After a cozy (*read as cramped and hot) night squashed in to our makeshift dorm room at Dreamers hostel, we accompanied the Australian’s on a day trip to Tayrona, after all what better way to relax after five days of strenuous hiking than to hike some more! Despite extreme fatigue, mainly due to the previous night’s sleeplessness than the exertion of the week, the two hour hike to Cabo San Juan didn’t seem half as bad as the last time Forrest and I had stumbled our way through the forrest. Whether this was due to our new-found hiking prowess or simply the lure of the beautiful beach that awaited us I’m not entirely sure. I have a sneaky suspicion that it was the first sighting of the Russian that spurred us on, who had obviously followed us to Tayrona having not quite had her fill of British/Australian humour that she had so desperately enjoyed on the trek. The Russian was still wearing the same tied-up camouflage belly top and shorts that she had worn for the previous five days, we were now even more convinced that she was definitely a member of KGB and had us under surveillance. It was a welcome relief to reach Cabo and we celebrated with a beautiful swim and a three hour sleep in the sunshine.
Our enthusiasm for hiking had well and truly escaped us when we all woke and the thought of the trek back was not appealing in the slightest, so with the exception of Webber who decided to run back to the road, we made the decision to get the boat back to Taganga. What followed was an incredible yet hair-raising experience. The tiny boat took off at breakneck speeds, and it felt as though we were flying as the waves crashed over us (and by this I don’t mean that we got a bit wet from the spray – the waves LITERALLY crashed over the boat soaking us to the skin). Even in the face of capsizing and drowning, the beauty of the coastline we sped past did not escape me (when I managed to open my eyes that is) and it could not have looked more like Jurassic Park with the pterodactyls (pelicans!) flying overhead! Soaking wet and shaky legged, we arrived back at Taganga just in time for a beautiful sunset. I would also like to clear something up on record – Jenna and Josh, I was not that scared and I certainly did not cry; I must have got some sea water in my eye or something.
After saying bye to Josh and Webber, more lasagne and more red wine, we retired to our room for some well-earned relaxation time in our private room…we were asleep within minutes! The next morning we made good on our promise to return to Cartagena, with Jenna and Matt in tow. The previously unfriendly and cold staff at El Viajero welcomed our return with open arms, well the girl on reception recognised us and managed to crack a smile, and we set about showing Jenna and Matt the beautiful city and doing the things we had missed out on the first time around. The first thing on our list was the castle, whose tunnels had been hyped up in the article previously mentioned in my Cartagena and the Caribbean blog post. The views from the castle were nice but nothing breathtaking, but exploring the tunnels was exciting until we decided to, as all well-travelled and adventurous GapYah’ers are inclined to do, escape the crowds and head deeper underground. Jenna and I had the sense to stop when our toes reached water, but Forrest and Matt, determined to find treasure, waded through ankle deep murky tunnel water finding only discarded rum bottles (not from pirates or military but from equally as idiotic tourists exploring the castle) but it wasn’t long before the sound of rats in the water made them come shrieking back. Re-emerging back in to the Caribbean sunshine, we continued our exploration of Cartagena’s defensive line with cocktails at Café Del Mar on the Citadel for sunset. An early night was forced upon us as an amazing meal of steak and mash (muchas gracias Matt and Jenna!) and red wine made it practically impossible to consider anything other than bed.
We spent the next morning wandering aimlessly around the city, browsing in the artisanal shops and photographing the beautiful colonial architecture, before an exquisite lunch of cheese and meats in a little Italian wine bar. It does seem that we have eaten more Italian food than anything vaguely Colombian, but believe me when I tell you that fried empanadas, plantains and rice can get quite tired, whereas pizza and pasta never disappoint. We were joined on our afternoon’s excursion to the Mud Volcano by none other than….THE RUSSIAN, whose KGB acting lessons came in to play as she pretended to be aghast when she saw us. I can report that she was still wearing the same clothes, however I choose to believe that the KGB provided her with more than one shirt to come away with. The mud volcano was pretty self-explanatory, although I would say perhaps more of a mud mound than a volcano. The “crater” at the top was already pretty chockablock with mud-covered people when we arrived, and it was hard to see how our bus load of people were going to fit in, but as one by one we were ushered in to the mud any inhibitions one might have had were extinguished as we were massaged with the “healing” mud by the mud-volcano men (something Matt and Forrest seemed pretty excited about) and then directed into any available space to experience the curious nature of the viscous mud. Jenna’s squeal of “IT’S CHUNKY!” when climbing down the ladder was a perfect description of the consistency of the mud, which gave the impression of no discernible sense of gravity and the resistance it created meant that you could stand up without actually touching hard ground. Forrest may be tall, but I think he was reaching beyond his grasp when he decided that he was going to try and touch the bottom, before politely being informed that the crater was 2300 feet deep! After dragging ourselves out of the mud and waddling with mud-filled bikini bottoms down to the river nearby, we were grabbed by women who washed the mud off us. A somewhat weird experience as we were plonked in barely deep enough water, and stripped naked whilst Colombian women scrubbed at our bodies and swimwear as we scrambled to cover our dignity in the shallow water.
The next evening we experienced our first long-haul bus journey, sixteen hours from Cartagena to Medellin, and I am delighted to inform you that neither sharing the sub-zero air-conditioned bus with The Russian (told you she was following us!) nor an attempted heist was able to stop us from snoozing the entire length of the journey. The attempted heist took place sometime in the very early hours of the morning, when a rock was thrown at the bus completely shattering one of the windows. I woke from my slumber at the sound of the crash, and couldn’t understand why the driver seemed to speed up rather than to stop and cover the window to stop the draught from disturbing my sleep. It all made sense however when we were told that we had been driving through guerrilla territory and whoever had thrown the rock would have wanted us to stop in order to steal our belongings. Let me tell you this for nothing, if any guerrilla had dared to steal my tins of tuna and Milo biscuits they would have found themselves dealing with a very angry and tired little girl!
My trusty Rough Guide says of Medellin; “it's hard to think of a city - apart from perhaps Baghdad - more in need of a public relations makeover” due mainly to its associations with Medellin Cartel drug lord Pablo Escobar. We had heard rumours that Medellin was the place to be if you wanted to party, perhaps a relic of remembrance from the days when Pablo ruled the city, however although we did enjoy a great night out with new friends Maika and Oscar, and bumping in to old friends Abbey, Sean and Donal, we also spent a cultural Sunday exploring Medellin’s more respectable tourist activities. Taking the Metro line (a gift from Pablo to the city) to Universidad station, we spent the day wandering through the Botantical gardens, marvelling at the butterfly garden, eating “crazy mango” covered with carnation milk and pepper at the Planetarium, broadening our minds at Planet Explore and finding Nemo at the Aquarium! After an exhausting day of learning and culture, we headed back to the hostel for dinner and to talk about Burgermeister in Amsterdam with Maika and Oscar!
The next day we went on the Pablo Escobar tour, which has become increasingly popular since the Jonny Depp movie Blow much to the displeasure of the Medellin tourist board. As we sped around the city visiting “Pablo’s places”, our guide told us his story which included the tragic events of his childhood, his rise to cocaine fame and his eventual murder/suicide depending on whether you choose to believe the Medellin police or Pablo’s family. We visited the first “house” that he built when he first amassed his fortune (more of an entire apartment building complete with swimming pool, tennis courts and a dining room that took up an entire floor), his grave and family’s graves and the rooftop where he met his ultimate demise. We were then taken up to his brother’s house, which was once their safe house known about only by Roberto and Pablo during their prime. We got to meet Roberto and explore the house that Roberto has turned in to a museum, detailing his and his brother’s lives, complete with fresh bullet holes from last September from an attempted robbery. Roberto was fascinating, and was happy to answer any questions about Pablo or their lives in general, so Forrest took the opportunity to ask him his opinion on Plan Colombia (which was that the government needed to provide realistic economic alternatives to cocaine production if they wanted it to succeed). Roberto seemed like such a friendly old man, that it was hard to remember that in his past life he was one of the most powerful drug-lords in the world, although when he made me briefly “disappear” behind a secret door in his living room the thought did enter my head!
The following day we took a six hour bus ride to Salento to discover Colombia’s other famous export, coffee! After being dropped off in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain, we sought shelter in a dilapidated hut before braving the torrential downpour to find the bus that would take us into town and to our hostel, working coffee finca Plantation House. We had a beautiful dinner that evening, sampling Salento’s specialities of fried plantains with warm tomato chutney and trout baked with garlic and roasties – delicious! Salento was like a ghost town, probably something to do with the weather, so we headed back to the hostel to watch Black Swan (behind a pillow) in honour of Natalie Portman’s Best Actress Oscar the previous evening.
The owner of Planation House, an English guy called Tim, took us on a tour of the coffee farm the next afternoon, and although the scenery was stunning I couldn’t help but feel a little cheated when the coffee-making process was demonstrated using a poster! The most interesting part was hearing Tim’s plans for the future of the farm, which was to create a more boutique market for his coffee which included the domain name yourcoffeeplanation.com where you could buy your own coffee plants and get your own coffee shipped out to you – coming soon to a Christmas present near you! There was also a breathtaking bamboo forest to rival the one at the bottom of the garden at Rock House, where Forrest took the opportunity to practise some arty shots on his camera.
Our next stop was Bogota, where we were delighted to find that after an exhausting nine hour bus journey, our hostel had lost our booking and thus spent the night in their scabby sister hostel down the street. After eventually sorting out a room the next day, we had a morning of Colombian culture followed good couple of hours of American gluttony. First, we visited the Botero museum, a Colombian artist who celebrates all things fat; I can’t quite put my finger on why I enjoyed that so much! We also wandered around the other free museums in the vicinity, including the coin museum and stumbled upon a modern art exhibition in the huge library. We were slightly disappointed by the gold museum, which we had heard great things about, but we quickly cheered up by amazing burgers and Blow (watching with enhanced knowledge) later in the evening!
An early night was in order for our visit to CrossFit Bogota the next day, something I was extremely nervous about, not merely due to the amount of saturated fat I had inhaled the previous day, but also because at 2600 meters it is the highest CrossFit in the world and altitude and all its associated problems was going to make my poor body work even harder than Coach Chris. I know I keep promising but someday soon I will be posting a blog on the CrossFits we visit around the world and I will direct you to them as soon as they go live, so I am reluctant to tell you too much about it here. I will say that Forrest took it all in his stride and did an amazing hero W.O.D, while I chickened out and only did CrossFit Bogota’s benchmark workout, which although tough didn’t leave me feeling CrossFit fit, just lazy for not attempting the W.O.D.
That evening we were supposed to meet up with Sebastian, our friend from the boat journey to Tabatinga, however mixed scheduling meant that unfortunately it was not possible that evening, and desperate the escape the rain and the gloom of the city we were flying to Ecuador the next morning. Bidding us farewell on facebook, from both himself and from Colombia, Sebastian said “we hope that you will visit us again soon”; a sentiment shared by both of us entirely.
Forrest's Financial Forecast (kudos Tony!)
Much to our dismay, breakneck economic expansion in Brazil, coupled with raging inflation, caused the Brazillian Real to be Really expensive. Henceforth, although an extremely joyous time was had in Brazil, spending £17 on a bottle of factor 100 suncream was simply not sustainable. Colombia, financially at least, proved to be much more joyous. Years of civil unrest and economic instability worked in our favour (muchas gracias Pablo!) and with 3000 pesos to the pound, we arrived as millionaires. Watson's promises of living like a king, eating lobster dinners every night were not far wrong.
And now to the forecast... since 2000 the Ecuadorian government has implemented a radical dollarisation policy, which saw Ecuadorians ditching their sucres for the ubiquitous greenback. The effects of this controversial policy will be mainly two fold; one it will bring some much needed stability to the economy, whilst two, (and much to my disgust!) it will most certainly raise prices! Parents beware; backpacking sons and daughters may be in need of some additional liquidity.
However, a switch to using the dollar may not be all doom and gloom. I say this because after nearly spending 30,000 pesos (!!!) on one solitary avocado in Colombia, a switch to a more familiar currency (as seen on Grey's Anatomy and Gossip Girl) will hopefully result in better financial awareness for Bea.
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