Popayan, Pasto and not Throwing up Fluffy Things

Ok, i´ll be honest. This last month has been a funny one for me. By no means bad, but maybe just a little sad. I guess its not surprising really, after six months on the road, having visitors reminding me of home, and then finally leaving the bossom of the Gomez clan in Bogota. Flying solo again, staring at the great expanse of South America in my trusty guidebook. Its bound to be a bit hard.

Its not all doom and gloom though, dont worry. Ive been on plenty of adventures and up to lots fo mischief. Sometimes its not until you write oit all down, you realise quite how much stuff you´ve done! Here goes with the first installment...

Before getting to Ecuador, I had the not so small matter of Southern Colombia to take care of, which I did at some speed. First stop was San Augustin, where i stayed at a beautiful Finca, with Bamboo cabanas, open-air showers, animals grazing in the gardens and the best farmhouse toast and homemade Jam I have ever tasted. To my surprise, I also discovered a new love of horses, after spending a lovely sunny day riding (and at some points even galloping!) though the countryside exploring the ancient burial tombs and ruins scattered in the surrounding hills.

Next on my list was the perfectly sized and really rather pretty Popayan, reached by a truely ridiculous cross-country roadtrip, through what was clearly FARC country based on the number of military check points we had to endure. We bounced along in the back of this rusty of minivan, suspension shot to pieces, thought the misty mountians and across the foggy moores all day, not seeing a soul for hours at a time, rain hammering down down on already impassable roads. Ill put it like this: Lonely Planet should advise the complusary wearing of a sports bra for this one. if that wasnt trauma enough, I was caught mid-wee break in the bushes by a machiine gun weilding soilder who told me I should probably just use the chunder inducing toilets like everyone else instead. Advice taken.

With not much to see once you had strolled though the cobbled streets and admired the whitewashed building and innumerable churches, I decided to embark on a rough and ready hot-spring/mountain-biking adventure. On reflexion, these activities were done in the wrong order, but thankfully the 30km back was mainly downhill, and the hot-chocolate and cheese in the cafe outside one of the towns many love-hotels did wonders to perk me up.

The rather unattrcactive town of Pasto was next on the list: the original home of the Gomez clan. Soggy and on Sunday-shutdown, i didnt get off to the best fot starts with this place. Snuggling in my hostel watching rubbish films and eating Colombian junkfood was the order of the day I´m afraid. No wonder Andrei loves living in Brighton!

Still, there was the important issue of a rather more traditional meal to be had before I left, so i wasnt going anywhere just yet. Yes thats right people ! Cuy. Little fluffy fried Guinepig. Yum! Some vegetarian huh?

My date for the evening was Memo, who whisked me off to a rather posh out of town Cuy-house and whom it became quickly clear LOVED the stuff. Great! more for him.

Im not sure what I was expecting, but the entire inner-workings of the poor little bugger, deep-fried and served on a bed of popcorn as an entree? I was not. Can I be honest? It is fucking disgusting. And it smelt like a dead rat. funny that...

By the time the actual recognisable animal arrived, crackling and all but thankfully minus feet, I was feeling rather sick. Thank god for Redwine and willpower. And god bless the homeless guy who took it off our hands on the way home. Never again. Give me a spicy beanburder anyday.

Alas. i have no pictures of all these antics, as I lost all my photos in what turned out was the first in a small bout of badluck. I know, I hear you! Guinepig payback!

Pissed off amd feeling more than a little bit peaky, I was finally leaving Colombia behind me, headed for the Ecuadorian border, stopping only to take in the simply beautiful church of Las Lajas, set deep into a rich green valley, and famous for the thousands of miracles it is said to have produced (though unfortunetly these do not include the resurrection of said photos).

First stop on the otherside. The Andean market town of Otovalo, and some serious retail therapy!

So far in South America: Friends Family and Fabulous Times

I just worked out that I have been in South America 6 weeks already, and I have still not made it south of Bogota. How has that happened? What have I been doing? I have decided to blame family and friends, and am thoroughly happy about it.

After my hectic non-stop adventure though Central America, it was time to chill out for a while and take stock. Let it all sink in a prepare myself for the next installment of my adventure South.

First up was a visit from my lovely parents, whom I didn’t realize how much I missed. Their choice was Venezuela, mainly because it is pretty much the only country in the hemisphere they hadn’t already been too. Add to this, the buzz that surrounds Hugo Chavez and his Bolivarian revolution, and it was a no brainer really.

Keen to see what all the fuss was about, we had a pretty busy time planned. It kicked off with a brake-neck and thoroughly unrealistic 14 hour journey to meet them in Merida, which involved 2 flights, 2 taxis, 2 buses and a shit load of cash, making it just in time before my Mum sent out a search party and hit the bottle with worry.


We spent the first few days exploring the city and surrounding landscape, which could have been more different. The former was big and rather ugly, covered in political graffiti and a grey haze, while the latter was really quite beautiful and incredibly varied: rolling green hills, snow capped mountains and bone dry cactus fields, all within spitting distance of each other.


Once over the worst of the jetlag, we were off to Los Llanos and on safari! Baking hot savanna awaited us, heat waves rising from the brown grass into the bright blue sky, as far as the eye could see. Sweat beads trickled down our backs as we bounced about in the back of our jeep, hurtling across the dry plains and into the wilderness.

I never expected to see so much wildlife. The place was literally crawling with animals, roaming the land and basking in the remaining watering holes: wallowing wilder beasts and semi-submerged Caiman, staring at you from beneath the surface, crowds of capibaras (strange looking things that look like huge guinea pigs) dodging the jaws of death at the waters-edge. Add to the mix; wild horses, bright red Ibis, stripy tailed raccoons, enormous anteaters, pink fresh water dolphins swimming and piranha infested waters (one of which I managed to catch and eat) and it really was something to behold.

The highlight though had to be the anaconda hunting. I still can’t quite believe what I saw. Our local guide, armed with just a stick and a with a little help from a rather brave buddy, literally dragging a absolutely enormous 5 meter snake out of the marshland by its tail, before hoisting it up onto our shoulders for the obligatory safari photo op. Even my Mum let them wrap its tail round her neck. Not slimy at all, it felt like a huge heavy muscle gripping on to you, so capable of crushing you to death in a matter of seconds none of us let it stay there long.

After all this excitement, we were all ready for a bit of rest and relaxation, so off we went to soak up the sun and the very welcome sea breezes of the Caribbean coast, choosing a bit of flopping about on the beach over hot heavy and really rather dangerous Caracas. It’s fair to say that we didn’t exactly have a revolutionary time, but we certainly had a lovely time. Significantly browner and more relaxed, they waved me off before starting their return journey back to bleak old blighty.

Arriving at Bogota’s El Dorado, I had no time to be home-sick, as I was whisked off by my fabulous Colombia family for the next few weeks, to be fussed over and looked after like one of their own. I simply cannot put into words how lovely Andrei’s parents have been to me. Giving me guided tours of the city, letting me lounge by the pool in Anapoima and generally making me feel so welcome I could quite easily never leave. And let’s not even get started on Carolina, although she has quite possibly ruined my liver forever. Since when is beer for breakfast acceptable behaviour?

Last but by no means least, was a visit from a certain someone from back home who I certainly was not expecting to see this side of the Atlantic. When I got the news, I nearly fell off my chair. Zac was coming to Colombia.

It certainly didn’t really sink in until I was waiting at the airport to pick him up, and I saw him though the window, his roadsign bright hoodie and high-tops unmistakable amoung the crowds, even from that distance. It turns out that needn’t have necked quite that much wine with nerves beforehand, as we laughed and joked all the way back to La Candelaria, whizzing wildly through the city back to our cozy little hostel and our room with a view.

We managed to meet in the middle with the whole “I just wanna lie on a beautiful beach for two weeks” and the “you have to at least see a bit of Colombia while you are here Zac” argument, heading first to the beautiful city of Cartagena. The romance of the place was slightly dimmed by Zac’s chronic case of the traveling shits, but thankfully it didn’t last long, and we were soon off in search of the ultimate beach.

First stop was a day trip sailing round Islas Rosarios, ending up at Playa Blanca, which certainly lived up to its name, though I have a feeling Zac almost enjoyed clinging on the deck as we crashed across the sea, waves drenching us from overhead, more than bright-white sands and crystal clear waters.

Next was Taganaga, which I knew he would love. How can you not? It doesn’t have the incredible beaches, but it is the loveliest little fishing village with one of the most chilled out atmospheres of anywhere I have ever been. The sunsets over the pretty little bay, as people stroll along the malecon in the warm evening, sipping fresh fruit smoothies, buying pretty things from Argentinian hippies and sampling the local seafood at one of the beachfront restaurants. Pure Bliss.

After a few days we did manage to drag ourselves away from our favourite spot on the local beach and from our favourite breakfast/lunch/smoothie/cocktail/dinner/any-excuse-really cafe, and headed off to Tayrona National Park.

A sweaty bus ride and a hike though the forest later (backpacks strapped to our backs and monkey-spotting as we went) and we arrived on the windswept beaches of Arecifes, the pristine pools of La Picina and beautiful bays of El Cabo. Looking at Zac, soaked up to the waist and wielding a huge stick, anyone would have thought we had hiked for days in search of Paradise.

Did we find it? I think so. The beaches we beautifully clear and the waters wonderfully clear and filled with big tropical fish to spot. Add to this the fact that we splashed out on a hill-top cabana with quite possibly the best view I have ever seen, and it was all pretty idyllic. Sharing a bowl of Spaghetti between us and almost dying of dehydration when we ran out of money? Less so. But that’s all part of the fun right? An awesome few days was topped off with an exhilarating (and very soggy) speed boat ride back to civilization. And a well-deserved feed.

With the end of our trip in sight, we boarded an overnight bus back towards Bogota, a new experience for Zac and one which I think he secretly enjoyed despite the protests, thanks to a little help from a healthy dose of Zopiclon and enough warm clothes to make the brutal air-conditioning more bearable. And I have to say it was much nicer to have someone to snuggle up to, rather than the ususal snoring local.

We made sure to stop off in San Gil - and paid someone to jump off into Colombia’s largest canon with just Zac and a paragliding sail attached to themselves, before heading back to Bogota. Souvenir shopping, takeaway pizza and rubbish films finished off a fabulous few weeks. And United States stupidly stringent immigration policy meant that we got to spend another day bimbling in Bogota before we finally parted company for a while once again.

I have absolutely loved spending time with familiar faces, and it certainly makes me miss home that bit more, but as I survey the vast expanse of South America on the map, with just my backpack for company, I can’t wait to get going!