Hey, Gooooooooooaaaaaaaaalllllllllll

Six hours south of Medellin lies the capital of Salsa dancing, Cali. We had two goals arriving into the city: soccer game and a salsa club. Unfortunately we did not bring our camera to the latter,  but we enjoyed thoroughly the diversion. Rob laughed while I tripped all over the floor while trying to prove that white guys CAN dance.

Cali hosts two professional soccer teams that share a stadium. We arrived to the stadium a half hour early thinking it would be easy to get a ticket. Unfortunately the 10000 other fans that had been standing in line for an hour already felt no mercy towards two tourists, so it was to the back of the line we went. 

The passion of the fans was visible from the get-go. Two guys in front of us broke out in a shouting match about who was first in line. One guy pulled out what appeared to be parole papers and shouted to the other that the paper was proof that he was capable of making poor life choices and would fight.

Queue our exit from the line. A scalper walked buy offering tickets barely above face value. We immediately handed him our loot, he pointed to an alternate gate, and we were in.

Inside the mob was confined to the north end of the field. Police and high fences allowed them the opportunity to go crazy together. In college I thought the student section was crazy at footbal games, I was completely floored to see the mob sing for two straight hours, jump for two hours and waive about like madmen.

The local museum  was showcasing works by Rembrandt 69 etchings of a staggering detail graced the walls. We agreed the guy must have been crazy  in order to put the effort to create so many 4x4 stamps with thousands of carefully placed channels

We stayed at the Hostal Pajara Pinta located next to the Intercontinental Hotel in the middle of town.  The hostel has amenities such as a pool, WIFI and a very courteous staff.  Killer breakfast for only 2.50 with coffee, fruit, eggs, juice, and bread.

Hey, Starbucks...drink your heart out

Salento is considered the heart of the coffee region. Our hostel was a pleasant start to the trip. John just opened the Pasada Casa Salento and will hopefully become a hotspot due to its location 400yds off of the plaza, the quality of the rooms, and his exceptional  introduction to the city and the surroundings.

100 Hostels are currently operating in Salento and this number is expected to double in the next year. Sharaton is apparently looking to be the first branded hotel in the area. A new airport capable of handeling jumbo jets will shortly be completed threatening to overwhelm the city of 7000 year round residents with a deluge of tourists.

What is it with Miradores in Colombia? Everywhere they are eager to put up a huge set of stairs up a hill and call it a view point.

Tons of coffee shops dot the city. They all have their own charm, however, many of them specialize in cocoa drinks rather than coffee.

The cocura valley lies outside the city limits in a low valley. You take a "willy" from the town square fourty min down to a magical place. An 8.7km hike takes you through a river forest with many stream crossings on precarious bridges. Halfway through the hike there's an opptional excursion to a humming bird farm. After the sanctuary we struggled up an extremely steep trail to la Montana. They could have charged a million dollars at the restaurant on the peak for a water after that climb and it would have been paid. After recovery, we begun the decent into the shire like feilds. The hills are mostly rolling grass with gigantic 100ft palm trees popping out.

A 45 min walk from the town center gets you to two popular coffee tours that were suprisingly informative.

Did you know that an espresso shot has 1/3 the caffeine of a drip coffee? Or howabout that coffee trees are cut at the trunk every couple of years to increase yeild by the new sprouts from the trunk? Perhaps the most fun peice of dirt was that Starbucks purchases in masse second grade coffee, not the good stuff.

They joke Tejo was going to be an Olympic sport until they found out you have to drink while playing. The pros toss a lead weight 22 yards toward a clay backstop laced with explosives trying to set one off for three points or to be closer for one point. We had tons of fun playing, but we're slightly deaf after the night out.

Hey, This is how Guatapé should be done.

We bolted early in the morning from the hippie den to another hostel. This time I booked without Rob's input and we got two beds in a dorm in town and on the water. We were greeted warmly by Nick the owner of Lakeside Hostel. He showed us around the warm and comfortable three floor hostel he had built himself. He agreed to take our bags despite it being before 8am and freed us to explore.

First, we went to checkout breakfast on the roof top terrace. Before we had received our delectable breakfast burritos, we notified Nick we were planning on a longer stay.

Wound the hostel offered tons of activities in the area including paintball, yoga, hiking, kayaking, and more. We were even more thrilled to hear they'd have the Bronco game on in the bar upstairs. When we arrived back that evening the hostelers and a few expats had thrown together a potluck for the game.

We hit the lake in a kayak the next day once could muster. The lake was an endless maze of channels and hidden coves. Hours later we returned, me completely sunburnt despite sunscreen, completly exhausted and arms aching.

We learned another important lesson, location, location, location.

Hey, Are you going to stop?

After a few immensely enjoyable days in Guatapé hiking and kayaking, we attempted to take the bus to Salento in the coffee region. The bus leaves Guatapé every half hour from the station on the malecon next to the lake. Regrettably,  there's no direct route to the south.  We went back to Medellin, took the metro back to Poblado, the part of the city we loved so much, and walked to the south bus terminal.

The bus terminals are outstanding. Free wifi is available in the majority of the big ones. They are often connected with a mall of some sort, and always have a cafeteria with stalls pushing local foods to travelers. The station in the south of Medellin even has a movie theater.

After a quick bite at Subway, we got on board the bus for the five hour ride toward Armenia, which we were told would let us off midway at the road to Salento. The road was majestic traveling along the spine of a mountain range above the jungle and through banana plantations. Darkness beat us to our scheduled disembark, so we argued with the driver to let us off...

...he won. We were held hostage and taken to Armenia at the end of the line. We were furious that the company told us they would drop us off, but made no mention despite several reminders that they do not, in fact, drop off after dark.

Our cellphones were dead, and the Armenia terminal happened to be the first without wifi, of course. We parked on the floor and reviewed our guidebooks to find a solution to our marooning in a town we hadn't planed on visiting. We decided to scurry across the street for a sketchy hotel for the night.

The next morning we took a bus from Armenia on the scenic route through the trashy city. After an hour of head bobbing in and out of sleep, because we had spent the majority  of the night concerned about platoons of ants and the possibility of bed bugs, we arrived in the breathtakingly beautiful city of Salento.

Hey, Guatape!

Hola friends and family!

After living it up in Medellin for a few days (so far my favorite major city I have visited abroad), Brandt and I decided to take a short trip to Guatape, a mountain town on the shores of a man-made lake about two hours outside of Medellin.

Guatape is beautiful. The lake that surrounds it is artificial, and is a result of a dam that was built in the 1970s (this dam provides 30% of Colombia's electricity!).

What is unusual about the lake of Guatape is its shape. Instead of a normal, oval shaped lake, this one curves, bends, and meanders around countless peninsulas and islands. It almost has a feel of a tropical island chain, with blue-green waters and countless landmasses dotting the surface.

You may be thinking to yourself, "Wow, Rob really had a decent view of this lake to see so many aspects of it!"

Yes, I did see it all of the lake...at the risk of tumbling from a 1,000ft rock.

La Pierda is a must see site and experience (so say travelers, guides, locals, what have you), but in reality you just pay someone 5 dollars to scare yourself shitless.

La Pierda is a massive rock at the south end of Guatape. On the side of this rock is a narrow staircase composed of countless switchbacks that take you from the base to the peak.

It was clearly safe. Dozens of visitors, families, toddlers, and even grandmothers were walking the 740 steps to enjoy the incomparable sights and views at the zenith. Therefore, being a young, relatively healthy man, this trek shouldn't be a problem whatsoever. This was my rational self.

My irrational self, the one with an impressively irrational fear of heights, was FREAKING OUT. I would love to attach pictures of my journey to the top, the shrine midway through, the people that were enjoying the adventure, or even the restaurant at the peak, however the majority of my time was spent focused on my feet placement as I hiked up, and then down, this huge rock. Therefore you don't get to see any pictures, but I am still alive, so I feel successful. Brandt took a few pics since, unlike myself, he was less affected by the height.

Narrowly surviving La Pierda, Brandt and I made our way back to our hostel, La Casa Kayam. We instead have dubbed it the Hippie Den.

Most of our recent locations have resulted in locals emphatically warning us not to wander around the streets as they are unsafe for a white guy and his brown friend who does not know Spanish.

The Hippie Den, however, is probably the safest place we have stayed since it is away from the dangerous part of the town. In fact, it is away from the town in general! About 30 minutes into the hilly countryside, away from the water, away from food, away from everything.

Once we made it back to the Hippie Den (we walked on a gravel road in the dark for about a mile) we went to our dorm to unpack a bit and put on deet. Even though all the doors and windows have been open all day, our shared room still smells like b.o., sweat, pot, and a general lack of hygiene. Gross.

So Brandt and I hang out on the patio with everyone else (everyone is French by the way, hate to reinforce stereotypes, but based on this experience, all French (and hippie) people smell).

One of our roomies sits next to us, and then proceeds to have a violent coughing fit. In between her wheezes, she asks if we put on "mosquito", which we interpret as the distinct smell of deet. Apparently, the smell of deet is causing her physical pain, and she proceeds to tell us that we smell strong, and passive aggressively coughs to herself for about an hour. She tells her friends that her throat is hurting, and eventually moves once we pointedly don't care about her reaction. She moved out into a tent claiming that the smell was too much for her in the room (we didn't even put it on in there).

Ironically, I think that using deet has hampered our ability to make friends here, since we smell...

Additionally we have been killing cockroaches in abundance, I think they are attracted to the pervasive smell.

We have cancelled our reservation for the second night and are moving into town.

We have also added a new travel rule:
Brandt may not unilaterally decide on places to stay. His track record is sub par.

Thanks for reading and goodnight from the smelly, buggy, and cannabis-filled Hippe Den.

-Rob

Hey, This was Escobar's

A fourteen hour bus ride overnight delivered us from the coast to Medellin. This mountainous city views  red from a distance because of all the brick used in its creation. Once the home to Pablo Escobar's feared Medellin cartel, the city endured to become a proud and vibrant  community.

We finally found ourselves situated in a good neighborhood at the Hostal Samán in the Pablado neighborhood. This neighborhood has become the lodo of the city offering nightlife, restaurants, and  a plethora of hostels. The crowd, 20-40 years old, show up around 9pm every night in the neighborhood to hang out with friends and salsa the night away.  Us two being on an early rise and early sleep schedule couldn't  hang past midnight when the clubs really turn it up.

The other fellows in the dorm often come home late in the morning and grind their teeth all day sleeping for some reason I haven't quite pinpointed.

Medellin  profited  greatly from its illicit history as shown by its transit systems. Throughout  the city exists a metro with multiple lines crisscrossing the city. Where they couldn't put the metro they got creative and employed the use of a machine I am all too familiar with: ski gondolas. They even installed thirteen outdoor escalators in a poor neighborhood as a public works project.

We took a very long gondola ride to  Parque Alví outside of town for some hiking in the beautiful temperate forest. The evergreens rose some 90 feet into the air from a lush jungle floor. Streams with swimming holes were filled with kids screaming, cliff diving and splashing. After a fun filled naturalist day we started home just as a thunderstorm broke. CRACK, lightning  was arching all around our swinging gondola cabin leaving us petrified and hoping the ride was over. We finally got to the transfer station and off-loaded. We were stuck in the station forty minutes while the deluge lasted. 

Hey, Watch for pirates!

We left Brannanquilla early in the morning bound for one of the most influential  port cities in the formation of the Americas, Cartagena. The drive was mostly painless despite running into droves of kids playing on the highway. 

A land bridge connects Brannanquilla  to Cartagena with heartbreaking slums to the south of the road. The kids used the highway to escape the hoards of filth an trash they called home. Our greeting from them surprised us because some set up "blockades" to get money from passing motorists. Some dressed as the mascot of carnaval, others crossdressed, and others dressed as ware wolves while they manned there lines.

Cartagena was hot, almost unbearably, but the temperature failed to keep us from walking nearly twenty miles per day throughout the walled city. The city was founded in the 1500s as a trading post which allowed the Spanish  better access  to the gold and slave trade. The city's fortress you've seen in countless movies about pirates and buccaneers. The city has walls twenty feet high and forty feet thick in places to withstand the onslaught  of the French and famed pirates such as Francis Drake.

In the center of the bay lies an impressive fort called Castillo San Felipe de Barajas. The fortress took over an hour to explore  due to its size and fun passageways. We found the first coffee shop with air conditioning and slumped into their chairs for recovery. Frozen limeade did the trick to get us going back two miles home.

Our hostel, ill admit, was not in the most desirable locations. We were initially confused as the taxi left the historic part of the city into the outskirts. We were fifteen minutes walk from the walls, with five of those min on high alert. The hostel was an oasis in this rough area that we would not dare venture into at night. There were signs on the doors explaining how the locals will beat you up for your cellphone or because you have a nice backpack.

The first night as we were sprinting home to beat the approaching night we forgot about dinner. Luckily,  the hostel owner knew of a delivery service for food. When the delivery was made we were staggered by the quantity of food they brought. We made five meals out of the food.

In the end, it was Chinese food we found in Cartagena, not pirates.