The R&R Big Adventure

Adiόs Colombia

Cartagena is such a pretty city that every time we turned a street corner we wanted to take another photo. It’s even inspired me to take up Instagram again after my one (and only) post three years ago in Vancouver. Thanks to my social media manager (Robert) for helping me do this. Let’s see if I continue!

Yesterday was spent drifting through the old town, taking a leisurely lunch and strolling by the beach at sunset. We had dinner in a lovely rooftop restaurant where the food, lighting and music were pitched perfectly at an Ibiza lounge experience. Just a shame when we left we were immediately pounced upon by the street hawkers. Annoying, like wasps at a picnic – but not threatening.

We spent our final few hours this morning in Colombia exploring different parts of the city (cathedral – tick) and saw various American tour parties shuffling along the pavements – each person wearing various stickers – ‘my name is xx’, ‘my tour guide is yy’. The few people on it who were a similar age to us looked very embarrassed. R and I made a pact that if ever one of us wants to join one of those tours, divorce is automatic.

We are now at Cartagena airport, waiting for our next flight, and the next leg of our ‘Big Adventure’ in Peru. As I reflect on our experiences of Colombia, firstly we were both pleasantly surprised by how friendly everyone has been, almost without exception. Travelling across the country has been extremely smooth (I am now tempting fate, as our flight hasn’t been called yet): Google Translate and WhatsApp are godsend apps. The landscape has been full of contrast – from the beautiful rolling green hills in Pereira and Medellin, to the lush tropical scenery in the Caribbean coastal cities. Bogotá really surprised us with the diversity of the city. Of course, there were the poor areas we were expecting, but also a significant burgeoning middle class – with a plethora of upmarket restaurants, bars and shops. The food scene in particular was notable there, with some amazing restaurants that offered exceptional good quality for the price. We didn’t experience any trouble, or felt in danger at any point – but then we didn’t (as we wouldn’t do in any foreign city) seek out unsafe areas! Even the weather (considering we are in the rainy season here) mostly held out, and we managed to dodge the worst of the downpours.

We now have a few days in Lima, before travelling to Cusco, and the Inca Trail. Must remember to buy toilet paper and wet wipes :(

The Three Ws

The drive from Santa Marta to Cartagena yesterday was uneventful – thankfully, after our boat trip – the only ‘excitement’ being to spot many local tourists clustered around a large gold female statue in Barranquilla, a city en-route to Cartagena. It turned out it was the singer Shakira, a local girl ‘done good’.

The guidebooks say Cartagena is the prettiest city in the Caribbean: I haven’t been to the islands, but it certainly is pretty. Up until now we have seen modern Colombia, and old, decaying Colombia, but now we have restored and gentrified Colombia: in the old town of Cartagena, beautiful, multi-coloured colonial houses, many draped in bougainvillea. A lot of these properties now house designer restaurants, shops and boutique hotels. Our guide at the coffee farm told us that Cartagena would be very hot, expensive, and full of Americans. He was right on all three counts: the second point probably as a result of the third. He also said a lot of people come here to party – for prostitutes and drugs, and unfortunately I can see that too. Whilst the old town is aesthetically reminiscent of some of the beautiful towns and cities we may see in Spain or Italy, where the similarity ends are the armed police on many street corners at night, and the many street vendors, carrying trays of goods, like ushers selling ice creams in theatres. However, rather than innocuous ice-cream, as you walk past them, they quickly move from offering cigarettes for sale, to women, weed or ‘white coffee’ (cocaine) – and often doing so just a couple of metres away from the police. Look closely, and more shops and restaurants here have ‘no to sex tourism’ stickers (this time in English) in their windows. It seems to be more obvious and frequent than we experienced in Medellin. Such a shame, for such a picturesque city.

Last night we ate at a beautiful restaurant in an old colonial mansion – Dona Lola – check out the photos on their website . On the way there, we passed an evangelical preacher who was whipping a crowd into a frenzy on one of the squares. No doubt they too could find Jesus – for a donation that would equate to more than a day’s salary for most of them.

This morning we have woken up to wonderful views across the city from our AirBnB apartment – on the 6th floor of an old building in the middle of the old town. Last night we saw lightning roll in across the city, and a great firework display a couple of squares away marking ‘The Day of The Races’. Not celebrating the 3.30pm at Aintree, but a national holiday marking Columbus Day, or Day of Ethnic and Cultural Diversity.

We are looking forward to exploring more of this beautiful city today -whilst avoiding buying any of the three Ws.

High seas and higher screams

Innovative ways to walk a dog #27: this morning, looking out to the beach at breakfast, I saw a jet ski (and rider) pull up close to the shore, and off jumped a dog. It quickly swam to shore, before proceeding to follow the jet ski at speed on the sand, which was now racing parallel to the shore line. This went on for a couple of laps, before the dog then jumped back into the sea, swam to the now stationary jet ski, before they all sped off together into the distance :)

The main reason we are in Santa Marta (apart from ticking ‘Caribbean coast’ off the list) was to visit the Tayrona National Park, supposedly the most beautiful in Colombia. We read that a fun way to visit it was via speed boat, departing from a town just up the coast. We duly got to Taganga early (more hippy, than chic), and booked our slot. We didn’t realise that, firstly, there would be so many people lined up on the shore waiting for boats to depart, or that the boats didn’t look like they would make it past the headland, let alone a beach an hour’s ride away. About fifteen people boarded our boat, all crammed in like sardines, whilst all manner of earthly possessions in various bags and boxes (including a baby’s high chair wedged in front of me) were also loaded on. I wouldn’t have been surprised if we had ended up in Dover, claiming asylum, not visiting a sight of natural beauty in Colombia.

I’m not a big fan of boats, having been violently ill on them a couple of times, due to rough seas. The journey to begin with was smooth, then a bit rougher, then we really hit the waves. At that point the women behind me started screaming. Loudly. The man next to me started yelling ‘puta‘ (not sure if that was aimed at the captain, the sea, or both). I was sitting in the middle of four other people (on a bench that was marked out for four, not five people), and had nothing to hold on to. The locals were faring better, having either lower centres of gravity, by nature of the shorter builds of Colombians, or had friends and family to hang on to. R and I had been separated when we boarded, and he was on a bench to himself, holding on to the side for dear life. Soon the boat was really hitting the water hard after each wave, sending shudders through our bones, and we were all getting soaked by the water as well. And then after about twenty minutes or so, the poor teenager next to me started vomiting, uncontrollably. Bless him, he didn’t want to throw up on the strangers sitting next to him, but turned round (bearing in mind, personal space was non-existent) to throw up over his family’s feet, sitting behind me. The act of contorting his body to do this probably only made matters worse, and every large wave caused another convulsion. Meanwhile my mate to the left is still shouting puta, and the women behind are still screaming. The captain is oblivious. Clearly just another Saturday boat load of tourists for him.

What seemed liked three hours later, but was in fact just over one, we finally spotted the promised land. Never have I been so grateful to see a beach packed with other tourists. Not wanting to ride the The People Smuggler Ride Experience © again, R and I headed into the forest, and decided to hike the three and a half hour trail back to the main entrance instead. We were actually grateful we did, as we passed several beautiful beaches (check R’s Insta post) and stopped for a lovely home cooked pasta on the beach as well. We also kept reminding ourselves this was good training for the Inca Trail.

The fun didn’t stop when we eventually got to the entrance, as we encountered several traffic accident delays on the taxi ride back to our apartment in town. Our enterprising driver decided to take us on an unofficial tour of ‘unfinished side-roads of Santa Marta’ to avoid the worst: whatever bones hadn’t been shaken by the boat ride, were certainly rattling now.

Tomorrow will definitely be a quiet day. A pool day beckons.

Caribbean Queen(s)

Yesterday we decided to get out of the city and see some of the countryside that surrounded Medellin. A national park that was recommended – Arvi – was reached via a couple of cable cars that stretched for some distance over and across the mountains surrounding the city. One of these cable cars was built specifically to enable the poor communities living on the slopes to access the city, and potential jobs, and the opportunity to no longer be reliant on joining gangs for money. It certainly was a sobering sight to see the living conditions for so many people in Medellin, as the cable car ascended. The park wasn’t as large as we thought it would be, but we stretched our legs for an hour or so, following several trails, before heading back. Eeyore made a guest appearance for a few photo opportunities too.

We wanted to make an evening of our last night in Medellin, starting in a chic cocktail bar called Café Noir, which would not have been out of place in Ibiza or Mykonos. The disparity between rich and poor was made very real though by the bill for two drinks there being equivalent to two days minimum wage in Colombia (about £24). We moved onto a very nice Peruvian / Colombian / American restaurant that was showing the football on TV (a lot of South American World Cup qualifiers were being played yesterday, I was reliably informed by R) but then as the game ended, continued with a Latin American telenovela. There was no sound, but it was easy to get the gist:  a beautiful woman having heated arguments with her husband/partner but, after a series of doe-eyed and smouldering scenes from the leading man, she couldn’t help but eventually end up in bed with him. Of course.

From there we tried the big gay bar in town, Bar Chiquita, which was pretty busy. A much better looking crowd than Theatron, and who also, by the looks of it, practiced personal hygiene. We stayed for a few drinks; despite not being a particularly late evening, our heads felt it this morning as we were checking out. I meant to mention the hotel we were staying in, Antípoda, which, despite being less than £70 a night, was simply and stylishly furnished, with full size L’Occitane products in the bathroom, and a trendy café which served a delicious breakfast. They know how to keep gay guests happy.

Tonight we are in Santa Marta, in northern Colombia, on the Caribbean coast. We arrived at our apartment just in time to see a beautiful sunset over the sea from our balcony – made sweeter by the fact we had been upgraded, with more space and a better view. What was not so beautiful was the fact many of the drains in the city had been overwhelmed by a deluge before we arrived, and a faint smell of raw sewage was lingering across town. The lovely apartment is also now full of our drying laundry, and the gourmet experience for tonight was a home-cooked, packet pad Thai from the nearby supermarket. #whatinstagramdoesntshowyou.

Bogotá’s rougher, edgier sibling

No, we haven’t been abducted, or been in a cocaine coma since we arrived in Medellin – I won’t necessarily be blogging everyday, so please subscribe if you want to get automatic alerts when the next post arrives!

Before we flew to Medellin (Colombia’s second city) yesterday, we drove out to the Termales Santa Rosa de Cabal about 45mins north of Pereira. We didn’t go for the hot thermal pools, which besides from being decidedly green, had signs up saying ‘please don’t pee in the pool’ (why do you need to put a sign up, unless….?), but for the spectacular waterfalls which are in their grounds. R loves a good waterfall – memories of Mahon Falls in Ireland.

We awoke this morning to the sound of a bell ringing in the distance, getting progressively louder. In our half conscious state, we discounted it being the child catcher, or the ‘shame’ scene from ‘Game of Thrones’, but got up to see it was the refuse truck, ringing a bell half a street away, to ensure (no doubt) that everyone had put their rubbish out in time. Good luck trying that in W14 at 6.30am on a Tuesday.

We decided to explore downtown Medellin, and see the cathedral (of course) and various squares and buildings, including the Plazas Bolivar, and Botero, housing more works from the eponymous sculptor whose works we saw and liked on our first day in Bogotá. We also saw a fair few shops selling (highly flammable, by the look of it) erotic lingerie: it seems Medellin has a reputation for sex tourism, given discrete signs in the upmarket bars and restaurants here saying ‘no al turismo sexual‘. Even the man selling wooden handicrafts by the side of a road had clearly seen the market fall out of cooking spoons and chopping boards, and gone for highly polished wooden dildos and love beads instead. At least, any buyer would hope they were highly polished. We first experienced this side of Medellin last night after leaving a cool brasserie in the zona rosa (or nightlife area, i.e. their Soho) and turning a street corner, were asked if we would like ‘very nice women’. Not the actual noun used, but I don’t want to offend anyone reading this. Either brothel owners don’t believe in customer segmentation, or R and I look like very straight tourists. Albeit sex ones.

Having seen enough of downtown Medellin we returned (by a very modern and efficient metro) to the zone rosa, near our hotel, which is very Hoxton / Shoreditch. Lots of trendy cafes, coffee shops and restaurants, with the macbook crowd in attendance. We decided to try local food in a modern Colombian restaurant – empanaditas, followed by arepas – corn flat bread with pulled beef, sour cream and avocado. Yum. As in Bogota, every Colombian we have been in contact with continues to be super smiley and friendly. This afternoon we decided we would treat ourselves to a couple of (alcoholic) drinks. I don’t usually get bitten by insects, but I have a few bites, and R quite a few more. Clearly not enough tonic water, mixed with either gin or vodka, being consumed by us on this trip.

Carlos The Coffee Plant

Today was a lovely chilled day. We started with a round trip on the cable car that connects Pereira with some of the hilltop communities, discussing the merits or otherwise of some of the pools in people’s villas, or relative balcony space in the different apartment blocks, as we gently passed over some of the new developments of the city.

We then picked up our hire car for the day and headed off to a coffee farm to discover more about the coffee making process. For anyone who has been on a tour of a vineyard, I thought this might be similar – nod along intently as the person giving the tour rolls off numerous statistics about numbers of hectares, tones of grapes, or the complexity of the oak fermentation process – and then promptly forget it all by the time the wine tasting has finished. However, not only did we have a charming tour guide (a Colombian English teacher, supplementing his income with occasional English-speaking coffee farm tours) but someone who understood English sarcasm as well. Aside from R and me being the only people on the only tour this afternoon, Chocolat, the 18 month Dachshund-cross puppy, followed us everywhere we went. Bliss.

Donning poncho and hat, we got to learn about the whole process from start to finish: we planted a coffee sapling – who we christened Carlos – toured the farm, picked and peeled beans, and finished the afternoon with a leisurely coffee (scientifically prepared by our guide, Anderson) and slice of homemade carrot cake, whilst discussing the past and present of Colombia. We enjoyed all of this coupled with the most amazing vista of the surrounding countryside.

Our belated anniversary dinner tonight was delicious. Boeuf bourguignon, Colombian style, and huge tempura prawns. Our waiter took great pride in explaining at length the accompanying Argentinian Malbec we were having; if only he knew it was currently on special for £7 at Tesco.

We arrived back at our hotel tonight to find several of the Little Darlings cartwheeling (and screaming simultaneously, quite a double act) down the carpet in the hotel reception. I found out it was Colombian half term this week. The staff must absolutely hate it. Our next hotel stop tomorrow in Medellin isn’t family friendly. Such a shame.

Happy Anniversary

We wondered why screams were echoing round the open atrium of the hotel when we arrived in Pereira, and soon found out the reason why. The hotel was hosting a regional ‘Little Miss Precocious Colombia 2024’ (rough translation), and there were dozens of seven to nine year olds (hard to tell exact ages under all that adult make up) running riot around the lobby. We could still hear screaming through our bedroom door when we went to bed around 10pm, like some kind of lullaby from The Shining.

Most of the little darlings clearly needed their beauty sleep, as fortunately only one was around in the lobby at 7.45 this morning. A family friend /guncle with DANCE COACH emblazoned on his t-shirt, was also doubling up as MAKE UP ARTIST as he was trying to put powder on an unhappy child, who was perfecting her first diva strop in her showbiz career. We were up early as we going on a tour of the region, visiting Salento, Filandia (‘Daughter of the Andes’) and the Valle de Cόcora. The scenery was spectacular, some of the flowers, especially the bougainvillea arch, were impressive, and the low cloud that descended in the Valle when we were walking through it made it especially atmospheric. We also appreciated being the only European tourists in the towns we visited. Robert’s Insta site shows some of the wonderful sights we saw. I made a point of saying to our guide that ‘there won’t be any pan-pipes at lunch, will there?’ There were not.

We hadn’t actually clocked when we booked the trip at Bogotá airport that it coincided with our anniversary – married twelve years today, together for just over eighteen :). When we realised this last night, and started looking for a suitably nice restaurant to eat in tonight, we soon discovered that pretty much every restaurant in Pereira is closed on a Sunday night, apart from the fast food ones (we ate in the hotel last night and it was ‘meh’ at best). So we jokingly agreed that we would go totally against the grain, and for the first time, embrace a fast food anniversary dinner. McDonalds was five minutes away, and the best of a bad bunch, so headed there. ‘Happy Anniversary’ was toasted with a cup of Coke Zero (no ice). A shame though this was accompanied by more children’s screaming, as every table in the restaurant was within screeching distance of the hyperactive 7 yr olds (that hadn’t made the cut for ‘Little Miss Precocious Colombia 2024’) tearing around the McPlay area.

We’ve hired a car for the day tomorrow, to get away from everyone.

Goodbye Bogota

Friday night, new capital city, and R&R were… having an early night, after watching a couple of episodes of the new Heartstopper (R’s choice). We were pretty tired after dinner, and a busy day, and actually didn’t mind not being two tipsy tourists trying to find a cab in downtown Bogota at 2am.

A word on last night’s dinner – the meal was fine, but creative direction for a ‘destination’ Asian restaurant all over the place. The waiters wore ill-fitting leopard print shirts, the busboys in boiler suits (Salvage-d?) whilst there were some random female employees in gold sequin showgirl costumes. We were trying to get the bill when suddenly the music ramped up, and two of the busboys and our waiter appeared wearing cheap chimpanzee masks (chimps in Asia?), and started prancing (best word to describe it) round the tables, with said sequined showgirls, whilst holding flashing bicycle lamps. What was perhaps more surprising was when this routine finished they actually all looked very pleased with themselves. We paid the bill and left.

The advantage of an early Friday night was an early start this morning – we made the most of the sunshine and went on a lovely long walk in the area. What has surprised us about Bogota is that whilst of course there are neglected, poor areas (like every city), there are a lot of very nice parts to it too – with apartment buildings, restaurants, shops, bars and cafés on a par with any major capital. I’m not a coffee drinker, but have tried it a few times here (when in Colombia!) and it definitely tastes better than anything at home – not bitter at all.

We are now packed up, about to head off to the airport, and ready for part two of Colombia – Pereira, the coffee region, and what looks like some stunning countryside.

Last night we wanted to ‘check the lights’ at Theatron – billed as the biggest gay club in South America. It was supposed to have anywhere between 13-19 rooms (depending on which review you read), each with different DJs / genre of music. It certainly was big – but a 6 floor, 1960’s office block, that could do with more than a lick of paint. At a minimum, perhaps, a jet hose – and that goes for some of the clientele there as well. Thursday wasn’t the best night to judge it.

Today we decided to get some practice in for Machu Pichu, and the upcoming Inca Trail, and walk up the 1500 steps (and 600m ascent) to the summit of Cerro de Monserrate. Blimey, it was steep, but we felt good we completed it in under an hour, despite having no breath left to say so. This afternoon we had more biblical downpours, and although we avoided the worst, we did have to take shelter in a church (above ground today). I asked Robert to say a prayer whilst we were there. It must have worked as I didn’t see an oil tanker float down the street. Apparently these have been heavier and more frequent in Bogota this year than usual. At this rate, there won’t be any beaches left in the Pacific Islands by the time we arrive in December.

Tonight we are trying another (this time, Asian) gastro experience – SLVJ (Salvaje) Bogota, handily next door to us. It apparently has sister restaurants across the world. However I am sure the Marbella and Dubai ones won’t be at Bogota prices :)

Unfortunately due to a lack of sleep, jet lag, and Bogota’s altitude (at over 2,600m above sea level, you definitely feel it on day one), yesterday was a bit befuddled for me. It didn’t stop us exploring the La Candelaria (Bogota’s cultural centre) and stumbling across some amazing free museums set in pretty colonial mansions, as well as llamas wandering the streets with no discernible owners. A bonus find was a wonderful restaurant called Prudencia (prudencia.net) which did an amazing set menu for lunch. Waiters were super friendly too – in fact, in two days, we haven’t met anyone who hasn’t been friendly. It really was a find, as there was no sign above the door, and you had to knock to be let in. There are clearly some great restaurants here and I can understand when our guide today said Bogota features amongst the top gastronomical capitals of the world.

After ten hours of sleep, today got off to a much better start – brain engaged, we headed out for a tour of the famous Salt Cathedral in Zipaquira, about an hour north of the city. The engineering and architecture behind it is amazing- a vast, multi-chambered structure, that in addition to the usual cathedral check-list (I’ve been to a few with Robert over the years) included an underground ice cream parlour, spa (salt treatments, of course) and modern sculpture museum. We went on a small group tour – the positive being we met a very friendly group of ladies travelling through Colombia (one of whom lives and works in Hammersmith – small world…) but the negative being the restaurant at lunchtime was very touristy. The waiters didn’t just hassle punters on the street to come in, they actually chased cars at the crossing, menus in hand. Who needs a coffee at the end of the meal when we had pan-pipe players, who didn’t know if their dress code was The Blues Brothers (all wearing sunglasses, indoors) or traditional South American costume.