TravelStream™ news feed for member chimichenga on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/chimichenga en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Wed, 14 Nov 2007 01:39:22 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189287900/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189287900/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189287900/tpod.html Wed, 14 Nov 2007 01:39:22 -0500 Trekking to Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City) and spending a few days in Cartagena and Santa Marta.

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Ciudad Perdida, Colombia

I entered the jungle on two feet but would exit on three, being reduced to four during a torrential rain that turned every bit of trail into a rushing flow of water over loose terrain and endless mud. I descended the mountain bruised, battered, blistered, burned, bitten and besmirched, never dreading something so simple as walking in all my life. The beauty and mysticism of Ciudad Perdida and its surroundings were nothing short of breathtaking, but all was soon forgotten once the 20K trek over harsh terrain back to civilization with an aching knee began. Ah, but I´m getting ahead of myself...

Day 1

There´s nothing like taking a tour with a guide who has as much enthusiasm as a child awakening to a beautiful Saturday morning. All 16 of us were thrilled to have Edwin Rey leading the way as we set out to reach Ciudad Perdida, for not only did he have 12 years experience guiding people up these mountains, but he was there in 2003 when the FARC came into the Lost City at 5:00 am disguised as paramilitaries and tied him and the other guides up before taking eight foreigners hostage for the next three months. The abduction would result in a successful publicity stunt that made the world take notice not only of Ciudad Perdida but also of the war between the guerrillas, paramilitaries and army here in Colombia. The tangible realities of combat in this bloodstained country only made the trip that much more exciting.

Of course, we didn´t fear for our safety given that the government made special efforts to protect tourists in this part of Colombia since the incident with the FARC, but we couldn´t help but have the kidnappings in mind as we headed up to the very place it occured four years ago. We were five Frenchies, one Spaniard, one Aussie, three Israelies, one Swiss, two Brits, two Colombians and one gringo. After a late start we headed up the hills from Santa Marta to the last town at the end of the dirt road, Mamey, which was about two hours from the coast and bulging with Colombian soldiers. (While there were no paramilitaries to be seen here, the army was busy pursuing them in the area after they re-armed despite signing a treaty to demobilize.) The road through the jungle was terrible and required us to dismount the two trucks every now and then so that the drivers could get through the mud easier. We had some sandwiches and beers for lunch before gearing up and heading out on foot. It was a hot and sunny day, though in the mountainous jungle the weather can change drastically in no time.

After an hour or so of climbing up the mountain we came upon a small farm with a cocaine laboratory. No one was there when we passed, but Edwin grabbed some branches off one of the coca plants and described to us why this crop is so important to Colombia. First off, there is no other plant that earns the same price in the market. Farmers would like to grow corn and yucca, but they sell for only a fraction of what coca does. What is more, the former will not earn you credit in the city, but latter will get you all the credit you want. Second, the coca plant is resistant to all blights, bugs and disease, making it one of the easiest crops to grow here as it simply thrives with sun and water and will produce leaves three times per year. You can also bend any branch as much as you want and it quickly snaps back to its original shape. Lastly, the demand in the U.S. and Europe is so high that farmers would be dumb not to supply it. The cocaine trade puts food in the empty bellies of many people in Colombia, which is why Plan Colombia will continue to be a failure until it offers some kind of true - and equally lucrative - alternative to coca. (And as far as the fumigation being carried out under Plan Colombia, we saw in the flesh the damage it does to legal crops like cacao. The cocoa trees were poisoned due to the harsh chemicals responsible for erradicating coca. One can only imagine the harm being done to the water, earth and animals as a result...)


The clouds rolled in and night came early as we plodded down the final descent into Camp 1. A cold mountain stream served as our much needed shower as the heat and humidity had turned us into a sopping, noxious bunch. Dinner was a hearty filling of rice and beans with some chicken legs and we even had a few brews (brought here by mule) purchased from a small store across the stream which made for great beer runs, especially in the dark. To our surprise the small store in the middle of nowhere also had a large supply of locally-grown marijuana. Some of the Europeans bought an extremely fresh ounce of buds for $5. The 16 of us traded stories about travel and our expectations of Ciudad Perdida before we retired to our hammocks and mosquito nets. There were no luxuries on this trip (but as we´d soon discover, plenty of narcotics and natural hallucinogens), though sleeping in a hammock at the edge of a quickly running stream isn´t exactly the worst way to drift into sleep after a long day´s hiking...

Day 2: Cocaine "laboratory" (numb faces and freebasing in the jungle)

After a breakfast of bread, eggs and coffee, Edwin unfolded a piece of paper to reveal some dried coca paste which was produced at a nearby cocaine lab we could visit for $9 each. All of us quickly threw in our 20.000 pesos, though one of the Israelis declined the offer. We walked a mere 10 minutes from the camp to discover an utterly ramshackle operation along the stream we bathed in the night before that was obviously arranged for tourists heading to Ciudad Perdida. A 20 year-old campesino named Enrique greeted us and explained how he had been a coca farmer for the past five years. He has one hectare (two acres) which he dedicates to coca production about an hour from where we were. The reason we couldn´t actually visit his farm and lab was because it is illegal and he wants to keep it clandestine, otherwise the military will destroy it and burn his coca plants. (There is no fine or additional punishment handed out.)








Our coca instructor explained his business and told us that with his hectare of coca he can produce three kilos of coca paste three times each year (the plant yields three harvests annually. It takes 1000 kilos of coca leaves to produce three kilos of cocaine. Five people can pick enough leaves in about one month.) He began by showing us a bunch of leaves yanked from one of his plants and since we didn´t have all day to see the entire process, had gone ahead and realized some of the steps that require hours to complete so that we could actually see him create coca paste before our very eyes. You must first mix the leaves with 20 kilos of salt and 10 kilos of chalk and mash them. (It takes about 40 minutes per 100 kilos of leaves.) Then you soak the leaves in 120 liters of gasoline for many hours in a large drum. The gasoline extracts the active ingredient in the leaf. Ten liters of water is then added to the mix along with 50 centimeters of sulfuric acid. After soaking for many hours the gasoline rises to the top while the water and sulfuric acid settles at the bottom of the drum. (The latter is the beginning of the paste.) A tap is used to drain the water which contains the alkaloids needed for the cocaine. The leaves are useless at this point.








The incipient paste is collected in another container and then combined with permanganate (one kilo:kilo of paste). The permanganate neutralizes the gasoline, chalk and salt. The liquid is passed through a filter (cloth) which leaves behind the residue of fuel, chalk and salt. Below the filter in yet another recipient the refined paste is collected. Next, caustic soda is added to the liquid paste to neutralize the sulfuric acid. This is measured by the eye, though you must be careful not to add too much or it will ruin the concoction. The liquid paste is then filtered once again by passing through another cloth. What remains in the cloth is pure coca paste which then needs to be dried in the sun.












There is one final ingredient needed to finish the process and produce cocaine - acetone. Because acetone is highly explosive and a good ingredient for making bombs it is highly sought after by the guerrillas here. So the paramilitaries have a monopoly on acetone and control its distribution, making them the only ones capable of finishing the production of white gold. The acetone is necessary for neutralizing the caustic soda which allows the cocaine to be snorted without causing nasty nosebleeds. But the paste is still pure cocaine that can be used in other ways - and of course the anxious trekkers wanted to sample the product despite witnessing such a crude process and the extremely harsh chemicals used to make one of the world´s most popular narcotics. The fact that an illiterate peasant was the creator of this glamorous drug didn´t prevent them from wanting a taste either.
Some rolled joints of coca paste with tobacco while others smeared some paste on their teeth. I tried the latter and can say that I didn´t have any sensation in my mouth for the next couple of hours. Those who freebased were the first to reach Camp 2, many claiming to have intense energy and not even feel winded after the four hour hike uphill.

As the reader can see, the cocaine laboratories hidden here in the Colombian jungle are far from the sophisticated interpretations seen in movies such as Clear and Present Danger and Blow. Rudimentary is an understatement when describing the factories where rush is elaborated. While it was truly a shock to see uneducated peasants with no knowledge whatsoever in chemistry producing this drug with extremely dangerous ingredients, it reminded me of the heaps and droves of boobs, bumpkins, yokels, varmints, noddies, guttersnipes, curs, hicks and their thoroughly untaught kith and kin (all of them uniquely and proudly American), who pepper the Heartland and are the primary producers of crystal meth in the United States. (I don´t care what "values" these people claim to possess with their bovine noses in the air, for their crude flag-waving and crackerbarrel philosophies don´t disguise thier common imbecility, nor do they mask their own countrified turpitude.) Perhaps it is the use of this wildly popular and extremely dangerous drug that produces the nescience needed to believe in bogus witch hunts and fear betes noires at every turn. Whatever the case may be, it surely adds to the collective paranoia that paralyzes the most powerful nation on earth and aids the wirepullers who run it while constantly cultivating hysteria.

The poor of Colombia produce cocaine to stay the pangs of hunger - some bettering their lot significantly in the processm, though often at great risk to their existence - ignoring the fear inspired by whichever band doesn't control their growing region while feeding the northern demand. Those in L'America who produce crystal meth do so because they too see economic opportunity as the desire for chemical consolation - especially those drugs which enhance productivity and disguise fear - continues to blanket their nation which finds itself beseiged by a gallaxy of specters whose malicious hands supposedly aim to extinguish the planet. God sanctions Srs. Bush and Uribe, along with their soldiers, though of course the hellish ramifications of fighting evil have no connection to the Plan To Save the Day. In other words, the ends justify the means, which is why coca demand and production will remain high, just as the demand and production for the poppy will too (see Afghanistan).

It's a pastime of many politicos to declare war against drugs, but none admit to the wars nurtured and financed by them. Perhaps this is because drugs help make possible the wars we so desperately need to fight (while doing away with many less-desireables and others who are mere pawns in the profit-making apparatus of which the drug trade is a major contributor). Drugs are bad. War is good. Spirituality has always been a great cover for rapacity. And ignorance has always been a politician's greatest ally. Just throw in some artificial fears and not only does drug use rise but the ease with which war is marketed and sold multiplies dramatically.


]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189454040/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189454040/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189454040/tpod.html Mon, 10 Sep 2007 17:12:31 -0400 Trekking to Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City) and spending a few days in Cartagena and Santa Marta.

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Cali, Colombia

Day 4 Touring the ruins

I really should have spent this day sleeping and limiting my movement, not just because my knee was terribly sore, but because any walking at the ruins means going up and down huge stone steps that are often wet and covered with moss. But since this was the only day for the tour and I wanted to learn more about the mysterious Lost City, I bit the bullet and put some more stress on my tired body.

While nothing but the stairways and platforms where the natives put their houses remain, it was nonetheless impressive to see how well their stonework had held up over the years and how much work it must have taken to move such enormous slabs of stone. The city is dated at about 1000-1100 years old and was inhabited by the Teyuna. The Kogi are descendents of this ancient tribe and some actually live in huts in the surrounding jungle. It was great to use the same trails as the indigenous during our trek out there as we often came across them tending to their animals or fetching guava and banana. They were always friendly and greeted us, but the men were obviously less patient with us and never agreed to pose for a picture.

Much of the story Edwin told was of the voracious Spaniards and their search for El Dorado which led to rape, murder, slavery and various other expressions of evil. In the end, they wiped out most of the natives who were the only people who knew the Sierra Nevada. Those who survived headed to higher altitudes and began a new way of life that can still be seen in the customs of the Kogui. David, the Spaniard, slept most of the day so he missed out on Edwin´s mockery of "los tios" and the death and destruction they unleashed on Colombia.
The best part of the day was Edwin´s narration of the kidnappings in 2003 when he was awoken by members of the FARC disguised as paramilitaries and tied up while other guerrillas fooled eight tourists into coming with them after telling them the guerrillas were headed to the site. This was during a time when everyone trusted the paramilitaries, so the tourists felt completely safe as they were lead down the mountain by another trail. After a few hours walking they realized they were heading further into the jungle and figured out they were actually in the company of the rebels. Edwin had all kinds of newspaper and magazine articles (some of which he appeared in) and he gave some great historical background on the war being waged here. I noticed that he (like many others) always mentioned how "smart" and "organized" both groups were. There´s nothing scarier than evil conspiring with intelligence.

The FARC chose their hostages wisely, leaving behind anyone with lousy hiking shoes and those who were out of shape. An Australian who was left behind became a bit of a hero when he returned home and announced he escaped abduction due to his poor physique. I have also heard of travellers who tour zones where the rebels may operate wearing sandals on all bus rides in case the FARC stops the bus in search of hostages. In truth, it is quite rare for foreigners to be kidnapped in Colombia by the rebels, though there is the possibility of an express kidnapping in cities like Medellín by taxi drivers, but I find this risk to be greatly exaggerated and easily avoided with common sense.
After 101 days the hostages were released and the FARC succeeded in having the world take notice of them and their struggle. Moreover, the trek to Ciudad Perdida became the most popular tour in Colombia and has been attracting more and more foreigners every year.

Day 5

This was the longest day of hiking, as days two and three were combined into one long trek of about 15K. We stopped for lunch at Camp 2 (many of us dozing off before they even prepared our food) and with four hours remaining after fueling up, we´d spend the night in Camp 1 where we could get a cold beer. With my knee aching like never before, I set out from Camp 1 with two sticks to aid my walking and take some weight off my left leg. We had walked about 20 minutes when the rain began. It wouldn´t stop until the evening.

I let everyone go ahead of me since I was unable to keep the same pace I maintained when ascending. And though we were in the tropics, once the rain began pouring down and the wind started up, you were soaked to the bone and chilled when not moving. I realized I was going to have to take a chance and endure the next four hours, possibly doing serious damage to my knee judging by the increasing pain I was experiencing, or find shelter and hope the storm wouldn´t last too long. I had seriously considered staying in the Kogui village we had visited days earlier, but no one in the group would know where I was. Then David, the Colombian, and his Australian cousin, Ruben, came out of nowhere and agreed to walk with me until we arrived at Camp 1.

I will avoid expounding on my ordeal, but needless to say I´ve never been in so much pain or detested the rain so much in my life. We footslogged for over four hours in absolutely horrendous conditions. And since this trip is totally raw, there aren´t signs anywhere for the 20K telling you where to go, so if you´re far from a guide and take a wrong trail you´re S.O.L. (I would like to thank David and Ruben once again for sticking with me during the storm and pushing me ahead. Though I don´t know if it was the best idea, I wanted off that mountain sooner rather than later!) As we approached Camp 1 we saw some helicopters in the distance and heard bombs being dropped over the ridge to the northeast. For the next few days the military would be conducting operations to chase the paramiltaries out of this region. Though I was in extreme pain, it got a kick out of the bombs echoing across the valley as we trodded through the mud. At the same time I was ticked off that we didn´t come across one of these hunted paracos, for I knew they´d let me pose with an M-16 or AK-47, unlike the police and army whom I´d pestered numerous times about lending me their machine gun so I could take a personal Rambo picture. I even got in an argument with one guy who told me how happy the Colombian army was to receive funds and weapons from my country. "Well I´m a taxpayer in teh U.S. so in reality I helped pay for that gun over your shoulder. Just let me borrow it for one picture, I promise I will not fire it." He laughed and told me no way...

Day 6


This was an uneventful day besides the continued bombing in the distance. We also came across a few dangerous snakes that the cooks beat to death with sticks. I was supposed to have a mule to take me down the last stretch, but upon awaking discovered there was none to hire, so I´d have to endure another rough day, though it wasn´t nearly as bad as the previous day´s hike. We descended the last three hours back to Mamey, had some beers and sandwiches and hopped in the trucks that dropped us here to head back to Santa Marta. Most of us headed out to the nearby fishing village of Taganga to relax and have our disgusting clothes washed, anxious to get some good food and sleep on a matress. I spent three days loafing in Taganga before heading back to Cartagena this morning and catching a flight to Cali. Tomorrow back to NY...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189381080/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189381080/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189381080/tpod.html Sun, 09 Sep 2007 21:09:18 -0400 Trekking to Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City) and spending a few days in Cartagena and Santa Marta.

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Ciudad Perdida, Colombia

A few months ago there was a wisp of attention given in the U.S. to a story involving Chiquita being fined $25 million for making over 100 payments to the AUC or paramilitaries (aka death squads) here in Colombia. In their defense, representatives of the company claimed they made the payments under threat and not to repress the company´s local workers here in northern Colombia. While the paramilitaries have for years demanded protection money from drivers, prostitutes, store owners and many others, they have also aided in scaring the hell out of people like unionists, journalists, politicians and human rights workers. This began in 2003 after the FARC pulled off a major attack on the power to the Caribbean by bombing Medellin, which produces much of the country´s energy, and proceeded to pull over most big rigs, kill the drivers and set them ablaze. As a result, they caused the ports here to shut down and poverty blighted the region. There was no transit and no trade. Power was unreliable. This is what gave birth to the blessing hurled upon the paramilitaries in hopes of fighting back the FARC and bringing recovery to the region.

At the same time, the latest incident involving Chiquita also brought back memories of a historical event that is embedded in the minds of many Colombians. (It should be noted that the fruit company was called United Fruit until 1970 when it fused with United Brands and became Chiquita.) In 1928 soldiers payed by the company opened fire on 3000 protesting workers and killed hundreds, if not thousands, of them (the actual number of deaths has never been precisely determined). So the question today is, did Chiquita pay the money out of fear as they claim or did they pay to have the native employees repressed as they´ve done in many other Banana Republics? A bit of research on the company, especially its role in Guatemala in 1954, will give you an idea how they tend to operate. Although the coverage in the US didn´t go beyond a fleeting, superficial explanation, there is much more to tell.

The second in charge of the AUC here, Jorge 40, ended up turning himself in after negotiations with the Colombian government not too long ago. As a result of his surrender, his computer was siezed by the police and it gave volumes of details on the connection between politicians - especially in Santa Marta - and the paramilitaries here. Besides explaining the depth of their sinister and destructive relationship, there was ample evidence found which told of the role Chiquita played in not only paying the paramilitaries but also arming them. The instalations of a Chiquita affiliate here, Banadex, were apparently utilzed to receive shipments of AK-47s for the paramilitaries. And I´ve been told numerous times by many people that the containers of Chiquita´s ships (you know, the ones Homeland Security is so insistent on inspecting to avoid evildoers and dirtybombs from entering the Republic, though in reality only about 5% are checked), are used to get thousands of kilos of cocaine to the United States. Is it any surprise why with all the fumigation occuring under Plan Colombia the availability and price of cocaine in the United States remains constant? And is it any wonder why the declarations of kindness and altruism, the unflagging speeches to end wars instead of fan them, along with the noble promises of aid to the people of Colombia from Gringoland are held suspect by native opinion?

The paramilitaries, or "paracos" have been named person of the year 2006 here in Colombia (paramilitar fantasma) and are regarded as the most sophisticated expression the drug trade has ever known. They have consolidated the hegemony of the kingpins here, they have purchased hundreds of councilmen, assemblymen, mayors, governors and congressmen which have given them legitimate representation in Bogotá. President Uribe has also had his image tarnished by the scandal which has infected some of his closest colleagues. (The scandal has also put a free trade deal between Colombia and the U.S. on hold.) The paramilitaries have fused war, politics and narcotrafficking into one of the most lucrative businesses on earth. And while many gringos are quick to blame countries like Colombia for producing narcotics and poisoning the wholesome Homeland, time and time again you will hear people - from illiterate peasants to business men - say that this is nothing but an issue of supply and demand. So long as the demand is there, Colombia will come through to supply it.

While the paramilitaries were welcomed with open arms after the disastrous effects of the shutdown the FARC provoked here, today they are viewed as villains who have become too powerful for the government that spawned them to control. They were initially comissioned to recover land taken by the FARC and to help the Caribbean region get back on its feet. But with the millions of dollars in extorsion money they began collecting, the weapons provided by countries like the United States and its lucrative fruit conglomerates and the desire for security expressed by many business men involved in illicit actions, the paracos began to stretch their hands outside the boundaries they were initially hired to operate in. Perhaps the worst influence was the kingpins who wanted protection not only from justice here in Colombia, but from extradition to the United States. It is no secret that the U.S. played a role in chasing down Pablo Escobar in addition to bringing many narcos and paracos to justice up north. But the kingpins showed the paramilitaries how to make money by teaching them the drug trade, and the easy money that came their way as a result gave them plenty to defy the government and increased their ability to operate independently. Relationships with powerful people here and abroad only cemented their hegemony. It is for this reason that people describe the paracos as angels turned demons.

Though the paracos succeeded in chasing the rebels out of the Sierra Nevada, the army is now attempting to chase the paracos out of the region. But the paramilitaries are better armed and better payed, which makes a big difference when it comes to puissance and moral. On day five of our trek out of the Lost City during a storm that lasted hours and caused my most difficult day of hiking, we sloshed through endless mud and water to a symphony of thunder combined with the rolling thunder of bombs being dropped by the army on the other side of the valley we were walking along. There were helicopters here and there as the military continued to pursue the paracos who signed a treaty to disarm only to break it and continue their outlawry.

Though many claim the paracos are on the run, it appears that the government has yet another villain to fight off after decades of combating the 25,000 or so rebels that have terrorized this nation for the past 50 years. There is no longer any romantic ideology belched by either group - it is nothing but murderous business and a desire to control as much of the coca growing zones as possible. Though both bands have lost power in the past few years, they continue to receive funds and therefore continue to operate. So long as they can rely on drug money and the northern demand for their lucrative coca, they will never be short of cash. To put it simply, the demand for blow in the United States and Europe fuels this perpetual war and sponsors terrorism. The War on Drugs will continue to be an utter failure until the United States realizes education is the most powerful weapon in its prodigious arsenal. And the U.S. will continue to be seen as a hypocrite until it does something to reduce the demand for cocaine and thus begin reducing the supply of it. But without a true alternative to coca, the elimination of the northern demand for narcotics would bring Colombia to an absolute collapse.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189363680/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189363680/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1189363680/tpod.html Sun, 09 Sep 2007 19:38:24 -0400 Trekking to Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City) and spending a few days in Cartagena and Santa Marta.

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Ciudad Perdida, Colombia

Day 2 continued...

The hike on the second day wasn´t too bad, though I was beginning to feel some pain in my left knee due to the stress caused by the rough terrain combined with the 20 pounds I carried on my back. This was a heavier load than most, but I had a bad of oat flour, a handful of Clif bars and six bags of tuna for some extra protein and solid carbohydrates during the walk. (I just can´t get by on a mere three meals a day.) We stopped in a Kogui village and witnessed what I can only describe as a total rejection of modern society in the heart of the jungle. It was absolutely beautiful to see the harmony of man and nature. (Amazingly, the people here live better than those on the outside in the great cities where politicans with their surecure capitalism and free markets promise to lift all boats with the constantly rising tide. To deny that "progress" not only possesses but also multiplies the tendency towards violence, corruption, destruction, crime, vice and a pastiche of other ailments is to be blind or a lousy shill.) These indigenes want nothing to do with Colombia. In fact, they want nothing to do with the west. They have renounced the politics, economics, religion, values and just about everything else we smart and advanced people claim to represent here in the Occident.

The Colombian government built them a ramshackle school so the children could learn Spanish. The Koguis don´t even enter it as they refuse to learn the national tongue, though many of them speak enough to communicate with the guides and soldiers who pass through the area. Knowing that they don´t like Colombians we were certain they weren´t too thrilled to see the 16 of us with our rucksacks full of modern gizmos as we wandered through their pueblo taking photos of them. The Koguis refer to the outsiders as the "Younger Brothers" while they believe themselves to be the "Elder Brothers". They blame outlanders (Colombians included) for the destruction of Mother Earth. It was clear we were seen as a bad influence, though they were nice enough to allow us some photos and gave us some bananas to munch on.
The rain caught us about a half hour from Camp 2 and made the trail rather difficult to traverse. Arriving with wet clothes as the rain became more intense we were certain to awake to damp clothing for the final ascent to the Lost City. The cooks had hot chocolate and coffee waiting for us once we undressed and put some warm clothes on and then dished out some lentils with heaps of rice. We even had oreos for dessert! One of the Frenchman carried a small guitar and about six plastic bowling pins with him (insane) so he could amuse us with some tricks and music. With a few musicians in the group we had a nice evening of Spanish songs complimented by the bucket drum of one of our cooks. As usual, the Europeans got stoned out of their gourds before we all retired to our hammocks and mosquito nets above a roaring river.


Day 3

I awoke with an even worse pain in my left knee as we departed Camp 2 and headed out on our final ascent to Ciudad Perdida. We´d be crossing several streams and have to make a few crossings over the Buritaca River that runs through the jungle here. The journey consisted of some extremely dangerous walking along slippery stones along a precipice that would probably lead to serious injury if not death should you lose your purchase. Right after surviving this part we had to cross a ravine in a cage powered by a rope and pulley. I was constantly reminded of the fact that the travel agency gave no description whatsoever of the conditions we´d confront and never questioned my age or physical shape when I called from the states to reserve my spot on the expedition. I was also regularly reminded of the fact that while there were mushrooms, trumpet flowers, yage and other hallucinogens - in addition to coca paste and ganja - we had no species of med kit, so I couldn´t even get an aspirin for my aching knee.

After many hours of sloshing through streams and rivers we came to the final river pass. Across it we could see a few waterfalls and the most amazing site - a steep stairway of stone steps that climbed from the river and vanished into the vegetation. This was the beginning of the end - 1200 steps, or so we thought. I immediately slipped upon emerging from the river and fell about two meters back into the cold water, banging and scraping my already painful left leg. God how I dreaded climbing this strange stairway. But we continued on and took our time ascending the extremely slippery stones that lead to the Lost City above.

It turns out the 1200 steps only took you to the beginning of the ruins. There were another 800 or so to get to the center of the site and another few hundred to climb after crossing yet another stream in order to get to Camp 3. By the time we arrived we were exhausted, but the ambience of the ruins was amazing. There was a huge waterfall above which fed the river below and served as our water source. The jungle was full of strange sounds and possessed a peace that made you forget about the aches and pains that came as a result of treading 20K on extremely harsh terrain to arrive here. While we soaked in this mystical place we were soon distracted by the swarms of silent mosquitos that began feasting on us. We were learning that no matter what percentage of DEET our manifold repellents contained (30, 50, 70) we all continued to accumulate a mess of bites all over our bodies. Never have I seen or been bitten by so many mosquitos. Many of us also boasted a small number of ant bites. I painfully discovered a few ants using my sandals as a jungle gym on numerous occasions.

We were quickly made aware of just how far from civilization we were in this remote region of the jungle. An Israeli girl who was most likely stoned tried jumping from one of the platforms into the arms of her boyfriend below and ended up falling a few meters only to have the heavy stones catch her instead of her man. This happened at 6:00 pm the day before. We arrived about 5:00 pm the day after and it wasn´t until an hour later that a helicopter arrived to take her back to the coast to receive treatment for a busted leg and a serious gash on her head. We had seen a guide run past us as we began our journey from Camp 2 to Ciudad Perdida and it was then we realized he was running to the nearest radio, which was a good 7 hours from the ruins. Apparently the tour groups can´t have radios due to the operations of the military against both the paramilitaries and guerrillas, though the latter have been chased out of this region. This was some seriously crude tourism, though it did make the trek all the more exciting as the remoteness and roughness of everything gave a certain thrill to us all.

Dinner was again rice and beans with some hot coffee. Another group of trekkers was sharing the camp with us and while we slept on the third floor of the small house above our kitchen and common area, they utilized the second floor while a few hung hammocks at ground level. To our chagrin, a group of Israelis, recently graduated from obligatory military training like many you encounter here in Colombia, insisted on playing techno music as we enjoyed the cool evening and the amazing landscapes that surrounded us. (This was not only moronic and disrespectful, but a disconcerting disruption to the peaceful energy we were all absorbing in this fantastic place. Imagine a jew´s harp in an opera and you´ll understand how much these warmongers were ruining our collective vibe.) It was no surprise that the guides disliked the Israelis for this very reason, as many came only looking to get high and go into a trance on hallucinogens or cocaine while up high here in the Sierra Nevada. Edwin related to us stories of Israelis who would bring cocaine and ammonia to inject themselves with the purest of the pure under the stars or go searching for mushrooms, trumpet flours and yage.

The bulk of serious accidents and injuries are attributed to drug use and the worst offenders are unanimously Israelis. It was bad enough that they spoke of annihilating a race of people in their cherished homeland as if speaking of a soccer match, but to see them blaring their music and smoking incessantly out of bong made from a coke bottle and ear of corn was quite annoying. All it took was them complaining once while passing out in their hammocks as we continued talking at 8:30, finally free of their hideous music, for us to unleash a string of curses on them and their absolute disrespect for the twenty other people sharing this camp and the experience we wanted to enjoy free of their barbarous discussions of war and crass diversions.



The Koguis

The indigenous in this region of Colombia include the Kogui, Arhuaco, Wiwa and Kankuamo, though the last group has assimilated to Colombian society to a degree. In all they number about 45,000 and maintain a lifestyle totally different from what we know in our developed society. The Kogui believe in the connection between the human mind and the forces of nature, as humans are central in their view of the cosmos. They believe that their spiritual work maintains ecological balance, though as careful as they are in their respect for nature their "Younger Brothers" continue to do harm to the environment and create an imbalance in their world. The natives here call themselves the "True Guardians of the Planet" and believe that outsiders and their ignorance if the "sacred laws" threaten the earth.

"Se" is the spiritual core of all existence, while "aluna" represents human thought, soul and imagination. The Kogui believe there is no importance in that which can be seen, but rather in what exists in meaning and connection beneath all tangible realities. Every feature of the world reflects the whole and the Sierra that they call home is the Heart of the World. They believe these mountains were formed when the earth was spun on a spindle and when two threads were crossed the four indigenous groups here were conceived. The are very much interested in the mystery of conception and you can see this in many aspects of their daily lives. The twin poles that emerge from the roofs of their huts represent balance and the dual forces of the universe - spirit and matter, inside and outside, male and female, creation and destruction. All men carry a poporo which is a gourd carried from the time of puberty through life. Inside the poporo are ground seashells that they pull out with a stick to be mixed with toasted coca leaves and chewed. The seashells serve as a catalyst to activate the alkaloids in the coca leaves which give them energy in high altitudes and a mellow buzz. The stick represents the man while the gourd represents the woman. When combined they symbolize conception and fertility.

While we were quite fascinated with the Koguis, it didn´t take the Aussie and I long to dub them "Gs" and create a gang sign for them by combining a sideways V formed with the fingers of one hand placed horizontally over the index finger of the other. Original Koguie, Kogui Life and G-style were all phrases we invented to amuse ourselves while plodding along the trails. When I tossed a gum wrapper during a climb the Aussie, Ruben, yelled at me, "Hey! That´s not G-style!" I quickly picked up my litter and carried on. In our ignorance as "Younger Brothers" we wanted to punk a native familiy and walk into one of their huts dressed in a white robe with a mouthful of coca leaves and see how long it took them to chase us out. Meantime, we imagined they too got a good laugh at us as we panted and paused every so often climbing the few thousand stairs to arrive at the Lost City. A few natives passed us running in their black rubber boots, some climbing and others descending. And if you only saw how much weight the few we hired to carry our supplies from camp 2 to the ruins had on their back as they walked you´d be amazed. I picked up the sack one of them had tied around his back and it weighed at least 50 pounds. He was 18 and no more than 120 pounds. I have no idea how he walked uphill for four hours with so much weight on his back, but I was appalled when Edwin gave him a mere 5000 pesos ($2.50) for his efforts.


Anyway, I´ve never been so far removed from the world and I´ve never enjoyed being so disconnected from the outside. This is truly a trip back in time into a wilderness that has remained untouched for centuries. I´ll write more about the infamous kidnappings in 2003 as told to us by Edwin in an extremely dramatic fashion. I´ll also explain more about the lucrative drug trade, the governments new problem with the thriving and lawless paramilitaries (angels turned demons) and the involvement of United Fruit in arming these thugs and helping them get their product to the United States...


]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1188695520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1188695520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1188695520/tpod.html Sat, 01 Sep 2007 21:16:15 -0400 Trekking to Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City) and spending a few days in Cartagena and Santa Marta.

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Santa Marta, Colombia

Arrived safely in Santa Marta via Barranquilla after an incredibly dangerous few hours on the coastal highway. I´ve never seen so many near head-on collisions or chicken fights at high speed in my life. Getting my last good meal before we head out tomorrow...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1188505920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1188505920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1188505920/tpod.html Fri, 31 Aug 2007 21:35:47 -0400 Trekking to Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City) and spending a few days in Cartagena and Santa Marta.

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Ewing, New Jersey, United States

Arrived without incident in Cartagena today after many hours hopping planes into southern latitudes. Strolled the old city and got a much-needed dinner. Plenty of entertainment as always, and a surplus of annoying vendors all about.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1188604860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1188604860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2007/1188604860/tpod.html Fri, 31 Aug 2007 21:33:38 -0400 Trekking to Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City) and spending a few days in Cartagena and Santa Marta.

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Cartagena, Colombia

I couldn´t have asked for better weather today as I got an early start to roam the old city without any set plans. With only a limited time in my favorite American colonial city I was glad to hit the ground running on a beautiful day. I headed out to the old city but quickly departed for La Popa which offers a great panorama of the city and coastline. After talking with the cabbie, Jimmy, who waited for me while I explored La Popa and constantly fought off every flavor of hawker, dealer, conman, pimp, addict and lazy derelict, I invited him to get some beers to help cool off as the sun intensified. We ended up in Las Bovedas where the proprietor of one of the dungeons turned cantina, Gilberto, gave us a few rounds on the house in between stories of Colombian politics.

I got a better idea of what to expect in Ciudad Perdida since Gilberto used to be a guide there. And just as I´ve read in the stories by García Márquez, he described the lights in the distance high up in indigenous villages of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, where the family of the author´s inlaws took their daughter on a dreadful journey in hopes of discouraging her from marrying Gabriel´s father. But what most interested Gilberto was the current security situation Colombia is now experiencing as people from Bogotá, Medellín and Cali are traveling to Cartagena for the first time in decades, which is great for business. Both Jimmy and Gilberto made many references to Bush Jr. when speaking of Uribe and his hardline stance towards la guerrilla and terrorism in general. La guerrilla has been corraled within this country and has no access to the sea besides Buenaventura, where they smuggle their drugs through. But now Uribe has stationed two frigates in the Pacific to monitor the rebels which has caused a stand-off between them and the government. A few people honestly believe that within the second term of Uribe (a historical event here since the constitution was amended to allow for it), la guerrilla can be defeated. I don´t know about that, but they have lost much ground since the days of Pastrana...

It´s nice to see and listen to the upbeat attitude of people here when contemplating the future of their war-torn nation, but it hasn´t come without a price. Uribe may be tough towards the FARC and ELN, but he has succeeded in pushing them back by supporting and financing the paramilitaries (often referred to as death squads), whose crimes are well-known. And just like any other band of soldiers (or politicians), they too are involved in the drug trade. As I´ve heard over and over again, so long as the gringos want drugs Colombia will continue to produce and export them. I can´t say I blame them. The drug trade is so huge that it has even done away with the ideology of the Marxists, who long ago actually stood for something but today are simply fighting for control of the coca-growing regions of the country. Sadly, the victims of the bloody battle are often the hardscrabble farmers who want nothing but a chance to eke out a living in peace. Knowing that the northern desire for blow at the party plays a huge role in this reality is tragic...

Anyway, I spent much of the afternoon wandering the old city and got some terrific shots of La Aduana, Plaza de los Coches, Plaza Santo Domingo, La Muralla and visited many of the historic sites. As the pictures show, the city is extremely colorful, as are the people who inhabit it. Though Colombia doesn´t deserve the reputation is has earned, I do like the fact that many people avoid it, for it keeps the prices down and prevents the ignorant, money-grubbing steamroller of franchise restaurants and the like out. There´s nothing worse than meandering through a 500 year-old city to come across a McDonalds. (Actually there is - exiting the ancient Pantheon in Rome to see the golden arches of garbage and gluttony.)

Tomorrow I head out to Santa Marta bright and early to pay for my excursion to Ciudad Perdida before the travel agency closes for the day. Time to enjoy some good food before I´m reduced to rice and beans for six days...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2005/1162483320/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2005/1162483320/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2005/1162483320/tpod.html Tue, 21 Aug 2007 22:40:44 -0400 My first trip to South America.

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Panama City, Panama

One hour laying out at rooftop pool at my hotel without sunblock has left me with one of the worst sunburns I've ever had - on my facade only. Getting around is going to be painful for a few days. Soy idiota...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2005/1161724320/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2005/1161724320/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/colombia_2005/1161724320/tpod.html Tue, 21 Aug 2007 22:37:33 -0400 My first trip to South America.

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Cartagena, Colombia

I remember thinking what a task it must have been to secure La Habana and construct those two huge forts that kept an eye on the sea and the mangy pirates always looking to loot the gold and goods inside while trashing the place. The wall that the Spaniards built around Cartagena is way more impressive and looking at it you understand why it took 200 years to
complete. This was the main entryway to the continent where most of the plunder of the greedy Spaniards came before being put on the galleons destined for Europe. The importance of this city to Spain during the colonial era is obvious no matter what side of the wall you are on - it is really quite fascinating and one of the most beautiful colonial cities I have seen. (Taking a crazy, beeping and swerving cab ride along the sea before turning in towards the wall to squeeze through one of the small openings which lead into the old center is like going into the bat cave or something.)

Though NJ has nicer beaches and the humidity here can sometimes make it hard to think about anything but getting out of your sticky clothing, everything else has made the journey well worth my while. However, I could do without the Spanish a lo golpeado (pronounced gopeao). After hearing the beautiful accents of the paisas, caleñas and rolas in Bogotá the air here is contaminated by that god damn Caribbean Spanish that ignores the letters l and s and is disgorged in a mumble when not swallowed altogether. I could have also done without so much rain - it is still winter. I got very few pictures worth sharing...

I have spent much time living like a vampire here (out drinking and dancing all night - stumbling my way across the disco with the locals, trying to remember the steps I learned in NJ ), but I have also spent much time wandering the narrow streets of the old city, slurping down cheap coffee and fresh OJ, eating ceviche, listening to stories about the perpetual war in the campo and the times of Pablo Escobar and getting lessons on how to tell implants from real jubblies. (Unfortunately, the "natural" look is being obliterated by the proliferation of plastic due to the desire to be a doll. I really think many women here would rather have plastic surgery than go to college.) Just as the society is very polarized in keeping with Latin American tradition, so too are the extremes of vanity vs. humility; beauty is like a sport here and I´ve never heard the word esthetic so much in my life. (I´ve been asked numerous times if I had surgery to get the beak I call a nose or if my eyes are really blue. "They're gifts from my mother," I reply. They don't get it.)

The city is quite raw, but at the same time very well-kept - at least in the old city, Boca Grande and El Laguito areas. The old city feels so much like Spain - more so than any colonial city I have visited in the Americas. But you need to be curt or make some friends here if possible because you'll often be hampered by a hodgepodge of tramps, ravens, tricksters, hucksters and urchin s. As the only real tourist destination in Colombia, there is no shortage of rascals preying on the growing number of foreigners here, though crime is far from rampant due to the strong military presence. Expect to buy a few rounds of drinks if you decide to engage the people in one of the beautiful plazas (don't bother befriending the extortionists on the beach - those pendejos are pros and ripped me off for more than I want to admit after stuffing me with rum and oysters), though it is well worth it if you want to learn about this notorious nation firsthand or simply practice your Spanish.

But the atmosphere is is absolutely exhilirating and the people amazing once you put the touts and slags in their place. Colonial cities are so incredibly charming - and so enticing once they give way to the night. You can't help but imagine what went on here hundreds of years ago and how the people lived, as there are signs of the past everywhere you turn. There are also plenty of instances of the past clashing with the present. Rum, salsa, cumbia, tobacco, hopping dancers shaking to African drum beats, Spanish guitar echoing off the plaza walls in one square, techno in another, patacones, churrascos, arepas, maracuya, the smell of mota down the side streets and enough cocaine around to make you feel like you´re in the US. (Funny thing is, the slang word for coke is perico, which is also the word for coffee with milk.)

Las Murrallas are astounding and home to some tranquil bars and restaurants in the evening. A few even put out couches and cushions if the weather permits. The Puerta del Reloj and its bright yellow which opens into the colorful Plaza de los Coches (once a slave market) is a great place to people watch. But what I liked most was Calle Santo Domingo and its plaza where some of the best restaurants, shops and music could be found. It is virtually untouched by past three centuries. Plaza de la Aduana is also quite nice and a great place to meet people at night, many of them scuttling to the nocturnal beats. There was always a plethora of buskers, artists and vendors to be found (be sure to bargain - and be prepared to be followed for blocks if you mention buying something "later" just to make a hungry seller leave you in peace), and safety was never a problem there or anywhere else in the old city. Though I missed visiting the Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas due to a downpour, it is an impressive site, day or night, taking 150 years to build.

I leave for Panama City tomorrow just as the city is beginning to gear up for the Cartagena beauty pageant. I can´t even imagine what this place must be like then. Though I wish I could have seen a bit more of the campo, the bus journeys are quite long and can be dangerous in some areas - primarily at night - as the guerrillas control bits and pieces of the country between the capital and coast in all directions, in addition to controlling a piece of jungle the size of Switzerland in the south.

I remember being even more fascinated by Cien Años de Soledad after learning the history of this country which is by far the most violent in the entire hemisphere. These people love war - they had 8 civil wars in the nineteenth century and have pretty much been fighting non-stop since 1948. Politics are insane and very much like the US in that people are staunchly liberal or conservative, nothing in between, and if your parents are liberal than you too will vote liberal. Somehow after being here the mysticism of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's book is more real than fantastic, and the landscapes I´ve been able to see are awesome to say the least.

What a complex place - it possess 14 of the world´s 16 most valuable resources yet still suffers so much poverty and inequality. I was quite impressed with the order and development of Bogotá and it's 10 million people (more so seeing that every Sunday they close down the main roads for ciclismo, when the people take to the streets on bikes, skateboards, rollerblades, foot, ect. - a concept unheard of in Central America), and the preservation of Cartagena is incredible. But the real charm of Colombia has been the people, as they have been the nicest out of any country I´ve been in Latin America, especially considering they have little interation with foreigners compared to most countries in the region, though México is right up there as well.

So I survived it and can truly say that any dangers are highly exaggerated, but not nonexistent. I actually got through customs in fifteen minutes, had changed money and was in a cab driven by the most informative cabby you could hope for and in a hotel in downtown Bogotá a short while later. I wandered all over that city, once getting lost and walking about 15 blocks in the wrong direction and had no problems whatsoever, and I haven´t spoken a word of English since I left Atlanta. Go figure. Anyway, that´s that. I finally made footprints in South America. Can´t wait to see more...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/dominicana_07/1176736200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/dominicana_07/1176736200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/chimichenga/dominicana_07/1176736200/tpod.html Tue, 21 Aug 2007 20:29:32 -0400 Holiday in the Dominican Republic 2007.

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Samaná, Dominican Republic

"Welcome to Paradise" is what the pilot announced as we landed in Santo Domingo last Thursday morning. On the surface, and primarily along the coastline, there is plenty that confirms this proclamation. However, once you make your way into the thick of the city and discover the inner workings of society, beneath the Paradise label lies a contagion of corruption inspired by the elite of this nation - especially the government - which has provoked the diffusion of the illness throughout much of the impoverished masses, especially in the cities and tourist areas. With a degree of corruption deemed ''extreme" in a country quite familiar with the practice, the last president has been reputed as a plunderer who sacked the treasury and engaged in flagrant abuses of power, leaving the rabble to absorb the resulting inflation, shortages and overall economic and social dilapidation unleashed by the malfeasance at the top, which has only intensified the desperation of many when not outright giving a green light to adopt the art of humbuggery as a way of life. As I've learned in the flesh, by reading the papers and via various reports of those I've traded stories with, there is a growing number of people that have become practitioners of knavery and thuggery, who by hook or crook are disposed to allieviate their penury and that of their families or simply feed their dissolution, which the decline of the past two years has done much to engender and exacerbate.

The question I'm plagued by is, do I have the right to complain about and criticize the overtly deceitful and shameless methods which people living in poverty rely on in order to negotiate their precarious existence? I think not, for I am a mere transient here who will return to gainful employment, solvency and stability. And although I have spent more time than many of my countrymen living, working and traveling in the developing world - primarily in Latin America - even in times of shortage, drought and so-called "famine'' I never went broke, hungry or without recourse to medical attention if needed, making my hardships insignificant compared to those I observed on a regular basis around me. So yes, I feel a veritable sympathy for and knowledge of those in need and in poverty, but I cannot claim to comprehend the extent to which it affects and influences everything from identity and psychology to morality and spirituality.

Obviously, I am now feeling some inner compunction after gaining a better understanding of the conditions here in the Dominican Republic, though I in no way accept the vulnerability many people have assumed I possess due to my appearance, nor do I submit to serving as a pushover with an endless amount or pesos. It is truly frustrating to see Dominicans purchase the same food, drink, taxi ride, bus ticket or hotel room as I do but at a discount, which I've argued about many times, sometimes getting the real price, other times having to submit to the swindle. While it's never more than a few dollars here and there, the point is I'm finding out that almost everyone overcharges foreigners everywhere I go. And even if you call them on their fraud or point out that you understood the entire transaction the person before you engaged in for 30 pesos less than what they ask of you, they cry about the prices of everything they need to scrape by here, making you out to be the bad guy for not having pity on them and donating some of your riches towards allaying their troubles.

Once beyond the scams and rip-offs the country is indeed very nice, with some of the best beaches I've ever seen. Though there are plenty of good colonial sites, there are also some that are a bit over-rated. I'd suggest seeing the Catedral Primada, Parque Colon, Fortaleza Ozama, Plaza de la Hispanidad and the Museo Alcazar de Colon. There are some nice shops if you're looking for ambar, larimar, cigars or good rum, but other than that it's just cheap bric-a-brac when not just utter rubbish. Oddly enough, I do recommend hanging out along the Malecon during the early evening, but just stick to the parts where there are other people. The culture here is very Caribbean, as drinking, dancing, dominoes and drum circles are often found along the street, outside a residence, or on the beach, many times in an improvised fashion. You still have to be careful at night since the police simply go home once the bars close, which leaves you at the will of the bandits and other nightcrawlers who might be up to no good - and full of rum to boot. I certainly wanted to avoid the major tourist destinations like Punta Cana in order to see the real Dominican Republic and I think I've succeeded in doing so. I do very much like it, but am pretty amazed at the level of need and desperation I'm seeing despite having spent more time in even poorer countries where things never appeared this bad. (Being white really made my trip a lot harder than it could have been otherwise...)

Ah, but help is apparently on the way and coming from the north, where of course the only true remedies are produced. The very swine who have caused, worsened or simply ingnored many of the current distempers infecting this nation are now negotiating a free trade deal with the USA and have promised that if the gringos and their economic elixers are allowed to flow freely across the Dominican Republic, the American Dream will migrate south and provide all the material talisman so cherished by people here. If only it were that simple, and if only people weren't so easily duped by the promise of their very own bling. In truth, I have to say this place reminds me very much of a rap video, for hip-hop and reggaeton are wildly popular as are the costumes the ostentatious rappers like to do their bragging in. People here look very good, just as the people in any rap video do - jewelry, designer jeans, fancy footwear, bright colors and flourishing brand names are everywhere to be seen. And as in many rap videos, the women are scantily clad, though the weather does plenty to inspire this fashion.

I know much of this has to do with the throngs of Dominicans who reside in the US and have made it big there or because of those who return here often, flashing the latest trends and symbols of success and giving some credence to the line currently being peddled that if they can't get to Gringoland in order to enjoy the same material goodies, then maybe Gringoland can indeed be brought to the Dominican Republic. The lure is an attractive one, that is certain. But in reality, just as any rap video is often merely fluff and folderol, so too is any free trade package, despite the hype, hooks, catchphrases and seductive imagery. And just as those who produce the records are the real stars, so too are the creators of the infallible commercial wizardry, though there is no shortage of shilling done by those who have been tossed a few bones. Just look at the number of Mexicans heading north and the levels of crime, corruption, poverty and unemployment they've left behind since NAFTA beshrewed their nation and you'll get an idea just how widespread the benefits of free trade are. Hell, what great miracle has it produced for the average gringo? What does Flint, Michigan have to say?

I'm now destined for Las Galeras and the isolated beaches at the point of this peninsula. I'll try to find a throwaway camera to take some pics which I'll eventually post, for the scenery here is idyllic to say the least...
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