I "Sea" Your True Colors

Thanksgiving is a time to be grateful.  I am grateful for many things - family, friends, my job, health, etc. - but I found one more to add to the list.  The beautiful island of San Andrés.  For Thanksgiving Break a small group of us hopped on a plane and headed for the tiny patch of land 12 km long and 3 km wide (at its greatest point) closer to the mainland of Nicaragua than to Colombia, for a few glorious days of white sand beaches, crystal-clear waters, and general relaxation.

Normally, as evidenced by the travels documented in this blog, I prefer to explore, discover, and generally fend for myself on my adventures.  We opted this time for exactly the opposite - an all-inclusive stay at the Decameron San Luis.  I may have been converted in the ways of vacation travel.

Despite it's small size, there is much to do on this Caribbean island other than lounging on the beaches looking out at the famous "siete colores del mar" or the fact that the ocean appears to have seven colors, all of them stunning variants of blue.  The easiest way to see these sights is to find a way to travel around the island at your leissure.  Golf carts, scooters, and bikes are all available for rent in the largest settlement, San Andres City, at the northernmost end of the island.  We opted for the latter, mosltly as a way to fend off all the extra calories we were allowing ourselves with three square buffet meals each day.

Swimmin' with the fishes!

While circling the island we stopped at a place known as La Piscinita ("the small pool"), a tiny cliff-shaded cove teeming with tropical fish.  Now, one can assume that these fish were once here on their own accord, however, they congregate now for the chance to eat the pieces of bread tourists are given when they pay their US .50 cent entrance fee.  Fortunately, the fish are only interested in you when you still pocess bread and quietly ignore your presence when you are out.

Getting drenched at the blow-hole.

At the southernmost tip of the island is El Hoyo Soplador (the Hoyo blow-hole), a geiser created by a small channel carved into the volcanic rock reaching out to the crashing surf.  This blow-hole mostly just hisses and mists water with impressive force, however, every once and a while it shoots water two meters into the air, drenching anyone standing near, including yours truely.

Dotted around the the northern and eastern sides of the island are several smaller plots of land.  These smaller islands, or cays, are alos popular as day-trips for tourist who want another option for a beach.  We visited Rocky Cay on afternoon, unique in that a sandbar makes it possible to reach the islet on foot without fear of wetting one hair on your head.  This shallowness was not a friend, however, to the shipwrecked boat moored just off the shores of the cay.

There is plenty more to do on this island, including visiting a Baptist church in the settlement of La Loma on the top of the island, built in Alabama and contructed on the island.  (Unlike most of Colombia, most San Andres residents identify themselves as Baptist.)  Not to mention other snorkeling opportunities, Captain Morgan's cave, and visits to the other cays not within walking distance.

I guess this just means I'll have to go back...you tell me if I'll have company or not.

Visiting Some Old Friends

Thanksgiving is a time to be with family and friends and give thanks for the good things in life. This Thanksgiving my friend and 9th grade colleague, Tara, and I traveled to visit some of the oldest inhabitants of Colombia - or what they left behind, at least.The town of San Agustín and the surrounding area, in the Huila department southeast of Cali, is home to several hundred funerary monuments left behind by some Pre-columbian civilization. Think Aztecs, Mayans, and Incas but a smaller, less successful population.

Not much is known about these monuments or the people who left them behind except that many of the remains and artifacts (pottery and gold) date back to BC. Archeologists believe there could be many more undiscovered tombs and statues under the ground and that only approximately ten percent of the area has been explored.

Many sites have been unearthed accidentally and subsequently grave-robbed - our horse backed tour guide included. (Luis Carlos actually brought us back to the house he shares with his sister and other assorted family to show us his exquisite finds. Both Tara and I were tempted to buy a couple, not as Christmas presents, as was suggested, but to donate (rescue) to a museum here in Colombia. The going rate for an ancient tomb-robbed pot? $150. Alas, these precious artifacts remain in a tattered cardboard box under a bed.

Getting to San Agustín is not an easy or comfortable journey. After a two hour bus ride to the "white city," Popayán, directly south of Cali, another bus takes you inland for five hours up and down curvey, rocky, unpaved, narrow roads. I generally don't get motion sick, but this ride was pushing my limits.

In the end, it was worth it. (On the way there I thought "These statues better talk and dance for what it's taking to get here!") Aside from the archeological sites dotting the countryside, Tara and I were also taken to see the tallest waterfall in Colombia, La Cascada Bordones, as well as Colombia's "most important" river, the Ria Magdalena, which begins in Huila and ends in the Caribbean near the city of Barranquilla. We were taken to El Estrecho, the narrowest point in the entire river at only 2 meters across.

Another highlight of our trip was staying in the welcoming home and hostal of Mario and his wife, Janeth. Located on the famous cobble stoned Calle Loceria, the first street in San Agustín, the dormitory and family-style lodging catered to travelers who didn't mind getting to know each other. Unfortunately we were the only visitors at the moment, although the town gets plenty of European and Australian visitors, so we only got to know the charming owners, which was not a bad thing. Mario was full of stories and jokes and Janeth always had a pot of coffee or fresh lemonade ready and breakfasts that could easily feed ten. It's nice when you're traveling to feel like you're at home.

And that, in the end, is what a good Thanksgiving vacation is all about.

The "Donde" Situation

I have had several situations during my time in Colombia where I have asked myself "where am I?" Sometimes out of actually being lost but most of the time out of complete awe for my surroundings. Cartagena De Indias fell into both categories. One of the few "discovered" Colombian cities by North American tourists, this walled Spanish city on the Caribbean coast dating back to the 1500's is truly an enchanting place.

Donde Estamos?
Between myself, my roommate, Nira, and my life-long family friend Sarah (who flew in from Minneapolis for a warm Thanksgiving weekend) we asked ourselves "Where are we?" quite a bit. This despite having two different guidebooks and being in a walled city next to the ocean one would think getting lost would not be a problem. Well, this is the one Colombian city without numbered streets and they often times change names every block. So, while, yes, you will eventually end up at a wall or the sea, that doesn't help you find that one restaurant or your hotel if it isn't embedded in the exterior.

"Where are you from!?!?!"
The one thing that dragged down the magical time capsule-like atmosphere of Cartagena were the street vendors. I know I am spoiled traveling around a country generally unruined by touristic consumerism but I feel as though I was commercially accosted more times in the first day than the entire year and four months I've been here.
People selling jewelery, Cuban cigars, "real" emeralds and silver products, as well as boat trips and money changers, all from the street. The sad thing is that people actually fall for it. Honestly, who exchanges currency from some dirty man on the street? I got many of them to give me a slight reprieve by telling them I lived in Colombia or in Cali; that seemed to at least confuse some of them long enough for me to get away.
The vendor that gets the top prize for persistence was the umbrella salesman who insisted we purchase one of his two umbrellas after dinner one night when it was no longer raining. Even after explaining this to him he followed us for a good five blocks. Another man insisted on knowing where we were from by literally screaming at the top of his lungs "Where! Are! You! From!" over and over again in English. When I didn't respond to that he preceded to ask if I spoke French or Portuguese, but in Spanish, of course.

Where to now?
With all the history (Cartagena was one of the first Spanish forts in the "new world," enduring numerous pirate attacks, and being one of two main hubs of the African slave trade) and architecture, it is easy to forget that it is located on the Caribbean. Well, not "easy" - it is incredibly sunny and humid and the heavy air has a nice salty odor.
On Saturday we joined a group of fellow tourists to venture out to the nearby National Park in the ocean that encircles several small islands known as the Islas del Rosario. A few hours after leaving the grey-blue water of the port, we encountered the most magnificent shade of turquoise I think I've ever seen in the natural world. As we weaved in and out of the tiny islands, some with just one little house on them, the color of the sea seemed to change like a vending machine mood ring. We got off the boat at a tiny aquarium located on one island and walked the boardwalk through which the ocean crashed up between the planks with each surge. There were dolphins, sharks, rays, and sea turtles, all in the most organically natural setting they could have been in. Had you wanted to, you could have reached out and touched each one.
Back on the boat the sea was getting to Sarah and we had to persuade an old man to let her lay across "his" seat. He obliged, but not happily. The other stop on the tour was lunch and beach time at the beautiful white sand beach on the appropriately named Playa Blanca. Lunch was typical Colombian fare (rice, fish, plantains, salad) but the beach was anything but. Somehow there were vendors here too and they brought their women friends who were offering massages. (Because when you're on a beach in paradise you're tense?) Again, the water was unbelievably aquamarine and the breeze made for the perfect place to rest after a nice lunch.

The best part about Cartagena though was wondering the narrow streets, admiring the leafy and ornate balconies and coral and limestone facades. Between the walls, the dungeons-turned-craft shops, weathered old canons, and uneven roads, it was impossible not to marvel at what this mass of buildings has seen. The trials of early colonial Spanish settlers, violent battles against pirates, the inhumanity of humans being sold as property, and finally tourism and relative calm leave much to be learned and even more to be imagined.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

None of these things I used this past weekend (except for a taxi which is technically an "automobile" but let's overlook that for now...). Think of ANY other form a transportation and I probably used it; this weekend was a mini-course in transit.

BUENAVENTURA

This weekend I explored the Pacific Coast of Colombia (Pacifico) with another teacher, Matt, who has been in the country for six years and has an interest in travelling "off the beaten path." There are certain places I would not feel comfortable going both because of my limited Spanish AND safety concerns. However, travelling with someone who is familiar with the area, people, and language to said places was an opportunity I could not pass up.

We left school immediately after the final bell Wednesday of Thanksgiving break and hauled it to the bus depot as quickly as traffic allowed and hopped on a colectivo (mini-bus) bound for the port city of Buenaventura. Now, I've mentioned Buenaventura before but just to recap and elaborate... Buenaventura is a shit hole. It is basically a giant ghetto surrounding one of the richest ports in South America. It is Colombia's only Pacific Coast port city so all the goods that come into the country from China, Japan, Russia, etc. come thru this port. Basically, there is a lot of money coming in to a city where most of the population has none. Also, the Pacific Coast of Colombia, I've been told several times, is one of the wettest places on earth; it does seem to always be moist too so there has to be some truth to that. For more info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buenaventura%2C_Colombia

We found a hotel, which was a trick in and of itself because we had to find a reputable one, meaning one that didn't rent rooms by the hour. After that we met up with one of Matt's friends, Jhonesy, for Chinese food at restaurant across from our hotel. Jhonesy is an aspiring reggaeton singer who is allegedly moving to Spain to produce an album with Sony. We'll see. I have a hard time figuring out why he is living in Buenaventura if he is as on the cusp of musical success as he says... Regardless, Jhonesy told us a lot of interesting things about the city, including some barrios he won't even go into. I believe the exact line was "You can go in, but you aren't coming out." Jhonesy told us that muggings in some areas have gotten so bad, thieves have been known to take a machete to someones ankle in order to steal their shoes. There is no request - they just hack off the foot.

Needless to say, the next morning when we ventured down the block to the pier to get on our boat (keeping track of the transportation?), I couldn't have been happier!

JUANCHACO and LADRILLEROS

The cliffs of Ladrilleros at high tide.

About an hour lancha (large motor/speed boat) ride north of Buenaventura is the small community of Juanchaco. I don't know the exact population of this little coastal town but it probably is more that I would expect for the number of houses it has. Bascially, the people of Juanchaco live off the sea and the limited tourism that come and go from their dock (singular). There are no roads that connect Juanchaco to the rest of Colombia. The only way in or out is by water.

Shortly after arriving we jumped on a couple of moto-taxis and headed north for about five minutes to the even smaller village of Ladrilleros along an occasionally paved winding road. I realized, as my driver evasively maneuvered around a giant mud puddle, that I had never been on a motorcycle before.

Hotel Medellin

After being dropped off in the center of town, we walked to our hotel, negotiated a price and checked in. The hotel was impressively located right on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Now, whatever seaside resort hotel you're imagining...stop. The rooms at this hotel were probably around ten foot square with a (lumpy, but clean) mattress, plastic resin table, and a fan. The toilet was located right around the corner for convenience. Each room had a small balcony facing the sea large enough for the two red plastic chairs to fit. For the two nights we stayed there, my room cost me all of US$20...and this was probably the priciest place in town.

For the next two days we just relaxed, hung out on the beach (when it was at low tide), read lots and lots, and ate just as much. The livelihood of the people in Ladrilleros is similar to that of Juanchaco with possibly a little more emphasis on tourism. Many locals fortunate enough to own property on the main road open up the front of their homes as restaurants. "Restaurante de Teresa" and "Restaurante de Alise" were two we frequented. There are no menus; you either order fish or eggs (possibly carne) and it automatically comes prepared in some delicious way with rice and a fried plantain.

Despite the tourism industry, both Juanchaco and Ladrilleros are pretty poor communities. Most of the houses look as if a stiff wind would topple them and although the aluminum roofs probably do a decent job of keeping the water out, many of the houses that are not elevated on a wooden platform often have their dirt floors flooded by the frequent rains. I would also not be surprised if there were more dogs living in Ladrilleros than people.

Some restaurants you even have to pay in advance because they do not have the food and need to go purchase it for you. This was the case several times, especially for dinner when we were ordering seafood. Side note: Teresa makes a mean shrimp dish. It is truly amazing what these women are capable of producing in these limited facilities. I would love to see what they could do in a good kitchen!

SAN CIPRIANO

After almost three days of relaxing and taking in the sun and surf, Matt and I headed back to Juanchaco by moto-taxi to catch the last lancha of the day back to Buenaventura. This particular lancha ride was relatively terrifying as we became airborne several times and killed the motor thrice. Despite the clear blue sunny sky I didn't find much fun bobbing idly in the giant ocean waves waiting for the motor to maybe start again. And again. And again.

Finally back on dry land, we quickly hailed a taxi and headed out of town to an exit for a town about 30 miles southeast of Buenaventura. The town the taxi dumped us in was Cordoba, however, this was just that, a dumping point. Our intended destination is the tiny village of San Cipriano, hidden deep in the jungle in the middle of a National Forest.

Riding the "brujita" or "little witch."

Because this is protected land, there are no roads in or out of San Cipriano; instead they have a "rail car" of sorts. There is a single narrow track connecting San Cipriano to the rest of the world running about eight miles thru the jungle. Each rail car consists of a wooden platform on casters with a motocycle and bench situated parallel to each other. The motorcyle is bolted to the platform by its front wheel with the back tire touching the track. So, you straddle the bench and hold on tight as you go barrelling thru the jungle at up to 35-40 MPH. What happens if you encounter another rail car coming the other direction (remember - one track!)? You stop. The drivers stare each other down and through some unspoken pecking order, one of the rail cars is lifted off the track so that the other may pass. We must have a had a driver near the bottom of this caste because we had to de-rail car quite a bit.

Non-stop the rail car journey probably takes about seven minutes; depending upon the number of encounters with other rail cars, it could take longer. Because San Cipriano is in the middle of a National Forest and because of the unique method of transportation, it has become a smallish Colombian tourist destination and the village makes a living off of that. However, because it is in the middle of the jungle, even as recently as the early 2000's this was guerrilla territory and although an increased military presence in the area has pushed most of the guerrilla out, the natives here are more than likely, if not ex-guerrilla, guerrilla sympathizers. This is not to say San Cipriano is not safe. The locals know that they rely on tourism to live and are very warm and welcoming people.

Upon arriving we made our way to Matt's favorite hotel in town, Hotel David, where we were welcomed in with hugs and kisses from the owner, a sweet lady named Luz-Mari. She made a wonderful dinner of crayfish from the river, sancocho (a very popular soup in Latin America), rice, and fried plantains. We were pretty tired after traveling all day and called it a night.

If Ladrilleros has more dogs than people, then San Cipriano has more chickens than all of Colombia. Sunday at the crack of dawn the overabundance of roosters woke us up and there is no going back to sleep with roosters crowing all up and down the road.

Now, in San Cipriano there is one man with a vehicle. I don't know how it got into the town in the first place but he has a very old military surplus-type truck circa 1950. When it runs, he will take you a few miles into the jungle along the river and dump you off there with an inner tube to spent the next couple hours floating down the river back into town. The water in the river (I couldn't tell you the name) was unbelievably clear. There were spots I could see straight down almost 15 feet. It was a perfect way to spend the Sunday morning hours.

Upon our return, Luz-Mari had breakfast and tinto (coffee) waiting for us and we ate a leisurely breakfast watching the tourists and townsfolk walk up and down the main/only street in town. We then packed up, took the rail car back to Cordoba, hiked up to the highway, waited for a colectivo with two empty seats to come by and headed back to Cali.

Overall, a relaxing and busy Thanksgiving holiday weekend. I got to see a lot of places I probably would not have ventured to alone and got to travel by bus, boat, motorcycle, and rail car. I'll satisfy the need for the plane over Christmas vacation when I fly to Bogota...hasta diciembre!

A Very Colombian Thanksgiving

Seasons greetings everyone!

Actually, it's been feeling very festive here with the holidays for some time. Even before Halloween (which is marginally celebrated here) the stores were putting up Christmas displays. I know it's bad in the States but I feel that the beginning of October is still a little early to be seeing Santa and garlands in the store...even by U.S. standards. Since there is no Thanksgiving here (duh) black and orange segue right into green and red and so it has been for awhile. Actually, I'm pretty sure I saw a Christmas clearance sale last weekend. No joke.

BUT! Thanksgiving has not truely passed us yet and, since we are an American International school, the Colegio Bolivar community hosted a lavish Thanksgiving dinner in the cafeteria, turning it into an outdoor banquet hall, for all the faculty, Colombian and all!

In the spirit of the season (and the blaringly obvious oversight of no stuffing at Thanksgiving dinner) I have compiled a brief list of the things I am now even more thankful for that I don't have.

#1) stuffing
#2) corn bread (not this arraypa stuff that is, yes, made of corn but tastes like compact styrofoam with flour)
#3) English muffins
#4) country music on the radio
#5) my FRIENDS DVD's (big mistake not packing those!)
#6) crunching leaves
#7) pumpkin pie (only because I didn't get a piece)
#8) McDonald's (yes, I said it...let's never speak of this again)
#9) Reece's peanut butter cups
#10) Reece's peanut butter cup McFlurries at McDonald's

...okay, someone stop me!
I'm leaving today after school for what should turn out to be a very eventful four day weekend. I know the stories have been lacking as of late, so I hope to up the ante a little. Juanchaco here I come!

Have a GREAT Thanksgiving everyone!!!!