Colombi-ahhhhhh... Part II: The Caribbean

Seven months had passed since I'd been on a beach-I mean a nice beach. The cold water, shadeless and windy beaches of Peru don't count. I had been looking forward to the Caribbean for a long, long time. After one last 18-hour bus ride, I was there, in Cartagena, at midnight on a Friday night. Locals and foreigners both sing it's praises and it's difficult to talk about Colombian tourism without mentioning Cartagena

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I was taken aback when, upon arriving-at midnight on a Friday night-the streets near my hostel were littered with garbage, drunks and the all-to-common salesmen that are found in Caribbean tourist towns. Was I lost? Where's the beautiful Cartagena everyone told me about? Fortunately, I found it the next day as I walked around the walls of the old city, down by the pier and in and out of the narrow cobblestone streets and under the clock tower at the main plaza. I found it again over a plate of fresh seafood and a glass of coconut lemonade. And again walking alongside huge iguanas in the central park. Each day presented another view of this popular city.

There are several day trips from Cartagena that are a lot of fun. The Islas de Rosario is one such trip which departs from the pier in the morning and include a slow boat ride out past the bay where the entire skyline of Cartagena is seen to a chain of small islands. One particular island has an impressive aquarium with a knowledgeable staff and beautiful animals. After visiting the aquarium we went to a nice white sand beach for a fried fish lunch and a dip in the water before starting the return journey back to the city.

One of the more unique experiences I've had was at the Volcan de Tutumo. This is a volcano about three stories high filled with creamy, lukewarm, saline mud. It's so salty in fact you can float effortlessly on the surface. To be honest it's impossible to sink! I've never been to the Dead Sea (yet!) but I imagine its very similiar. The depth of the volcano is said to be over 400 feet, however we all laid on the surface or stood vertically, perfectly and effortlessly suspended in the mud at chest level. Once you get over the weirdness of the experience, it's nice to cover your skin in the mud and relax. After an hour, you walk down the volcano to a nearby lake where everyone washes off, gets back on the bus and heads to the beach were another fish lunch is waiting for us. It's a fun experience I definitely recommend to others.

I was anxious to see what was under the water and spent a few days SCUBA diving in the national park of Tayrona. For a couple days I lived on the beach diving in the morning and afternoons while sleeping in a hammock at night. The Caribbean to me means sharks, unfortunately I didn't see any on my dives but I had a good time underwater and was happy to discover I could still dive after about eight months above water. On our excursion there was a group of dive students getting certified. I went under with them on two occasions and spent some time observing them under water. It had been just over a year since I earned my certification in Australia and I knew I struggled then with some of the skills they were struggling with now. It was fun to be the one to encourage new divers just like many people encouraged me on dive boats around southeast Asia. A lot can change in a year, and my SCUBA skills are proof.

Around this time I could see my time growing shorter and was eager to have another snake encounter before I left the continent. After my dive trip I continued east to the other side of the park and hiked over the mountains to the beach. The hike was fantastic. It wasn't too hot or humid like the rainforest in Bolivia and the activity of hiking was exhilarating. No snakes were found but I came across a different jewel of the rainforest; poison dart frogs. In my experience, dart frogs are common in the forests of Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama and Colombia. They are active during the day and eye-poppingly beautiful.

This one surprised me on the trail and gave me a good chase before I caught it. With the frog in one hand I retrieved my camera from my backpack with the other. I took a few photos and watched as he hopped away into the leaf litter. The excitement of the catch made me thirsty and I unscrewed my water bottle with the same hand I held the frog. When I took a drink some of the toxin must have washed from the bottle into my mouth because it tasted a little different, then began to get warmer and my tongue started going numb! I washed the bottle in a nearby stream and spit out what I could and the sensation faded. Never a dull moment huh!

The beach in the park is mostly unspoiled and uncrowded and unsuitable for swimming. I stayed for a few days walking along the beach, sleeping in hammocks, eating coconuts and mango and chatting with a few people along the way.

From Parque Tayrona I went directly to Barranquilla where I would fly out the following week. Many people questioned my desire to go to Barranquilla saying there was nothing special about it. It's not a tourist town, its not as pretty as Cartagena and therefore it's not special. On the other hand a select few told me it was even better than Cartagena because it wasn't a tourist town. After spending the weekend there I can tell you now, it's one of my favorite places in Colombia. It definitely isn't a tourist town, precisely why I like it. This is life for the majority of Colombians. Nobody is touting crappy souvenirs or day trips to the beach. This is what normal life feels like. I like normal life.

Add to that the fact I stayed with couchsurfers, Khris, Mickey and Jennifer the entire time I was there and saw even further into what a normal life is like, and made some great friends and had a lot of fun! Khris' family has a car which made seeing the city much easier and saved time. It was also a luxury I hadn't experienced-riding in a private vehicle-since I was in Argentina. Staying with Mickey and Jennifer exposed more luxuries I enjoyed; xbox, internet and local friends to hang out with. I had a great time eating, going to the movies, playing video games and playing pool with all of them. The most important thing of all was probably that I didn't spend my last days in South America alone. When I arrived in Buenos Aires I had a friend there to greet me and when I left Colombia, I had friends waving goodbye. Time with those friends, from Argentina to Colombia, is what I enjoyed the most.

Colombia:Part I, The Interior

I have wanted to go to Colombia for a long time. First, back in high school when it was considered one of the most dangerous places on earth. My mythology teacher told our class stories of traveling through the country with her husband after they got married. They were in three automobile accidents, their bus tipped over once and they were shot at. Sound like a honeymoon to you?

That is the Colombia of yesterday, a far cry of what you see today. The people and government have tried hard-and succeeded-in changing the country's reputation from a kidnapping and drug smuggling paradise to a peaceful and diverse destination. So much in fact that today the Department of Tourism for Colombia has a slogan that says, "Colombia. The only risk is wanting to stay."

I arrived in Bogota and stayed with a friend of mine, Melissa. Melissa and I had never met face-to-face before but we've known each other for several years through a mutual friend of ours whom I went to school with, Aida. Remember the opening scene in Mr. and Mrs. Smith where the characters played by Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie meet in Bogota at a colonial-style hotel ridden with bullet holes, surrounded by palms and it's about 100 degrees outside and explosions are going off in the distance? Colombians hate that movie. The city has an elevation near 8,000 feet in the Andes Mountains and temps rarely exceed 70 degrees, there are very few examples of colonial architecture or palm trees and the city has never been under heavy fighting like was shown in the movie. I don't blame Hollywood though, I mean who wants to see Angelinain a parka?

For four days Melissa and I cruised around Bogota seeing the sights like the Salt Cathedral, going shopping (I needed to boost my wardrobe) and surfing her internet for free (a luxury I hadn't enjoyed for months.) We also went to a birthday party for one of her friends and I was introduced to vallenato, a type of folk music that's very popular on the Caribbean coast. Its accompanied by an accordion and guacharaca, a ridged stick that is played by scraping a wire fork over the ridges to keep the rhythm.

From Bogota I went to Medellin. I could live in Medellin. The weather is described as "eternal spring" and fluctuates very little throughout the year. (Wyoming readers: "spring" is a pleasant season between winter and summer characterized by warm temperatures, new growth, emergence and renewal. It doesn't exist where you live!) Previous generations might associate Medellin with Pablo Escobar, whereas current generations associate it with Latin pop sensation, Juanes!

I don't know exactly what it is about the city but I got the feeling as soon as I arrived, that I liked it. Maybe its the weather, or the cleanliness of the streets, the convenience of the metro rail, the beauty of the valley or the attractiveness of its people. I'm sure its a combination of all these variables and more, the truth is I liked Medellin instantly!

My couchsurfing host was Veronica. What can I say about her? She's one of the best hosts I've had and she shaped my experience in Medellin into something I could not have experienced on my own. We walked through downtown visiting the botanical gardens, the planetarium and a couple parks. We were going dancing with her friends that evening. The famous Colombian author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez says, five Colombians in a room inevitable turns into a party. There is a lot of truth to that. As we waited for everyone to arrive a party spontaneously began on the sidewalk! A couple drinks, some plastic chairs, a barbecue grill and a stereo brought people together and before you know it I was receiving some vallenato dancing lessons right there on the sidewalk! Before long we went to a street lined with clubs blaring salsa, merengue, vallenato and reggaeton music and danced into the early morning.

The next day we went to town for the Labor Day Parade. Or at least, what I thought was going to be a parade. Veronica called it a march and when I asked if they would throw candy she said no, but they would probably throw explosives! That's when I learned a new Spanish word: lacrimogeno, or tear gas in English. About ninety-five percent of the marchers are normal, peaceful workers marching for recognition, representation or protesting labor rights. The other five percent are made up of the anarchists and communists. A select few actually believe in a cause and desire revolution. For the most part though, they are mostly young people who want to break stuff (Why else would the two groups march together? They should be polar opposites.)

We shadowed this group as they marched through town, spray-painting revolutionary slogans on store fronts, throwing rocks and paintballs at buildings and lighting explosives in sidestreets. The riot police soon showed up and walked alongside them acting as a small, and sometimes futile barrier, between the businesses and the marchers. You could physically feel the tension rising the further we walked and I was confident I was going to see some tear gas. See some tear gas, I wasn't thinking I was going to get shot with it! As soon as we arrived at a wide boulevard the police finally lost their patience. Veronica and I were in between the police and the hooligans (not a good place to be) when they stared running. I turned to look and saw smoke rising from gas canisters in the street and police shooting more into the crowd. I didn't look back again! I grabbed Veronica and turned to run when I was shot in the back. I ripped off the scarf I was wearing and gave it to Veronica and covered my face with my shirt to try to breathe. Tear gas makes it nearly impossible to see or breathe, both of which are very necessary when you're trying to run away from something. The entire morning I was excited to have this experience, but as we were running and my face was burning, and I couldn't open my eyes, I had snot hanging out of my nose and I wanted to puke up my lungs I decided, 'Okay, that's enough! I don't want this experience anymore!' Then just as we thought it was safe to slow down, the armored truck drove through and shot us with a water cannon which prompted us to run further.

Once you get away from the gas, your lungs feel better and your eyes begin to clear up, but your face continues to burn. Fortunately, my trusty sidekick new the antidote and bought some milk to wash our faces in. It quickly took the burning away and we gave it to anyone who needed it. At that moment, when we were standing in the street, soaking wet from the water cannon, our eyes teary and bloodshot, still trying to catch our breath and milk running down our faces, I gave Veronica a big hug thanking her for this experience and we began to laugh!

We were back with the other ninety-five percent in the march within fifteen minutes, eating a popsicle and listening to music like nothing happened. It was going to be another beautiful day in Medellin.