Cali to Popayan was a mercifully short bus ride and the city itself very pleasant especially as I treated myself to a room in the Casona del Virrey, an old colonial hotel situated on the main town square.Up early the next day I set off for Tierradentro, a remote area with some old tombs. It was to be one of those bus rides that has 30 minutes on a paved road and 5 and a half unpaved. The scenery was stunning as usual - a mixture of rain forest and paramo but the road took its toll on my arse and my lungs (air-conditioning was provided in the form of windows that opened and let it the beautiful fine Colombian road dust).
We eventually arrived in the tiny town of San Andres de Pisimbala and I got a room in the "swanky" new La Portada, owned by a cool chap called Leonardo. Who within minutes of meeting me handed me a beer and started drawing a map of the region with all the tombs etc. He even included walking times between places. Very impressive. I thanked him and set off for a walk around town, which was as close as idyllic as you can get. Surrounded on all sides by mountains, there is a football pitch in the middle where there were at least 3 simultaneous games going on. Up beside the thatched church I was whistled at (in a non-sexual way) and a Colombian standing in the doorway of the local bar/shop/hairdressers was waving at me. I mosied over and was handed a shot of the local moonshine. Ignoring all
So what else to do, but sit down and shoot the breeze. A couple of beers were passed around and the conversation turned political. San Andres had been up until recently a little bit active in the guerilla scene. The locals took pains to explain that it was all over and now it was all just peace, love and alcohol. I was inclined to believe them. Well at least by looking at the state at some of the Indios who were in various stages of inebriation. Hard to imagine them bearing arms, well at least without dropping them.
I was starving by now so I big my farewells and rolled back to La Portada where with a school-kid look of guilt on my face I ordered "whatever is on" (forget menus in much of Colombia. You just take what you are given). The lady of the house knocked up some great grub which I polished off in 4 seconds flat. The only other table was occupied by a German couple with their 2 kids. We got chatting and it turns out it was their third trip to Colombia (the first with kids). They were the perfect antidote to the legions of coke tourists (Warren, a sound English bloke I met in Medellin puts it best). They loved the country and had literally been everywhere. Even back in 1991, when your average backpacker was still wary of going anywhere outside Thailand.
Bed was an ungodly 9pm and so was the 4am wake up call from the legions of Roosters around my room. I dozed on and eventually escaped the very strong gravitational pull of the bed a couple of hours later. A quick breakfast was knocked up by Eva, who I couldn't work out if she was Leonardo's wife or employee and I headed off into the mountains. It was all uphill for the first hour, but the views were compensation enough. I eventually reached the first tomb, called Aguacate, which means avocado and I have no idea what the significance of it all is. It is situated on the top of a hill and has magnificent 360 degree views. The tombs looked like massive rabbit burrows, but in a couple of them there were vague drawings to be seen. Graverobbers has stolen the rest many years ago. I took my shirt off and had a lie down and I'm not sure if it was revenge from the dead or not, but I was bitten all over my back by some massive ants. Oh well, pain is transient as my father always said.
Back downhill towards the other tombs, fording streams (where I saw the most ginormous Blue Morpho I have ever seen) and avoiding bulls I make it up to tomb complex 2. There are 30 tombs here and each is at the bottom of some fucking massive steps. I mean even Andre the Giant couldn't have walked down these comfortably. Each tomb is under lock and key so the gatekeeper (Ghostbusters anyone?) has to let you into each one. After 3 such tombs and very little to see I told the 'keeper that was quite enough thank you. He looked a bit insulted (I would have thought he'd be happy to return to his radio and fags) but I wasn't having any of it and headed on to tomb complex 3 and 4 which I flew through as at this stage I was turning a nice shade of pink and all I wanted was a Coke (black) and a sit down.
That evening just as the sun was setting, I was down by the soccer pitch watching a big game and out of nowhere a herd? flock? pack? of wild horses came and ran through the middle of the pitch. Nobody batted an eye lid.
Special place.
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