One Week in Bogotá

Since I didn’t update regularly about our time in Bogotá, I decided to compact it all into one post. Don’t worry, it’s not too long!

 

 

 

Wednesday, November 18th

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We arrived in Bogotá late Wednesday evening. Dan and I were exhausted from our Guatapé adventure and were ready for some sleep. We grabbed a taxi to Andrea’s house where we were met by a doorman who didn’t speak English. We struggled with our Spanish, trying to communicate that we were there to see Andrea. “Apartamento cinco cero dos.” He just stared at us.

Are we saying it wrong?

He called Andrea and apparently said there were “some English people” here and he couldn’t understand us.

We were finally let in.

Once in the apartment, Andrea greeted us with hugs and pasta. How amazing to not only be greeted with such hospitality, but to also see a familiar face.

We caught up a little about our adventures before Bogotá and our excitement over continuing to New Zealand. After eating some pasta and sharing some stories, Dan and I retired to our room to get some much needed rest.

 

 

 

Thursday, November 19th

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The following morning, Dan and I awoke to a brown paper bag that read: “Fresh Bread for Backpackers.”

Andrea, you sweet thing, you!

We chowed down on some breakfast and started our research for the day. The stress soon overcame us and we became discouraged about our travel plans. Every tour we were interested in would cost us way too much money. We decided to leave the apartment and find some food.

Crossing the highway and looking around, we realized we had no idea where we were and the city was more complicated to navigate than we anticipated. Andrea texted me asking if we wanted to meet up, again saving us. We walked another 20 minutes before finding her in front of a Starbucks. From there, she took us to Bogotá Beer Company to grab a bite to eat and try some local brew.

A large plate of nachos and a pitcher of beer later, Dan and I were feeling much better about our lives. Mauricio, Andrea’s friend, came to pick up the three of us and go back to relax at Andrea’s apartment. Before we got there, we stopped off at the grocery store and Dan and I grabbed some food to get us by for a few days.

I was amused by all of the fruits; the shapes, the colors, what are they? “What is this? What does it taste like?” I questioned every piece of fruit.

“Oh, get that! That’s delicious!”

Suddenly, our basket was filled with strange fruits and odd snacks that Mauricio and Andrea insisted we try.

Our grocery items

Finally at the apartment, we opened up a bottle of wine and talked for hours about Colombia, about the States, politics, adventures, and places for us to see. We snacked on Achiras (cheese-flavored crackers) dipped in Arequipe¹ while they told us about Villa de Leyva.

 

 

 

Friday, November 20th

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In the morning, Dan and I ventured to Monserrate to get a good view of the city. We were advised to only go during the day and only hike early in the morning. Since we didn’t get there by 8-9 AM, we decided to take the tram to the top to be safe.

At the top of Monserrate is a church and a bunch of shops, restaurants, flowers and odd decorations including coy fish and red birds. Dan and I walked around and admired the view before heading back down to explore some museums.

Purple Trees

My favorite flower

Flying Coy Fish

Museo del Oro was our first stop. It’s a museum with the largest collection of gold in the world. (Andrea writes about it here.) Then, a couple of hours later, we found ourselves at Museo Botero and Museo de Arte del Banco de la República (which was my favorite because the museum is enormous, much like its name).

By the time we were finished exploring museums, Dan and I were entering our “hangry” alter egos. Andrea recommended we try La Puerta Falsa, as it is one of her favorite spots in Bogotá. Dan and I ordered the chocolate completo (hot chocolate with cheese, served with buttered bread and a biscuit), the aguadepanela completo (hot, sugar water served with buttered bread and a bicuit) and the tamal (Colombian tamale) to split. We didn’t realize how large everything would be. The tamal was about the size of my head and was the best tamale I had ever had. First of all, it’s not the tamale I was used to; it was a Colombian style plate made with corn dough and contains a whole leg of chicken. Oh my yum!

Chocolate Completo – a must try

After filling our tummies, Dan and I ventured back to Andrea’s where we would rest up before heading out.

It’s a Friday night and we were told we had to experience the Bogotá night life. We were so sleepy, but fine! We will go.

The three of us went to one of Andrea’s friend’s house where we met two other Americans, a guy from Switzerland and his girlfriend, who is a local. We chatted about travel and shared a cardboard box of “guava” (Aguardiente) before traveling to a local club.

The club was a club; crowded and pumped with loud music. It just isn’t our scene. We had a good time though. Dancing, laughing and taking pictures lasted a couple of hours before Dan and I gave in to our sleepiness and headed home.

 

 

 

Saturday, November 21st

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Dan and I were lethargic in the morning. We lounged around and didn’t leave the apartment until 1:00 PM when we decided to explore the Botanical Garden and see some new, interesting plants. The gardens were great! We enjoyed the odd flowers and Dan discovered he had a favorite plant. “It’s just so perfectly shaped!”

Later this night, we denied another outing with Andrea and her friends (sorry!) in order to get a good night’s rest so we could get up early and make our way to Villa de Leyva.

 

 

 

Sunday, November 22nd

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The bus station is overwhelming! Where are we supposed to go? How do we ask?

We somehow find the bus we need. It takes us to Tunja where we have to get off the bus and find one going to Villa de Leyva.

3 and half hours later, we arrive at our destination. The stone streets are hard to walk on. Dogs are running around looking happy as ever. The mountains rise high behind the village. The colonial style town is perfectly shaped. The air is clean. Ahhhh.

After checking in our hostel, Dan and I venture to an information spot where, luckily, the guy speaks English. He informs us that “The Fossil Museum is closed tomorrow” and we should rent bikes and see it today.

Well, since we were only in the town for one night, we took his advice. Except, we decided to walk. Oh. My. Goodness. It felt like it was miles away. We walked uphill, around curves, downhill, uphill again. It seemed like we would never get there.

I discovered what a heat rash was…

We explored the fossil museums (there were two locations for some reason) and on our way back, we checked out the Pozos Azules (blue pools).

Near Playa de Leyva, Dan and I explored the ‘Blue Pools’.

These pools were so crystal clear and beautiful, but required us to hike up a steep hill to get out. UGH! My legs hated me.

We (miraculously) made it back to town where we found a spot to rest our legs and drink a cool beverage. We felt accomplished. We managed to get out of the city, work the bus system in a foreign language, hiked a terribly hot and steep hike, and watched as the storm clouds rolled in while we sat, safely under an awning.

We walked the crooked streets back to our hostel and did a little relaxation before heading back out for dinner.

Unfortunately, since we were only staying for one night, I only had the sweaty clothes on my back. Dan, of course, was wearing a suit and was perfectly ready to enjoy a fancy dinner². Oh well. Who cares?

Dan and I went to El Rincón Gourmet, which is a piano bar and the only restaurant with 5 stars on Trip Advisor (if you click the link, you can check out the menu). We shared Spanish chorizo and a large French Onion soup. Dan had two beers and the Wok and I had two glasses of wine and the Beef Tenderloin. The total? A whopping 146,000 COP ($47 USD). And, let me tell you, that tenderloin was the best cut of meat I have ever had. It was, not only large, but perfectly cooked. Needless to say, we were very satisfied with our decision.

Back at our hostel, there was an odd man who was making some odd noises. The best I can describe this noise is something along the lines of a pre-vomit burp and swallow vomit gulp.

Urrhmph-glurmp

Dan and I slowly looked over at each other.

Urrhmph-glurmp

He rolled over on his top bunk and let out a big sigh, making the strange noise again. Occasionally would say something odd under his breath, or look over his shoulder as if we were going to turn into gremlins.

During the night, Dan and I would occasionally here the odd man and the snoring of the only other person in the room. We have no luck when it comes to hostel roommates.

 

 

 

Monday, November 23rd

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Walking down the stone-filled streets, Dan and I found ourselves at a small bakery ordering a light breakfast. Freshly pressed orange juice, a personal serving size of scrambled eggs served on colorful serving plates, a hot latte with freshly ground Colombian coffee beans, and a side of toast. Simple and wonderful.

We soon found ourselves at the bus station looking for a bus to Gachantivá, where we would “walk a short distance” to La Periquera (waterfalls). The guy at the tourism information area told us this was the best way to get there. However, we had just missed the bus and would have to wait another hour. Dan and I didn’t feel like we could wait, especially since the rains usually start early to late afternoon. So, we decided to grab a taxi and in about 30 minutes, we were there!

The first waterfall was great. We took plenty of pictures and then climbed down a steep, muddy path to the third one. During this time, a little black dog had crossed the first waterfall and was now leading us downhill to the next fall. He was so cute and excited and continued to stop and look back as if to check in and make sure we were coming along.

After some pictures of the third fall, we realized that we would have to cross the first waterfall to see the second one, so we turned back towards the first fall to see our options.

Signs are posted warning to not cross the waterfall although there is a clearly a path across the way. The top of the falls were dry, except one part that had rushing water, but only three to four feet wide. We could jump that and land on dry rock, or we could walk up a steep path to find a different path that connects. We decided to jump it. Naturally, I landed funny and tweaked my ankle.

This path was sketchier than the other ones we were just on: narrow walkways hugging the jagged side of a mountain, steep drops that required you to lower yourself 12 feet by hugging a fallen tree, a muddy slope you declined by gripping wet rocks, hoping you don’t slip. At the bottom, it was worth it. It seemed like a path less traveled and it was worth it. There is just something magical about waterfalls. I mean, who doesn’t like them? Seriously.

We managed to make our way back up and decided to continue this path out of the La Periquera area, instead of chancing it back over the first waterfall.

As soon as we reached the top of the path, the little black dog was there! He was so excited to see us. He didn’t think he would again.

We continued down the trail and he followed. We kept talking to him, telling him he couldn’t come along, but he didn’t listen.

“Al, you’re really cute buddy, but you can’t come with us.”

I named him Al. Short for Alfredo. I don’t know why as he is a black dog and does not resemble pasta.

Lead the way, Al!

Dan and I reached an intersection where a herd of cows began spilling out into the road. Mooooo! Moooo! They all talked to one another. Al looked scared. He lowered his head and looked up as he quickly circled around to get back to us.

Up hills and around corners, we passed farms and cattle and Al stayed with us. When we passed a group of women, Al decided they were the better crew and he turned around and headed back to town with them.

We kept checking our phones and wondering how far this town was. Up more steep hills. Past more farms. Oh my god. That guy did not know what a short walk meant. This was miserable! I am so thankful we didn’t walk this crap there and back! I would chop my feet off!

Finally, we saw it. Gachantivá!

As soon as we arrived in town, there was a bus ready to go to Tunja. Tunja? We need to eat! Oh well. Let’s just go and get food there before the bus to Bogotá.

After a couple of empanadas, we were on the bus to Bogotá and before you know it, back at Andrea’s. We slept really well that night.

 

 

 

Tuesday, November 24th

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Dan and I decided this day would be spent doing some research for New Zealand and getting our stuff together and ready. The only thing we had to do today, was meet up with Andrea for lunch at her grandmother’s.

Dan and I were to try Ajiaco, a popular and traditional Bogotá dish. Apparently Andrea’s grandmother makes the best!

The three of us arrived around 1 PM and were greeted by the house maid. Lunch began soon after.

Andrea’s grandmother doesn’t know English, so lunch felt a little awkward. I wanted to say more, but I didn’t know how. Andrea played translator here and there to say we were thankful and full and so on.

The Ajiaco was delicious! It’s a potato and chicken soup served with a small corn on the cob. There are side dishes of avocado, rice and other toppings to add to the soup. It sort of reminded me of a gumbo… It was great!

We were also served our choice of drink: coffee, juice, wine or tea. Us ladies had a small glass of wine and Dan had juice. It was a vibrant pink-red color, and I was curious what it was.

“It’s delicious! Want to try?” Dan passes it across the table. “Don’t chug it.” He adds.

“I’ll take one of those, too!” I say, after trying it. “What is it?”

“Berry.”

“Berry, what?”

Andrea laughs. “I don’t know. They’re just saying it’s berry.”

Whatever it is, it’s amazing.

After lunch, we all gave many thanks and headed back home. The rest of the day was calm as we prepared ourselves for New Zealand.

 

 

 

Wednesday, November 25th

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Last Breakfast in Bogotá

I woke up early this morning in order to cook us all french toast before Andrea headed out to work.

The three of us sat around the table enjoying a nice breakfast and chatting until it was officially time to get ready. Andrea left and soon, we did too.

Obviously, the rest of the day was travel, so I will stop here.

 

 

 

Officially in New Zealand, the blog will change! No more bouncing around new places, but still seeing new things.

Until then,

-B

 

 

 

¹ Hands down, the best snack I have ever had.

² We decided to treat ourselves to a nice dinner since we hadn’t in so long. We were good about spending little money and calculated that enjoying an “expensive” meal was deserved.

‘The Tale of Two Cities’

Our last two days of Medellín were astounding. In my last post I mentioned our friends, Tom and Helen, who we spent most of our time with in this great, little city. Tom and Helen are from Liverpool; we met them in our hostel in Cartagena one night. Although we didn’t know each other well, we made loose plans of meeting up in Medellín.

The first day, we made it happen. Then, just about every day after, we were together.

The second to last day of Medellín, Tom and Helen met up with Dan and I in the lobby of our hostel. We had plans to explore the downtown area and see the Museo de Antioquia followed by sundown and dinner at the top of Cerro Nutibara.

After catching the Metro, we were in the museum by noon. The museum was actually really great. Botero, a Medellín artist and sculptor, donated a TON of his art to this museum. Although I am not a big fan of his style, I learned more about him and developed a strong appreciation for his unique technique. I also realized what a great guy he is!

Despite the museum housing hundreds of Botero’s paintings and sculptures, there were plenty of other rooms housing many other artists and themes. There was a creepy claymation film involving prostitutes, popes, racism and odd sexual content, films involving the labor of marble or the displacement of families or the anger of mothers mourning their lost children, and intricate pieces with symbolism of the United State’s influence of Colombia’s drug economy. Needless to say, we wandered for hours.

When we finally completed the museum, we were ready for a snack before heading up to “the hill.” We found a little food truck nearby that served pizza and burgers. Helen, Dan and I all got a slice of pizza; Tom was the smartest. Our pizza was a typical Hawaiian style but topped with a strange, sweet, white sauce. When I say sweet, I mean like sugar- overboard-I-might-get-a-tummy-ache, sweet! It was strange. But, for a slice of pizza and small cup of cola, it was about one U.S. dollar. Pretty great.

The four of us hopped on the Metro and shortly thereafter, arrived at Pueblito Paisa. We walked around the replica town and looked out at Medellín.

The view from Cerro Nutibara

A storm started rolling in, so we bought some beers and ducked under an awning to watch the lightening pass by. Now, this is my favorite part…

Once the rain died down, we could still see lightening in the distance. It was beautiful and we couldn’t stop “oohing” and “awing” at each spike in the sky. We decided to move out to a spot for a better view and try to capture this moment with our phones.

Tom and I stood there filming the sparks of light and freeze-framing the good parts. We would cheer and compare photos and high-five over who got the better shot.

Pretty good for a cellphone – Lightening at Nutibara

After several minutes of video, we decided to grab some grub and wait for the sun to go down so we could see the night view of the city. We decided on some little restaurant in the plaza and ordered two Bandeja Paisa‘s (the dish of Medellín), four Aguila’s (the national beer of Colombia), and a small bottle of Aguardiente (meaning “fire water” – which I learned from a restaurant in Boulder!). We laughed and told stories and made several toasts as we gulped down our liquor and large plates of meats.

Bandeja Paisa – (blood sausage, chorizo, chicharron (the fatty, good kind), some sort of other sausage, friend plantain, rice, avocado, fried egg, beans and some sort of soft biscuit)

It was officially dark outside, so we paid the tab and headed back to the lookout area where we could soak in some more great views.

Our new friends

Once we took enough selfies, we headed back to Tom and Helen’s hostel where we would end the night with a few more clinks of glasses and laughs.

 

The following morning, Dan and I woke up around 7:30. We didn’t want to, but we also wanted to… This day was the day we would venture to Guatapé and hike up the 740 steps of the Peñol Rock. After this long day, we would then fly to Bogotá. I know. We made some poor decisions the night before.

Around 8:30, a man came to pick up Dan and I from our hostel. We brought everything because after the all-day tour, we were being dropped off at the airport to catch our flight.

The van was already packed with people, so Dan and I had the leftover seats. Tom and Helen were in the back, looking just as miserable and tired and we probably did. Dan climbed into the very front, and I was stuck in the first row, in a weird third seat that stuck my face directly into the back of the front seats. The chairs had a weird shape to them that forced me to look slightly downward. Pair this uncomfortable seated position with how I felt, no window view, 45 minutes of bumpy, curvy roads with a driver who constantly slammed on the breaks and a guide who was shouting above my head to tell everyone “the story” of Pablo Escobar.

Don’t keep reading. Re-read that description. Close your eyes. Imagine.

 

 

 

 

Yeah. I barely made it.

 

Once arrived at El Peñol (a small village near Guatapé that housed Escobar’s country home), my face was void of all color. Dan asked if I was okay and I shook my head ‘no.’ But, after a few sips of water and piece of gum, I was a new girl.

Our group was dispersed into a couple of jeeps that then took us up and up to some restaurant looking over the water. There, we ate a simple lunch and heard more about Escobar.

After lunch, the four of us officially felt much better. Dan and I bought a couple of beers and the tour continued to a boat where we passed over “the sunken city¹” and over to some island where we could swim. However, it was just chilly enough that no one wanted to swim. So, we sat around laughing and enjoying the view until the tour continued.

New friends in new places making new memories.

The group was then taken to Pablo Escobar’s country home where the guide continued her stories and Dan and I continued to wander off and snap photos. We looked at the destroyed home and wondered how extravagantly this drug lord lived; his “little vacation spot” was enormous and included a huge pool looking over the water and a tower where he liked to “toke.”

The group walked through guest homes that now house a layout for paintballers to roam, and walked along a path that allowed us to whisper about how much power this one man had.

 

The boat then took us over to Guatapé, which is a cute, colorful town with lots of shops and interesting 3D artwork that hung off the outside of buildings.

Guatapé

We were allowed an hour to roam the streets before our first van picked us up and shuttled us to the big rock. This rock, “La piedra del Peñol,” is apparently in the middle of Guatapé and El Peñol; it is often argued about who “owns” it.

Let’s do this!

I looked up at this massive rock and just laughed. Seriously? My legs are going to hate me.

About 237 steps in, I was panting and thinking about how much this sucked. Helen, was right behind me saying, “The view is pretty good from here. Do we need to continue?”

I hate steps. Like, really, really hate them. So far traveling, I have encountered too many of them. Helen, however, hates steps more than I do. I found myself coaching her along the way and cheering, “You got this! We’re almost there!”

Only 115 more to go!

The numbered steps helped boost motivation the higher we climbed. We’re almost there! We’re almost there!

740 steps later, we smiled triumphantly. We did it! We looked out at the view and took a deep breath. We are victorious. The world is ours! Just look at it all!

Worth every step.

Sweaty and happy

The view was incredible, but didn’t last long before our guide shouted, “Okay! Let’s go!”

Slowly, our group traveled back down the steps and back on the van where many heads went bobbing with the roads as people drifted to sleep. Dan and I were dropped off at the airport where we were forced to say goodbye to our new friends, and just a few hours later, we arrived in Bogotá.

I’ll save our adventures in this city for another post, but it all started with a friend from Boulder, Andrea. She welcomed us into her home with hugs and a warm meal.

“Mi casa es su casa.”

Until then,

-B

 

 

¹ Apparently the lagoon layout was manmade and an old city was buried underneath the water.

Sky High

So, we went paragliding.

Seriously.

I wanted to vomit and poop my pants and chug water all at the same time. It was a weird, uncomfortable feeling. But it was awesome!

Dan’s view

Dan and I woke up fairly early this morning. We had to catch the Metro around 8:15-8:30AM and then take a bus to an unknown location.

(This is the best part of traveling in South America – Nothing makes sense.)

The ONLY reason we found this place is because some kind soul took the time to type out directions on some review.

We arrived at terminal 11, bought our tickets, and immediately boarded the bus. One more person boarded before the doors shut and we were on our way.

It didn’t take long for the bus to get overcrowded as it stopped here and there picking up additional paying customers. Dan turned to me and said, “This is more like it.”

As we climbed up and up the mountains, we watched the time and looked out the window to figure out the next move. According to our directions, it would take approximately 45 minutes and then we would see a statue of a plane and we were to get off there and go up some stairs. Cool.

An hour goes by and Dan and I are a little anxious. How big is this statue? What if it’s on the other side of the bus and we can’t see it because it’s so crowded? What if we miss it? Where would we end up?

Suddenly, I see the statue! It looked like an old plane. The bus stopped and we struggled to squeeze by each person in the one-foot width area we had. “Lo siento. Lo siento.” We repeated to each person we bumped by.

Successfully off the bus, we look up to find three sets of stairs. Great.

A woman walked up and greeted us. She could tell we were confused. We told her, in broken Spanish, we were looking for ‘Dragonfly’ and she pointed to the third set of steps.

Holy Moly. These steps were a work out. Each step, I huffed and thought, “I cannot believe I am doing this in order to jump off a mountain. …I’m about to jump off a mountain! What are you doing, Brittany!?” My heart starts racing even more and my mind is racing. Just breathe. It’ll be fun. You can do this.

Once at the top, we looked out at Medellín and took in the view. What a sight! I suddenly forgot I was nervous.

After checking in and receiving some wrist bands, we sat and waited for our chance to soar in the air.

Just a few moments later, Alejandro, the man we scheduled with, came over to tell us (in broken English) that they were waiting for the conditions to be right. He said if it was good, we would fly out and back in, no problem. If not, we would fly out and land in the city.

Dan and I got nervous. Land in the city? Do we bring our stuff? Where will we land? How do we meet up? We decide to meet at the hostel (a taxi ride to a bus to transfer to the metro to walk 20 minutes uphill). Oh, no. This is going to be terrible. I got nervous again.

 

Dan, naturally, was wearing his suit and tie, looking dapper. I looked up to the area where the jumpers were and noticed Alejandro, who was frantically looking around. I assumed he was looking for us, but before I said anything, I saw him grab a guy and motion with his hand like he were tightening a tie. I start laughing and say, “He’s looking for us! He’s looking for your suit!”

Suddenly, we are both being dressed in these awkward suits that are barely hanging from our shoulders. Our stuff is thrown in some big bag that goes down with us and our nice cameras are being zipped under our jackets for protection from take-off.

I am overwhelmed. I have NO clue what is happening. I get moved away from Dan and these men are speaking Spanish and I’m just nodding “yes” even though I don’t know what they’re saying. Wait. I shouldn’t pretend like I understand! No! What?!

I move my hands and these two men are grabbing them and telling me to hold down here, down here. I look down to see what my hands are holding on to and suddenly, I feel a push. I look up to see a sweaty Colombian face to my left who is pulling/pushing me and I look out and notice – HOLY ****! HOLY ****! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!

I just got pushed off of a mountain.

I had no idea what was happening.

I am most definitely screaming here.

I am clenching so hard to these… ropes? Whatever the material is.. it’s digging into my hands. The weird suit they put me in is a chair. I am so afraid to move that I froze.

“Are you happy?” I hear behind me. “To fly is magic!” The voice says.

I take a breath and smile. Wow. This really is incredible.

“Sí.” I squeeze out.

I see massive waterfalls in the distance; water plummeting thousands of feet. Strange white trees that look like plastic. A giant yellow house on top of a hill.

“Pablo Escobar’s house.” The voice is Alejandro’s brother; he’s pointing out the yellow house where I see people walking about. “Doze people are crazy.”

Eagles are soaring just beneath me. Sometimes they swoop up and right in front my face.

“See da eagles?” He says. “Ay mami! I lowve yoouu!” He laughs.

I start to relax a little, but unable to move my death grip to grab my camera. So I ask my pilot if he flies often.

“Sorry, no Inglés.”

Ugh. “Lo siento. Uhm. Cómo se dice fly?”

He tells me and I ask, “…mucho?”

He tells me 20  years. I really need to learn Spanish.

After about 10 minutes of looking at the same stuff and circling over and over and over and over, I started not feeling well. I couldn’t look in the distance, or down, or at my knees.. everything was moving rapidly enough to make me feel worse. I continued to take deep breaths and tell myself I would be okay. Occasionally, I would be okay again and enjoy the view. However, my pilot noticed my stiffness and asked, “Mamacita, you okay? You sick?”

“Sí. Un poquito.”

“You breathe! We land in ten minutes. To fly is magic!” He laughs again.

Okay, I get it. You love doing this.

When it comes time to land, he shouts, “HIPS” to signal it’s time to lift my legs. We land on our butts and a crowd of young Colombian boys rush over to unclip us and pack everything away.

Dan walks over and I sit down. I tell him my tummy wasn’t too happy. He said, “Mine either. The last few minutes, he asked if I wanted to do acrobatics. I was looking down at my sail and the ground at one point. My tummy isn’t happy either.”

We were then escorted to a taxi where Alejandro and his brother directed us how to get home. They dropped us off on the corner of some street and double, triple, quadruple checked that we were okay to go. With big smiles on our faces, we gave them each an extra 25,000 COP as a big tip and said, “Mucho gracias!”

Alejandro’s brother got out of the cab and ran over to me. His face was covered in sun screen and held a huge smile. He wrapped me in his arms and kissed me on the cheek. Alejandro gave Dan a big hug and we all waved goodbye.

Dan and I caught a bus to the Metro and as we huffed up our least favorite hill, we stopped to get a smoothie. The day was still young and we had already felt such a range of emotions and seen something so many do not get to see.

We cheersed¹ our smoothies and high-fived². We’re pretty awesome.

 

Next time, I’ll update you on our last days of Medellín with our new friends, Helen and Tom, and our first few here in Bogotá.

Until next time,

-B

 

 

¹ I don’t believe this is a real word.
² Or this one either.

Don’t Give Papaya

Part I: An Inside Look

Dan and I had a very unique experience before we left Cartagena. Ana, co-founder of FEM (a nonprofit organization that helps the kids of Cartagena), took us on an inside tour of the real Cartagena: the slums.

It was both heartbreaking but eye opening. Not only did I learn more about the people and the history of the neighborhoods, but I also learned what tourism really does. I felt like a jerk.

You would think tourism helps in some way.. but it doesn’t. A small percentage (sorry I do not remember the exact number) of people in Cartagena have access to running water. Majority of that small percentage is the touristy area. As for electricity, during busy season, many of the locals lose power because it is more important to give such luxuries to the tourists. Then, to add insult to injury, the people see none of the money coming in with tourism. Granted it is not necessarily the tourists’ fault, but it is easy to see tourism as the source of their continued poverty.

The insider tour was amazing! Dan and I learned more about the organization (please check them out: here, here, or here!) as well as had a first-hand experience with some of the festivities occurring in Olaya (a neighborhood considered “unsafe”).

Festivities? YES! (Video)

November 11th, Cartagena celebrates its Independence! Carts of beers and arepas lined the streets and crowds wandered around to watch groups of people dancing. Kids sprayed foam and parents took pictures. Everywhere in Cartagena was full of life!

However, the day before, we were in the car with Ana, driving around the streets that even local Colombians do not visit. I can’t understand why. Maybe it was the fiesta? Or maybe misunderstanding. Whatever the case, we laughed at kids who jumped in front of the car with one hand in the air holding bottles of dirty water and the other outreached for money. Ana would roll the window down and hand out a few pesos. With a big smile and a warm, “¡Chau!” the kids received a small tip as a thank you for not spraying us. Their faces were painted and their hair was colored; their eyes full of excitement and they greeted you with a beautiful smile. It was so fun!

Once back to the walled city, I couldn’t stop thinking of those kids and how privileged I am. I do not have much, but in comparison? I am rich. I felt so bad. I wanted to fix the world. But I can’t.

Dan and I did discuss the possibility of returning to volunteer with FEM. It’s a great organization and it would be nice to give back to the people who deserve it most.

The tour was unlike anything I have ever experienced. Ana opened our eyes to the real Cartagena. It was an experience hundreds of people miss when they visit this area. But like Ana said, to be a good tourist, you must open your eyes and respect the culture you are visiting.

Colombia is trying to change the world’s view. They are not dangerous people. They want tourists to come enjoy their culture. However, Ana says in order to make tourists feel more welcome and to enjoy the positives of tourism, it must start by accepting their culture.

Apparently, Colombians are harshest on themselves. They have a lot of self hatred of their history and of their heritage. They do not embrace their diversity and they are afraid of different people, including their own (e.g. Afros, Indigenous, Romani).

November 12th is the day where all of Cartagena is partying. More so than the day before. A giant parade shuts down a major road with floats and stands for people to watch who will win “Miss Colombia.” This is also the day that Dan and I decided to fly to Medellín.

 

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Part II: Welcome to the City

We were warned that taxis would be next to impossible to find and we should leave the walled city before noon. Our flight was around 7PM.

We sat at the airport from 11:13 AM until we boarded the plane around 6:40 PM. Our flight was about an hour. Yeah, this day sucked a little.

However, Medellín is great! The weather is perfect! No humidity and it’s not cold nor hot. It is the most ideal weather I have ever experienced. Not only is the weather great, but it’s a city! A real city in a valley! It’s beautiful.

The view from the metrocable in Medellín, Colombia

To top it off? Our hostel is the cleanest hostel… ever. Seriously. I get new sheets every day and there’s a woman who greets me in the kitchen with a plate of freshly made breakfast and some sort of mango-orange-lime smoothie. We’re only paying $9 USD a night! Living like kings.

Okay, anyway…

Dan and I decided to do the free walking tour after we continued to hear how amazing it was. At 9:10 this morning, Dan and I (as well as our roommate, Chris) walked downhill to the Metro where we paid 2,000 COP for a one-way trip to our meeting place for the tour.

Our guide was excellent! She is a Colombian, but born in the United States (she moved back to Colombia at age 4). She is considered a “Paisa,” which is someone from a region in the northwest of Colombia. She showed us a map of the different regions so we could better understand why the separation between their own countrymen. It’s similar to the states… sort of.

The tour was four hours long and very informative. We viewed important buildings and walked down busy streets while she explained their history.

My favorite building: Palacio de la Cultura.
It looks like Beetlejuice would live here.

We learned more about the war in Colombia and how exactly the drugs were involved in this. Tragic story after tragic story, we heard about how, for many years, Colombians would watch their cities fall apart just as they instilled hope in their hearts. My eyes were unveiled to the true stories of what it means to be a Colombian and how much pain this country endured to get to where it is today. There is still a war present, but it is no way near where it used to be.

Our guide warned us that we would get many stares as it is still a shock for Colombians to see travelers; it had been so unsafe for so long, that the sight of foreigners is surprising. She told us to not be alarmed if they stop to take pictures or shout out “gringo” as this is not a derogatory term. Just pretend you’re a celebrity for a day.

Every church we passed, street we crossed, shop we continued through, and park we sat in, we were stared at. People stopped to point us out and some really did take pictures. Some shouted out asking our nationalities and some shouted for the tour guide to speak Spanish so they could understand. It was incredible.

Before this tour, I thought all the eyes were telling us to “get out” or were for racist reasoning. However, it is quite the opposite. Seeing tourists means hope. It means the country is really on the brink of peace. It means so, so much more than I can explain. You would need to come see this country for yourself. Take a tour. Feel the pain they felt and see the places where bombs took lives. Look at the faces of policemen who are only 18 years of age. Embrace the stares and flash a smile. Return the hello.

I would go into great detail of this tour, but I will save it. Instead, I will share my favorite highlights.

• Fruit!

During the tour, we were allowed a quick break to grab a snack. Excited for some fresh fruit, I had Dan get us some mango.

Sadly, not as yummy as it looks.

I took a big bite only to discover it was not yet ripe. It was the most sour, awful thing I could imagine.

So, I decided to go back and order this mix fruit drink…thing. I forget the name, but it was a blend of strawberry, mango, banana and I believe grapes. It also included some sort of sweet sauce that was dolloped at the bottom of the cup and on top of the tasty beverage.

Excited, I walked towards the group to show Dan I had found a better treat. Lifting a big bite towards my mouth, I stepped into a hole in the sidewalk and the mix of sticky fruit sloshed down my face and down my shirt. A few people in the group gasped as I walked over, embarrassed, asking Dan to hold it while I cleaned myself.

A good quarter of this drink was now in my bra and down the front of my shirt. I appeared back at the fruit stand where I grabbed several napkins to scoop fruit out of my top. One of the employees signaled for me to use their sink. Very nice of him.

Aside from the embarrassing spill, the drink was very tasty! I enjoyed the rest of it, being very careful as I spooned each bite.

• Empanadas!

Later in the tour, we received a second break to grab another snack. During this time, Dan and I each grabbed an empanada. I have always loved these little fried pockets of joy, but having one in Colombia is much more than anything I have tried before.

Stuffed with beef and cheese and fried to absolute perfection, we scarfed them down while spritzing each bite with squirt of avocado.¹

• Willy!

An older gentleman, who had butted his way into one of our groupings, pulled Dan and I aside after the group had dispersed. Willy spoke perfect English and he was so very excited to talk to some foreigners. (We were warned to not talk too long as Colombians will never shut up.) After hearing we were from the States, he asked where. We told him Colorado and he lit up! He was very excited. Willy said he had seen Colorado in movies. “With the mountains and the… the…” he took a second to find the word, “…cowboys!”

I laughed. What a cute old man.

We inched away and I told him we were going to find some empanadas (mentioned above) and he insisted we try it with the avocado (also mentioned above).

• Nosy people!

Usually, nosy people are annoying, right? Not here. It’s actually really amusing. Our guide informed us that Colombians are very curious people and when they see a crowd, they assume something is being sold or given away and so they want to join. Every time we stopped to group up and talk, Colombians would peep their heads in and look around, waiting to see what was going on. Some would stop and stare. Some would shout for her to speak Spanish. At one point, our guide told us to make sure the group circle was tight and left no gaps so that people wouldn’t distract us so much.

At one stop, we were facing a painting that had angled, reflective glass that I could glance up and watch the people walking by. It was so amusing, I had difficulty stifling my giggles. Children, old women, old men, young men, everyone! They looked puzzled. Most walked away with a confused look on their face and others walked away smiling.

• The Metro

Not only is the Metro extremely smooth and easy to use, but it provides great symbolism for Medellín. After the long history lesson and the tragic stories, our guide brought us to a conclusive and happy (open-)ending. She asked us to observe the Metro; there is no trash, no stickers on the seats, no vandalism. It is a respected symbol of unity and hope. The Metro was built when it seemed the country, and Medellín, would only fail. When all hope was lost, the Metro was born. It put them into great debt, but it powered up a light of change and growth. It took the people to come together to overcome their struggle and to realize that no matter how terrible, they are strong in unity.

I have a newfound love and respect for Colombia and I am excited to continue learning about this wonderful, resilient country.

Oh and the title of this entry? Papaya is when you give someone the opportunity to steal your things. For example, a phone in the back pocket. It’s just so sweet and succulent, it’s hard to pass up. If you give them papaya, it is your fault.

 

Until next time,

-B

 

¹Avocado comes in a squirt bottle. So does pineapple. Very strange, but awesome.

“Mud & Sand”

Fun in the Mud

Dan and I sat in the entrance of the hostel waiting for our bus to the Mud Volcano. All of a sudden, we hearing honking in the street and a man enters the doors asking for our slips. Dan hands ours over and we exit the doors to enter the bus. It’s a one-way road where cars are piling behind our ride, honking impatiently, waiting for us to get out of the way. A couple is right behind us and climbs on and then one guy gets on and says his friend is on the way. Well, we can’t exactly wait for your friend…

Our bus starts to leave and this guy is freaking out that we are leaving his friend behind. We had to calm him down and explain that cars need to pass. While he calls his friend to explain that he needs to chase us down, our bus is creeping in traffic trying to get out of the way. After a few turns, we are at the entrance of another hostel where one more couple comes to join, as well as our missing friend.

The eight of us had plenty of room to stare out the window and wait an hour until we arrived at our destination. I played some Candy Crush (don’t judge) and stared out the window, letting my mind wander.

I realized that this journey I am on, not the volcano journey… the traveling journey… is so unique. I am so fortunate. Yet, there are so many others doing the same thing. I am unknowingly becoming a part of a different community. A community of people who have seen things, experienced things, unlike so many others. It allows you to grow a different way. I feel content doing this for as long as possible. I don’t need a home base. I want to continue to experience this amazing journey. The ups and the downs and the stress and the excitement. I get to meet people – SO many people! From around the world! I can make new contacts and meet up again! The world is so large and yet it so small.

We finally arrived in this little village that surrounded one, large hill. Our bus parked and we were herded into a shack where a woman explains to us that there are changing rooms and lockers for us to use as well as showers around back. She points at one man and says he will take pictures on our cameras for 3,000 COP and points to another man and says we can buy beer from him. Then, she explains once in the mud, we can get a massage for 3,000 COP.

We then disperse into the locker/changing room and put our valuables in one, wooden locker where only this woman has the key. Some of our group changes while Dan and I stand there, already in our bathing suits, looking at each other like, “Now what?”

Our group then walks to this mound where we climb these janky¹ steps up towards the mud pit. About half way, the steps get extremely steep, and I am gripping both sides of the handrails to pull myself up. Once at the top, there is a square of mud with two sets of steps. One set of steps, you climb down and the other, out.

A man is already in the mud and waving us over. Slowly, one by one, we climb down.

As I descend, the man is instructing me in Spanish to be careful. “Uno mas. Uno mas.” One more step that I cannot see helps me get into the mud. He instructs me to lay down, lay down. What? Lay down!

I don’t trust this. This is weird.

The mud is a grayish color and so thick that you can literally lay and not sink. He guides my body away from the stairs so Dan can climb down, and I am now laying next to the first couple. We are all giggling as this is such a weird experience and moving our arms around the mud.

I start bouncing my head up and down and I’m laughing because the mud feels like a pillow. Such an odd sensation.

Next thing I know, there are three guys climbing into the mud and one grabs my calf to massage me. “No gracias, no gracias!” The woman beside me and I both decline the massage. She says she’s ticklish, but I decline because I don’t want to pay for it.

A great experience

After we are all situated, I sit up and sort of swim over towards Dan. We are laughing and playing in the mud; I scoop up some mud and pour it over Dan’s shoulders and he says, “I’ll do it myself!” I laugh. He’s so silly.

I swim over towards a group of people and we laugh at how you can stand straight up and be stuck. You can bounce yourself up and down and can’t get past your shoulders. We cannot believe that you cannot sink! You can be in any position and be stuck like that.

We are informed that the mud goes down about 11,000-11,500 feet!! WHAT! A little creepy.

The mud is slightly warm, but surprisingly not uncomfortable in the heat of the day. What’s that? A bandaid. Gross. That was a bandaid. I tossed it aside and Dan says, “Yeah, there’s some gross stuff in here.”

After about 30-40 minutes, we are instructed it is time to get out. I am the first to climb out and I am told to wipe off the excess mud before climbing down.

Once at the bottom, our group looks around confused. “I thought we were supposed to wash off in the water?”

“We were told there were showers, though. Maybe we go back?”

“I think we go towards the water.”

A woman comes up to us and waves us down the hill towards the water. We follow.

We walk in and the deeper we get, we realize the mud is too thick. We are instructed to sit.

This woman has a bowl and she is scooping up water and pouring it over two people’s heads. Two more women come into the water with bowls and start cleaning people. Dan and I try to decline as we don’t want to tip them. But, they did not accept our decline.

All of a sudden, one woman grabs my elbow and pulls me over and is dumping water over my head, over and over and over. I laugh. It’s part of the experience! I let go and allow her to bathe me. She is picking up my limbs and dumping water all over me and I find it difficult to breathe as the water is constantly running across my face. She instructs me to move over towards a different area. I realize our group is all sitting in a line facing the same direction and these women are bathing us quickly.

I feel my top loosen and this woman rips it off of me. Shocked, I cover myself, but I am laughing and thinking, “What a story this will be!”

She hands me my top and then asks for my bottoms. I take them off, staying in the water, and she signals for me to wipe myself. Oh my goodness, this is hilarious.

Once the bathing was finished, our group stands up. We are laughing and sharing our expressions of shock and enjoyment. What an experience! How funny! How great!

The eight of us walk up to our shack as street vendors are shouting for us to buy stuff. We were the only people there. We were there only source of income. We kept walking. Once at the shack, we rinsed off in the showers and gathered our belongings. I bought a beer and got onto the bus where we continued our stories about our time in the mud and the river.

As we bussed it back to Cartagena, Dan and I found ourselves in a conversation with the couple sitting behind us. They were from Canada². Our conversation started about their curiosity about legalized marijuana in Colorado and then turned towards the dangers of drugs which led to a guy from the UK to join our discussion. We were then asked if we knew anyone who went to Iraq which led to their curiosity of what is America’s obsession for guns, which then led to our opinion of war and our government and then our view of our government and our military. Then we asked about their political views and their view of America. The conversation was so rich and so real. We entered into such meaningful topics of discussion that ordinary strangers would refuse to get into back in the States. It was wonderful!

We discovered that most of our generation, across the world, has the same outlook. It was incredible.

The rest of the day was ordinary: eat dinner and go to bed.

Fun in the Sun

Dan and I again found ourselves waiting the entrance of our hostel for the bus to Playa Blanca (pictured below) where we would stay the night and just be beach bums for a day and a half.

photo courtesy: robertmorganholland.com

As we waited for our bus, the annoying British girl (mentioned here) was at the counter booking her last minute transportation to Playa Blanca. Dammit. We cursed ourselves.

The night before, we were talking with a new friend, Fidel, about our plans to visit paradise. Interested, he canceled his recent booking for the hostel in order to also visit the beach. The annoying British girl, Phoebe, was obviously interested in our friend. We could tell for a few reasons: (1) She intensely stared at his body while he changed shirts in the room; (2) She kept lifting her dress to show him she had to buy “children’s pants”³ that were just “too small”; (3) After hearing he was going to Playa Blanca, she also booked transportation to visit Playa Blanca…

We were agitated that this girl was going to be on our bus to and from our paradise getaway.

Around 10:43, we hear honking on the little street and someone at the front desk yells, “PLAYA BLANCA!” We exit the hostel and pile in only to realize, the silly British girl is missing. The bus starts to pull away from the annoyed drivers stuck behind, and her friend is shouting to stop. We, again, explain that the bus needs to get out of the way.

We looked behind us, and see the British girl running to catch the bus. She boards and immediately is complaining (please read this in a British accent): “He couldn’t even wait five minutes! Not even five minutes! I was only in the loo! How awful if I had missed it! Unbelievable!”

Dan and I rolled our eyes.

Arriving at the beach, we pile out of the van (it’s not actually a bus by the way) and a girl leads us from the parking lot to the beach, through the crowds of vendors and visitors and explains that we will now take a boat down the beach to our hostel. Dan and I skipped the boat, as it’s a beach and you can walk anywhere, to find a different hostel for the night. We really wanted to avoid the British girl.

About 10-12 minutes down the beach, we came across Los Corales, which was a familiar name thanks to Lonely Planet. We booked two hammocks for the night for 15,000 COP each (about $5 USD) and put our belongings in our assigned locker. As we stood there, Fidel walked up! We were all surprised to have found one another. He seemed very relieved to have found us and decided to rent a hammock as well.

I stood by the lockers and was just about to warn him about his stalker when I hear (in a British voice), “Oh, hello!”

Dammit!

I look over at Dan and he has his hands on his hips, his head flung back and is doing the most obvious eye roll I have ever seen. I walk over to him and we talk about how she has a nose out for him or something.

When she leaves, Fidel says he is going to find some friends and Dan and I decide to continue walking the rest of the beach.

After buying a cold beer, we continued down Playa Blanca and observed all of the commotion. Vendors walked up and down the beach selling massages, jewelry, hats, fruit, and so on. There were jet skis cruising up and down the waters as well as many boats shuttling people or just sitting in the sand. Hostels and restaurants lined the beach with people lounging in the chairs and children throwing sand at one another.

After reaching the end of the beach, we turned around to find a place to eat. Our friend Andrea recommended we try Pargo Rojo — Northern red snapper typically served with coconut rice, plantains and a small salad.

20,000 COP and worth every peso:

Lunch on the beach

This fish was quite literally, fall off the bone good. So tender and juicy, we scarfed it down and looked out at the horizon while we finished our semi-cold beers.

When we returned to our hostel area, we spot Fidel half asleep in the sand. I asked him if he wanted a chair and, without moving, “Yes, but you’ll have to bring it to me.”

The three of us sat in our chairs recapping our day and talking about this and that. We told Fidel about the British girl’s obsession and he laughed it off asking, “Are you related to Jim Carrey?”

 

The sun started to sink and we awed at the colors in the sky before we decided the three of us should go for a night swim before heading out for dinner.

The water was warm and we splashed around while watching the sky get darker hues of blues and purple. We talked about travel adventures and life lessons and watched the sky above gain more and more stars. I thought to myself, “What a great story this will be.” But it’s not a story. Just a beautiful memory of a shared moment. It was wonderful.

 

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Funny story: Fidel was out snorkeling while the sun was setting and he looked up excitedly and shouted, “THERE’S EELS IN HERE! I SAW ONE!” He looks down again and back up: “I SCARED HIM!” And looks down again. Dan laughs and says, “He’s an excitable one.”

Then, Fidel is following around a local boy who has a harpoon gun and suddenly stands up and is applauding the boy. Dan and I continued to watch and laugh. This guy is great!

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Just a few huts down, we found ourselves at a little table where we ordered some cervezas; the boys ordered pasta and I ate a pizza. It was all fresh and delicious. The topic of discussion ranged everywhere from politics to travel to relationships to popular (American) TV shows.

He told us that in his country, the government has American cartoons in English only so that kids will learn the language while watching. Incredible! Our country should offer something like that! Dan and I feel like such jerks because everyone we meet speaks two to four languages. It’s incredible. Anyway, Fidel apparently really liked the Powerpuff Girls. We high-fived over that.

As we sipped our second beer, who other than the annoying British girl shows up! She pretends to look at the menu next door, then comes closer and looks at the menu on the table directly next to us. When she realizes we weren’t going to acknowledge her, she steps up to the table and stares. Dan continues to talk and Fidel and I continue to look directly at him as if we were so involved in his story, we were unable to notice any distractions nearby. She finally left.

After dinner, we retired to our hammocks where we snuggled in for the night. It was fairly hot, but we were tired and we dozed off.

About an hour or so later, I woke up and realized how hot it was. It was unbearable! The mosquito net was in my face, the hammock was hugging my body and there was booming music down the way. I whispered to Dan, “It’s so hot!” He agreed.

I fidgeted around for a bit before I semi fell asleep again.

I continued to drift in and out, begging for the music to stop and the temperature to drop just ten degrees. It didn’t.

Around 3 AM, I got out of the hammock and walked towards the water to cool off. There was no breeze. It was still. It was hot. It was humid. I walked into the water, but it was warm. It felt the same temperature as the air. WHY!?

I sat on some steps until I returned to my hammock to try and sleep again. It was so, miserably hot that I couldn’t stand my own limbs touching. It was so unbearable. Words cannot describe how awful it was. I felt like I wanted to leave the beach, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

About 5 AM, I got out of my hammock and took a chair towards the water to wait for sunrise. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. My eyes felt like they were sagging down my cheeks. I decided to change into my swimsuit and splash around the water.

I watched the sun slowly rise and the sky change from pink to yellow to lavender to a brilliant blue. The clouds went from gray to purple. Birds flew overhead and people started stirring awake.

A guy came out into the water. “Hola! Buenos dias!”

“Hola. Buenos dias.”

That’s all I know. But he continued. He was talking so fast and I just stared at his face. What are you saying? I think he asked me a question. He is looking at me. Ugh. “Anglais?” He looked confused and replied, “Francais?”

“No, English? Uh. Je parle un peu francais. I speak English and un pequeño Español.” I pointed to my ears and tried to say I understand a little (which is a lie) and he continued to ramble off. He kept making his hands like googles and pointing down. So we walked around looking at our feet in the clear water. He suddenly reached down and picked up a pair of goggles and started to cheer. He put them up in the air and shouted towards his friends on the beach and they all cheered. He looked back at me and continued to speak and I continued to look blankly at him.

He then made a signal like the breathing tube that attaches to the mask and I said, “Oh, you don’t need that! Just use the goggles!” I’m an idiot. He was saying he lost it and I didn’t understand.

He handed me the mask and I put it on and stuck my face in the water. I started walking, looking at the sand and fish swimming by when I saw the snorkel! I dove down and grabbed it and handed to him. He cheered; “¡Gracias! ¡Gracias! Este era caro! Mucho dinero para mí.” I shook my head in agreement and tried to tell him I don’t have snorkel gear because it is expensive. We smiled and he went in to celebrate with his friends.

I finally walked back to the hostel area and sat down when Dan awoke. We grumbled about how little sleep we got but were so thankful to have stayed. Fidel was also awake and he offered us his snorkel gear to use before the water got busy.

The gear didn’t fit Dan very well, so only I got to use it. I had never truly snorkeled before. It was incredible! I floated about large rocks and reefs looking at jellyfish, eels, purple fish, black fish, and so on. It was beautiful. I returned to the beach an hour later and Fidel took a turn out in the water before the three of us grabbed breakfast.

Breakfast consisted of fresh eggs (from the chickens out back) scrambled with onions and peppers and served with a large, fried arepa that had a light cinnamon sprinkle. My coffee was piping hot and served in a small plastic cup and had too much sugar. But all in all, a fresh breakfast on the beach is like none other.

Being as tired as we all were, the three of us lounged in the shade until it was time to leave.

The rest of the day was average. The bus ride was long and warm, despite the AC and after a lovely, cold shower, we had some dinner and headed to bed. I fell asleep in my clothes I was so tired.

I’ll end it here. Sorry for the long post!
Next time, I’ll talk about the insider tour Dan and I had today.

 

Until then,
B

 

¹ (adjective) inferior quality; held in low social regard; old and dilapidated; refers almost exclusively to inanimate material objects, not to people  — Urban Dictionary 

² We met a lot of Canadians here. Canadians are great!

³ “Pants” are “underwear” in case you weren’t sure.

A Quick Escape

Dan and I are currently waiting in the lobby of our hostel to board a bus to Playa Blanca,
(a very touristy, crowded beach that is one of the most pristine beaches in Colombia). We plan on sipping out of coconuts, snorkeling in clear, blue waters, and staying the night in a hammock to catch that saltwater breeze.

I know, life is terrible.

When we get back, I plan on bragging about how amazing it was.. or possibly complain about how crowded and hot it was..
But most importantly, I will recap on our adventure to the Mud Volcano, which was an excellent experience and I’m excited to talk about it!

Until then,
B

Would You Kindly STFU?

I am surprised at how many people do not understand common courtesy when it comes to closing doors in the morning while others are sleeping. Growing up, I feared my mother if I accidentally closed something too loudly. I was shown how to properly apply pressure to a door while closing to avoid the loud BANG.

Around 7:22 AM, people were fumbling around the 10-bed room and were pulling the door closed so loudly, I laid there twitching trying to avoid jumping down from the top bunk and hitting them on the top of their sleepy heads.

One particular girl was stomping about the room and slamming the door several times before she re-entered and left the door wide open, allowing the AC to rush out and the light to burst in, ruining the last of everyone’s dreams. I sat up and made eye contact, as if to say: “Really?” Climbed down the awkward ladder and closed the door, quietly.

Dan says it’s because she’s British.

After a cup of coffee and some odd fruit,¹ Dan and I walked down to the Teatro Heredia to take a peek inside and ask for tickets to see a show. However, it was closed. As it was the last two times we visited. This place hates us.

 

photo courtesy: adventuresinfoodandculture.com

One day.

 

Yesterday, we walked around the Castillo de San Felipe and thoroughly enjoyed touring the endless, windy tunnels and snapping photos of the Colombian flag proudly waving over the view of the city.

As we walked back towards the hostel, we passed through Torre del Reloj, which is a beautiful structure that contrasts wonderfully with the bright blue skies.

See? So pretty!

After a much needed fill of leftover green pasta, we booked our trip to the Mud Volcano (for today) and a roundtrip bus to Playa Blanca (for tomorrow), where we will stay the night on the beach.

I am so very excited to sleep by the water in a hammock and not listen to the British girl chewing with her mouth open and recapping the line she just heard from her Netflix show.

 

Until next time!

B

¹ Turns out it was just a tasteless papaya.

The Budgeteers

Yesterday,

Dan and I decided to walk to the Palace of the Inquisition and the Castillo de San Felipe.
Here is a screen grab of approximately our route:

 

We sanitized our water (can’t be too safe) and headed out into the heat.

Our first stop was located in a plaza; plenty of carts with people shouting things at us to buy their snacks. We walked right through and into the museum. The price to enter was 17,000 Colombian Pesos (≈ $6 USD) per person. Okay. We purchased our tickets and walked towards the door to enter and were stopped by a man who told us about a tour option (in Spanish, so I can’t say word for word what he said). He told us, in English, it would be 35,000 CP (≈ $12 USD) for a guided tour that would explain the history and detailed information about the events there.
We opted out as we are “ballin’ on a budget.”

Entering, perhaps exiting, into the main courtyard, we paused to look at our maps. Another man approached us bugging us about the same thing. Only, he tried to disguise his service by telling us we can ask him any questions. No gracias. No gracias.

Dan and I wandered around without a guide. Although we saved some money, we had no idea what was going on. There were maybe five signs that were in English, but not enough to allow us to understand what the hell we were looking at.
Weird torture instruments, a mirror, a guillotine, OOOH! AC!, a movie in Spanish, a sword! Cool!

After about an hour, we headed towards our second destination. One-way streets were overcrowded with tiny cars and small motorcycles as we walked against traffic, on the road, because 80% of the sidewalks were destroyed. Pedestrians walked in front of cars to cross the street, completely unafraid of being pummeled. Maybe because the cars were tiny.

We crossed a semi-hectic intersection and walked along the water, looking at the towering, modern city buildings across the way. By the time we made it to Castillo de San Felipe, we were starving.

Looking at our phones and doing terrible conversion math in our heads, we hangrily made it to the mall where we ended up eating at a place called “Presto.” Which is basically a McDonalds but with house-made food. When we finished, we decided to visit the fort the next day, as the weather was pretty poopy.

Dan and I grabbed some very large, cheap beers (Aguila) that were less than a dollar a piece, and walked along the old city wall.

Before I continue, let me paint you a picture:

All of the buildings are colorful; pastel blues, pinks, white walls with blue trimmed windows, copper walls with dark wooden doors that are 15 feet high with old, metal locks and chains, vibrant yellows and oranges, velvety reds, and so on.

The colors of the city, alone, are captivating. The structures are elegant with statues and sculpted pillars. The city wall is material from several hundreds of years ago and contains many sentry boxes, scattered canons and plenty of little windows you can sit in.

 

 

As the sun was setting under a storm, Dan and I sat inside a window and made a cheers with our ridiculously large beers.

 

We planned on joining the hostel’s free salsa dance lessons, but neglected to join. The atmosphere at this place is nothing compared to the one we enjoyed in Old San Juan. This place is too large. Most people are traveling with groups or already have formed a clique. Which is fine. Dan is a great companion and I generally don’t care. About most things.

 

We cooked a dinner comprised of a CRAP ton of pasta, a ton of broccoli, cucumber, a green pepper and some sort of verde dressing.¹ Now there are four full, quart-sized zip bags in the fridge for us to eat the next two days because, like I said… “ballin’ on a budget.”

 

Until next time,

-B

 

1 We thought that everything being green was funny.

A Slight Delay

I am sitting here in the AC on my top bunk bed thinking about those little moments in Puerto Rico that I did not write down.

Idiot.

The AC reads “23”… Celcius? Oh yeah. I forget the rest of the world worked like this.

There are 10 beds in this room. One man is laying down with his arms crossed, staring at the bed above him. His name is Peter and he is from Poland. He’s a nice guy, but a tad awkward. There are two boys to my right talking in French, but they are from Canada. They’re nice, but young. They were very curious about Colorado and marijuana and whether or not Dan and I partook. We explained that not everyone in Colorado is a stoner.

Dan is off somewhere. Brushing his teeth? Showering? I hope so. He’s a teeny bit stinky.¹

The point of this post? I just want to recap our trip from Puerto Rico. I know I have incessantly posted pictures, but nothing is better than the written word. But before I begin², I would like to recap this morning:

Dan and I woke up around 8:00 AM. We were told the hostel has free breakfast until 10. So we lay in bed for an hour; I was updating my reviews on Trip Advisor³ and Dan was researching this trek (also on Trip Advisor). He peered up over the bunk and whispers, “You should read these reviews. It seems it is very difficult and a lot of people get sick. Like, a lot, a lot.”
This trek is a 4, 5 or 6 day intense hike to the “Lost City.” Just about every review mentions a violent intestinal virus that results in hikers having a very un-fun time hiking up steep hills for 6 hours a day. Not to mention a fever in the grueling heat of the day and asshole mosquitoes at night. Naturally, we decided we won’t go.

Around 10 after 9, Dan and I walked out of our room and over towards the commons area where we found two bowls of freshly cut watermelon and cantaloupe, two tall containers of cereal, a large, glass dispenser of milk, another full of OJ⁴, and a huge pile of sliced bread for toast. Oh! And two enormous dispensers of hot, Colombian coffee.

We made our plates of toast and fruit and headed for a communal table. I peeled back the foil from the little butter container and noticed it was pure goo. The heat in Colombia makes for melted butter. Which is awesome. I love butter.

As we sat down with our second serving of toast, and Dan grabbed some cereal, one of our roommates came to join our table. We talked of our plans for Playa Blanca and how we were disappointed that the Parque Tayrona was closed for the month of November. (Look up this place, fall in love, and go visit. It looks AWESOME!)

We finished our breakfast and I went back to the room to sit in the AC and be inspired to write this blog that I originally told people I wouldn’t do. I thought I wouldn’t have time. Now, I realize, there will be days that go by that I won’t. But, there will be days that I do, and the days that I do should be spent sharing the small details of our travels.

It is already 11 AM and we have yet to figure out what we are doing today. I should research a thing or two instead of making Dan do all the work.

Until next time,

-B

 

¹ I get stinky, too. We are traveling. It happens.

² I changed my mind on writing about Puerto Rico after realizing this one was plenty long for a first post. Next time guys..

³ I never knew I would be a reviewer. But, as a traveler, it is nice to help inform other travelers. Plus, we get points. Don’t know what for, but we get them!

⁴ Dan corrected me several times that it was Tang, NOT orange juice.