Fear and loathing in Quito

One funny thing about travelling is that people who are sitting back home generally have the wrong impression security wise about various countries.

Good examples are El Salvador, Nicaragua and Colombia. All of which have had bad reputations at one stage but are now, apart from certain areas in the big cities (like any country), very safe and extremely pleasant to travel in. The Scary Planet type guidebooks generally take 3 or 4 years to reflect the general vibe on the street, so Colombia is still one of those places where we are told to be extremely careful. To be honest I would be more worried walking round north inner city Dublin than I would in Medellin.

Likewise there are some places that have a decent reputation, even in guide books, but are black spots when you talk to other travellers. My informal straw poll amongst fellow backpackers gave the ranking:
1. Caracas & most of Venezuela
2. Quito & the east of Ecuador
3. Guatemala City
as contenders in the "Most likely to get mugged" competition.

So it was with a vague uneasy feeling that I arrived into a dark and windy Quito (2800m) with an Australian bloke I had met at the Colombian border.

The uneasy feeling was alleviated about 4 hours later as I was dancing with aforementioned Aussie and a Dutch girl in a club absolutely jam packed with friendly Ecuadorians.

It was a Tuesday night.

Yes, Quito likes to party. Every night of the week the streets of the La Mariscal are packed with people either drinking (despite draconian laws against street drinking; none of that stuff in Colombia!) or queuing up to get into packed pubs and clubs. The Reina Victoria pub was a great place to get things going. It had a good mixture of locals, travellers and ex-pats and it had a lovely big fire going in the fireplace. It is actually a strong candidate for the next entry in Quietpubs.com

Other than its fun loving people, the Old Town of Quito is a veritable treasure trove of churches, monasteries and leafy Plazas and well deserves it UNESCO status. So between ambling about the old town, visiting the equator and putting one leg in the Northern hemisphere and one in the south (had to be done), getting the cable car up to 4000m and looking down over the city and enjoying the nightlife & not enjoying the morning after (I am sure hangovers disimprove with altitude) it took me a week to leave Quito.

Colombia in Review

Well except for the last night, Colombia was just one big box of fantastic chocolates.
From the beaches of Cartagena to the ruins in the Lost City & Tierradentro, from the rainforests of Salento to the 5000+ meter summits near Manizales and from the isolated and steeped in history Mompox to the party mad Medellin, Colombia is just peppered with the most sensational scenery and places. But at end of the day it is the people that make the place: open, friendly, funny and generally just a race that like to have a good time.

Minus points? Well the food just ain't the greatest and certainly can't compete with somewhere like Mexico. But coming from Ireland that is hardly a reason to fault a country, is it? :)

As Arnie said, "I'll be back"...

Photos here

Pasto: Or travelling ain't all sunshine

Just in case you think this is all just beers, beaches and sunshine my trip to Pasto was a case of "mammy can I come home now?".

Wake at 5am. Ant bites hurt like hell. Neck looks like I could win the Mid-Western all comers Redneck championship.
Yeah, Yeah, pain is transient.

Bus arrives nicely late. Only a couple of seats left. Squeeze myself in beside dribbling local (not a toddler).

5 hours of rock, roll and dust surfing and we arrive in Popayan. I look like a grey Frosty the fecking snowman.

Next bus, Popayan - Pasto. Only back seats left. It looks all good as all the seats are leather. Forget that leather is slippy and that the ride is a curvy, bumpy uphill and downhill roller coaster special. Spend next 2 hours squirming in the seat as every time the driver brakes my arse flies forward and I practically end up on the floor. Added to this is the attractive young lady beside me with a toddler (not dribbling) in her lap. The kid choose to use my elbow as a headrest. I never realised that kids had such hard heads. My elbow definitely came away the worse for wear after being constantly head-butted by dangling kiddo. Next the mother starts to fall asleep on my shoulder, so here I am seat surfing with a headbutting toddler and a Colombian chick sawing some logs on my shoulder.

It all ends at 7pm. Only 13 hours on the road. Piece of piss, but at this stage the small of my back has gone into spasms. Taxi downtown and check in to only vaguely hostel-looking place. Massive building over 3 floors. Room on the top floor looks decent enough so I check in. When I get back in I throw myself on the bed. Might as well have thrown myself out the window. The mattress was only slightly softer than concrete. Oh well, I can sleep on anything, probably good for my sore back etc. etc. Then I notice a sound coming from the ceiling, I am on the top floor so I reckon it is pigeons. There is definitely some cooing going on to support this theory. Then a slightly louder sound starts emanating from up there. Is that the sound of 4 legs?? No, no, it's just a very large pigeon. Honestly.

I decide to brave the outside world as I haven't had anything to eat all day except a sugary cup of coffee at 6am. I am immediately accosted by a beggar outside the door. I dodge him only to be accosted by another. Pasto appears to be poorer than a blind door mouse. I play hide and seek between beggars and dodgy looking gentlemen who I am sure would love to relieve me of my last pesos and make it to a restaurant. Needless to say the food was not the may west, but the highlight of the day was of course a nice frothy beer. I paid the bill and legged it back to the hostel, turned the light off, ignored the noises and had my last night in Colombia.

All just rock 'n' roll...

Tierradentro: Moonshine, drunk rebels, empty tombs & big assed butterflies.

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 ScaryLonely Planet warnings I knocked it back. I was poured another. I knocked it back too. The assembled locals inside gave me a loud cheer.

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.

The drugs do work

Sometimes they just do... Compare:




From Jefferson Airplane to Jefferson Starship to Starship. Shame on you Grace Slick.

[Post came to me whilst stuck in a bus listening to Starship's later shite]

Cali

An overnighter from Medellin, Cali is famous for Salsa and more partying but at this stage I'd had too much of a good thing so I went to the zoo and read a book instead.

Who said this travelling stuff is all just rock and roll?

Medellin

Enough hiking, it was time to head downhill to Medelin and party (the week's breather after Bogota was enough). That is what Medellin is famous for (well other than a public transport cable car & Botero) and by God do they enjoy themselves.

The main entertainment area (Zona Rosa) is based around the Parque de Lleras and it is a non-stop conveyor belt of entertainment. Bars, Pubs, Restaurants, Karaoke, Clubs, Salsa joints. You name it they got it.

And never one to shirk a challenge I tried them all and loved every minute. Only problem is I have to decide when to go back...

Manizales and Nevado del Ruiz

Manizales is a student town and you can tell - everyone on the streets seems to be between 18 and 26. There is also quite a disproportionate amount of girls. Not to mention a very obvious tendency for the girls to be very attractive.

I immediately liked Manizales. It is also set in a unique location - the main street follows the ridge of a hill, so that you can stand on the street and look at two different valleys.

It was time for some more action so I decided to take a trip up to Nevado del Ruiz, a 5300m high mountain a couple of hours away from Manizales.

The guide turned out to be either very funny or very strange. He started off by introducing the driver and saying that the Manizalians were the best drivers in the whole of Colombia. We then passed the airport and he mentioned that Manizales had the 2nd most dangerous airport in Colombia. I could see a trend. Further information:
* Manizales has the 4th purest drinking water in the world
* Manizales is one of only a handful of cities across the world with multiple microclimates
* The road to NdR is the most dangerous (for landslides) in Colombia
* The road to NdR is the 2nd highest in South America
* Nevado del Ruiz is one of the 5 highest mountains in Colombia (true unfortunately)

The man was a walking statistics machine. Everytime he opened his mouth I started to cringe in fear of another fact assault.

Eventually he shut up and we drove up to 4500m where we parked. At this stage StatistoGuide donned ski googgles, mountaineering boots the size of small children and put on about 15 layers of North Face. He looked as if he was ready to attack K2. I stared at him, wearing a fleece and a pair of trainers.

The climb was technically simple, but due to the altitude bloody tiring. On the way I befriended two East Germans who were also poking fun at our UeberGuide. We made it up in just over an hour and true to form the Ossies cracked open and shared some beers and had some bananas to celebrate.

Salento & The Cocora Valley

After the craziness of Bogota I decided for a bit of R&R in the countryside. Salento was the destination of choice, a hilly town in the middle of the "coffee zone". I arrived latish on a Sunday afternoon to find a fiesta in full swing in the main square. Kids were running around, beers were being swigged and trout were a fryin' (town speciality).

So not to be rude I had some beers and a fantastic trout in mushrooms before checking into the beautiful Plantation house, a cool hostel up on a hill where my room offered a magnificent view over the adjoining valley.

Up bright, breezy and unhungover the next morning I jumped in a packed jeep and took the bumpy road down to the Cocora Valley. A place famous for its massive wax palms - fact overload warning: The wax palm is Colombia´s national tree and the tallest palm in the world. From the moment we entered the valley it was picture postcard - rolling hills, rainforests and the infamous gangly wax palms everywhere. There was a marked hike which in hindsight was one of the most beautiful I have ever done (giving New Zealand a run for its money) and I mosied for a couple of hours up hills and over rivers, before arriving at the rangers station. The nice chap and his wife prepared hot chocolate and cheese (Colombian speciality) whilst 3 different types of hummingbird buzzed by my ear.

On the way back I bumped into a lovely Croatian couple and we hiked back to the jeep together. This time it was standing room only and I had to stand on the rear bumper and hang on for dear life.

Other super duper fact of the day: Sláinte pronounced in Croatian means "little elephants".

Photos of the cocora valley

Bogota

At 2850 meters, Bogota is higher than a stoned kitten and I only planned to stay a couple of days.

7 days later and a couple of hundred dollars lighter I had to drag myself to the bus station to leave.

Bogota is just one of those cities that has everything - interesting sights like the museum of Gold (no freebies), taking the funicular up to Monserrate and looking down over the urban sprawl or just strolling round the old town in the Candelaria.
It also boasts more nightlife than a sane man can handle and to boot the people of Bogota are some of the friendliest out there. After only a couple of weeks, I was developing a massive soft spot for Colombia.

Villa de Leyva

Villa de Leyva is a small colonial town up in the hills close to Bogota, so I holed up there for a night. I checked into a hotel on the gigantic main square and immediately regretted it. This place was The Shining part 2. Incredibly long halls, mountain wind blowing in and out of the rooms and a creepy old manager shuffling around on her zimmerframe. I had a hot shower for the first time in months, but my sleep was intermittant as I was expecting an ax through the door at any stage.

San Gil

San Gil was just a stop to break up the journey on the road to Bogota. A fairly unimpressive town famous for its whitewater rafting. I declined the offer as after having rafted grade 5s in Nepal I wasn't to be enthused by paltry grade 3s. Instead I headed up to Barichara, a quaint (sorry, I hate that word, but it is the most appropriate) town a couple of kilometers uphill from San Gil. It was a most relaxing day, just spent moseying around, eating ice cream & Hormigas Culonas (Big assed ants (and no, not at the same time)) and generally enjoying the stunning view of the surrounding mountains. Although I did have quite an extremely spiritual moment in the cathedral. Walking in it was completely deserted and quite spooky. I sat down up the front and started to hear a very faint voice. Straining my ears I could definitely make out someone speaking to me. Thinking I was getting instructions from God I stood up and moved closer to the altar whereupon I see a tiny radio which has been left on.