that we had to see it. If you happen to like gold, this is the place to visit. Everywhere you looked was gold – sculptures, jewelry, plates, clothing- you name it, they had it.

Unfortunately, Bogota has a big problem: the weather. Due to their elevation and proximity to the Equator, it is cool and rainy almost year round. So we decided to take a trip out to a little place outside the city that many locals visit for vacation, a town called Villa de Leyva. This charming place had a lot of nice shopping for Dana – the perfect excuse for Cody and I to go out and do some offroading through the hillsides and backcountry. As you can see from the pictures… we got a bit muddy.

The "before" picture

The "during" picture

The "after" picture

Unfortunately, the weather continued to not cooperate and much of the weekend in Villa de Leyva was spent dodging rainstorms. At least a few of the bars were open in town! We met a really nice family who spent time between Florida and Colombia who recommended a lot of places to visit. They were another shining example of all the wonderful people you can meet while travelling.

The main plaza of Villa de Leyva

Our photo with the Nieto family - very nice people!

(it’s better than reading it in your inbox).

This post covers May 3rd – May 10th

From Bogota it was an easy 2.5 hour bus ride to a small colonial town called Villa de Leyva.  Silvia had planned to travel this leg of the trip with me but she got tied up with things in Bogota so made plans to meet me in San Gil.  So I arrived in Villa de Leyva solo just after dark and walked around the quiet little town till I found a little guesthouse to stay in.  I only spent one day and two nights in Vila de Leyva and the one day I was there the weather was not so nice so I don’t think I got the full experience but it was a nice time walking through the gigantic central plaza and down the small cobblestone streets past whitewashed colonial buildings.  From there it was 5 hours between two busses get to San Gil, a small city of about 50,000 in the mountains of Santander, a large province in Northeastern Colombia.

In San Gil I had contacted a couchsurfer who lived with her mom and roommate and were willing to host me and Silvia.  Basically I struck couchsurfing gold with Eliana who turned out to be an amazing host and an inspirational person.  We stayed up late talking about her plans to unite the San Gil community to embrace sustainable tourism, and literature, and poetry (she had won a scholarship to a poetry program in Austria).

So after months of trying to make it happen Silvia finally joined me on some of my Colombian travels!  She arrived early the next morning and we jumped into Eliana’s jeep along with her mother Luz Marina and drove past mudslides, waterfalls, and breathtaking views of a huge gaping valley until we found ourselves at Dona Patricia’s in the heart of Barichara.  Dona Patricia is an artist of the highest degree, her medium…cigars.  She’s a friend of Eliana’s and invited us into her house which doubles as a factory, restaurant, and cigar store.  We found her larger than life, propped in a chair with a cigarette in one hand and a handful of tobacco leaves in the other.  She welcomed us in and we had a nice chat over a cup of coffee about how to select the right leaves to make the best cigars.

Dona Patricia on the left, Eliana's mom Luz Marina on the right.

A grasshopper we found in Dona Patricia's garden

Near Barichara on our way to the top of a 400ft. (120 meter) waterfall

Standing above the waterfall

Barichara

 Barichara

Barichara

The next day Elaina was busy but recommended a hike to us.  We returned to Barichara by bus, spent some more time walking around the little town and then set off for a 3 hour hike to a tiny town called Cabrera that is WAY off the beaten path.  I had heard that if you looked hard, you could find fossils in the valley we were hiking through.  So when halfway through the hike we stopped next to a small river for lunch I started picking up rocks and looking for fossils and within the first two minutes had already found a rock with the slightest hint of some sort of fossilized shell in it and that was it…I officially had fossil

Me trying to smash open rocks on the the trail looking for fossils

fever.  My obsession for finding a clearly distinguishable fossil took over me like a crack addiction and while Silvia joined me in my frantic search she maintained a better grip on reality and a suspicious eye on me as if wondering when she would have to stage a intervention.  And so for the rest of the hike I walked with eyes glued to the ground picking up any rock that “seemed promising” and if I deemed it necessary, smashing these rocks against others to see what was inside.  Silvia thought I had lost my mind and I had.  I managed to pull myself away from my fossil hunt a couple of times to admire the amazing descent into Cabrera.  The last hour of the hike was along an ancient stone trail partially built by Indians and finished by the Spanish.  It was speckled with tiny waterfalls and views of the valley below and yes…fossils!

Silvia and me on the trail

Eureka!!!

A view of the town of Cabrera from the trail we hiked in on.

We arrived in Cabrera just in time to catch the last bus back to San Gil but decided to stick around and spend the night there.  Cabrera has a population of just a few hundred people and has pretty much zero tourism and of the few dozen tourists who make it there every year I think it’s safe to say almost none stay the night.  But we asked if there was a guesthouse in town and were pointed to a colorful unadorned door on a cobblestone street next to the church.  There was a woman there who rented out rooms and she welcomed us in with an almost excessive kindness and cordiality and showed us to a nice room with a bathroom and three beds that she let out to us at the rate of 15,000 pesos for both of us (about 8 dollars).  We cleaned up a bit and went out to the small plaza as the sun was setting and instantly made friends with a half dozen local kids who were interested in our apparent strangeness.

They served meals in the back of the small general store on the plaza and over dinner we got to chatting with a local military policeman in full uniform who was stationed in Cabrera.  He told us about a nearby waterfall and since he had the next day off he offered to take us there In the morning.  I slept well that night and dreamt of fossils and waterfalls.

We were up early at 6am and set off looking for our new friend and soon enough the three of us were trekking down a back road on our way to the waterfalls.  The policeman kept us entertained with story after story, probably none of them true, of all the major drug lords of Colombia that he had helped put behind bars with his fearless attitude and quick thinking.  After the first few I lost interest and my fiendish eyes fell to the ground where I kept up my search for fossils.  By the time the waterfalls were in sight it was too late to get up close to them because we had to catch the next bus back to San Gil but they were impressive even from a distance…and we later found out they were the same waterfalls that we had seen from the top the day before!  And so, with a backpack full of rocks we headed back to San Gil, grabbed lunch and jumped on the next bus to Parque Nacional Chicamocha, the “Grand Canyon” of South America

So this is the same watefall that I took the picture of from the top the day before

We made the big mistake of paying to enter the “Parque Nacional” to see the canyon instead of just seeing it from the road.  It was like “Wally’s World National Park”, the cheesy theme park atmosphere complete with rides did a good job of cheapening the actual experience of seeing some amazing natural wonder of the world.  But it was still cool  and definitely worth the trip.

Chicamocha

The next day was the big event, El Primer Encuentro Internacional Caminantes SaiaVita. (The First Annual International Meeting of SaiaVita Hikers).  This was a community event that Eliana helped plan to get locals out onto the nearby trails to see the natural beauty

Hikers at our final destination

that San Gil has to offer and to promote sustainable tourism throughout the region.  They had a great turnout of a hundred people or so, young and old who did the 3 hour hike from San Gil, through the mountains, and ending at a nice river.  I was the “international” part of the the event so lots of people wanted to talk to me about where I came from and what I was doing there in San Gil and it was great to connect with so many locals out on the trail.

After the hike we had to jump on our bus back to Bogota but before we did we picked up some of the local culinary delicacies to try out.  They are called Hormigas Culonas or “Big Assed Ants”.  They are the queen ants of a local leaf cutter species.  They are cooked in a hot pan with little or no oil and eaten salted.  I thought they tasted like eating a pumpkin or sunflower seed with the shell on.  Not bad!  So we sat in our bus waiting to pull out of the station chomping on ants.  The bus ride turned out to be one of the worst I have been on…we were the back two seats right next to a stinky toilet and the bus was so bumpy that I thought my head was going to hit the ceiling, not to mention that it was supposed to take 5 hours and took 8 hours.  But we had some good laughs and all in all it was a fun bus ride. And so I was back in Bogota, the next day I would find myself on the Amazon River, and little did I know that ne next time I was in Bogota I would be with my hospitalized brother!

More on all that later.  To see more pictures from my time with Silvia in Santander, CLICK HERE. 

News update:  Scott Claassen, recent graduate of Yale Divinity School, part time rambler of the world, full time philosopher, and songwriter extraordinaire has embarked on a mystic and epic journey across the United States on bicycle to promote awareness of climate change.  Scott and I have conquered mountains together, explored continents, and emptied more than a few bottles of wine together in celebration of life.  Check out his blog…he started a few weeks ago in Los Angeles, California  and was last seen peddling past Mt. Shasta in Oregon.  www.carbonsabbath.org

Seguimos conociendo Colombia y esta vez nos fuimos a la región de Boyaca a conocer Villa de Leyva, un pueblito súper lindo, que me sorprendió lo limpio que es, ademas del orden y la homogeneidad de sus casas: todas pintadas de blanco con puertas verdes y tejas rojizas.
Un lugar especial que te invita a conocerlo.

Carolina is originally from Duitama, in the Boyacá department.
She is currently studying abroad in London.

Carolina es originario de Duitama, en el departamento de Boyacá.
Actualmente está estudiando en el extranjero en Londres.

LCO: Where is home to you? If not the place where you grew up why did you leave? Dónde está tu hogar? Si no es un lugar, dónde creciste o viveste?
CMP: Home is where you belong. It could be many places depending about different situation in your life. Now my home is London because I’m studying and living here; during my university, Bogotá was my home. But my true home is where my Mum is, where I grew up in Duitama – Boyacá – Colombia.
Casa es el lugar donde perteneces, pero este varía dependiendo de situaciones en la vida, (now my home is Londres, porque estudio y vivo ahi). Pero my gran casa es donde esta mi mamá, donde yo crecí en Duitama (Boy) Colombia

LCO: How do you earn a living? Cómo te ganas la vida?
CMP: As a foreigner, I’m only allowed to work 20 hours per week so I have a part time job. I also have another job babysitting for pocket money. With those I’m earning enough money to survive!
Siendo estudiante internacional, tengo la oportunidad de trabajar 20 horas a la semana, pero también trabajo como niñera lo me da dinero extra. Con estos trabajos gano lo suficiente para sobrevivir.

LCO: In three sentences, what does Colombia mean to you? En tres oraciones, qué significa Colombia para ti?
CMP: Colombia is a huge country with a variety of food and tropical fruits. It has different levels of temperature along the country and a big natural environment. COLOMBIA TE QUIERO!! XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Colombia es un gran país con una variedad de comida y frutas tropicales. Tiene todas las temperaturas y una inmensa riqueza natural. Es un país donde todo esta por hacer y dónde hay que invertir para transformar el futuro de los que estan y los que vienen.

LCO: Travelers are visiting Colombia more often now. What advice do you have for them? Actualmente hay un incremento de turistas a Colombia. Qué les recomienda?
CMP: Always have a couple of contacts there like telephone numbers, address… Get vaccinated, get good travel insurance. Distribute your money in different parts of your luggage or clothes just in case if some one steals something. Get maps, never travel alone, usually people are very friendly and helpful, but sometimes people beg for money so if you need help you should let them know if they give you directions you will give them a little tip or something. There are so many things that are very cheap, like clothes, cigarettes, beer, food, so try, try and try especially all traditional dishes like ajiaco, mondongo, arepas, juices… Do not forget sun protection and insect repellent.  Enjoy!
Siempre tenga al alcance teléfonos y direciones de contactos en Colombia. Vacunarse y compra un buen seguro de viajes es indispensable.  Cuando viaje distribuye el dinero en diferentes partes del equipaje e incluso en la ropa, esto es una precausion solo si alguien llega a robarte. Nunca viajes sola, compra mapas y guias turisticas, estan disponibles en alcaldías, aeropuertos y librerías. La gente siempre es amigable con los extranjeros, algunos te pedirán dinero entonces puedes negociar si necesitas ayuda por ejemplo llegar aun lugar; puedes responder: “Te doy direo si me indica como llegar a…” Muchas cosas son muy baratas, ropa, cigarrillos, cerveza, comida asi que arriesgate y prueba toda clase de comida especialmente la comida típica: ajiaco, mondongo, jugos. No olvide comprar protector solar y repelente de insectos.

LCO: What’s your favorite type of Colombian meal? Cuál es su comida colombiana favorita?
CMP: I’m from the centre of the country and one of the best dishes there is ajiaco, also agua de panela and arepa boyacense are the best! But all the areas in Colombia have different traditional food and I really like the Caribbean food – arepa e huevo for breakfast y langostinos con patacones y suero costeño for lunch. Bandeja paisa at the coffee area, cuy at the south and also helado de paila… I could keep talking more about colombian gastronomy!
Yo soy del centro del país y para mi uno de los mejores platos típicos es el ajiaco, no puedo olvidar el agua de panela y las arepas boyacenses que son las mejores! Pero cada una de las regiones en Colombia tiene platos tipicos me encanta la comida costeña Arepa de huevo al desayuno, langostinos con patacones y suero costeño al almuerzo hummmm. Bandeja paisa en la zona cafetera, cuy al sur del país sin olvidar el helado de paila… yo podría decir mucho mas sobre la gastronomia Colombiana.

LCO: If you were to take a weekend trip to somewhere in Colombia, where would you go? Why? Si tuvieras un viaje de fin de semana en Colombia a dónde irías y por qué?
CMP: Weekend trip to Villa de Leyva in Boyacá, my county. It is a colonial town very tranquil just to relax, walk, ride horses and visit the areas like the dinosaur musuem and towns around. The weather is cold, perfect for a couple plan or friends if you want to go camping. It is just a few hours north of the capital city Bogotá.
Iria a Villa de Leyva en Boyacá, mi departament, esta a un par de horas hacia el norte desde Bogotá. Es un pueblito pacífico para relajarse, caminar, montar a caballo, visitar lugares al rededor como el museo del dinosaurio o pueblos cernacos. Es el plan perfecto en pareja o con amigos si quieres acampar.

LCO: What is your favorite way to spend your free time? Qué haces en tu tiempo libre?
CMP: I am a student so I’m spending my time researching for my assignments, reading the news on the internet and doing pilates and yoga.
Busco información relacionada con lo que estoy estudiando, leo las noticias generalmente en internet y hago algo de ejercicio como pilates y yoga.

LCO: What is your earliest memory? Cuál es su recuerdo?
CMP: About Colombia, merengón de Feijoa. About England, people are friendly and the transport system in London.
Recuerdo de Colombia, merengón de Feijoa. De Inglaterra, la amabilidad de su gente.

LCO: What does success mean to you? Qué es ser exitoso?
CMP: Doing everything that you really enjoy and feel happy doing. This way you you will have satisfaction in everything you do.
Es hacer lo que uno realmente disfruta hacer, la compensación es más satisfactoria en todos los sentidos.

LCO: If you could give the rest of the world a message about your country, what would you say? Si pudiera dar un mensaje al resto del mundo sobre su país, qué diria?
CMP: Just go there and travel around the country.
Colombia, donde todo esta por hacer, visitelo.

Thanks Carolina!
Gracias Carolina!

For more interviews with Colombians, click here.
Para más entrevistas con los colombianos, haga clic aquí.

Or so we planned.

Of course, the temptations of further adventure got the better of us, and after learning of a short that cut that followed the Rio Iguaque, we embarked on what was to become one of the finest dirt road and singletrack descents I’ve ridden for some time. And one of the most punishing hike and bikes out the other side…

The beautiful, quiet village of Sotaquira, perched on top of a hill, felt a world away from the busy dual carriageway between Duitama and Tunja.

The main square, with obligatory, picture-perfect whitewash church.

Sunshine at last! Morning view from our campspot just beyond the village, perched on a lip of grassland and graced with a soundtrack of deafening cumbia from a nearby, makeshift cowboy bar.

Some well used milk churns awaiting collection. We spotted these all along the backroads in Boyaca; they doubled up as seats for locals awaiting their collection.

This part of Colombia is riddled with blissfully quiet backroads. And, for once, our chosen route was relatively flat.

These are the kind of journeys I love. Traffic was scarce enough for sublimely mellow riding, broken only by the odd motorbike or jeep that we flagged down to check directions.

More fresh milk awaiting collection. Two women presided over this this neat, Russian Doll-style set of canteens. As they sat and chatted in the sun, it seemed a far cry from the massive dairy farms in Europe.

Locals sporting the latest in poncho fashion.

Ribbons of dirt draped over the hills, set to dramatic mountains.

The boys: Arnaud and Alonso.

Poncho power. A crowd had gathered to cheer these men on, and with them came a real feeling of community.

Then, it was time to say good by to our Colombian amigo. From here, Alonso was following the main road back to San Gil, to make it home for work the next day. I'll miss his company.

The quickest option would have been to ride down the main highway to Arcabuco, before following a backroad straight to Villa de Leyva. But it was hard to turn down the distant dirt track that wended over the hills to the other side of the valley...

Indeed, the views were worth the extra climb, set off magnificently by clouds that swirled above us and deep shadows that blotched the land.

We stopped to chat to this group waiting for a bus at an unmarked junction. The sun was out and everyone was smiling. It was hard to imagine how riding in Colombia could get much better.

The dirt track rolled on, skirting neatly around the mountains.

It was the second junction that was to prove to be our downfall. Common sense dictated that we should press on and enjoy a relaxed afternoon in Villa de Leyva. But two passers by seemed relatively convinced there was a rideable shortcut that would lead us right into town. 'I've walked it in two hours, right to the main square,' bragged one. Apparently a bridge had been damaged by the flooding. But was it rideable? Panniers and trailer were scrutinized and an affirmative verdict was reached. We told there would be a short climb up which we might have to push, but no more than that.

It started easy enough...

We flew down this descent. Incredible riding.

That just went on and on and on...

Prime camping potential.

It was hard not to linger...

Then the trail narrowed down to some sweet singletrack.

Before being engulfed by a swollen river.

A little swampy in places.

Ah ha. This would be the broken bridge.

A balancing act. Still, nothing we couldn't handle.

Then, crunch time. We encountered this steep and loose stone staircase. It went up...

And up... Conditions worsened, and by this time the heavens had opened, thunder was clapping loudly all around, and our path had become a raging torrent of murky water. It was so steep and slippery we had to shuttle the bikes, trailer and gear separately, rather than pushing them up in one herculean go.

Our cut through across the range. The pin shows the position of the 'bridge'.

Thankfully, we came across a mountain refuge with this shelter, a perfect spot to dry out and spend the night. It wasn't quite like the R&R we'd imagined in Villa de Leyva, but we were gratefully to have a makeshift home.

The next morning we arose early, ready to tackle the descent, It went down...

And down. Would have been fun without panniers and a trailer...

Finally, our 'bike-able' trail, which really was no more than a rough footpath, emerged out of the steep-sided gorge back onto a jeep track. Relief...

Villa de Leyva at last.

First things first. In Colombia, most restaurants will serve up a cheap and filling Comida Corriente. This compromises of the following: 1/thick and warming soup.

2/hearty platter of food - in this case eggs, rice, vegetables and plantanes.

3/jug of natural juice, such as panela - sugar cane. All this set us back 5300 pesos, or about three dollars, and left our bellies content for the rest of the day.

Incidentally, the panela comes in roughly hewn blocks like these.

While we're on the subject of food, other interesting observations and tastings included these sweet gelatine treats, made from 'pata de rez' - cow's feet, as far as I could understand.

Then it was time to explore the backstreets.

Potter around with the locals.

Check out the old Land Rover Santanas that bounced over the cobbles.

And catch the approach of a storm from Villa de Leyva's impressive square.

The town was founded in 1572 and is situated at 2100m high.

Its Plaza Mayor is apparently the biggest cobbled square in Latin America.

Villa de Leyva is also steeped in revolutionary history. Here's Antonia Ricaurte, a hero of the Colombia's War of Independence. Known as El Chispero, the Spark Lighter, he went on to blow himself up to help win the battle of San Mateo, in what is now Venezuela.

More food. I'm on a health drive at the moment, and managed to procure some organic oatmeal, nuts, raisins, almonds, maki and toasted quinoa. A great start to the day.

And finally, the trip to the local bike shop for a nose around and new inner tubes.

]]> http://whoispathaley.wordpress.com/2011/05/29/bucaramanga-colombia/ Mon, 30 May 2011 02:40:16 +0000 Pat Haley http://whoispathaley.wordpress.com/2011/05/29/bucaramanga-colombia/
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In case you were wondering, yes I am still alive and kicking. Last time I updated I was just about to leave Bogotá for Villa de Leyva. Now that was almost a week ago and a lot has happened in the past seven days, let me bring you up to the present.

I took a bus out of Bogotá to a town called Guatavita which is famous for a beautiful crater like lake where the ancient indigenous people used to sacrifice gold into. The lake is 7 km up the mountain so I asked the bus driver to let me off at the mountain road rather than take me all the way to Guatavita. I began walking uphill through some pretty stunning scenery. The west Andes were off in the distance and the countryside was covered with green pastures, potato and carrot farms. Despite it’s beauty, this was a serious uphill hike. However I needed this hike, Bogotá was starting to get to me. When you’re not from a big city all the noises start to mess with your head after a while.

During my first Colombian hitchhiking experience I found that it is difficult for trucks to get moving again if they stop on an uphill climb. Eventually after several kilometers of thumbing and walking a man Jo picked me up and took me up the road about a kilometer before turning off onto another road. I continued walking and almost made it to the top when a woman beckoned me over to her house. She invited me in and gave me this tasty cheese desert dish but informed me that the lake is closed on Mondays. Of course it’s closed on Mondays, because of all the days I wanted to climb up there this was the day. That’s the way my luck works. Then she charged me $5000 pesos (about $2.50 USD) for the dessert which is a huge ripoff considering you can get a full meal for less than that. There were three girls at her house who had also made the same mistake of coming on Monday. I didn’t feel so bad when the lady charged them the same price because usually things are more expensive for me because I’m American. She insisted that I camp in her front yard for the night and visit “the most beautiful lake in the world” tomorrow. I told her no thanks because if the dessert was $5000 I didn’t want to know how much it would cost to sleep in her front yard.

The girls and I decided we had already come all the way up here and we wanted to see if the lake really was closed. We walked the extra kilometer only to find two very stiff private security guards who even the girls were unable to charm into letting us see the lake. So without a choice, we began the long decent down the mountain. The oldest girl, Luz, used to teach Spanish in Pennsylvania taught me some incredibly useful Spanish terms that  have proven very useful in the past week.

“Cool”

“Go away”

“%&$? off”

and “What a ripoff!”

We were a couple of kilometers from the bottom when a cow truck offered to take us to the nearest town. We rode in the back as he sped down the winding roads. The drive was pretty fun but I couldn’t sit down or put my pack down without getting poop on it. It was already dusk and the truck passed all the camping spots I had scouted out on the way up. We arrived in the nearest city and I was pressed for time to make camp before it got too dark. Then I broke my number one rule on my first day of hitchhiking in Colombia, never walk around the city alone at night. Darkness fell and it was difficult for me find a place. Walking around at night with no sense of direction and with a gigantic backpack isn’t safe for anyone anywhere. This is especially true for a gringo in Latin America. I found the highway after walking around aimlessly for a while and started walking north towards Tunja. I eventually passed a house where the owners were sitting outside on their porch and asked them if I could camp next to their house. They told me no and that there was a hotel 1 km up the road. I told them thanks but if I wanted to stay in a hotel I wouldn’t have asked them to camp next to their house. I walked about 20 minutes before finding a clearing under a tree that rose above the highway and made camp for the night. I thought that it was strange that I never actually felt scared, in fact I was really excited. First day on the road and I was already running into unexpected events. This is the kind of stuff I live for.

Rule #1) Never take a ride at dusk, I should already have a camping spot picked out.

The next morning I awoke after a much-needed snooze and walked up the road and found a great place to put my pack down and start thumbing for a ride. Cars could see me from half a mile away and they had a huge shoulder to pull over on. I have always heard that hitchhiking in Colombia is hard and that I should expect long waits. Well after about 15 minutes of thumbing a jolly man named Victor pulled over in his Suzuki Samurai and I was on my way to Tunja. We spoke for a couple of hours as we passed through the central Andes range. At that height they appeared to be large rolling hills with green pastures dotted with Spanish villas however in reality their immense size would have taken several days to climb. As we approached Tunja the soil turned red and the green color began to fade slightly. Tunja itself was not a pretty sight. The red earth clashed with the red roofs and red bricks giving an ominous and artificial appearance. I parted was with Victor and began walking into the city towards the main road to Villa de Leyva. I walked uphill through the downtown area for some time before finding a place to rest in front of a church. I saw three very sketchy guys about my age or younger that gave a me a very bad feeling so I held my bags tight. I watched them walk in front of the church, then one of them pointed at a local girl and another one went and ripped off the necklace she was wearing, hurting her in the process, before running off behind the church. Time to get the hell out of Tunja.

I began walking down the road and noticed that this place is considerably warmer than what I was used to. Eventually a bus pulled over and agreed to take me the hour drive to Villa de Leyva for $5000 pesos (the same price as that stupid cheese dessert). On the drive down the valley I could see a muddy river raging below as well as the remains of massive landslides. I’ve come to learn that the roads in Colombia are very dependable though there are a lot of potholes which require you to go much slower. I arrived in the colonial town of Villa de Leyva with its cobblestone streets and tall trees with long wispy strands of moss which brush the ground in the wind. During my last day in Bogotá I met once again with my friend Ana Maria Salazar who managed to convince her family to let me stay in their house here so I followed the map she drew for me and found it within 10 minutes of arriving. Their house is one of the oldest houses in Villa de Leyva and borders the main plaza. I met the maid, Fabiola, and her family who lives there and spent the day exploring the town and people watching. I found myself sitting down a lot more than usual and noticed how much my body ached. I returned to casa de Salazar to rest. Lucky I did because just then the sky began to pour. I spent the rest of the day speaking with Fabiola and her two children teaching them how to say random words in English, all of which they found absolutely hilarious. As night fell Catalina, who is five, and I attempted to catch fireflies in a jar in the back yard. Apparently Colombian fire flies are much faster than their American counter parts. Casa de Salazar, as I call it, is incredibly cool. The living room is completely open and numerous bedrooms line it. That night I slept with my doors wide open as rain fell into the living room and lulled me to sleep.

Observation #1) Everyone in Colombia has a maid, even the maids.

Observation #2) I’m suspicious of people with mohawks and other spiky hairstyles.

There are a lot of cute homeless dogs in Colombia. They lie around lazily, completely outstretched on the pavement, longing for a friendly gesture or some sort of companionship.

I bought a coke from a sleazy old man. He tried to charge me $2500 pesos for it which is more than twice of what it should be here. I told him no and that it was too expensive and he accepted a little less. I’m no longer afraid of calling people out on prices. Thanks to some terms and advice I learned from Luz near Guatavita, everyone here is trying to over charge me. Meals that would cost a Colombian $5000 pesos are offered to me for $15000 pesos. So now I openly tell people that they’re trying to rip me off. “I may be a gringo but I’m not stupid.” I don’t haggle to the point that I’m robbing them, I want to make a deal that is good for both parties and not just one.

I was walking around Villa de Leyva and noticed that I have left an imprint on this town. I taught Fabiola and her kids how to say mustache, which happens to be they’re favorite word. They also taught it to all they’re friends at school and somehow it spread to the whole city. Late that day I was sitting inside the walls in the courtyard of Casa de Salazar and I could here kids in the street yelling, “¡MOOSTACHE! ¡MOoOoSTACHE!”

After a while I accompanied Fabiloa and the kids to meet her husband, Wilson, at his work. He is a construction worker in Villa de Leyva and his current project is the family’s new home. I was speaking with Wilson and his coworkers when they’re eight year old son, Nicolas, returned which a of beer from the grocery store for all of us. At the time I didn’t think anything of it, then later I remembered that how funny it was that he was able to buy us all beer and himself a bag of candy to share with his sister.

    View from my room in Casa de Salazar

Courtyard at Casa de Salazar

I woke up after two nights at Casa de Salazar to a heavenly Colombian breakfast made by Fabiola and started heading out of town. I was trying to make it San Gil to do some whitewater rafting and rock climbing. I began thumbing and was picked up by two guys in their truck. They only took me a few kilometers before turning off onto another country road, but I wasn’t upset. When you’re hitchhiking, every mile helps. I walked up a hill to a spot where the road leveled out and where there were some big pot holes. I found that hanging out by the pot holes is really cool because people have to slow down and they get a good chance to look at me. I just make sure I have a big smile on my face and a positive attitude. After waiting for 20 minutes and not many cars passing, an older hippyish couple pulled over and let me ride in the back with their dog. The dog cut himself on an axe that was in the back and was bleeding profusely from his knee. The couple saw that it was about to rain and took me up to a place where I could wait underneath a roof if I needed in the next town over. After unsuccessfully trying my luck I noticed a sign for some waterfalls only a couple of kilomoters down another road. I started walking and was greeted by a friendly white dog who I named Blanca. I’ve come to the conclusion that all dogs here speak Spanish. Blanca and I found the waterfalls and even met some people who were repelling down them. We walked back to the small town and I found a good spot on the side of the road. This was a very rural area and I sat there for two hours with only half a dozen cars passing. I eventually spoke with an old man who told me that there was a place down the road with some huge potholes so I headed that way. Sure enough after 20 minutes of waiting an elderly couple pulled up. I said my goodbyes to Blanca and we were off to the next town over, Arcabuco.

apparently you can’t eat the mushrooms here

The drive was pleasant and beautiful. I could see a large cascading waterfall on a distant Andes mountain. Arcabuco was a very small town and only took about five minutes to walk through. They obviously don’t get many tourists here because I was the talk of the town. At the edge of town there was a large speed bump where I decided to wait. I was there for about five minutes before catching a ride to Barbosa. This ride was a little longer but took us right underneath the giant waterfall I was able to see on the way to Arcabuco.

We arrived in the ugly city of Barbosa an hour later. Though the countryside surrounding this city is absolutely breathtaking, Barbosa is dirty and oily. There seemed to be just as many auto and motorcycle repair shops as there were people. The sun was beginning to go down and I decided I would have to find a place to eat and camp rather than trying to make it to San Gil. I ate at a restaurant and then at dusk starting going back to the camping spots I had scouted at. To my surprise I found that this city is wetter than Atlantis. Every patch of grass I walked in made a loud squishing sound and then water filled in the hole where my foot had just been. Then it got dark and I was walking around the outskirts of Barbosa still without a place to camp. Then somehow I stepped in a puddle that went up to my knees thus thoroughly  soaking my pants, socks and boots. Perfect. Eventually I found a thorn patch next door to the restaurant I ate at and made a clearing for my tent. I woke up many times during the night and eventually found that some of the throns I was sleeping on put some tiny holes into my sleeping mat causing it to deflate every couple of hours. Perfect. I was officially uncomfortable for the first time. Not only was it hotter and wetter, my last comfort was deflating from right beneath me.

I woke up the next morning to find everything outside of my tent completely wet. My backpack stayed dry thanks to my nifty pack cover, but the outside of my tent and all the grass was wet making it uncomfortable to back up my bag. I began walking with no luck getting a ride. Eventually I reached a juice stand and had jugo de guanabana which is just about the best juice in the world. Eventually I found a nice flat spot and caught a ride with Alejandro, a local agronomist. He took me about 30 km to a small town which I cannot remember the name. I was picked up by the first truck that passed me, unfortunately I don’t know the guys name because he was really cool. It was really hard to pronounce, started with a G and ended with an A or possibly even an X. He was 28 and was truck driver going just past San Gil to pick up a load of rocks for some cement company near Bogotá, an eight-hour roundtrip journey. My first ride in an 18 wheeler was also my first time driving one! It’s a lot harder than it looks. Even though we were about 70 km from San Gil the drive took about 2 hours because the roads were narrow and curvy. San Gil is a mecca for extreme sports. You can do anything from rock climb and paddle down some class four rapids to skydive and bungee jump. I decided to pass because the activities were simply too expensive and I already had a good ride with my trucker friend. We stopped and he bought a gigantic and delicious brunch before dropping me off at a gas station.

I waited at the gas station for about 30-45 minutes before being picked up by Alfredo. He was on his way to Bucaramanga in his green 1994 Chevy pickup with 400k miles on it. He was a great guy but truly a maniac on the road. The speedometer didn’t work so I can’t tell you how fast we were going so you’ll have to take my word for it. He only knew English swear words and his favorite was “oh shit!” which he said at completely inappropriate times. Cow on the side of the road, “oh shit!”. Oncoming traffic, “oh shit!”.Old woman driving a motorcycle, “oh shit!”. My stomach growling, “oh shit!” Alfredo was a married man and told me of his family and I have no doubt in my mind that he would never cheat on his wife, but he simply could not resist but to honk at every relatively attractive female we passed. We drove down an incredible mountain road that descended into Bucaramanga. Alfredo was passing all the cars that had passed me up while waiting at the gas station on this narrow road with 1000 foot drops off the side of it. Eventually we reached a traffic jam and had to wait for an hour. Apparently there was a huge landslide earlier that day which knocked out the bridge on one of the only two routes from Bogotá to Bucaramanga. Eventually we started to move because they had constructed a temporary one lane bridge to keep traffic flowing. The asphalt was fresh and stuck to tires of Alfredo’s truck and  I can probably be seen making faces at the news crew reporting from Bucaramanga.

Left: View of the drive from San Gil to Bucaramanga Right: Remnants of the bridge with a boulder the size of a house

Alfredo dropped me off in downtown Bucaramanga and I caught a cab to my friend Maira’s apartment. Taking taxis here is incredibly cheap. The ride cost me about $2 USD and you’re not even supposed to tip cab drivers in Colombia. Maira lives on the 11th floor of a cozy apartment which overlooks all of Bucaramanga. She and her brother, Juan David, agreed to host me for the weekend. At Maira’s I took a much-needed shower, only problem is that they don’t have hot water here and it’s incredibly cold. You get used to it though. Maira was also hosting another CouchSurfer here, Irina, from Russia. We went out and Maira showed us around the city.

Bucaramanga is famous for three things: women, shoes, and hormigas culonas. People speak of the women in Bucaramanga as if they’re legendary. Alfredo informed me that women in Bucaramanga have tiny waists and big behinds. When we finally reached Bucaramanga he was honking every 4-5 seconds. There are so many shoe stores around here that even the pickiest of women can leave here with several pairs of stylish cheap shoes. Irina intended on buying one pair but walked away with four pairs. Bucaramanga is in the Santander region of Colombia. This region is renowned for hormigas culonas which are gigantic edible ants with giant butts. In fact culona essentially means “big ass”. The ants are flooded from their nests, then collected and baked. I always told myself that I would never eat a bug, but aren’t shrimp bugs? Besides I love food and will not refuse to try some of the local flavors. If I am willing to eat a guinea pig when I get to Peru I can eat a handful of big ass ants. Though they weren’t bad, I probably would order something else over them next time. They are crunchy on the outside and a little soft on the inside. They are very salty and taste strangely familiar like a sunflower seed or something. Hormigas are excellent sources of protein but I did find some ant legs in between my teeth later. Afterwards we met up with another girl who lives here from CouchSurfing named Diem. Diem is from Denver and teaches English at a private school here and gave me some great tips in case I am interested in teaching English in Colombia one day. Afterwards we went out to some local bars and I attempted to salsa. I was always told that salsa dancing was invented to embarrass white people. Later we returned to Maira’s apartment, had some late night toasts and also attempted to watch the sun rise. The sun rise was very anticlimactic as it was cloudy out…

The next day we woke up and Maira, Diem, Juan David, and I went camping at a nature preserve east of Bucaramanga. We found a car that agreed to take us there and as soon as we left it started to rain. The car dropped us off at the entrance and we walked all the way to the top of the mountain where the camping spots were in the pouring rain. That night the air was so moist that it took us forever to make a fire with the would. After an hour of stoking the fire we finally managed to get it going. Right as we got comfortable it started to rain again. Eventually the rain became so heavy that we relocated to the tent to find it had been flooded. Perfect. So we found a covered patio area that was part of the preserve and relocated there to sleep for the night. This morning we awoke and hiked through the Andean rainforest. This is the image I had in my head whenever I pictured Colombia. Tall mountain peaks, rolling fog, tall trees and abundant vegetation. There are so many colorful flowers and berries in the Andes. I picked up this strange sweet-smelling fruit that turned out to be a papaya but they weren’t ripe enough to eat yet. We walked through the dense forest getting completely soaked from all the moisture in there air and the rains that kept rolling through. I tried a new fruit today too. It’s called Granadilla and when it’s cracked open there is this goo that looks like elephant boogers but tastes like candy.

Right: Maira and Juan David walking into the forest

Granadilla

Wow that post took forever to write. So here I am in Bucaramanga. I was planning on leaving tomorrow but I may stay an extra day to find a pair of sunglasses and an umbrella. I have also been unsuccessful at finding a single post card in Colombia. My next plans are to head towards the Caribbean coast. Though after looking at the map it may take me a while to get there considering it took me roughly five days and 10 rides to get from Bogotá to Bucaramanga. I miss my mouse.

Jei es una colombiana que se sienta como en casa en muchos lugares. Ella valora la independencia, la inteligencia y la belleza de su país.

LCO: Which part of Colombia do you call home? How long have you lived there? ¿Qué parte de Colombia usted le llama casa? ¿Cuánto tiempo has estado viviendo allí?
JC: In my case, I have three places that I call home. The first is Bogotá, where I was born, raised and currently live. For 26 years, I’ve lived in the beautiful capital of Colombia. It is a cold climate, but we hit both extremes with lots of sun and cold and rain. I have traveled to other parts  Colombia and Bogotá is definitely very good for its many museums, park, activities and general culture for theater and music, which is my favorite. It makes you appreciate this place very much. Although, sometimes I have to resort to my other home to relax a little.

Medellin is my second home, the place where my mother is and also where I love the food and people. When I go to Medellin, I feel at home after the first person I talk to because they are very nice. One of the characteristics of our country is the ability of people to interact with others. It’s nice to feel that you have a huge family. There’s nothing like arepa breakfast and heated beans. It’s the best of life.

My third home is the Tayrona. I love this special place, to see its dawn, just listen to the sea and the animals that are out there with no other noise or distraction. Here you can see the greatness of everything around you. It fills you with peace. In my opinion, it’s the best place to build up good energy. The sea is the best connection we have with nature as well as plants and animals. They are all here together.

Bueno en mi caso tengo tres lugares a los cuales les llamaría casa, el primero Bogotá, lugar en el cual nací, me crie y vivo actualmente. Durante 26 años he viviendo en la capital de la hermosa Colombia, es una ciudad con un clima frío, aunque últimamente nos golpean los extremos tanto de sol, como de frió y lluvias. He viajado por otros lugares de Colombia y definitivamente Bogotá es muy bueno, por sus muchos museos, parques, actividades, en general la cultura que se vive aquí a nivel de teatro y música que es mi favorita, te hace apreciar mucho este lugar. Aunque algunas veces tengo que recurrir a mis otros hogares para relajarme un poco.

Mi segunda casa es Medellín lugar del cual es mi madre y además de donde me encanta la comida y la gente. Cuando voy a Medellín, me siento en casa desde que hablo con la primera persona, ya que son personas muy agradables, una de las características de los paisas es esa capacidad de relacionarse con los otros, es muy bonito sentir que allí tienes una familia muy grande, además no hay como el desayuno con arepa y calentado de frijoles es lo mejor de la vida.

Mi tercera casa es el Tayrona, me encanta este lugar, es especial; ver sus amaneceres, escuchar solo el mar y los animales que estén por allí, sin ruidos, ni otro tipo ni distracciones. En este lugar puedes ver la grandeza de todo lo que te rodea, te llena de paz, en mi punto de vista creo que es el mejor lugar para recargarse de buena energía. El mar es la mejor conexión que podemos tener con la naturaleza, como también las plantas y los animales: pues allí los encuentras todos juntos.

LCO: What do you do for work? ¿Qué haces en el trabajo?
JC: At the moment, I’m not working, but I’m in Business Administration. Basically, my work has always been administrative, in the organization of departments, very independent positions in which I have to talk a lot with customers. Something very characteristic of my work is that I’ve never had a boss. I’ve always been the head figure but have been able to achieve results without monitoring from an employer.
En este momento no trabajo, soy Administradora de Empresas. Básicamente mis trabajos siempre han tratado de la parte administrativa, en la parte de organización de departamentos, realización de funciones muy autónomas en las cuales tengo que conversar mucho con los clientes. Algo característico de mis trabajo es que nunca he tenido un jefe, digamos que he tenido la figura de jefe, pero de alguna manera, la forma como logro organizar las cosas y los resultados que puedo lograr, hacen que tenga total autonomía en mis cargos y no tenga encima jefes supervisándome.

LCO: In three sentences, what does Colombia mean to you? En tres frases, ¿qué es lo principal para usted de Colombia?
JC: 1. The variety and taste of food here, with delicious flavor.
2. In one country, we have all the weather, at any time of the year. You do not see this in other parts of the world.
3. Colombia is made up of struggling people who aren’t easily upset by any circumstances. Why are Colombians special? We have warrior blood that drives us every time we fall.
1. La variedad y sabor de la comida que consigues en este lugar, quedaras encantado con el sabor.
2. ener en un solo país todos los climas, en cualquier fecha del año. Eso no lo ves en otro lugar del mundo.
3. Colombia está hecho de gente luchadora, que no se deja entristecer por ninguna circunstancia. ¿Que tenemos los colombianos en especial?, sangre guerrera que nos empuja cada vez que caemos.

LCO: What is a typical weekend like for you? ¿Cómo es un típico fin de semana para usted?
JC: Actually, my weekends are not always the same. On a weekend it might rain and the plan will be to sit down and write or listen to music. Another plan might be to go for a walk in downtown Bogota, go into the Luis Angel Arango Library and spend the afternoon reading. Another plan may be to visit a park. I especially like the Simon Bolivar. I would walk around or just sit by a tree reading a book. On all weekends, I can not miss music. Eddie Vedder is special. We share something in common with the people of the world. I play for a while on my piano.
Mis fines de semana no son siempre los mismos. Un fin de semana puede que llueva y el plan sea quedarme en mi casa, jugar un rato en el play o sentarme a escribir y escuchar música, otro puede ser ir a caminar por el centro de Bogotá, entrar en la biblioteca Luisa Ángel Arango y perderme toda la tarde leyendo (normalmente cuando salgo ya está de noche). Otro puede ser ir a visitar algún parque, en especial me gusta el Simón Bolívar y caminar un rato o simplemente sentarme al lado de un árbol a leer un libro. Eso si todos los fines de semana, no me puede faltar la música, en especial algo de Eddie Vedder que me recuerde el inconformismo social que tenemos en común algunas personas del mundo y tocar un rato en mi piano.

LCO: Would you change anything about Colombia? Why or why not? ¿Cambiaria alguna cosa sobre Colombia? ¿Por qué o por qué no?
JC: I would change the lack of educational opportunities and work conditions. I believe that a nation should be built on education where people can develop themselves as fully as they want. Or, as the US constitution says, the right to be happy. It’s a bit difficult to see the lack of education besides the results in who people choose as their rulers. If the doors of knowledge are only open to 80% of the population, it’s difficult to know your rights and how to defend them. Then again, good job offers are obtained through contacts not only in the state but also in private companies. Few people manage to really excel without struggling. There is a lack of job opportunities, but when I say this, I do not mean for all the investors who come to Colombia and pay $535,000. We are missing real opportunities that generate income and give people a decent life where they are able to send their children to college, eat well and be able to travel home. Also, the elimination of social discrimination, which we see badly in this country.
Cambiaria la falta de oportunidades académicas y laborales, creo que una nación se debe cimentar sobre la educación, sobre que la gente sea capaz de desarrollarse en plenitud en lo que quiera, como dice la constitución de Estados Unidos, deberíamos tener derecho a ser felices. Es un poco difícil ver como la falta de educación, tiene como resultado que la gente escoja mal a sus gobernantes, como dijo uno de mis profesores alguna vez “CONFUNDE Y REINARAS” totalmente de acuerdo, mientras mantengan cerradas las puertas del conocimiento a casi el 80% de la población, la gente difícilmente puede saber cuáles son sus derecho y como defenderlos. Por otra parte, las buenas ofertas laborales, la mayoría se consiguen mediante contactos y no solo en el estado, también en las empresas privadas, son pocas las personas que logran sobresalir luchando de verdad. Hay falta de oportunidades laborales, pero cuando me refiero a esto, no hablo de todos los inversores que vienen a Colombia a pagar a la gente 535.000, faltan verdaderas oportunidades, que le generen a la gente ingresos que les den una vida digna, que les den la oportunidad de enviar a sus hijos a la universidad, de comer bien, de disfrutar de su país pudiendo viajar. El resultado de la eliminación de estas dos anteriores variables, tendría como resultado: la eliminación de la discriminación social, la cual nos tiene mal en este país.

LCO: Tell us about one Colombian who inspired you and why. ¿Cuéntenos sobre alguna persona de Colombia quien lo haya inspirado y por qué?
JC: Well, I can think of several and I can tell you why for each. Dr. Manuel Elkin Patarroyo, a greatly honored Colombian who who managed to achieve one of the greatest scientific advancements in the world. With a formula for synthetic injections, he is a genius.

We have a former mayor of Bogotá, called Luis Garzon. This character arouses my admiration. He was the mayor of the country’s main city, but grew up as the son of a maid. Perhaps many do not understand the scope of this situation, but in Colombia, and especially in Bogota, for a person of a low social standing to reach that level is a luxury. Rather, it is not only an achievement for him, but an achievement for an entire social class that is composed of approximately 65% of the population.

During college, my inspiration was General Gustavo Rojas Pinilla. I found him to be a person who, although he took power by force, was able to set a strong foundation and fix many things that were wrong at the time. He set up a good infrastructure, the police began to operate as an independent entity and he also built the best road we have in Bogota, Calle 26, which is unfortunately falling apart. Women are especially grateful as he gave us the right to vote. The one thing I didn’t like was that he brought Colombia to TV (the evil of the brain).

Bueno yo tengo varios en la cabeza y podría decir el por qué de cada uno. El Dr. Manuel Elkin Patarroyo a mucho honor Colombiano, quién con las uñas logro uno de los mayores avances a nivel científico en el mundo y ahora con la fórmula de para la invención de las inyecciones sintéticas, mejor dicho es un genio.

Tenemos a un ex alcalde de Bogotá, llamado Luis Garzón, este personaje despierta mi admiración por que fue alcalde la principal ciudad del país, criándose como hijo de una empleada de servicio. Tal vez muchos no entiendan el alcance que puede tener esto, pero es que aquí en Colombia y especialmente en Bogotá, que una persona de estrato bajo, llegue a ese nivel eso es un lujo, mejor dicho no es solo un logro para él, es un logro para toda una clase social que está compuesta por el 65% de la población aproximadamente. Este personaje nos inspira por su tenacidad y porque nunca se permitió desfallecer ante las críticas o rivalidad social que le demostraban otras personas, hizo de todo para llegar a su objetivo.

Durante mi época de colegio mi inspiración, era el General Gustavo Rojas Pinilla, me pareció una persona que aunque se tomo el poder a la fuerza, logro poner fuertes cimientos y además arreglar muchas cosas que funcionaban mal por esa época. Hizo muy buenas obras de infraestructura, logro empezar a organizar la policía como un ente independiente, también nos construyó la mejor calle que teníamos en Bogotá, la calle 26 que desafortunadamente la están desbaratando, las mujeres le agradecemos en especial que nos diera el derecho al voto, lo único que no me gusto fue que trajo a Colombia el televisor (el mal del cerebro).

LCO: More people are looking at Colombia as a travel destination. Do you have any advice for them? Alguna gente está mirando a Colombia como destino para viajar. ¿Qué les aconsejaría?
JC: Colombia is a good place to know. I have had the opportunity to meet many foreigners and they all tell me the best thing about Colombia is its people. That’s what makes this country special. It’s not given much importance on earth if not for its people. In Colombia you can find any climate or landscape you want. We have the best places for extreme sports in San Gil where you’ll find the best rivers for rafting in the world. Tayrona National Park is spectacular if you want a more relaxed journey. Bogota is a big city like in any country with a lot of social activities. There is a place I have not seen in advertising for our country called Los Llanos Orientales. This place is wonderful. It is located in the south of Colombia and the rivers are amazing. I assure you that you can see the best sunset of your life. As the song goes, it looks like the sun is kissing the plains. I lived for eight months in a place called Puerto Gaitan. It’s charming. It’s funny because the people are like a big family. Everyone knows everything about you. I highly recommend this place. And you can not go by without passing through beautiful Bogota.

I can also recommend Boyaca which is near Bogota. It has many beautiful places and springs and it’s near Villa de Leyva. In Bogota, visit the hills for a good drive. I forgot there is also a beautiful place on the coast called Cabo de la Vela. There are so many good places.
Colombia es un buen lugar para conocer, he tenido la oportunidad de conocer muchos extranjeros y todos me dicen que lo mejor de Colombia es la gente, eso es lo que hace especial este país, no se le da tanta importancia a la tierra si no a quienes la habitan. Que tenemos de especial? no sé pero a todos les gusta. En Colombia puedes encontrar cualquier clima, puedes encontrar cualquier paisaje que quieras. Tenemos los mejores lugares para hacer deportes extremos en San Gil, donde se encuentran los mejores ríos del mundo para hacer rafting, el parque tayrona es espectacular si quieren un viaje un poco más relajado, Bogotá es una ciudad como la de cualquier país, pero con mucha actividad social. Hay un lugar que no he visto en la publicidad de nuestro país y se llama los llanos Orientales, este lugar es maravilloso. Queda ubicado hacia el sur de Colombia y encuentras ríos, muchos pueblos espectaculares y puedes ver el mejor atardecer de toda tu vida, lo puedo asegurar. Como dice una canción allá ves como el sol besa el llano… Yo viví durante 8 meses en uno llamado Puerto Gaitán y encantador, lo chistoso es que como es un pueblo, parece una familia grande, porque todo el mundo sabe todo de ti, pero en genera recomiendo conocer este lugar y no se pueden ir sin pasar por la hermosa Bogotá.

Puedo recomendarles Boyacá, la cual queda cerca de Bogotá, tiene lugares muy bonitos y muchos termales, también está cerca de Bogotá, Villa de Leyva. En Bogotá puedes visitar los cerros que también es muy bueno el paseo. Se me olvidaba también hay un lugar hermoso en la costa llamado cabo de la vela, un lugar muy bonito. Bueno en fin hay tantos lugares pero le hago propaganda al que casi no encuentran en lugares a visitar los llanos.

LCO: If you were to move to another country, which food would you miss the most? ¿Si usted se mudara para otro país, que comida crees que más extrañaría?
JC: Well, my ex-boyfriend told me that in Austria, it’s impossible to get pork. For me it is impossible for this to happen. I would miss it. There’s nothing more delicious than eating beans with a good chunk of pork skin. Arepas, chili, dishes that you can only find in Bogota, milky soup with eggs, cauliflower, cream of pumpkin, heated beans for breakfast, broth with egg, arepuelas… so many things.
Bueno mi ex novio me decía que en Austria es imposible conseguir chicharrón, jaja para mi es imposible que esto pase y lo extrañaría, porque no hay nada más rico que comerse unos buenos frijoles con un buen trozo de chicharrón. Las arepas, el ajiaco; este plato solo se consigue en Bogotá, ni siquiera dentro del resto de Colombia lo puedes conseguir y es de mis favoritos. La changua, la coliflor, la crema de auyama, el calentado de frijoles para desayunar, el caldo con huevo, las arepuelas… en fin muchas cosas.

LCO: Favorite Colombian tradition? ¿Favorita tradición Colombiana?
JC: The family reunion at the end of the year. It is tradition in Colombia for the entire family to meet, especially at the grandmother’s house.
La reunión familiar a fin de año, siempre todos los años es tradición es Colombia que toda la familia se reúna, especialmente en la casa de la abuelita.

LCO: If you could tell the rest of the world something about your country, what would you say? ¿Si usted pudiera contarle al resto del mundo alguna cosa sobre su país, que le gustaría comentar?
JC: That Colombia is not like the picture painted in the media. It is true that violence exists but not in the way that the media portrays. I have seen many insecure countries in the news that have not been given as much publicity as ours. I think it’s normal in South America to be aware of stuff that happens in the US, some European countries and now Asia.

People who come always have a nice image of Colombia and foreigners tend to leave with a broken heart. You can meet beautiful women but I want to clarify that they are also intelligent. You will love the food and hospitality of this country. We are people with many skills who are looking for opportunities, looking for people who want to learn from us and also for people who want to give us the opportunity to learn from them. There is an opportunity for personal growth through life experiences here. In our country you’ll find everyone from the most serious person on the planet to the biggest party animal to the most studious, you’ll find them all in a group. It’s spectacular. To know Colombia, you can not stay in one place. This is a country of contrasts. If you know someone from the coast, you’ll see that they are very different from people from Bogota or Medellin and so on. You will never get a single image of Colombia. Colombia is diverse. Colombia is love. Colombia is fighting. It is smiles. It is culture. Colombia is its people!
Que Colombia no es como la pintan en los medios de comunicación, es cierto que existe violencia, pero no de la forma que lo hacen ver en los medios. Yo he visto en noticias muchos países donde también hay inseguridad y no se les da tanta publicidad como al nuestro. Creo que es normal que en cualquier lugar de Sur América tengas que estar pendiente de tus cosas, incluso pasa en Estados Unidos y en algunos países europeos y ahora también países asiáticos.

Bueno normalmente la gente que viene, siempre se lleva una muy linda imagen de Colombia y los extranjeros dejan algún corazón roto jajaja, pueden conocer mujeres bellas pero quiero aclarar que también son inteligentes, no somos como nos quiere mostrar el mercado. También se van a enamorar de la comida y de la gran hospitalidad que tiene este pueblo. Somos personas con muchas capacidades, buscando oportunidades, buscando que la gente quiera aprender de nosotros y que también quieran darle a muchas personas la oportunidad de aprender de ellos, la oportunidad de crecer personalmente mediante sus experiencias de vida. Encontraran en nuestro país de todo, desde la persona más seria del planeta, hasta el más loco, el más rumbero, el más estudioso y lo mejor es que los puedes encontrar a todos reunidos en un solo grupo, es espectacular. Para conocer Colombia no te puedes quedar con un solo lugar, este es el país de los contrastes, si conoces a alguien de la costa, veras que es muy diferente de alguien de Bogotá y diferentes de la gente de Medellín y así sucesivamente. Nunca vas a poder hacerte una sola imagen de Colombia, Colombia es diversidad, Colombia es amor, Colombia es lucha, Colombia es sonrisas, Colombia es cultura, Colombia es su gente!

Thanks Jei!
Gracias Jei!

For more interviews with Colombians, click here.
Para más entrevistas con los colombianos, haga clic aquí.

Casa Quintero (Villa de Leyva)
Fecha de visita: Domingo 1 de Mayo

Este fin de semana pasado nos fuimos de paseo a Villa de Leyva y tratamos de visitar algunos restaurantes que nos habían recomendado bastante. Fuimos con Adriana y con Leo y disfrutamos de un delicioso turismo gastronómico. Agradecimientos especiales a Marianita Bejarano por sus excelentes recomendaciones.

En este post vamos a hablar de La Bonita, un restaurante de comida mexicana que nos quedó gustando mucho, comida mexicana con platos diseñados y con amor.

Calificación: 4 Salchichitas (Rico!)

Precio: $$$

Dos personas comen 1 entrada compartida, dos platos fuertes y bebidas por 77mil pesos.

Ambiente: El local está ubicado dentro de una Casa Quintero que es un centro gastronómico con muchos restaurantes. La Bonita está en el centro de la casa y es a su vez una casa blanca con balcones y barandas azules muy lindas. El logo es un dibujo en líneas rojas de una mujer muy parecida a Carmen Miranda, la bonita. El ambiente es ameno y tranquilo, amamos los individuales.

Servicio: El servicio es muy bueno, queridos y rápidos.

Comida: Pedimos de entrada unos Nachos con salmón ahumado guacamole y pico de gallo. los platos fuertes fueron unos Tacos de cordero, que venían con arroz y frijoles negros, guacamole, crema agria pico de galllo y guacamole, unas Fajitas de Lomo y unos Tacos de Cochinilla que venían con el mismo acompañamiento, y un Salmón agridulce acompañado por un patacón y verduras.

la comida estuvo deliciosa, platos bien preparados, frescos y sin muchas pretenciones. Lo mejor de todo fué la entrada con una propuesta refrescante que mostraba los nachos desde una perspectiva completamente diferente, como un plato donde nada perecia tener sentido y la definición tradicional de “nachos” pasaba a un siguiente nivel.

Lo recomendamos totalmente, es bonito decir que fué a comer a la bonita.

An account of my trip would be incomplete without a daily update of my ongoing battle with bacterial diarrhea. If you’ve read this far, you know my condition had sapped my appetite at the same time as it made my nights both interesting and ultimately embarrassing. You may also remember that there had been a heavy toll taken on my clothing, that upon awakening this morning–a day that marked my completion of 65 revolutions of the Sun as a passenger on the good planet Earth–I had been without underwear for 24 hours. (Fortunately I had found a lavanderia last evening and would have clean clothes in another eight hours, but would be going commando again for the better part of the day as I made my way around Villa de Leyva.)

I laid out my hammock on top of the bed before I lay down last night, then crawled inside a lightweight sleeping sack that I carry along on trips such as this. The scheme proved only partially successful as an effort to spare the bedding at Hospederia La Roca from my intestinal travails. I leave this subject for the most part with one final digression. You may know or have experienced the fact that when traveling in Latin America, unless you are staying at high-end lodging, you are expected not to flush any paper products down a toilet. Any paper used in the toilet process should be folded tight and small and dry, then dropped into the trash receptacle provided near every toilet. You can imagine that, given my condition, I had become quite adept in disposing of masses of noisome tissue, enough in the end to compost a small truck garden.

On a happier note, I left my room prepared to see a bit of the cobblestoned Spanish colonial town of Villa de Leyva. I wanted to experience some of the attractive restaurants I saw yesterday, but thought I could only handle some coffee and juice. I walked through La Roca’s attractive courtyard, festooned with plants, headed for the exit onto the Plaza Mayor ( 05 38.043 N / 073 31.390 W ) when I caught a glimpse of  the lodging’s dining area. It was attractive–terra-cotta tiled, naturally lit, filled with plants–so why not just have my drinks here before setting out?

Open courtyard and rooms, Hospederia La Roca, Villa de Leyva

I seated myself and ordered a light breakfast (desayuno). I talked a bit with a middle-aged Swiss woman, the only other person in the dining room, who was a solo-traveler like me. Then there was a bit of commotion at the door to the kitchen area. I could not believe what I was seeing and hearing: a cook and the desk clerk, Rolando, were singing ‘Cumpleanos Feliz ‘ (‘Happy Birthday’) as the two bore a large muffin-like cake topped with a lighted candle to my table. Rolando had noted from last night’s registration process that today would be my birthday and he took measures to see that, thousands of miles from home, it would not go uncelebrated.

Feliz Cumpleanos at La Roca, Villa de Leyva, Boyaca, Colombia

I read in Lonely Planet Colombia about a walk that passed two waterfalls on its way to a high spot overlooking Villa de Leyva. Despite the intermittent rain, I decided that this was what I’d like to do on my only day in the town. The trail itself starts somewhere behind Renacer Guesthouse, a budget lodging that is highly recommended in Lonely Planet. I was gassed by the time I reached Renacer, gassed by the altitude (over 7,000 feet) and the several hundred foot climb from centro Leyva, so I wasn’t too disappointed to learn that the trail was closed due to recent rains.

Renacer Guesthouse is a very nice property set in the hills northeast of Leyva. Everything about the place smacked of environmental commitment. If you don’t mind a stiff walk (or taxi) back and forth to the Plaza Mayor area for the attractive restaurants and many nice shops, Renacer would be a great choice for lodging.

Renacer Guesthouse outside Villa de Leyva, Colombia

Even though I could not continue my planned walk, I needed to use Renacer’s facilities and then sit and have a cold drink. I began talking with an outgoing man, an American just brushing up against early middle age. I learned a lot about, and from, him as we talked though I never learned his last name. He had the opportunity to provide it when he wrote down his email address, but did not and I chose not to pursue the matter. I did learn, though, that his first name was Michael but he went by the nickname Mick. Hmmm.

Mick has a Ph.D. in geography from UCLA. He evidently owned and relatively recently sold a bar in California. He is traveling, solo I think, on a trip measured not in days like mine, but in years. Because of his academic background, he’s quite knowledgeable about different countries, their climates and geology and cultures. Most fascinating to me was the fact that Mick, at the time of our conversation and at an age that seemed young from my vantage point, had traveled to 170 countries.

The two of us covered a lot of ground during our 45-minute conversation. Mick was no fan of U.S. government policy, especially (it seemed to me) its economic policy. He planned to make the trip on the Amazon River from Leticia, Colombia, to Iquitos, Peru, in the near future–essentially the reverse of what I had just done–and so I was able to provide a bit of useful information to this most veteran of world travelers.

After getting a sense of my travel strategies and budget, Mick said that he thought that I would enjoy traveling to Cambodia and Laos. When he learned I might go to China in the future with my nephew, Jeremy Walker, he enthusiastically endorsed the idea. We bid adieu and I left Renacer Guesthouse, returning downhill to Leyva.

There was time to shop a bit, check my email, pick up my laundry (underwear again!), and return to La Roca to shower, change clothes, and check out. I asked the ever-helpful Rolando at the front desk to verify the departure time for the rapido (no change of bus required) transportation to Bogota and to call for a cab. Rolando even carried my bag to the corner where I would meet the taxi since vehicular traffic is very restricted on Plaza Mayor.

Info on Hospederia La Roca: Plaza Principal, Villa de Leyva; tel. 8-7320 331; http://www.hosteltrail.com/hospederialaroca ; email hospederialaroca@yahoo.com .

I got into the taxi at 4:30 p.m. for the short ride to the bus terminal, and by 4:45 was on my way to Tunja on a smaller regional bus rather than the more deluxe and larger rapido. (Every non-rev traveler knows that it’s at your own peril that you would turn down a sure ride in the here and now for a potentially more convenient ride that might quickly turn into pie in the sky.) I knew that I could easily board a rapido bus to Bogota at the Tunja bus terminal since these departed every 15 minutes or less.

The transfer between buses in Tunja would not be made without just a bit of chaos and alarm. I had plugged the bus terminal into my GPS when I traveled through the city the previous day, and so I was able to always know just how far away it was as we approached it from Leyva. I knew, too, what to do once we got there, or thought I did. Then, about a quarter-mile from the terminal and on a busy avenue, I heard someone calling to alert Bogota passengers of something.

I had a lapful of items at the time–I had been writing, I had my GPS out, my jacket and backpack were in my seat. Someone was calling from the front of the bus, asking if the red bag behind the driver’s seat was mine. It was obviously urgent that I get off this bus at once and onto one that was parked just ahead of us on the side of the road. I snatched at my things as I vacated my seat and hurried to the front of the bus. Business cards and loose notes and receipts were flying out of my notebook as I tried to exit the bus. A young man working for the bus line I was transferring to grabbed my bag, gave me a claim check, and exhorted me to quickly board his bus. The total elapsed time for this whole episode could not have been more than a minute or two.

I never really understood why I changed buses on the busy road since, right after I boarded it, the bus pulled into the terminal. Competing bus lines were vying for business. Men were yelling “Bogota! Bogota! Bogota!” in an effort to fill every seat. If you didn’t get on the bus that was about to roll out of the terminal, another would follow shortly. I was asked if my destination in Bogota was the airport or bus terminal, and I said the airport. If I could be dropped there, I thought, it would greatly simplify things for me, eliminating the necessity of hiring a taxi to get from La Terminal to the airport. The bus pulled out of the Tunja bus terminal at 6:15 p.m., destination Bogota.

It was dark as the bus traveled southward to Colombia’s largest city and capital. An incredibly insipid movie, “Knucklehead”, played in Spanish on the overhead monitors for an hour and forty minutes. The usually useful Rotten Tomatoes site (www.rottentomatoes.com) reports that 10% of critics gave the movie any kind of positive review: by comparison, the famously awful Dustin Hoffman/Warren Beatty flick, “Ishtar”, enjoys a 19% positive spin.

As we entered the northern suburbs of Bogota I mused about the convenience I’d enjoy by being dropped off at the airport instead of the bus terminal. I was watching my GPS to monitor the remaining distance to the airport when–as in Tunja–an unexpected transfer took place. Moving along a busy thoroughfare and nearing exits to the airport, the bus driver and his assistant began looking for a vacant taxi. When one was spotted, the bus driver’s assistant signaled for the taxi’s attention, the taxi pulled over to the curb, then the large motorcoach maneuvered over to park just ahead of the taxi. The assistant hopped out, opened the cargo doors to access my bag, and I immediately got into the cab. After a short ride I was let out at the international departures terminal of the El Dorado International Airport (BOG; 04 41.856 N / 074 08.616 W), South America’s second busiest airport after Sao Paulo, Brazil.

It must be the nature of things since international flights require all sorts of documentation. Before going to the Continental ticket counter, I had to clear immigration in order to, as I understood it, waive certain prepaid taxes that had been included in the cost of my ticket and which are based upon the duration of one’s stay in the country. In any case, I was refunded an amount of about $35 USD, not a wholly unwelcome event.

I spent an hour and fifteen minutes queued up in Continental’s passenger check-in line. When I finally made it through several preliminary inspections of my documents and up to the counter, I was able to check a bag but was not given a seat assignment since the plane was booked to near capacity. Come back in 30 minutes, I was told, or about an hour before CO 885′s scheduled 12:15 a.m. departure to Houston. Being told the flight was full and that I should come back to see if I could get a seat assignment did nothing to alleviate my already dicey stomach.

I had eaten two candy orange slices and a bag of potato chips in the 15 hours since my birthday breakfast in Villa de Leyva. I knew I should eat something even though I hadn’t the least bit of appetite. I found a Subway and ordered a small sandwich that I couldn’t finish. Then I stood in a group of six-to-eight other standby passengers each hoping to get on Continental’s flight to Houston. Finally, after first processing all the others, an agent gave me the high sign that I’d be getting on the flight.

Now that I had a seat assignment, the stress was shifted to getting myself through security and to the gate before the flight began to be boarded. That worked out OK, though one casualty of the last-minute seat assignment was that there could be no duty-free shopping as I had planned (Colombia is renowned for its emeralds and of course its coffee). Actually, there would be no shopping at all, not for gifts or booze or even a snack.

CO 885, BOG–IAH, was flown in a brand new B737-900. After waiting for traffic and what seemed to be a very long takeoff roll (airport elevation on my GPS was 8,365 feet MSL), we were winging our way north at 12:45 a.m.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and that was good. War was still being waged within my colon. I had to remain vigilant, i.e., awake, the entire trip since I seemed to lose control of my own functions at the very onset of sleep. The flight landed in Houston around 5:30 a.m., U.S. Customs was readily cleared, and I had about 3-1/2 hours before my flight to Wichita would depart.

Even with a queasy stomach, I managed to down a few Shipley donuts (do NOT pass through Houston or its airport without a stop at a Shipley Do-Nuts–”Making Life Delicious Since 1936″). When the clock struck 8 a.m. I called my physician from Houston to make an appointment for later in the day. As much as I looked forward to getting some sleep, I even more avidly wished to initiate a drug regimen to treat the E. coli that had taken my gut like the Nazis took Poland.

In the past 12 days I had taken 10 flights, spent two nights in airports due to being ‘bumped’ from full flights, and flown overnight two separate times. The total cost of my tickets was about $450. My final flight, Houston to Wichita, arrived before 11 a.m. I was met by my son, Ryan, and mis nietas Madi and Kinsley, who dropped me off at my happy home. With the help of the antibiotic ciprofloxacin, which will accompany me on future international travels, I was back to what passes as normal within a few days, left with notes and photos to remember my short trip to Peru and Colombia.

Dire rear. Those are the words my brother Jerry used to refer to the condition afflicting me the last half of my South American trip. Not your garden variety viral form symptomatic of flu, but bacterial (E. coli) in origin and unresponsive to over-the-counter medication. My malady had so far been unrelenting in its effects over the past several days, effects that presented themselves most insistently the moment I fell into deep sleep and evidenced themselves unmistakably upon examination of my clothing and bedding upon awakening.

I felt that I was a personal guest of Guillermo Galvis Gutierrez, the man I met on the bus last night and who had invited me to alter my plans and stay at his hotel in the town of Paipa. As such, I felt an even greater responsibility to try to avoid soiling the bright white sheets on my bed. I took the extra precaution of wearing two pairs of underwear plus a pair of gym shorts over them. Alas, I awoke in the morning to find that my triple-layered clothing had been about as effective as three layers of cheesecloth. I cleaned up the sheets as best I could, then skulked down the stairs to advise Guillermo’s brother, Alfonso, that the linens in room 203 might benefit from some extra laundering this morning. Alfonso, for his part, said to my relief that I must not worry, that I should consider myself to be family while staying as a guest at El Porton.

A view of Hotel y Cabanas El Porton, Paipa, Boyaca, Colombia

This episode reminded me of a college-age incident when I encountered a blizzard on my way home from Hays for the weekend. That resulted in my spending a night with a middle-aged bachelor physician at his rather plush digs in Salina. I was travelling with a good friend, now an elected official who shall remain nameless at this point. The two of us were treated royally, fed steaks cooked on the Jenn-Air, served drinks before, during, and after dinner. I remember the lethal combination of alcohol like it was yesterday: Paul Masson Crackling Rose wine and rusty nails made with Cutty Sark scotch. I awoke the following morning 45 years ago to an embarrassing trail of evidence that had exited my gut during the night in exactly the reverse of its route into it only hours before: I found bits of the previous night’s dinner inside a closet and behind some curtains, deposited there while on an unsuccessful effort to find a bathroom and a more suitable place to be sick. That incident, which would take far more cleaning up than this latest one, required that I let someone know the extent of the damages. I’ll never forget the housekeeper reassuring me, much as Alfonso had this morning, telling me “Don’t worry, this happens all the time.” And maybe it did…

It was imperative that I get my laundry done, and done soon. All my underwear was, well, unwearable. I was going commando for the time being, a situation that did not fill me with confidence, especially since the only pair of walking around pants I had were light khaki in color. I would be one startled moment–a barking dog, a truck honking–away from the ultimate humiliation. I had to find a lavanderia!

First, though, I was to meet Guillermo in El Porton’s spacious, bright dining room. Like the rest of the property, the dining room featured a terra-cotta tiled floor and an exposed beam ceiling. Though not dating to that time, the hotel reflected the colonial-era heritage of the region. Large windows along one wall and heavy wooden tables contributed to the ambience of the room. Though I was the only guest at the property last night, a cook prepared a fine breakfast of scrambled eggs, cafe con leche, and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Guillermo joined me as I was finishing breakfast. He introduced me to his stylish, energetic mother, Stella. Then, although he seemed to me to be too busy for this, he invited me to join him in his small Chevy. He would show me some of the local sights, but only after taking me to what seemed to be the sole laundry in Paipa. As I was arranging to have my clothes washed, Guillermo motioned to me to return to the car, that the cost–based on the piece and not by weight–would be too much by far. So my stinking bag of clothes would not get washed today, and I could look forward to going commando well into the next day at best. Following that we set off to see, among other things:

• Lago Sochagota, a sizeable man-made lake on the outskirts of town. There is a road around the lake, a very nice club with dining and a small marina, some nice homes, and a good view back across the lake of the town of Paipa.
  

  At Lago Sochagota, Paipa, Colombia

• the famed thermal waters of Paipa. We went to a facility that seemed to be operated by the city or some other governmental entity rather than as a business venture. It was not unlike what you’d see at Glenwood Springs, Colorado. There was a fairly large pool, there were jacuzzis, there was a mud pit, there were locker rooms. Had my swimming suit not been relegated to my bag of dirty laundry, I would have been sorely tempted to return there later in the day.
• El Pantana de Vargas, the second most important battlefield in the war for independence from the colonial rule of Spain. The troops were a mixed bag that included even some British soldiers. Simon Bolivar was not engaged in the battle himself, but rather observed it from a nearby hilltop. Thirty-three steps (Bolivar’s age at the time) lead up to an impressive monument commemorating the event.
  

  Monument to battle for independence, El Pantana de Vargas

• Punta Larga, a vineyard and winery with tasting room. Look for the label Marques de Puntalarga, specializing in Rieslings.
  

  Guillermo in tasting room, Punta Larga vineyards and winery

• the industrial city of Duitama, home of, among other things, the Aguila brewery whose products include the very good Club Colombia cerveza.

At 11:30 Guillermo let me out in centro Paipa after we had finished the mini-tour. I wanted to see the imposing church, Iglesia de San Miguel Arcangel, and then planned to spend some time walking among the local shops and restaurants.

Iglesia de San Miguel Arcangel, Paipa, Boyaca, Colombia

It was raining heavily when Guillermo let me out, I found the church doors locked, and so I ducked into a small side chapel. Facing me was a wall size painting of Jesus. There, where His heart would be, the wall was hollowed out to contain an ornate monstrance holding a host. There was a vase of fresh flowers, electronic candles and a real one, and a dozen inlaid wooden chairs and padded kneelers. It was a peaceful place and dry, and provided me an opportunity to petition my Lord for peace in the world and within my own gut which is, after all, part of His domain. The number of solemn visitors on their lunch hour started to grow, the rain had ended, and so I set out to walk and shop and eat.

I decided to step into an Internet business for a  minute. I found the server to be so fast–light speed by Leticia standards–that I decided to while away some of the rainy afternoon catching up on my email and blog.

At some point the afternoon started to slip away from me. I had to get to Tunja where the last bus to Villa de Leyva would depart at 6 p.m.

I walked through town and across the river to El Porton where Guillermo was expecting me. I declined an offer of lunch since there were now time constraints as well as my apathetic appetite. I would simply pick up my things, including an appalling sack of dirty clothes better suited for a land fill, and go to Paipa’s bus stop.

Guillermo took me to catch the bus, of course, and one was leaving for Tunja within moments of when we arrived. He helped me with my bag and embraced me as I was about to board a distinctly shabbier version of yesterday’s bus from Bogota. I had to wake a sleeping man and squeeze myself over him to get to the only empty seat on the bus. (Which way should I face? Would my new seat mate rather his face be three inches from my undie-less butt or my similarly commando crotch?)

The windows were fogged over and I could not make out exactly where we were. I asked the help of a man in front of me to let me know when we reached the terminal where I’d need to change to a bus going north and west to Leyva.

Tunja is a large, gritty town of 150,000 people. As the bus rolled through it, I was still a bit overwhelmed at the circumstances that led me to Paipa yesterday night. Seeing Tunja in the daylight through fogged windows, I was grateful I hadn’t ended up there even for one night.

The bus terminal was confusing to me. It took several attempts and the help of a couple of strangers before I made it to the second level and took the right exit for departures to my destination. Again–and like every other time I took a bus in Colombia–I did not have to wait more than five minutes before we were rolling, this time to Villa de Leyva.

The bus pulled out of Tunja at 4:30 p.m. It made stops to pick-up and drop-off passengers with regularity. Before long I invited an old native woman to take the seat beside me. We began to talk a bit. Her name was Alicia and she had skin the color and texture of Nellie Fox’s baseball mitt. Her arthritic fingers pointed askew, one index finger taking an alarming turn some 45 degrees off course.

Alicia was a delight. I shared a bag of candied peanuts with her that I bought from a vendor who boarded the bus at one of the stops. The old woman (I wouldn’t bet that she was any older than me) took a real interest in my maps and in my Lonely Planet Colombia guidebook. She pointed out some places that I should know about or visit. She suggested some restaurants and lodging in Villa de Leyva. All this without her speaking a syllable of English.

The bus rolled northward through the rain as we talked. It seemed to travel at breakneck speed along the asphalt road that twisted up into the hills between Tunja and Leyva. Little allowance was made for road construction or the rock and mud that had slid onto the road from sheer, rain softened slopes; no allowance at all was made for the double-yellow lines that in my country mean ‘do not pass.’ Hah! Any vehicle that could be passed would be passed with the tacit understanding that an oncoming vehicle, should it appear, would take steps to enable oncoming traffic to swerve back over into its proper lane and preserve the lives of its occupants.

When we crossed a bridge at Sachica, near our destination, I noticed that Alicia crossed herself. To my mind it would have been a far more opportune time to petition the grace of God 20 or 30 minutes ago while the bus was negotiating the twisting, two-lane, rain-slickened, debris-strewn, mountainous road between Tunja and Leyva. Nevertheless we arrived at our destination, safe and sound, at 5:45 p.m. Alicia and I both disembarked, she perhaps to change buses and I to find my way to a night’s lodging.

I made a mistake after getting off the bus in Villa de Leyva. I chose to walk from the small terminal to the Plaza Mayor, the large (one of the largest in the Americas) square which is surrounded by lodging and eating options. It was only four blocks away, but I hadn’t accounted for the altitude (over 7,000 feet) or the cobblestones. Every street in the small colonial town, as well as the expansive central plaza, is paved with bread loaf-size stones that made walking and rolling luggage challenging. It was not unlike walking along a dry stream bed in the Rocky Mountains. I vowed to take a taxi when I returned to the bus terminal the next day. I imagine that somebody must be doing a land office business keeping local vehicles aligned and performing tire repairs.

I found Hospederia La Roca easily enough. It was a place that Alicia, the old woman on the bus from Tunja, recommended for lodging in Leyva. Rooms were available in the attractive old building. Thriving plants, tile floors, and conscientious maintenance made La Roca a good choice.

A young man at the front desk quoted a price of 60,000 Colombian pesos for the night. Leyva is a popular weekend getaway destination for Bogotans of some means, but this was no weekend and I was used to paying around 40,000 pesos (about $22.50 USD). And so I played the birthday card, asking if there was a birthday discount. I’m sure the clerk had his doubts about whether the next day truly was my birthday, but he readily cut the quoted nightly rate by 33%. When I agreed to the price and registered, I pointed out the date of birth on my passport.

I was provided directions to a lavanderia that washed, dried and folded clothes for a price determined by their weight, a service that had not been available in the much larger city of Paipa.  The business was located only a few blocks from La Roca and I hurried to get there before they closed for the night.

Afterwards I returned to the Plaza Mayor at a more leisurely pace, looking into a few of the shops that appeared to have some items of interest. There were a number of Internet businesses around the plaza. I sat down at a PC in one and listed myself for a flight home departing Bogota just after midnight Wednesday, or about 28 hours away.

Plaza Mayor and Iglesia Parroquial, Villa de Leyva, Boyaca, Colombia

I still could not muster much interest in eating. Having a cold beer did not sound much better, but the opportunity to sit at a table on a rainy night looking across the Plaza Mayor at the Iglesia Parroquial, built in 1608, was not one I was willing to forgo.

I whiled away an hour at Terrazo Restaurante Bar, nursing a Club Colombia cerveza. There were numerous attractive eateries in Leyva, including Terrazo, and I hoped to be more enthusiastic about the prospect of dining at a couple of them when I awoke the following morning.

At 10:30 p.m., early by the standards of the previous several nights, I walked the two doors down from Terrazo to La Roca for what I hoped would be a less eventful night’s sleep than the two or three preceding ones.