Coffee time
Trip Start
Dec 03, 2005
1
36
44
Trip End
Jul 19, 2007
Cartagena de Indias,
Colombia
Friday, April 13, 2007
Crossing the country in an X formation I saw lots of variety in landscape and people - from Leticia (jungle), Cartagena (colonial city by the sea), Santa Marta (access point for Ciudad Perdida [the Machu Picchu equivalent in Colombia]), Bogotá (the capital), San Agustin & Tierradentro (archaeological sites) and Ipiales (border to Ecuador with an interesting cathedral). The trek to Ciudad Perdida proved to be far more interesting than the jungle trip in Peru and the country as a whole was just fantastic.
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Once upon a time way back when my trip was a mere scribble on a piece of paper, Colombia wasn't part of the plan. "Me Ma" gave me full permission to go solo if, and only if, Colombia didn't feature on the list of places to go. Oops! Although it only appeared on my map as a last minute thing I was thinking about visiting it from the very start (I just didn't tell "Me Ma" this!). I asked everyone I met who had been there what they thought of it and all reports, bar one, came in positive and so I decided I was going.
After catching the fast boat from Iquitos (Peru) to the triborder frontier of Brazil, Peru and Colombia I ended up in the jungle town of Leticia. Despite all reassurances from fellow travellers that it is a great country, I was a bit nervous going it alone until I met Tita and Pedro in the seats behind me. They were both heading for Bogotá which was Pedro's home town so we decided to find a place together before evening dinner and a mad rush to get flight tickets for the next day. There is no other form of transport to or from Leticia to within Colombia other than flying to Bogotá.
I couldn't help but smile to myself when I met Tita. It was like a premonition of seeing myself 20 years on. Despite being a hostel owner and knowing the tricks all backpackers get up to, she insisted on doing the same now that she was the other side of the fence and would bargain everything down to twenty-five cents off dinner in the evening, for the very same reason as me - twenty-five cents could mean as much as an hour on the internet! It was good to take a break from these duties so I just settled back in my chair and learned some other tricks in the book from the expert.
Soon it was time to head on and I said goodbye to them as I headed to Cartagena, the most beautiful colonial city of balconies that I had seen yet. Unfortunately, Sunday was not the day to be there as the streets were deserted and wandering around on deserted streets over this side of the world just spells trouble. So it was a hard day of sitting in the courtyard soaking up a few rays of sun listening to music while drowning my sorrows. Surely not? Sorrows? Sadly that was the case and Cartagena may be, in some way, more significant than any other city I have visited as it was there where I finally committed to buying my flight tickets home. But, I kept telling myself to look on the bright side as it meant I would get to see some more Caribbean islands and end my trip in style!
So with Sunday over and tickets bought all I could think about was making a beeline for Santa Marta, the gateway to Ciudad Perdida, the Machu Picchu equivalent of Colombia. It is similar to the Peruvian site in many ways - you have to sweat a lot in order to see it (although Machu Picchu has introduced the wheel-mobile for those who are energetically challenged) and you could feature on the series 'Lost' as it is in the middle of nowhere (although Machu Picchu now has a town below to cater for the entourage of tourists). As you may have guessed by now, the big difference between these two sites is that one is not quite so well known and so there aren't as many tourists. Scratch that. You can count on one hand the number of tourists at Ciudad Perdida. Don't get me wrong, Machu Picchu is an awesome site and well worth the visit but sometimes you've just got to see something that isn't on the "been there, done that" checklist of all the tour agencies.
Anyway, back to the trek. It started off from the hostel with nine of us in a jeep-come-chiva and another four following behind in a jeep. I felt like a proper tourist while everyone watched the circus go by as we headed out of town to the fringes of the jungle. It would have been nice to do this without going through an agency however access to the site is only allowed with one authorised agency in Santa Marta and boy do they take advantage of this with whopping fees! They say they distribute the money appropriately for preservation of the site and that the guides get a fair pay. In the group we had all the major nationalities (Irish, English, French, Swiss, American, Australian, Kiwi, and Dutch) and while trying to fight off the mosquitoes (not too difficult, I figured they must have been high on marijuana as they were a tad too slow to escape "The Hand Of Death") we found out some pretty interesting things about each other. One of the Kiwis had starred in "Lord of the Rings" as an Orc while another chap managed to add a night in a Panamanian jail to his checklist of "been there, done that" and another was on the support crew for Martin Strel, the guy who swam the whole length of the Amazon.
Anyway, again, back to the trek. We arrived at the town and sat down to lunch before setting off. I thought it wouldn't be too bad but after just one hour I had already drank all my water (two litres) and was sweating like a P.I.G (pretty Irish girl ;-) ). Fortunately we had a water stop coming up soon so I refilled and took a well deserved break in the hope that the waterfall cascading down my back might dry up before continuing on. Our first night was beside an army camp where some of the soldiers came over later in the evening and conversation inevitably came around to asking them for photos holding the guns they brought over. The next day we passed through a local village and learnt something of their history. This village wasn't their permanent residence, it was only where people from around congregated when there was a special meeting called. Here we picked up one of the chaps who would do porter next day as the donkeys could only go so far.
On the third day we reached the bottom of the stairs of one thousand two hundred steps that would lead all the way up to the fabled Lost City. These steps are cleverly disguised among the trees and rock and would be hard to spot for someone who didn't know they existed. I was tempted to count the steps but my brain had almost turned to powder I had lost so much water through sweat. Luckily the river water was drinkable this far up. After a while the steps flattened out to a wider area and I caught sight of the first circular terraced bases for the houses that once occupied these spaces. It was quite similar to Kuelap (Peru) with the bromeliads growing on the trees. Michael, Christof and I were ahead of the others and so decided to have a mini exploration of the lower reaches while waiting for them. We stopped to admire the only known "map" of the site and imagine when the last leader was led up the royal steps flanked on both sides by an assistant.
This was it, I had finally arrived. And there was not another tourist in sight (well, apart from the others in my group). Every afternoon, like clockwork, the rain would arrive. While this made most people stay put under shelter, I decided to head out and see the site in it's very evocative setting perched atop a mountain in the middle of the jungle with cloud surrounding the rainforest that had slowly covered it after being forcefully abandoned all those centuries ago. And for this whole time I did have the entire site to myself! Like when I worked on the Céide Fields (Mayo, Ireland) and uncovered a Neolithic chert scraper that hadn't been touched by human hands for over five thousand years, I just sat on one of the walls and imagined a bustling scene when the site was once busy with people going about their every day business. Words don't really do justice and so I have added photos instead. Then again, these probably don't do justice either. Oh well, maybe the only way to see what I'm talking about is to get out there and visit the site!
There's a lot of up and down on this route and so despite Ciudad Perdida being geographically higher than Santa Marta on the coast, the journey back is no easier than the one there. With all the rain, the route had turned to pure mud. All the poisonous snakes and scorpions we had seen on the way there obviously didn't like it and decided to have a duvet day and so, apart from being knee deep in mud, it was pretty uneventful.
Back in Santa Marta I had a large, one litre, juice waiting for me. One dollar here buys you the most massive, refreshing, natural, exotic hunk in a mud hut, oops, I mean juice, you could ever imagine. And so I sat down to enjoy one while hearing all the stories of the men being offered services by the locals for a mere ten dollars in the plush location of the outdoor loo.
Next up was Bogotá, a charm waiting to be discovered. Like many capital cities, as a tourist, you keep to the tourist zone and leave with a great impression. Stray outside of it and you might not be leaving at all. I didn't get to meet up with Tita and Pedro again but I did get to see the cobbled streets, beautiful buildings, museums and even cows munching on grass only two blocks away from the hostel I was staying at which was in the centre of the tourist zone. And I managed to leave it alive with the other two major archaeological sites, San Agustin and Tierradentro, next on my busy itinerary.
The road to these sites are perilous and your life may be threathened...according to the Lonely Planet (aka Book of Lies). Having been there now I would say the worst thing that is likely to happen is that your bag will end up being covered in dust from the bus journey between the two sites. San Agustin is known mostly for it's stone statues that belong to the ancient culture of the same name. It is a most interesting village at the end of a bus line. The hostel I stayed at had no electricity and their water tank was only filled once every four days. Thankfully my insides were cooperating and I didn't have to visit the toilet too many times resulting in a limited water supply! Tierradentro was on a similar vein. It did have electricity but sometimes it would be cut off and the candles would come out again. On a bad day, there would be no juice (the juicer needed electricity) and no dinner (the restaurant worked on gas and the gas supply man was overdue) but you would always manage to get something somewhere as they wouldn't let you starve!
Tierradentro is home to the only underground tombs in the whole of the Americas. I hadn't met any other tourists and so had to walk between the sites all by my lonesome. I think I must have started a bit too early as the guards were still having a natter down at the entrance. "Go ahead, the chap with the keys will be up in about ten minutes". Half an hour later I was still admiring the view from Alto de Segovia. It felt like I was the only tourist in the whole of Colombia as I didn't meet another foreigner that day. The village vibe got to me and I decided I was in no hurry, so I stayed another day. On my way to visit Alto del Aguacate (which translates to "avocado hill", the significance of which still escapes me as I didn't see a single avocado tree on my way up!), what should I see in front of me but another tourist! It was Darren, all the way from Adelaide (Australia). We got chatting, when we could, between wheezing for breath with the altitude. That evening, Darren decided to take the plunge and got a tattoo, done most professionally by the younger locals, after which we had dinner by candlelight and then ended the evening with chicha by the roadside with the older locals. I couldn't stop chirping on about San Agustin and so convinced him to head that way and then onwards to Ipiales via Pitalito. Oops, I don't think he will ever forgive me for that!
By now, I was counting my last days in South America like a prisoner on Death Row. It was my last day in Colombia which led to my last border crossing in South America which led to my last week in South America. And after visiting the Otavalo market for a second time, it was my last bus journey in South America. It was sad to admit that my journey of sixteen months that had taken me through all but three countries in the South American continent was now coming to an end. Luckily though, I had some fantastic company for my last night on the continent as despite the trauma, Darren had made it to Quito alive. After spending the day visiting "Mitad del Mundo" (aka the tacky touristy site they have made on the equator line) and we headed out to see what the city had to offer. I finally fell into bed with only three hours of beauty sleep left before I had to get up again for the first of my many flights home.
COLOMBIA
"Oooh no", I hear everyone say, "not Colombia, the land of terrorists and kidnappings". Well, let me put this straight. It is no different to any other country in South America, keep your wits about you, don't act like a stupid tourist, be sensible and things are more likely turn out fantastic! Like cheese though, sometimes you get a mouldy one that ruins the day but that can happen anywhere, Peru, Venezuela, America or even Reading (UK) and so you rant and rave for a day, file it away and forget about it. Nothing ever stays the same and for all the image Colombia has on the worldwide news, I didn't see any of it. Instead
I met two fantastic people who invited me to stay at their place in Bogota and came out alive.
I accepted fruit and drinks from people and wasn't drugged.
I walked around cities, towns and villages on my own and wasn't kidnapped.
I didn't get stopped by a fake cop and have my passport stolen.
Don't get me wrong, this is not to say it doesn't happen. It does. But it is as likely to happen in Colombia and it is anywhere else. So if you ever have the opportunity to visit Colombia, take it and you will enjoy it.
