Colombia – how the world should be (except maybe for the cocaine)

 
Ok, it’s been a while, sorry. But Colombia has me entranced like so many travellers before me brave enough to ignore the ‘reconsider the need to travel’ warnings issued by the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs.

Talking to fellow travellers along the way, you develop a list of ‘must ask’ questions. ‘How long are you travelling for?’, ‘Where have you been?’ and ‘Where are you going?’ are all stock standard. But the one question that gets the most startlingly consistent response is ‘What’s your favourite country in South America?’ Hands down, everyone replies ‘Colombia.’ When you ask why, it is the people that make this place. Everyone here, without exception so far, we have found to be so polite, so compassionate, and so willing to go out of their way to help you. From our bus driver yesterday who walked us personally to the ticket counter and inquired about tickets to San Gil for us, to our cab driver on our first night in Bogota who helped find us a hostel at 4 am in the morning - we waited in the car and he knocked on doors to ask if there was space, to the wait staff at restaurants who without fail reply ‘con gusto’ (my pleasure), and the police at the police museum in Bogota who were shocked when we said that we had not yet tried Colombian coffee and ran off and made us some, nothing seems to be too big an ask for the people of this serene country. It is a wonderful change to countries like Argentina, where wait staff raise their nose in disgust at you when you ask for another glass of wine, and throw your meal down on the table at you like you are below them.

This country is so much more than how it is portrayed. It is such a shame that its reputation remains so negative. That is not to take away from the fact that there are still huge problems here stemming from the production of cocaine, which provides the world with 80% of its cocaine and from the presence of guerrillas that still exists in the jungle and in the plains of the Andes. Current President Alvaro Uribe has made significant inroads into these issues, promoting foreign investment and creating initiatives such as Posadas Ecoturisticas de Colombia that helps families get out of the cocaine industry and into tourism or sustainable farming, however, with the Constitutional Court’s decision to block a referendum which would have allowed his re-election, after eight years of rule, by the end of May, Uribe will be no more. Instead, the people of Colombia, whom I might add are not legally required to vote, are left to decide between Mockus, a Green and favourite with the younger generations whose moto is “with education everything is possible” and Santos, Uribe’s former defense minister. Clearly two very differing perspectives on how the country should be run. It will be very interesting to see what happens come the end of May.

To add to the appeal of Colombia, the landscape is spectacular and the food hits the spot, though we have noticed a huge increase in the number of times we have to visit the ATM each week.

We began in Bogota, the capital.  The highlight had too be the police museum. Shown around by an incredibly over-smiley and pimply officer who could not have been older than 15, we got to see the ins and outs of policing in Colombia. Including a ‘special tour’ of the Cornel’s private office, where, pointing out the Cornel’s desk and chair (the only things in the room) and talking about the reason behind the colours of the Colombian flag our tour guide’s smile increased 10 fold, if that was possible. The building housed the most insane collection of weapons you will ever witness from bazookas, to guns disguised as pens, but to top it off it came complete with the blood stained floor board (no, not his blood stained jacket Lonely Planet) from where drug lord Pablo Escobar fell in 1993 when he was shot by police as he retaliated and gruesome photos of his offsiders with wholes in their heads.

Bazooka anyone? How about some rifles?!!

Interesting Colombian armed forces facts we learnt:

• Military service and training begins here as early as 10 years old (wtf?!!?)
• The size of the Colombian armed forces (police, military etc) is some 250,000. The size of the Australia’s army is 30,000 full time soldiers. Hmmm.
• There are so many types of police here, from ‘auxilaries’ to your normal officer, that it is impossible to keep track of them all and to know who does what
• What I do know it that they all look about 15 and carry semi-automatic weapons almost as big as them, slung over their shoulders. It is not uncommon to see them stationed along the side of the road, a tactic used to prevent bus hijackings. It’s really comforting to see these guys on the side of the road, not. I think this one might even be on his mobile.

 
To complete the Bogota experience, we thought we’d get some cultural experience. We ventured throughout the city on a ‘city walk’ which included the oldest chocolate shop in the city (the chocolate itself tasted like it was 100 years old, gross), and the Botero museum which houses the likes of Picasso, Renoir, Dali and Monet as well as works by Colombia’s own Botero. His specialty, slightly amusing yet endearing at the same time, are his ‘fat people’ and my favourite, his take on the Mona Lisa:

And who could go past visiting the underground salt cathedral at Zipiquira, a short bus ride from Bogota. Both haunting, yet mesmerizingly beautiful. Apparently people get married down there, some several kilometres underground. A bit eerie if you ask me.

Anyhoo, with the big 2-5 approaching for me we headed to Medellin, the second largest Colombian city, famous for once being the centre of the Colombian drug cartels in search of a good bar and restaurant scene. Hitting two big cities in a row did nothing good for our constitutions. We quickly found ourselves bored with the usual ‘head to this cathedral and then to this botanical garden’ information that sprawled the pages of our Lonely. Coupled with not being able to find the train station thanks to the totally inadequate directions from our hair extension wearing numskull of a hostel receptionist, consisting only of a wave of a hand in the air, we quickly gave up on seeing down town Medellin. We headed instead to our old time favourite, the movies. Nothing beats a movie, mega popcorn and diet coke!!

That night, with it being my ‘official’ birthday in Australia, we headed out to celebrate. We googled, researched and asked around for a restaurant with a pit of pizzazz. Just my luck though, the one that I had set my heart on no longer existed. Ignoring the requests of the sleezy cab driver, who offered to take us out for dinner we headed to another one that had taken my fancy, El Herbario. Medellin just wasn’t giving us good vibes though. We couldn’t find this one either at the address we had. With our first stroke of luck for the entire day however, while heading to the end of the street to get a cab back to Poblado we stumbled across it. Apparently here there are many houses with the same street number. Can you think of anything more idiotic.

The venue was spectacular – a converted warehouse with beautiful lighting and a live band that serenaded us from above. The food was even better. Caramelised peaches with lightly torched goats cheese and apple for entree, followed by steak with mushroom volcano (literally mushrooms exploding out of the centre of my 2 inch think steak) and for Slurry, prosciutto with rocket for entree and lemon prawns for main with a mango crème brûlée each for dessert. Accompanied by copious amounts of champagne, vine, and sticky, I was in heaven. The perfect way to begin my Colombian birthday celebrations. Thank you Cogswells! Unfortunately, Medellin did not share my happy celebratory spirits. Much to our shock, everything here closes at 12pm. I suppose it was a Tuesday. Disheartened, but not defeated we headed back to the (empty) hostel bar to continue celebrating my day of birth with Heratio, the night watchman, who continued with his calculus homework while making us more and more vodka oranges.

Ahhhh, so by now, I am officially 25, in all parts of the world. Crap, half way to 50. Claire loves that I can no longer call her ‘old.’ To celebrate my ‘South American’ turning 25, we headed out for a long awaited Thai lunch. Oh how I miss having Pad Thai every other day over here. In fact, good food like Chinese sweet and sour pork and Pad Thai are some of the things I miss the most from home. Anyways, tangent. Then lead through the winding and very confusing streets of Medellin by Claire, we arrived at a beauty spa – woo hoo!! My birthday surprise – a beauty spa package treatment!  For 3 hours I was absolutely pampered with a massage, the best facial I have ever had, my hair washed and blow dried and paraffin put on my arms and legs. Thanks Slurry!!!!!!!!!!!!! Best present ever!!!!! With my mullet (yes, I am in desperate need of a hair cut) groomed to perfection we ventured to Ay Caramba! for some Mexican to top off an all-round fabulous day bringing in the quarter of a century. I really felt like dessert, but we couldn’t find any ice cream shops. Claire, always prepared, had sneakily already got me a huge cake which she surprised me with when we got home. I thought she had fallen in the toilet with the time it was taking her. Turns out she was running to the fridge to get my cake. Which, I might add, with the help of a couple of Americans, we devoured in entirety.

To top off our Medellin experiences we ate Mondongo. I will get to what it is. By a stroke of misfortune rather than anything else, we walked into what looked like a really nice cafe where we could just grab a sandwich. It was packed and looked really nice. Unbeknown to us however, the only thing that was on the menu was this ‘Mondongo’ stuff. Either a full Mondongo, or a half Mondongo. We decided to share a full Mondongo. And now I know, I’m glad I didn’t eat a whole one myself. What arrived at out table was a huge bowl of soup, a banana and an avocado. Random. Looking around, the locals just grabbed the avocado and ate slices of it. We quickly followed. We later learned that the banana was supposed to go in the soup. I’m sure we looked silly eating it normally. Anyway, putting the banana in the soup wouldn’t have changed anything. It was what was in the soup that was the problem - a slightly fury looking thing. You know the coral that looks like it is hairy, the one that sways with the currents of the ocean. This looked like that, except the ‘this’ was TRIPE. VOMIT! Scared for life!!!

OMG – IT”S TRIPE!!!!

Desperate for some country air we decided that we would loop back south from Medellin to La Zona Cafetera – to the small town of Salento, an hours drive from Armenia. Salento’s surrounds are absolutely breath taking. Luscious green valleys full of coffee plantations is all that exists for miles.  The town itself is an eclectic mix of colours. The houses have bright funky coloured doors – blues, pinks, yellows and inside, bicycles and sombreros hang from the ceiling. But the best part of Salento is what is just outside it, in the Valley de Cocora. It is one of the only places that you will find palmas de cera or wax palms in Colombia and in the world. These amazingly weird trees that were traditionally used to make candles but that are now protected, take some 200 years to get to the height you see in the photo. Some grow as high as 80 metres tall.

The valley looks like a scene straight out of Jurassic Park!

The best part of Salento however had to be our trip to a Salento local named Omar’s dairy farm. Around the hostel dining room table our first night in Salento we were lucky enough have started chatting to an English traveller, Catherine. Talking away late into the night while waiting for photos to upload, Catherine told us of her plans for the next day. She was heading up to the El Rocio, ‘Eagle’s Nest,’ being picked up by Omar at 630 the next morning. It sounded spectacular. The property, with no electricity, is set high up in the hills of the national park. At night, sitting around the fire, you can look out the big glass windows 180 degrees, and see over 18 towns that light the valley below.  Understandably, with little coaxing, she managed to convince us to join her and a Swiss guy Julian for the 630 am pick up.

After organising a wake up call with the bizarre night watchman (our phones were both dead – Colombia has weird power points), we rushed back to our rooms (it being now about 1130 pm) to begin packing a little bag. Being the polite dorm mates that we are, we packed our bags outside our dorm room and put our bags in an empty room so not as to disturb everyone when we got up in the morning. However, our 6 am wake up call by the ‘bizarre night watchmen’ never came. Luckily, my paranoia about not waking up on time meant I was waking up every half an hour or so all night. When I looked at my watch and realised that it was 610 we jumped up and raced to get dressed, only to find an angry sign and big padlock on the door of the room where we had put our bags. With Claire’s clothes locked inside, I raced up to reception to find the ‘bizarre night watch man’ still snoring. Helpful. Anyway, we finally got our bags released and off we headed with Omar.

To be be continued… I have to get on a bus to the BEACH!!