Santa Marta

Recent weather: upper 80s with 70+% humidity, feels like 110.
Recent reads: Galations-Revelation (!), ¨Piercing the Darkness¨ by Frank Perretti, ¨The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes¨ by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, ¨Hens Reunited¨ by Lucy Diamond, ¨The Shining¨ by Stephen King

The past couple of weeks in Santa Marta have been the perfect addition to the last phase of my travels. Santa Marta is is located on the Carribbean coast, towards the eastern edge of Colombia. The oldest city in South America, Santa Marta and it´s port have a lot of history. Today, there isn´t much to el centro of Santa Marta but it´s a perfect launching pad for the beaches and sights in the area.


The oldest church in South America, located in downtown Santa Marta

Santa Marta port

I found a gig in Santa Marta bartending at a very cool hostel. The hostel itself used to be a cartel house and, of course, has a few ghost stories to go along with it. The best part, considering the suffocating humidity this time of year in Santa Marta, was definitely the pool. A close second are the tons of hammocks in the hostel.

Fell asleep in these hammocks almost every day.

I just bartended in the evenings which meant I had plenty of time for day trips exploring the areas around Santa Marta. For 2 days I explored nearby Tayrona National Park and spent the night in a hammock.

Doing a bit of strolling.

Awe. Some.

Wandering along the path.

Accommodations for the evening!

One day I went to Bahia Concha which is a beautiful beach, perfect for swimming, which is definitely off the gringo trail. Another day I went to Costeno Beach to try my hand at some surfing again. This will not be the location for the next world´s surfing competition and I will not win anytime soon but it was a fun day.  I also went to Palomino, about 2 hours from Santa Marta, and tubed down the river which made for a relaxing afternoon.

At Bahia Concha. Ignore the old man in the water behind me...

Perfect swimming at Bahia Concho!

Strolling down the path to Costeno Beach to surf.

Is it really waiting?

Zero complaints at this moment at Costeno Beach.

Spent an afternoon in Taganga, a fishing town and 30 minute bus ride from Santa Marta.

My last excursion was to Minca, just a collectivo (shared cab) and a mototaxi ride away from Santa Marta in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. It was a great spot for hiking, checking out local coffee fields, and enjoying nature. As isolated as the location is (only mototaxis can get up the moutain road), the hostel I stayed at was just as welcoming. The hostel itself was very inviting with a giant hammock on the hillside and a jungle hammock just a 10 minute walk off the nearby river. On my way down the mountain, I took a scenic 5 hour walk via the handdrawn map one of the hostel owners made for me which was a nice touch. A friendly black dog was my tour guide all the way down the mountain. He walked ahead of me sniffing just about everything and ¨marking his territory¨ pretty much everywhere. Just went I thought he´d left me and gone on his own little trek, I´d come around a corner to see him waiting for me, his neck craned back watching for me to come around the bend! Occasionally I´d come across some aggressive dogs along the way but my little friend would confront them with a fierce bark of his own while I sneaked past. When I finally stopped for lunch in town 5 hours later, a local recognized him as ¨Jugo¨ and offered to take him back up the mountain to his owner before I could even thank my travel companion by sharing my lunch!

Laying on the jungle hammock looking up.

Top right is Jugo, my tour guide. Bottom left is the amazing giant hammock! Bottom right is the open air window view from the toilet-no joke! 

Finishing up my hike just before dusk.

On Saturday I fly to Bogota, the final stop in my South American travels! While I am looking forward to a respite from the heat and humidity, it is surreal to think that this whole adventure will be over in just a matter of days!

The Transformation

Recent weather: 60s, overcast with a daily afternoon downpour in Medellin; 80s, sunny and humid in Cartagena
Recent reads: 2 Corinthians-Ephesians, ¨Chosen by a Horse¨ by Susan Richards, ¨The News from Paraguay¨by Lily Tuck.

25 years ago Medellin was a contender for the title of most dangerous city in the world. With an unofficial civil war waging for over 60 years, conflicts among paramilitary and guerrilla groups escalating, and tensions between drug cartels growing, violence was a daily occurrence for kids my age growing up in Medellin. Perhaps that is why paisas (a term for Colombians from the Antioquia region of which Medellin is the capital) are so proud to be paisas--they're proud to be survivors. And no wonder Colombians have such a dark sense of humor-can you blame them? When few Colombians are willing to talk about their turbulent history, sometimes joking is the only way to remember without having to really talk about it. 

Part was designed and built by a Belgian architect but after much badgering about the delay, the Belgian quit leaving locals to finish the rest. You can guess which part was done by the Belgian and which by the locals.

One of the best tours I have done on my whole trip was the Pablo Escobar tour in Medellin. Sure, I learned about Pablo Escobar and saw places where he lived and died but the perspective I got that day went way beyond just one man. 
Pablo Escobar was born December 1, 1949, just outside of Medellin. When other 5 year olds said they wanted to be a doctor or a fireman or an astronaut, little Pablo said he wanted to be a millionaire. At 16, Escobar was expelled from school for stealing the answers to an exam and distributing them to the whole class. From there he joined forces with his cousin, selling weed on the streets, dealing stolen car parts and stealing marble gravestones from cemeteries. By 21 Escobar was making his way through the ranks of the drug distribution business, and by 29, he was head of the Medellin cartel which controlled about 80% of Colombian cocaine trafficking routes.

Above: Escobar´s ID; Below: the second most visited grave site in the world (can you guess the first?), Pablo Escobar, in a private cemetary in Medellin. Ironically, someone stole his marble gravestone and it was recently replaced which is why there is no inscription. 

The modest house where Escobar was hiding out before he was killed by DEA, CIA, Colombian military or police, PEPEs (a group of Escobar's victims or family of victims seeking revenge) or whomever wants to take credit. Family of Escobar claim the shot to the head was self-inflicted, Escobar said he´d kill himself before ever going to prison. The house is for sale!

Escobar, one of the most internationally recognizable criminals of all time, just serves as a mirror for Colombia's shortcomings. For example, when Pablo Escobar, an international drug lord, money launderer and ultimately a murderer who hadn't even finished high school is elected to the Colombian Congress, you know something is wrong with the democratic process. When the Cali cartel can launder drug money through several properties registered under a monkey's fingerprint, you know something is wrong with the legal system. And when Pablo Escobar consents to serve a partial sentence but at his own hacienda and monitored by his own bodygaurds rather than Colombian military or police and the court agrees, you start to wonder if justice really does exist. 
This new found perspective also dispelled a lot of misconceptions I had. First off, Colombia's problems were not solely caused by the drug cartels. Rather, Colombia has had violent political and social unrest for decades and, during the 80s and early 90s, the political scene just set the stage for drug cartels to take hold. The "success"and violence of the drug cartels were simply a symptom of the greater problems that plagued Colombia.

Querida Virgen Maria, please let my plane full of cocaine arrive safely. I think there are more places of prayer dedicated to Mary than to Jesus himself, a manifestation of the Latino matriarchial society.

Likewise, the drug trade didn't start with Pablo Escobar and it certainly didn't end with his death in 1993. Today, Colombia´s reputation is changing and it is much safer and cleaner than ever but cocaine trafficking in Colombia is just as prevalent as when Pablo Escobar had a virtual monopoly on it. After Escobar's death, the Medellin cartel disbanded and now the trafficking routes are controlled by various secret paramilitary and guerrilla groups throughout rural Colombia. The solution to the cocaine problem isn't that simple. While it's easy to point the finger--Colombia supplies an outrageous portion of the world's cocaine--unfortunately, the cocaine is shipped out of Colombia to where the demand is, to Europe and the US. 
I pictured Pablo Escobar as a sort of beloved Colombian Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving back to the poor neighborhoods. But Pablo Escobar grew up in a middle class home--he was never starving or destitute-- and became one of the rich in the nastiest way possible. And while he did some seemingly charitable acts, these deeds were usually motivated by selfish greed. For example, Escobar built lighted futbol fields in some rough neighborhoods in order to buy votes on his way to becoming a congressman. 
For most Colombians, Escobar's legacy is something they would like to forget. And if the first thing that comes to mind when you think of Colombia is Pablo Escobar and cocaine, you're basically offending an entire country. If anything, the thousands of people that on a daily basis get singled out, thoroughly searched, and publically humiliated at airports all over the world simply because they flashed a Colombian passport have Pablo Escobar to thank. 
One of the things I found most interesting was that many of Escobar's buildings have remained vacant for years since being confiscated by the police. Rather than turn these huge, multi-level ghost buildings into something useful like a school or a hospital to show the community that some good can evolve from something bad, these structures have remained unused for almost three decades, a daily reminder of the sicaros (driveby hitmen on motorbikes) and car bombs of years ago. Just recently, a couple of them have been bought by private companies and are being remodeled into restaurants or hotels. 

One of Escobar´s headquarters. Of course, it was all white, like the stuff that made him rich. For years it sat vacant, slowly deteriorating. Finally, construction has begun as it was recently bought by a foreign hotel company.

Truth be told, considering the dark "cultural experience"that is Medellin, I actually didn't feel unsafe. That's because Medellin has come a long was since the 80s, a process they call "the transformation." Medellin's transformation started with their Metro system. It's the only metro in the country and it is very clean and easy to use, the crown jewel of the city that they are very proud of and rightfully so. Then, in 2002, President Alvaro Uribe initiated an intense security platform, improving safety immensely, the results of which have made my backpacking trip through Colombia possible. By increasing police and military presence and adding more checkpoints in rural and urban areas all over the country, kidnappings in Colombia decreased about 90% by the end of his term in 2010. I have seen this first hand as several of my buses have been stopped for routine inspections in the middle of nowhere. 
Sergio Fajardo Valderrama, a former teacher and mayor of Medellin from 2003-2007, did his part by improving education and instituting "democratic architecture." La Plaza de Las Luces is a great example of democratic architecture. This square block, once a dark, dingy place, the perfect landscape for prostitution rings and drug deals gone wrong, was remodeled by adding lots of palm trees and an amazing artsy lighting display which serves to make the area more beautiful and safer at night. The building around the plaza, once vacant and home to squatters and drug addicts was renovated in the colonial style and is now home to the secretary of education. As another example, in a hilly neighborhood on the outskirts of town, children and blue collar residents had to climb 350 steps at the end of their day, a tiresome and dangerous stretch especially after sunset. The city built a kind of moving walkway there that improved neighborhood morale and decreased crime. 

An artsy view up of the lighting display.

The lights in Plaza de Las Luces during the day.

Formerly the Hall of Justice, this building was recently purchased by foreign investors and remodeled in the original colonial style. Although it is a shopping mall now, better to be restored and in use than the alternative.

But they´re not done yet. I drove through one Medellin neighborhood, several square blocks worth, full of mechanic shops and car parts stores. No city needs that many oil change shops. Most of the merchandise is stolen and most of the shops are fronts for laundering drug money. Here, on pretty much every corner you can see homeless addicts getting their daily fix. Just on the edge of this neighborhood is a police and fire station. The locals I was with said this neighborhood is one of the safest in the city, that I could walk around here day or night and nothing would happen to me. (Don't worry, Mom, I didn't try it.) It's safe but not because the police are right door. No, because of all the illegal activity that goes on here, the drug lords don't want the spotlight on their neighborhood so they hire their own private security companies which are far more effective at keeping law and order than the police. The last thing they would do would be to mug a harmless tourist and risk unwanted attention from the police or worse. 
For all the bizarre things I observed, for all the sights I can´t unsee, Medellin is a one-of-a-kind cultural experience. It truly is an amazing place--almost Gotham City-esque (yes, I just went there)--full of history-good, bad, and sometimes ugly. If I had to describe Medellin in one word, it would be ¨gritty.¨ Most parts aren´t clean, some people are more than sketchy characters, but if you can see through Medellin´s dodgy past, you´ll notice all the personality here. You´ll see that the people and the city have really grit, real perseverance and a lifetime´s worth of unbelievable stories. 
But after a few days in the city, I was craving the great outdoors again. I headed to Guatape, a pueblo just 2 hours outside of Medellin. I hiked up all 740 steps of La Pierda for an amazing 360 degree view of the multiple lakes in the area. The fog in the photos seems to blur the view but actually the clouds made the whole experience like a dream! 

I want to see La Piedra from up there!

740 Stairs later...

Abreak in the fog.

At the top of La Pierda in Guatape.

With my flight home constantly in the back of my mind, I was on the move again to Cartagena. For as gritty a city as Medellin is, Cartagena is the complete opposite. It just took the ride from the bus terminal to my hostel for me to be entranced with this beautiful city. Like Medellin, Cartagena is full of history too, but this history is colonial, represented in the beautiful Spanish architecture with bright-painted buildings and flower gardens on every balcony. 

Cartagena from outside the walls.

A taste of this lovely city.

The skyline.

A little futbol outside the walled city.

The walled city is hot and sunny but fortunately thereare tons of nearby beaches from which to choose. I spent one day at Playa Blanca, just a boat ride away from Cartagena but worlds away from all your troubles. 

Nothing like a day at Playa Blanca to remind me that I am in a Carribbean paradise!

Crystal clear water

Next destination: Santa Marta!

A Taste of Colombia

Recent weather: 80s and sunny
Recent reads: Acts-1 Corinthians, "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald, "A Memoir of Hope by Hope Solo", "Welcome to the Monkey House" by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Writing from Medellin today. I have had poor internet for the last week so this a delayed post.

Saturday, September 27th, I took a bus from Quito to la frontera where I safely exited Ecuador, walked across the bridge, and was through Colombian immigration in no time. Once across the border, I hopped a bus to Popayan, Colombia, another 7 hour journey. There isn't much to Popayan but it served as a good resting point after a full day of bus travel. It is a beautiful, white-washed, colonial city, much like Arequipa, Peru, and Sucre, Bolivia.

A nice walk up to the morro for a full view of Popayan

From Popayan I took a van and off-roaded 4 hours to San Agustin. You know you're in for a bumpy ride when the driver offers you a plastic baggy before we hit the road. I had to explain to a few of the other gringos what he said the bag was for and, while they chuckled at first, two of them ended up using the bags.
San Agustin is another small town, not unlike Popayan. The highlight was definitely a day trip through the archeological sights on horseback with my cowboy guide, Jose! Throughout this area, there are many religious sculptures and burial mounds created by the local Andean culture between the 1st and 8th centuries. There are many questions, few answers, and much mystery surrounding these sculptures so I often took much creative liberty in assigning my own titles to the structures.

Me on my horse, Minerva, and Zorro. 

Oh, Minerva...

I want to think the are holding the babies in a fun, playful way but I'm pretty sure the children depicted were for sacrifices.

I call this one the "Mr. Burns" because his hands look mischievous.

Jose, my guide. Yes, he carries a machete.

After San Agustin, I was ready for Colombia at full volume so I went to Cali. I read somewhere that you need Cali more than it needs you and I realize what that means now. Cali doesn't cater to tourists. Sure, they know tourists come here but the culture of Cali has only one speed: salsa. You can either try to keep up or move on to the next city. Dancing salsa is in their blood here. If you're going to take a salsa class, Cali is the place and if you came to Cali and didn't salsa, you didn't really experience Cali.
My hostel had free group salsa lessons every night so I really had no excuse, and after a grande cerveza, I wasn't even looking for a excuse. I was thinking so hard about the steps that the instructor would yell at me, ¨mas sabor!¨ And then, when I would give him some "flavor", and hedd discretely tell me that whatever steps I was now doing were no longer salsa. After my class and a night at a salsa club, it was clear that salsa dancing is not my calling. Fortunately for all of us, I have no video documentation to prove it.

Iglesia Ermita--what you can't see are the tons of locals just camped out on benches doing a whole of nothin'.

While this looks like a quiet afternoon cup o' joe, the audio for this photo would be blaring urban salsa.

After a few relaxed days in Cali, I was ready to move again so I was off to nearby Buga. I happened to run into a microbrewery there-okay, you caught me-I went there specifically for the brewery.

Holy Water Ale IPA

Holy Water Ale Cerveceria

After Buga, it was time to head to Salento to taste more of the beverages that Colombia has to offer--namely coffee! Salento was one of my favorite towns in all of South America! It was a tiny little pueblo but with a whole lot of personality. The buildings were painted bright sassy colors. There were tons of quaint shops, food stands and unique restaurants. And so many people, locals and tourists alike, were out and about, making the town vibrant.

Salento was a lively town on a Sunday afternoon.

Everyone was out for the afternoon.

The view of Salento from the top of the stairs.

 But the main reason I went to Salento was to learn more about coffee and Colombia. Don Elias, the owner of a local cafe finca, took me on a little tour of his backyard, demonstrating the whole coffee process from picking to roasting.

On my way to Don Elias' finca

He is very proud of his coffee beans.

Picking away...

And there's this little waterfall in his backyard.

Passionately talking about roasting. "Low heat!"

As with other resources, often the best of the country is exported and the locals do without the very thing they have spent their livelihood doing. Coffee is no exception. Often coffee farmers are paid very little for their crops and the best coffee is shipped around the world, marked up more than almost any industry in the world (except maybe another Colombian export: cocaine) and sold faster than you can say "non-fat caramel macchiato."

The daily grind

Old school

From the tree to my glass...

Hopped up on coffee, I hit the road again. Coming up: a recap of my time in Medellin!