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!