Salento, Popayan and Ipiales

This tree is a little bigger than it seems

The trip to Salento was a fairly convoluted one. We get a bus at 8am to Riosucio, that takes a couple of hours, then we go onwards to Pereira, with one final change to Salento. Easy peasy, we’d be there eventually, hopefully.

We arrived at the bus stop about 15 minutes early, where we were told in high velocity Spanish something along the lines of ‘The bus will be here at 8.30. Mudslide.’ - or at least, those are the words we successfully pulled out. No worries, we walked over the road so I could grab a coffee at the restaurant at the corner. A few minutes later, the bus arrived. Well, it wasn’t 8.30, so unsure what was going on we asked if it was the correct bus. They accepted it was and we presumed that the mudslide had been cleared quicker than anticipated, but had now told everyone it would be 30 minutes late, so we had to wait regardless.

The bus itself was a little less luxurious than most we’d experienced in Colombia so far. Where most of them had a bathroom, plug sockets and sometimes Wi-Fi, this one had smashed lights and foliage on the seats. Not that we mind, but more we should probably have realised what was coming (and why this relatively short distance of road would take as long as the next leg which was over twice the distance). The roads were narrow, bumpy and just dirt, straight up a mountain. Fortunately no fillings were lost in the process, but it certainly wasn’t a comfortable experience.

Some maintenance required

Around 30 minutes into the journey, and with the driver continually making phone calls, we pulled over for an unplanned stop. At this point, we realised that the aforementioned mudslide wasn’t prior, but now, and their intention was to leave 30 minutes later in order to avoid the landslide. Needless to say, that didn’t happen, when we were greeted by a digger and mud in the road as high as our waists. The driver assured us it’d be 30 minutes of digging and we’d be on our way. Watching the digger unable to get traction in the mud itself, I didn’t have particularly high hopes. Anyway, two hours later we all got back in the coach and we were on our way.

There's a road under there!

Everything was once again going fine, until we reached a spot about 10 kilometres from our destination. At this point, the bus pulled into a driveway and proceeded to reverse out, in the direction we were heading. The road was still clearly one way here, so I presumed he was turning around in order to take another turn nearby easier. Until we passed that turn and continued reversing down the hill for another kilometre and a half. Baffled at this point, the driver announced we needed to change vehicle, and we all grabbed our bags and went to assess what was going on.

It seemed the previous mudslide had simply been an amateur attempt at slowing us down, and now we’d discovered the king of all roadblocks. Balancing our large, heavy bags we proceeded to climb up the fallen mud and across the planks kindly left for us, turning our simple journey into an episode of Total Wipeout.

A slightly larger setback

After finally crossing the ravine, we found ourselves not at another bus, but greeted by a Jeep, already containing several people. We asked if another Jeep was coming, but they insisted all 14 of us would fit, with bags. And sure, we did, with 8 inside, 2 on the roof, 3 in the front and 3 hanging off the back. About halfway along the journey, we pulled up to some people with horses, joking that we’d stopped to pick up more people in the already crowded vehicle. Well, yes, we did, and drove off, now with 6 people hanging off the back. I won’t say it was a comfortable journey, but we did eventually get to our destination, so that was something.

On arrival, we took the next bus to our second leg, which fortunately left pretty soon after, and made for a far less eventful trip. Finally, we arrived at the last terminal, where we’d just about get the last bus to Salento, several hours after we thought we would arrive.

We’d done some research before arriving, and one of the main attractions of the area were the extremely tall and thin palm trees in the area, known as wax palms. Unusually for South America and much to my delight, this involved a 5 hour walk, without a doubt my favourite activity. We gathered some lunch supplies at a supermarket, and hopped in a Jeep (a little less crowded this time, but still with two people hanging off the back) to the start of the walk.

The walk itself was somewhat a mixed bag, consisting of fields, jungle, mud and hills, with a stop around halfway at a hummingbird sanctuary for a drink. We both ordered a hot chocolate. She asked if we wanted cheese. I’m still not quite sure why, but regardless, Diana opted for the with-cheese option like the crazy weirdo she is. Meanwhile, hummingbirds flew past our ears sounding like jet engines. Do you know how many flaps per minute a hummingbird can achieve? I haven't looked it up, but I can assure you, it’s fucking loads.

Humanity upsets me at times

See? Fucking loads

Ever seen a hummingbird being nagged whilst shitting? Well, good news!

This marked 50% of the walk, where the remaining 50% initially started by scaling a mountain, as is tradition around here. Diana ran off ahead, being that this was her idea of fun or something, and left me to get up at what others would define as a ‘normal pace’. At the top, we were greeted by a huge chicken, an ugly dog and fairly adequate views, along with what seemed to be a farm house but with no evidence of whether it was in use or not.

The walk back was primarily down hill thankfully, and passed the star attraction of the area, the wax palms. I had a full expectation of what I’d see when I got here, and I can promise you all, my expectations were not dashed. These were indeed tall trees.

Diana next to a shorter than average Bonsai tree

The way back was fairly uneventful, and upon arriving back to where the Jeep dropped off, we watched some of the drivers racing each other (on foot mind you) to pass the time, and then went to the fullest one in the area for the trip back. It was what I’d consider full, however they said there was room in the front for one and on the back for another. Diana wanted to hang on, so I took the seat and wondered if we’d hit a pothole big enough to dislodge her. We didn’t.

Arriving back in town, we went for a traditional Colombian meal (Curry – I had the tikka masala) and then headed to a nearby bar where we’d heard about a traditional game called ‘Tejo’, where you throw a heavy weight at a target. A target of gunpowder. We arrived and were told the rules – closest to the target gets a point, hit the gunpowder and get 3 points, land in the middle and get 6 points. Hit the gunpowder and land in the middle, 9 points. Easy!

Harder than it looks. Most points were purely from proximity, occasionally we’d skim the target and knock the gunpowder off, but only on a few occasions did we set off a particularly exciting bang. I did finally manage to not only hit the powder, but land in the middle, and had one leave a little pool of smoke behind, so it wasn’t an entire failure on my part. Diana also got a couple of explosions off, but honestly made more of a case for them to rebuild the walls than much else, but she had fun.

Not all misses!

We were headed towards the border, but from Salento it was a fair journey so we decided to break it up a little and head to the town of Popayan. We didn’t know a huge amount about it, other than apparently it was very white (the buildings, not the people), so we decided we’d head there for a day before continuing on. We arrived at about 7pm without a reservation, so we headed for a hostel we knew about and hoped they had a room available. Being fairly late, we headed out hoping to find somewhere to find something to eat, and found they had decided to put on a show for us, an entire orchestra was set up in the centre. A few of the songs were theme tunes from Spanish shows we didn’t know, but we did recognise ‘Piratas del Caribe’ and ‘Juego de Tronos’ (Pirates of the Caribbean and Game of Thrones).

The following day we took a look around and saw that everything was indeed white. We later found out on a tour that this had a good reason behind it – that there was a time when people didn’t have shoes and a foot parasite was rife in the area, apparently repelled by white clay. We also found out that’s why some corners of buildings were made of a rougher brick than the rest of the building, for people to scratch their feet on. Apparently the corners would eventually be red with blood. We believe that times have moved on a little since then, however the building regulations in the area now state that all buildings must be white. Interesting, if not somewhat revolting.

Rough part of town, just check out those staring faces...

Looooovely stuff 

Otherwise, it was a nice place, but nothing to keep us there a lot longer, so we headed off towards the easiest border town Ipiales. Unfortunately no sooner than I arrived my brain imploded, so whilst I slept off a migraine, Diana headed to the only real attraction in the area, a church built over a canyon. At night, when Diana visited, it becomes a crazy light show, which was described to me as being like a princesses castle.

The next morning I was feeling a little better, we took a taxi to the border, and changed up our remaining Colombian Pesos into dollars. We’d heard about scams with this, where they have rigged calculators, apparently they show you a fair rate per dollar, calculate it against the amount of pesos you have, but when they hit equals it automatically deducts a percentage from the total. Fully prepared to call someone out on it, they sure enough produced a calculator, did the sum and… Well, it was not only legit, but the actual market rate. I’m not quite sure why they bother really, they didn’t seem to be making any commission from it, but we were happy with our trade. A two hour queue to stamp out of Colombia (and a 2 minute queue to stamp into Ecuador… Not sure why the disparity!) later, and we were on to our next country!

COLOMBIA - Bogotá and San Gil

¡Buenas! Well, we’re off again! After a year of working and saving up, learning a tiny amount of very basic Spanish, fitting in three separate weddings with our own included, and managing to damage one father and one dog, we’ve set off on our trip around South America!

Our flight left Gatwick at what I would call horrific-o’clock, but most would refer to as ‘morning’, and headed to Orlando, where we’d get a connecting flight to Bogotá and arrive around 1am their time. Whilst the flights themselves were fairly uneventful (which is always a good thing), we did manage to break the seats in Gatwick Airport, as we felt a slight creak and several minutes later found the leftmost legs had completely splayed and we plummeted to earth. Being a flight to the USA, a few people made comments on suing the airport, but apart from a grazed heel I didn’t have a lot of injuries to boast about. Perhaps I could have claimed whiplash and emotional distress, but if that were the case, I think they would suspect we weren’t quite cut out for South America.

A great start!

We arrived in Orlando without any issues. This was our first glimpse of the USA, and unfortunately we didn’t have a whole lot of time to explore as our connecting flight was in around 5 hours time. We did however experience:

• An odd system where you don’t just transfer to your next flight, but have to check in and drop off all your bags again.
• Grown adults walking around wearing all the Disney merchandise you can (and can’t) imagine.
• A ‘medium’ coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts that came in what can only be described as a vase.
• Large people, and some very large people.
• TSA security checks where the queue quite literally doubled back on itself and filled up the airport.

Got our moneys worth I guess

Naturally as we were in America, so it seemed sensible to go for the finest Mexican cuisine, which is of course awesome. We’ll give the country a fairer review when we’ve had chance to visit and step outside the airport, but currently it’s lived up to all our expectations.

Onwards to Bogotá. We arrived in the pitch black and had our first hotel reserved, so we found an ATM and withdrew a mere 300,000 pesos. Not wanting to be stung for ATM charges, we hit the ‘check costs’ button, which immediately dispensed our money without another prompt. We later found out it doesn’t charge, so now we always hit this button just on the off chance out luck changes as soon as we just assume there won’t be one. We headed outside to the taxi rank, where we were immediately collared by someone to take us to our hotel. With my limited Spanish, I successfully gave him the address and agreed to pay what we now know is an extremely inflated price. With hindsight, we should have shopped around a little, but at 1AM (24 hours travelling at this point) we just wanted to get there. Soon into the drive, we were reminded that driving tests are very much a trait of highly developed countries, as we overtook everything in sight at double the speed limit on blind corners. We’ve arrived.

Our first experience of the place was our taxi driver telling us in Spanish and a tiny bit of English that the area was ‘un poco peligroso’ at night. That’s, a little bit dangerous. And why? Well that’s because of all the hookers of course! As we looked at all the street corners nearby, very little attempt to cover up the trader (in every meaning of the word) was visible. Oddly enough, the police seemed to be here too, we’re still not entirely sure what the deal is here. Either way, we paid the taxi driver and hurried into our hotel, where we were greeted with an excitingly basic room with nothing in the way of insulation, and it was notably chilly. Still, we had plenty of sleep to catch up on.

We headed down to breakfast the following morning, and asked in Spanish how we’d like our eggs. That much I understood. The options we were given were:

• Revuelto
• Frito
• Pericos

Frito I knew, no problem there. Revuelto I found out meant scrambled, so that was okay. Then I looked up pericos. Well, this seems to mean the following.

• Parakeet
• Toupee
• Giant Asparagus
• Urinal
• Cocaine
• White Coffee
• Apprentice
• Scrambled eggs

You can imagine our confusion.

Upon looking at a map and the location of touristy things to do, we concluded we were about 30 minutes drive away from anything useful. A little concerned about the volume of prostitutes in the vicinity, we decided that after this night, we’d find somewhere a little more local to everything. In the mean time, and hearing lots of stories about yellow cabs, we ordered an Uber into town.

Our driver was a little chattier than I was able to keep up with, again, only speaking Spanish. What I did manage to deduce however was he was telling us there had been a serious accident that morning in a yellow cab where it had hit a pole on the side of the road and everyone died. Yay. We arrived at Bolivar Square, with little idea as to what was going on. By the square were approximately 30 police officers and almost no other people. The driver told me the police were there for security rather than a problem, which was a relief. We said goodbye and had a look around.

So, what did we find in this area? Statues of fat women of course. All over the place. On bicycles, dancing, whispering to each other next to a pile of dogs. And why wouldn’t there be? Well, the reason for that would be revealed later.

We decided to take a walk through the centre and see what was going on. A lot of the roads were shut, and there were hundreds of cyclists about. As well as this, dogs, so many dogs. Everyone was out walking their dogs. We went to a nearby park to find hundreds of people there, all with their dogs. Now we weren’t complaining at all, but why on earth is everyone just cycling and walking dogs, surely these people have jobs to go to…? Well, we later found out it wasn’t just the most cyclist and canine friendly city in the world, but it was actually a national holiday on that day and they were holding a cycling event. Fair enough, although admittedly a little disappointing.

A traditional dish - the Bandeja Paisa

That afternoon, we decided to do the free walking tour of the city, where you just pay a tip at the end based on how good you thought the tour was. It was very comprehensive, covering everything from the liberator of the majority of South America from Spanish rule, Simon Bolivar, to the famous Colombian artist Fernando Botero who created paintings and sculptures where he’d play around with the volumes (a reference to the fat ladies we’d seen earlier), to the legend of El Dorado, the city of gold that the Spanish had been trying to discover. The tour also took us to a small cafe, where we sampled the traditional alcoholic drink chicha, and a type of hot beverage made by grinding together lots of different types of nuts and beans called chucula, which tasted like hot chocolate. They assured me it had no sugar in it, but I imagine they just meant it wasn’t 100% sugar unlike a lot of the other products here.

Chicha from a traditional drinking vessel

The following day, we moved all our stuff to a hotel far more central to everything. The door was about 8 foot tall and held shut by a slither of metal, the toilet had no toilet seat (which we’d soon discover is actually strangely typical here) and the bed was solid as a rock, but it would do. We then took a trip to the cable car up a nearby mountain with a church on top, with what would probably have been amazing views over the city, but unfortunately the weather was not on our side. The weather is extremely unpredictable in fact, you can be in beautiful sunshine to the point you almost burn, to almost monsoon-like rain, back to glorious sun again. All within an hour. Still, the views were interesting, and the tourists who got in the cable car, stood right at the front with their cameras out, then proceeded to admit they hated heights and stood there facing the opposite direction were good for a sensible chuckle.

Day three, we headed north of Bogotá to a town called Zipaquira, famous for its salt mines. More specifically, an entire cathedral made of salt built into a cave. Upon arrival, I was expecting a 5-10 minute look around a small cave built into a hill, with a little altar at the end, sort of how in Asia they’d pop a little altar and a statue of Buddha in a cave somewhere. Oh how wrong I was.

The cathedral is 200m underground, and started off as many individual aspects of Christianity, as the miners whilst down there would carve out crosses as they progressed. Eventually, they had the idea of joining everything together. From memory, it contained 14 small chapels, a balcony overlooking the main chapel, hundreds of statues and lights, along with a huge cross and pews in the main chapel. Services were still held every Sunday, it was a serious feat. And the walls tasted like salt, out tour guide kept mentioning you could lick everything. This was the first church I’d been to made of condiments.

Not a picture of a steep drop or a mirror, but 3cm of extremely salty water in a pool

We liked Bogotá. The buses were extremely crowded, but a fairly reliable way to get around as they had their own lanes in the middle of the roads. Unfortunately, the drivers were unaware they were driving triple carriage buses containing hundreds of people, and still drove them like they were riding a quad bike. My forearms were still aching for a while after, trying to grip on for dear life, as steering, braking and accelerating were all governed by whatever the Spanish equivalent of ‘go hard or go home’ was. Additionally, fruterias are common around Bogotá, shops selling fruit salads and fruit juices of all various types. This makes Diana exceptionally happy.

Our next stop was San Gil, a town around 6 hours north of Bogotá by bus, heralded as a nice place to see, as well as for its adventure sports. Initially we weren’t too fussed about the idea of the adventure sports, but after a while we considered that the paragliding in the area would be a good plan as the price was reasonable and we’d heard the views were incredible.

Firstly though, a walk. I suspect there will be a lot of these to come, but sure, lets give it a go. We travelled to a nearby town, Barichara, a little old square with tuktuks and narrow cobbled streets overlooking a canyon. After spending a couple of hours enjoying the views and charm of the town (and a cold coffee that was practically a desert), we began our walk from this town to the nearby town of Guane. Fortunately a mostly downhill walk, overlooking beautiful views. Calm, relaxing, as good as a walk can physically be I guess. That was, until…

Minding my own business taking photos, Diana suddenly piped up with something along the lines of ‘Uhm.. Wow okay..’. Looking up briefly, wondering what beautiful sight she’d spotted, my heart suddenly sank and I froze in position. Now, some of you may know I’m fine with little spiders, but anything fairly big or thick, I nope the hell out. So when I laid eyes on a tarantula the size of a plate walking across the path, I wasn’t exactly sure how best to react.

Sorry for the poor quality, but it's hard to get a photo of Satan himself whilst trying to keep your distance

My first feeling was of course fight or flight. Fight kicked in first, as I thought if I just push Diana over I have plenty more time to run as it devours her first. No, okay, not a great plan. I’ll just briskly walk around whilst trying to be brave enough to grab some photo evidence. I vaguely succeeded in that, and the image still sends a small shiver down my spine. Diana also survived to tell the tale as I decided not to sacrifice her to the arachnid gods on that particular day.

The rest of the walk was a little more apprehensive. Watching our footing a lot more carefully. Diana saying ‘Oh!’ as she spotted a cow on the path that we hadn’t noticed as we were paying more attention to the path making me jump a wee bit. The usual after you’ve just spotted a wild 8 legged predator, I’d like to think.

A larger than usual arachnid

Fortunately, apart from a tethered goat (I presume to appease the aforementioned arachnid gods?) there was nothing else along the path that was quite so uh, remarkable. The town of Guane was nice, quite similar to Barichara but a lot smaller. Some old guys sat on a bench told us to go down a path which led to a viewpoint, which was beautiful but almost made us miss the bus back, for which we had to run across the square in the hopes the driver would spot us.

We hope El Dios Araña will accept this ritual sacrifice

The following day we arranged the paragliding, something neither of us had done before. We met at 8.30 AM and took a fairly long minibus ride to the top of the canyon, where we were given a rundown of what would happen. The pilot spoke a little English, but gave a lot more information in Spanish. Fortunately he spoke slowly enough I could understand a fair amount, which I relayed as best as possible to Diana, who would be going before me as they went up with the lighter people first. For anyone who hasn’t done it before, the process is simple enough, they strap you to the pilot, get the wing up in the air, and then you run off a cliff, a normal activity for most humans. He did also mention that in emergency we should roll, and that if we land in the wrong place it could be a two hour walk back. But that doesn’t normally happen. Encouraging.

Diana was up, and they went through the process. Strapped her in, checked everything, told her not to touch a couple of the clips, which is great advice when you realise they’re the ones holding you in. The wing went up in the air, and I watched her run towards the cliff (admittedly I don’t know if her feet were even touching the ground but she tried). And then she disappeared over the edge, along with the wing which hadn’t grabbed any air and crumpled to the ground. Hum, now I’m a widower and have inherited a student debt and a load of green fabric. Wonderful.

Panic over, it wasn’t a cliff, just a fairly steep hill. They trudge back up and go for round two, this time successfully keeping the wing up. Around 20 minutes later Diana lands, almost kicking a number of people in the head as they came in to land as a strange angle, and walked back over beaming at me. About 30 minutes later and it was my turn, and I got to find out why, as the views over the canyon were absolutely amazing. You just sit there and get taken around, up and down with the hot air currents. A lot more relaxing than you’d imagine, that is until the last 5 minutes where he just said ‘Adrenaline?’ and I said yes. Several spirals and the feeling of being on a huge swing in the middle of the air later, and we came back down, fortunately in the expected landing zone rather than two hours walk away.

Our final day before we headed up to the coast, we spent the morning in Parque Gallineral, an area with various wildlife, flora and fauna, along with a river passing alongside it. Upon entering the park, we saw red squirrels and a parrot, however for some reason they both seemed to have odd lumps in various places. A parrot with a swollen neck, a squirrel with a lump on it’s cheek, and it’s friend with wildly disproportionate testicles to the size of its body. Lovely.

Tumorous face

Tumorous neck 

Chill out mate

Finally, we grabbed all of our bags and bits from where we were staying and sat in the square of San Gil for a few hours people watching, mentally preparing ourselves for the fun and games of a 12 hour overnight bus to Santa Marta on the northern coast of Colombia. Again, we liked San Gil, with it’s combination of a charming square and network of narrow streets, and the options of more fast paced adventure too . The nearby Barichara was our first experience of a laid back Colombian pueblo, and a great place to relax with a coffee and watch the world go by.