During our Round The World, we travelled to Venezuela, Brazil, Peru, Bolivia, Argentina, Chile & Uruguay but bypassed Colombia, since we were not sure about safety travelling overland. We deeply regretted it, when we listened to the first enthusiastic reports from travelers arriving from there. So we used the next possible opportunity to make up for that mistake and traveled Colombia intensively for 45 days in July and August 2009.

Our main destinations were: Pereira & Salento - Popayan, Tierradentro & San Agustin - Neiva & the Desierto de Tatacoa - Bogota - Villa de Leyva, San Gil, Barichara & Bucaramanga - Medellin - La Guajira - Santa Marta, Taganga & the Parque Nacional Tayrona - Cartagena. Unfortunately we had no time to go to the Pacific Coast and missed out on scuba diving with baby whales. The Amazon we never intended to go to, since we spent quite some time in Bolivia in the Amazon basin.

Let’s start with the big concern many people have. YES, travelling in Colombia is safe, very safe! Actually, Colombia is one of the safest in South America, as far as we can tell. It is light years from its disreputable image of a country of drugs and guns. Colombia is also a country that is extremely diverse. There is not “the one big highlight” like Machu Picchu, Iguazu Falls, Angkor Wat or the Taj Mahal, but a vast number of places offer impressive, very different experiences.

Those impressions will always stay in our mind when thinking of Colombia:

(x) Very gentle & helpful people, trying hard to welcome visitors as best as they can, proud that actually visitors from other countries / other continents come to their country / their city. This is unfortunately far less true for the Caribbean Coast, which seem to be both another country and another culture (x) Great pride to be Colombian and the wish to show the good sides of the country to visitors (x) A very clean and well organized country, where things run astonishingly well (x) A country made of small highlights that add up to an impressive experience, so you keep on moving around (x) Chivas in the south, which are never full and stop every ten meters to allow passengers to get on or off (x) “A la orden”, a phrase which can be heard all day, meant to encourage you to buy something or to offer a service without being pushy (x) Vallenato music non stop (x) An impressive military presence - but very professional & helpful soldiers / police officers, even ready to exchange a joke with the few foreigners they encounter (x) A fair share of party hostels - especially in Bogota, Medellin and on the Caribbean Coast (x) And last but not least … Lots of possibilities to develop the touristic infrastructures: except in major cities, there is lack of restaurants that offer anything else than the usual “Pollo con arroz” grub. A few times we could not find enough people to rent a jeep and share the costs, for example in Villa de Leyva. In Riohacha, preparing a tour to La Guajira, we only found one person (!) to join us to go to Punta Gallinas, which made it an expensive tour.

The highlights of these almost seven weeks in Colombia were:

(x) The people, very gentle & helpful (x) The province of Santander, with two remarkable colonial cities, Villa de Leyva (ok, it is almost Santander) & Barichara, and San Gil, the place for great outdoor activities like paragliding, white water rafting or anything of the kind at a very reasonable price (x) The Zona Cafetera, Salento and the Valle de Cocora (x) The archaeological sites of Tierradentro & San Agustin (x) The 3 Colombian deserts: Desierto de Tatacoa, Canyon de Chicamocha & La Guajira, where it feels like arriving at the end of the world (x) Medellin, a nice city so easy to discover with its metro & cable cars with the biggest, most vivid, most incredible “Zona Rosa” we have ever seen

A few things we did not like:

(x) Very basic or pricey hostels. Some of the owners created a great atmosphere, only a few times were we truly content. Either we lacked comfort, or we paid more and were without a backpacker infrastructure and information (x) Food gets a bit monotonous if you stick to a cheap fare. Breakfast with the inevitable eggs and sweetish bread & lunch over Comida Corrientes with “Pollo con arroz y frijoles” (x) Noisy Taganga with a beach full of rubble (x) Many aspects of the Caribbean Coast: extreme noise, with people playing music at full blast every weekend and holiday; lots of plastic garbage everywhere and actually few nice beaches, either on islands or in national parks

A few things we did not do due to lack of time or because it was not a priority:

(x) Ciudad Perdida: although everybody we talked to loved it, we did not fancy trekking in this heat, we felt we had done our share in Chile, Peru and Venezuela in 2007 (x) Scuba diving with whales on the Pacific Coast we would have loved to do, but extra costs and lack of time were the reasons for not going there

Of course, few things we should have done differently:

(x) Visit Medellin during the Fiesta de las Flores only with a reservation for a liveable accommodation (x) Spend less time on the Caribbean Coast, more time in Santander and the south (x) Travel at a lower pace: travelling in Colombia is challenging and tiring, with huge travel times especially in the south

Conclusion?

Colombia is a great destination to travel, with an immense diversity to discover and enjoy, the kindest people you can imagine, picturesque colonial cities, magnificent scenery, some of the oldest archaeological sites of the Americas and if this is what you are looking for, great places to party. “El riesgo es que te quieras quedar”. The risk is you may want to stay, as the Colombian Tourist Board’s clever slogan claims!

Colombia was actually not as cheap as we hoped it would be. Travelling there is more expensive than in many other countries on the continent. We spent on average 37 Euros per person per day, not much less than we had spent in Brazil (41 Euros) & much more than in Peru (33 Euros), Venezuela (30 Euros) and of course Bolivia (29 Euros).

Differences are huge between the very, very cheap south of the country and the pricey Caribbean Coast. In the south we managed with 25 Euros per day, but we needed 43 Euros per day on the Caribbean Coast.

Hostels & accommodations especially were a bad surprise: we spent on average 23 Euros a night for a double room, often without a private bath, even for that price. Accommodation is indeed a major issue in Colombia. Backpacker hostels can be very basic and the few better ones are quickly booked.

Food & drinks can be very cheap at least if you try to stick to “Comidas Corrientes” (soup, chicken, rice, beans, “patacon”), which gets very fast very boring. We spent less than 9 Euros per person per day. Interestingly, in almost every country, we spent as much on food as on accommodation. In Colombia, accommodation cost us one third more than food.

Even though distances are not that important, travel time is significant, especially in the south. Nevertheless, travelling is extremely cheap, even flying. We spent 135 Euros on bus trip per person for “the big loop” throughout the whole country, plus 122 Euros on a plane ticket Bucaramanga - Medellin - Barranquilla. A flight was indeed the only way to fit the “Feria de las Flores” in Medellin into our itinerary.

Can you travel for less? Of course! This budget can be reduced significantly if you stay longer in the south, if you stick to the cheaper hostels and to dorms and if you arrange your travel so that you can avoid flying.

Our farewell to Colombia did not lack a certain dramatic touch, almost a manifestation of what the country so often is associated with - drugs. All 15 passengers booked on our tiny plane from Cartagena to Panama City were searched before check in. We mean SEARCHED, every single item inside the luggage was taken out and checked meticulously, then the luggage itself examined, the toiletry, medication, everything!

We had bought lots of “Artesanias” made of wood, each was carefully wrapped. All this was undone; every piece was wiped with a special cloth, to check it had been soaked in cocaine? Three big square white candles drew a lot of attention and were pocked with long sticks that the officers sniffed at.

Naturally everybody was cleared and after a long wait we were asked to pass through security. After x-raying the hand luggage, it was searched again. A female officer patted down Heidi and pocked around her stomach. Her first thought was that the impact of all the arepas, frijoles, fried chicken and too many rum & cokes had to be battles once back home.

Heidi was then questioned who she was travelling with, when she pointed at Gilles, who had already passed inspection, he was called back and we were both sent upstairs. At this point we expected the worst, an extensive body search. But methods obviously have become more refined, one by one we had to step on what looked like a convey belt that moved us through a huge x-ray machine. Afterwards we could admire our insides on a huge monitor, actually an ugly sight. It is so detailed that even your dental work can be clearly seen.

Then we waited, waited … together with the crew. After almost an hour delay, Heidi inquired, naturally assuming the plane had not arrived yet. How wrong! It was the extensive search, there were still a few people being searched.

Whether this is a normal procedure for departing international flights or just a random check we do not know. It seems impossible to have passengers of a huge airliner undergo such procedure. Probably it was just a perfect show to prove that the billions of US money to fight drugs have been invested wisely.

Even during peaks of “La Violencia”, Cartagena remained a major tourist destination, domestic tourists as well as international travel groups, especially cruises ship, continued visiting. In the last few years the numbers have risen dramatically. In 2008, one million visitors wandered the historic center making it Colombia’s tourist destination number one, by far.

But the historic center is only an itsy bitsy tiny part of this city with one million inhabitants. Convento de la Popa, on top of a 180 meter high hill, provides the best view of the layout of this city, and only then one comprehends.

A first taste we got when we approached the center from the bus terminal. The bus ride took an hour in heavy traffic and we passed endless stretches of poor, neglected neighborhoods. This is where 75 % of the locals live, Cartagena’s less fortunate residents.

On the peninsula across the bay beams Bocagrande. This is where well-heeled Columbians check in high rising hotels or apartments for rent. This skyline plus an abundant number of trendy restaurants, designer shops and its long beach give it a certain Miami feeling. Maybe except the many Chivas running the streets day and night, hauling tourists around on city tours or nightly excursions with lots of rum and, you may guess, Vallenato music.

The old town of Cartagena is a maze of beautifully restored colonial houses, churches, plazas or convents turned into luxury hotels. A characteristic of these colonial houses is an overhanging wooden balcony covered by a tiled roof and one or more shady patios inside. All houses have underground reservoirs that were used to store rain water before modern piping arrived. Evenings are the best times to explore, when temperatures become pleasant and buildings are illuminated.

In the late 16th century, the 13 kilometer long massive walls, “Las Murallas”, were built to protect the city from pirates, who repeatedly attacked Cartagena. Francis Drake was probably the most well-known. Outside the walled city are other fortifications, like the Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas, which is an entire hill turned into a fortress. Why all that fuss? Cartagena was one of the most important ports in colonial times, from where the gold robbed in the New World was shipped to Spain.

Must sees are the “Palacio de la Inquicision”, which tells the history of the inquisition in this part of the world. The gory instruments of torture are its most impressive exhibits, although many displayed where never used in Latino America, like the guillotine. Right across the beautifully shady Plaza Bolivar is the small Museo del Oro. For us it was a nice refresher, but for others, who had no chance to visit the real thing in Bogota, a great opportunity to see amazing ancient golden masterpieces. Visits are for both free.

The less glittery part of the Old Town is Getsemani. Despite its many decaying buildings, it has lots of charm. The huge windows have no glass but wooden shatters. Outside are bars constructed of small turned wooden columns that allow the air to circulate but block entrance to the living room, which is on full display for anybody passing by on the street. We found it fascinating to get such an intimate view of a family’s living quarter. Some looked quite comfortable, even posh, others incredibly bare. One picture really stuck: an old lady in her rocking chair in front of an old TV, the otherwise empty room did not even have plaster on the brick walls.

Nevertheless, Getsemani is where we chose to live during our three day “holiday”, at Casa Relax, probably the most upscale hostel in this area. Here a room sells for a stiff 130.000 COP or 50 Euros, but no regrets. It was a perfect choice in this climate, a nice air-coned room, a beautiful pool in a pleasant patio, kitchen use and WiFi. The pet parrot took us in his heart since we always gave him a little bit of food when we cooked our meals.

On our last evening in Colombia, we met two Colombian friends from Bogota for dinner and later dropped in for a Mojito at Café Habana, only few hundred meters from our hostel. There we listened to what seemed a resurrection of the famous Buena Vista Social Club, a perfect farewell.

Scenic white sandy beaches, framed by palm trees leaning into the emerald green water, you could not ask for more. This all Caribbean image has made Tayrona to one of Columbia’s top tourist destinations.

Actually there is a string of beaches, Playa Arrecife is the first one to arrive after a 45 minute walk from the bus drop off. A long impressive playa, cheap accommodation and a restaurant invite to stay for the night or longer, but most people move on, since the beach is without shade and unsuitable for swimming due to deadly currents. Five to ten visitors ignore the warnings each year and drown here.

Further on are two small picturesque bays, great spots for swimming. But Cabo de San Juan is where most tourists end up. The two horse-shoe shaped bays are just beautiful, some sort of perfect Hollywood setting, the beaches are suitable for swimming, there is shade and a restaurant, cabanas, tents and hammock for rent.

There has been such an increase in visitors in the last years that the park sometimes had to be closed down. We met a Canadian couple who could not get in beginning of July, so that makes you wonder what the situation may be like next December and January, during the high season. The vast, vast majority of tourists are Columbians, excited to be on the ocean side, coming from frosty Bogota or landlocked places like Bucaramanga and Medellin.

Unfortunately, we had not planned carefully and arrived there on the long week-end of August 15th. Considering the number of people visiting the few beaches fit for swimming, space was precious and traffic was heavy on the single trail that leads to the various beaches.

This would not be such a problem, since there are a few tiny beaches just behind Cabo de San Juan. The issue is actually accommodation and food. Especially on a “Puente”, the extremely basic & clearly insufficient facilities at Cabo de San Juan were strained to their limit, the only restaurant to feed hundreds of visitors had run out of most things already on Friday.

Only hammocks, near the restaurant and the nearby generator were available, thus noisy and full of flies. The distance between the hammocks was such that a swift movement would bump you into your resting neighbor. Mules constantly hauled in supply for the two restaurants at Cabo de San Juan and Arricife, but they could only do so much.

Taganga is a good place to get a diving license or do a refresher, since there are some decent dive sites around there and prices are unbeatable. A two tank dive costs 36 Euro and a PADI Open Water Diver license a mere 200 Euro. Unfortunately, those extremely low prices obviously have led to a lack of investment in modern material and several people in the group, including both of us, encountered unpleasant technical problems during the dives.

Equally cheap are Spanish lessons at a language school that cooperates with Hostel Divanga. It charges 65 Euro for ten one-to-one lessons. There are even packages offering a dorm bed for 10 days plus 20 hours of lessons for 175 Euro.

Otherwise, we see no reason for staying in this rather bland fishing village, 7 kilometers from Santa Marta. The “beach” in the village and the surrounding beachfront is under construction: streets dug up, cordoned off with yellow tape, heaps of concrete, gravel, sand, slabs of stone, trash. A rather unpleasant sight! Some locals claimed that maybe in a few months, the project of constructing a beach front will be finished. Rumors say it was started in 2003.

Only the tiny stretch between Hotel Ballena Azul and Casa Blanca is fit for bathing. The rest is dust, gravel, construction material piled up and wooden fishing boats. A short walk across a hill takes you to Playa Grande, maybe the smallest Playa Grande in South America, which is an okay beach. A few trees provide shade and set back from the beach is a row of large wooden constructions serving as restaurants. Further on are a few tiny beaches. Despite numerous signs everywhere, the short trek to Playa Grande and parts of the beaches are full of trash, plastic bottles and bags - pretty revolting.

To make it short, to us neither the beaches nor the village itself was appealing. To make matters worse, we arrived here together with hundreds of Columbian families - it was a “Puente”, a long weekend. Well, they did enjoy themselves frolicking in the waters and the “beach”. All weekend long numerous giant stereos were blasting against each other. Only to watch this happy bunch, made us feel better.

Unfortunately, the neighbors of our otherwise comfortable Hostel Divanga were in a similar party mood and sprayed us with violently loud music from all sides. Definitely worth mentioning is the food at Divanga, very tasty. Though the entry in the Lonely Planet is taking its toll, the two people laboring in the small kitchen were twice near a physical break down.

From Punta Gallinas, we headed southwest again. After a four hour rocky ride, we stopped for lunch in Cabo de la Vela, a fishing village that has become a popular destination for travelers to chill out. It is best described as two long parallel rows of wooden huts running along the ocean. Lots of simple cabanas for rent, restaurants, and even Internet has found its way here.

Although we had planned to stay overnight here, we opted against it. Worn from the rough journey, it was extremely hot and after having the deserted beaches and desert of Punta Gallinas all for ourselves, Cabo de la Vela seemed less appealing then we had thought. Especially since the nice beach can only be reached after a 45 minutes walk.

Most travelers only go as far as Cabo de la Vela, since it somehow can be reached by semi-public transport from Uribia, whereas from Cabo de la Vela to Punta Gallinas, you need your own transport, which has to be a 4-wheel-drive.

Who has not been to one of the many “Ends of the World”? Ushuaia claims that title as many other places, but here on the tip of La Guajira, at the northernmost point of South America, it feels absolutely real.

For seven hours our fourteen year old Land Cruiser swayed and jolted through the rough terrain, following this or that track. The landscape is wild, nothing but cactuses and green low-growing trees, called “Trupio”, the only vegetation that seems to survive in this hot, very dry land. Every now and then a single hut could be seen, the home of a Wayuu family, who persistently cling to the land of their ancestors. Skinny goats roam the land and funnily, we also spotted a few wooly sheep in this heat. Once in a while we saw children carrying water in plastic canisters from a well to their hut.

Suddenly, in the late afternoon, the driver stopped on a ridge, next to two adobe dwellings. We had arrived at Bahia Hondita. Beyond us laid an incredible beautiful beach, golden sand bordered by emerald green water. The huts, the home of our driver’s family, are the only two buildings there. A few other families live around the bay, but far apart from each other, although many are related.

A hammock was hung up for each of us under a thatched roof and that was all there was to our moving in. A bit further away were two small brick cubicles, each a shower and toilet, hilariously one for men the other for women. We were fed red snapper and once the temperature became manageable we set out to explore the beach below.

Later on, we were shown the spot where each family has its own well. These are round cemented holes closed with a lid and locked with a padlock. Crystal clear water can be found relatively close to the surface here.

Just before sunset an American and Italian couple arrived in a jeep and after a short chat we all slid in our comfortable wide hammocks. Above us the sky was sparkling with all the stars there are, the Milky Way was strikingly near, an experience that will remain engrained in our memories forever.

Lulled into a peaceful sleep by the surf, the awakening was dramatic. At 4 o’clock, the big and heavy roof of the neighboring construction suddenly collapsed, burying the two couple sleeping in hammocks underneath. All we heard were muffled noises, shuffling movements in the sand. It took awhile to realize what had happened. Luckily only one person was lightly injured and driven to a rural doctor one hour away. Once it got light we checked the damage and realized how lucky the guys were: if the broken, splintered beam had hit somebody on the head or the stomach, it would have meant six hours on a bumpy dirt track to reach a provincial hospital, not a preferred option.

The next morning we set out for Taroa Beach, which even outdid Bahia Hondita. High-towering dunes roll into long stretches of golden sandy beaches. Naturally we tumbled, ran and slid down the dunes. Climbing up was less fun though. It was just us, and nobody anywhere near us. When our driver left for an hour to pick something up from his family, we even felt abandoned for a brief moment. There was no way we would have found our way around in this deserted, scorching hot wilderness.

That’s actually the only downside - there is only so much time you can spend on the beach without any vegetation whatsoever to provide shade.

Before heading to Punta Gallinas, the very tip of the Guajira Peninsula and the northernmost point of South America, we turned north to the salt fields of Manaure, the biggest “Salinas” on the peninsula.

There, the salt is collected in artificially made pans. In the nearby plant it is cleaned from sand and then piled up in a huge pure white mountain, a majestic sight. It is finally scooped into bags of approx. 50 to 60 kilograms and then heaved onto trucks.

At noon, in scorching heat, a team of young men was doing this back-breaking job, working like machines. When we approached, the driver called us over, cracking jokes: “Watch these guys, who will get skin cancer”. Just watching made us dizzy, two guys were on top of the truck receiving and storing the bags, two guys lifted a bag, placed it onto the head of one of them who carried it the truck. They invited Gilles to help them, but he could not even lift it more than a few centimeters above the ground, which resulted in some content giggles. The team is paid 5.400 COP or approx. 2 Euro for each ton - that amount must be split between the six of them.

El Cerrejon, in southern Guajira, one the biggest open-pit coal mines in the world, produces 30 million tons a year, half of the total output of Colombia, the fifth biggest coal producer in the world. Three international companies own the place and had a railway line built all the way to Puerto Bolivar, where the coal is loaded onto ships. The railway runs basically parallel to the gravel road from Uribia to the turn off to Cabo de la Vela. Trains pass frequently and once we counted the incredible number of 130 cars.

After Cabo de la Vela, we neither met nor passed another vehicle.

La Guajira’s reputation as a place beyond civilization is easily understood when looking at its past and modern history. A place where centuries ago pirates attacked Spanish ships loaded with precious cargo and strong-willed Wayuu never surrendered. Modern days see different kind of adventurers: large scale smuggling is so widespread, extensive and above all, so obvious that it is almost beyond belief.

The desert-like peninsula on Columbia’s northernmost point is still the home the Wayuu, “Indeginos” who have inhabited this extremely hot and barren land for centuries, resisted all intruders and on their part raided towns like Riohacha as late as the 1930s. Things have calmed, but the area still exhibits an aura of lawlessness that - as least for us - seems unparalleled.

The small town of Uribia, only an hour’s drive from the border town of Maicao, is teeming with smuggled goods. Gasoline is the prime merchandise, easily available at every street corner for 35 cent a liter, cheap, but still ten times the price of what it costs in Venezuela. From 25 liter canisters the gasoline is transferred in empty tanks by using short plastic tubes. The vendors sucks on one end and the gas starts flowing into big land cruisers, all stolen in Venezuela and taken across the border.

The Columbian government even developed a scheme to identify these cars by issuing special license plates, half green, half white. This way at least they pay taxes in Columbia. Before this rule was implemented, the stolen cars would just be driven around with their Venezuelan plates, and thus avoid paying taxes.

On our way from Punta Gallinas to Cabo de la Vela, we stopped in Puerto Nuevo to make a phone call from a store. A wooden shack, like the rest of the few “constructions”, no people to be seen, well, but who would walk around in this heat? Minutes later we learned the purpose this godforsaken place: behind the trees a huge cargo ship was lurking, full of trucks with contraband from Aruba, Panama and god knows where.

Another fine example of how “inventive” locals are is how they evade paying toll on the road connecting Riohacho and Uribia, the last bit of paved road, before the wilderness of La Guarija begins. Regularly they just by-pass the toll both, pay a local farmer 2.000 COP instead of the regular 6.900 COP to pass his house and join the road later on.

So why come here? Well, you must read on!

After a short night in Barranquilla, we immediately continued by bus to Riohacha, a 4 hour ride straight east. This laid back little town serves as a gateway for those few tourists who head out to the desert-like Guajira Peninsula.

We did not expect much, but were pleasantly surprised to discover a town with a breezy “Malecon” lined with people selling Artesania and seafood restaurants. Even the beach is quite nice, anyway a lot nicer than the ones at such popular places like Taganga or Santa Marta.

At our hotel “El Castiallo del Mar”, a comfortable but strange looking place, we met Francisco, the general manager of Kai Ecotravel. He proved to be an unfailing source of information about the peninsula, the local Wayuu people and he also arranged our transport to Punta Gallinas at the northeastern tip of the peninsula, the northernmost point of South America.

After our return from La Guajira, Riohacha had unfortunately been taken over by the drivers of the Rally Guarija that was about to start to next day.

All those misinformed people, who still consider Columbia a scary and dangerous place to be or travel, would find their image justified in the town of Barranquilla.

We arrived at midnight and the taxi to our hotel took us through kilometers and kilometers of deserted, spooky areas. Only a few ghostly figures were going through the garbage or sleeping on the concrete. Hotel Colonial Inn, though a bit faded, proved a safe heaven in this abyss, quiet, a modern aircon and we even had a fridge to cool down our water bottles.

The trip to the bus terminal the following morning offered a bit of a brighter look of the rundown city, but it still appeared “muy triste”. The cab driver told us the streets are regularly flooded after heavy downpours, because the water has nowhere to go, since the city is built on lower grounds than the river bed of the Rio Magdalena. These floods carry lots of garbage along, so after the water recedes the trash is left on display. A sad El Dorado for people so poor that digging through the trash is all there is. To be fair there is a new center of Barranquilla we did not see, El Prado, which is supposedly nicer.

Barranquilla is also the place, where the now mighty Rio Magdalena, after crossing almost the entire country south to north, spills out into the sea.

The event during the Feria de la Flores we liked best, we literally stumbled upon! Not really surprising considering the complete lack of information for tourists, foreigners and Colombians alike.

Trying to get a last good view of Medellin at sunset, we took the cable car up to Santo Domingo and bumped into a great party in the middle of this poor barrio. On the plaza a local, obviously famous band was playing incredible music from different parts of the country. Nevertheless, all songs had an Andean influence because pan flutes were prominently used. Fascinating was that all of the nine musicians were equally great singers.

The crowd grew by the minute, but who would want to miss what was about to come. A little space was cleared in the plaza and a group of twelve young dancers of the Academy of Ballet performed a medley of different dances that brought you to your knees. With great professionalism and enthusiasm they danced to different kinds of music, Salsa, Merengue, Tango, Vallenato, Brazilian Samba and even an Arabic dance.

During the whole show, we did not go unnoticed. The local spectators made sure we had a good spot to watch and even more to take photos. There were no other foreign tourists, so people took great interest in us and seemed genuinely proud that we found our way here to join their party.

We found it fascinating that the organizers of the festival chose this barrio for such a top-scale performance, equally revolutionary as the construction of the two cable cars to reach various deprived neighborhoods of Medellin up on the hills.

Santa Elena, an hour’s drive from Medellin, high up in the hills, is the center of the local flower industry. It is also there that the flower compositions, the “Silletas”, for the “Defile de los Silleteros”, are skillfully assembled at various Fincas. This parade is the highlight of the “Feria des Las Flores”.

Again, only by accident did we discover that tours are offered to watch the artists in Santa Elena applying their finishing touches to the Silletas before the big day. Again, the same overworked single person at the tourist information at Parque Berrio explained the way to one of the travel agencies where we could buy a ticket for a stiff 18 USD.

We were told to be at the Plaza Mayor at 06:00 pm, a huge area, but with the help of the police we found the meeting point. An army of young volunteers organized the arriving Columbians-only in little minibuses, not without a lot of running around and hectic maneuvering. A guide, Mateo, was assigned. Colored bracelets were attached to our wrists. The music for the supposedly 40 minutes ride was chosen and off we went.

We pretended to understand everything that was communicated and tried to look cheerful. Our fellow travelers were super enthusiastic. A lot of applause for every syllable the guide uttered, or when the music was changed, or when the word Columbia or Medellin was mentioned... After more than an hour driving on dark, windy roads, a local guide joined us, more applause, more music, singing and clapping. Passing several police checkpoints and after twice the time scheduled, we stopped abruptly in front of what looked like a make-shift shelter.

Other tourists, all Colombians, were already jammed into the tiny space under the thatched roof, since it had started raining and temperatures were chilly. A huge, single Silleta was placed in the center and an artist demonstrated how the flowers are attached. Despite the chatty atmosphere, a local tried to add additional information.

Quickly it dawned on us that this was it, this was why we would have travelled a total of 3 houra by the end of this excursion. Since we could not understand a single word of the explanations, we did what most people did, get a drink and ease our frustration.

Lining up squashed in a tiny crowd, we made our first acquaintance, a young man from Medellin, a student of music. The more cups of rum we poured down together, the more we enjoyed this non-event. After an hour we were herded back in the bus. By now our Columbian bus-mates were holding on to nearly empty bottles of rum and aguadiente and spirits were high.

Another stop at the main plaza in Santa Elena to refuel on booze gave us a chance to soak up the final hour of a party that had been going there all day. Bizarre, probably sums it all up, in a nice way.

Back in the bus, the mood even heightened, by now everybody realized that there were two “Gringos” on the bus and we were made to gulp down more aguadiente, jokes were told and everybody roared in laughter. Smiling pleasantly at everybody, we repeated countless times how great Columbia was and of course Medellin.

Our lesson learned, this trip was not at all about learning something about the Silletas and the flower industry up in Santa Elena, but its whole purpose was to party.

If you like sharing a city of 2.5 million with 400.000 visitors attracted by the festival with little or no information available for the foreign visitors, continue reading! Here are a few tricks and tips, learned the hard way, to make a stay in Medellin for this busy festival enjoyable.

Start with making a reservation for accommodation early, some budget hostels will not even except one and makes sure to define what your room should look like. Any crevice is used to accommodate visitors during that week.

The festival lasts for 10 days with innumerable events and activities all day long. Trying to get a programme did not prove, the single person at the tourist information at Parque Berrio had one (!!!) programme that tourists copied by hand! It took us a while to find one on the, Spanish only, official website. The venues mentioned are completely meaningless, unless you know the city well, or so vague to be of any help, like the decorated Chivas “pass through the major streets in town”. Some hostels had copies of the programme available and made recommendations what to see, like the nightly concerts near the Jardin Botanico.

THE highlight of the festival is the “Defile de Silleteros” on the Friday of the last weekend. Huge arrangements of flowers are carried through the centre of town by farmers from Santa Elena, where the “Silletas” are “created” of at least of 15 different kinds of flowers. The best are awarded and put on display on the Plaza Mayor for the last two days of the festival.

This parade is best watched from temporary stands placed throughout the route, BUT these seats can only be bought until Tuesday before the parade. So even though we arrived two days before the event we were without a chance to get one of the tickets ranging between 10 and 30 USD. Locals without a ticket for a stand started lining the streets hours before the defile begun, which we wanted to avoid.

By chance we spotted the starting point, near Metro station “Industriales” when we passed by on the train. So we pushed our way onto the bridge crossing the highway right were the parade started. This proved an excellent idea, because it was impossible to guess when the parade of 500 Silleteros, soldiers of all army sections and all sorts of other participants would pass through which part of town.

Saturday, a convoy of 200 vintage and other cars circled the main streets of town, its passenger dressed appropriate to the age of the automobile. No need to worry about a spot to watch, since its routine extends though a large part of the town. On Sunday, the last day of the festival, decorated Chivas took the streets, full of cheerful folks. Large spray cans are used by people inside and outside the Chivas to cover each other with foam.

The dress code for Columbians visitors is easy to describe: a kind of cowboy hat, accompanied by a folded poncho flung across the shoulder, a huge cup of beer or an oversized bottle of the same liquid at hand, at all times. Hundreds of street vendors make sure that stuff is available.

Who does not have a pre-fixed image about this former violence ridden stronghold of Pablo Escobar and its drug cartel? Well, reality could not be more different!

Medellin is a very modern city with lots of quiet, beautiful neighborhoods down in the valley and up on the hills. Its moderate temperatures year-around and an excellent infrastructure make it a great city to live. An ultramodern metro system zips through the valley and allows tourists to explore also the outer barrios.

The most fascinating means of transport are the two cable cars, one climbing the western hills, the other the opposite side. Of course, tourists use them to get a good vista of the city below, but they were built to provide access to the barrios on those slopes. Such a fancy and quick commute without traffic jam and pollution to the poorest neighborhoods of a major city is unheard of. It is at that included in the price of the metro ticket.

Medellin has relatively few tourist attractions. The Museo de Antioquia is probably the finest with its extensive paintings and sculptures of Fernando Botero. Apart from that, you only find a few others museums and parks.

Since we arrived by plane we got a view from above and that is impressive. At 1.500 meters, the city spreads out in a narrow valley tucked in-between what seems of endless cascades of high dark green hills. Neighborhoods climb the western and eastern hills. Some fancy, other come close to what defines a Favela. Other parts of the city are dominated by brown-colored high-rises. Since the airport is up in the hills, the 35 kilometer bus ride down in the center served as a super cheap tour of the city.

Medellin has also become a weekend destination for party animals, especially since its “Zona Rosa” is unequalled, an huge area of only jam-packed bars, restaurants and clubs. The streets running through are full of young people strolling, chatting and taking swigs from bottle of rum and Aquadiente, an aniseed-flavored, white, 27 % proof liquor.

Being two persons among 400.000 visiting Medellin for the “Feria de Las Flores” between July 31st and August 9th puts your abilities to find a liveable accommodation to a test. Gilles succeeded in getting a “pre-reservation” for a private room at the Palm Tree Hostel. They would not confirm it during such a busy week, so we were relieved to find our misspelled names on the board in the reception area.

But when we saw the “room”, our heart sank: smaller than a prison cell without a window. A few minutes in the room and it was stuffy and smelly. But everywhere we called, no private rooms were available, only dorms, which we even dreaded more ... The whole hostel felt cramped. Worst, the communal area was right next to our room and the entrance. People kept coming back from the “Zona Rosa” all night long.

Desperately, we set out to inquire in person at some hostels. The famous “Black Sheep” looked exactly what we wanted, a large common area downstairs, private rooms upstairs. But of course: full! “Pit Stop” was next. This party Hostel looked very nice with a small pool in the garden and a very young crowd enjoying themselves, also full! Casa de Sol and Yellow House were of course also booked and they seemed even sadder than what we had. Simple but nice Israeli-run Sun Shine Hostel was the last we tried of the known traveler hostels, another “Sorry, we have only dorms available”.

We steeled ourselves for one more attempt, which sounded too good to be true. An unremarkable ad in “Medellin’s guide to culture and nightlife”, about a “Finca within the city” had caught Heidi’s attention. At first sight, “Ram Hostal Campestre” looked like paradise, located on the edge of “Zona Rosa”, quietly sitting at the end of a cul de sac, surrounded by a small tropical garden, next to a wooded creek and a small pool.

The concept of the hostel seemed to cater all different needs. With a dorm bed selling for 15 USD, it is obvious that the owner tries to make money with the two big dorm rooms, one with 20 beds and one with 14 beds, a few private rooms for 85.000 COP or 43 USD and two nicely equipped apartments for no less than 125 USD a night. This makes it twice as expensive as other hostels, especially considering the shared bathrooms.

Well, maybe we were just too happy to find an alternative to our prison cell that we simply overlooked almost everything we should have immediately noticed. First, the hostel is completely new and there is still no warm water. In order to be lulled into sleep by the nearby creek, there are no real windows. This does not help when all the party animals return from the “Zona Rosa” all night long till dawn, screaming, singing at the top of their lung, laughing loud and getting rid of their excessive alcohol. There is nobody to stop this, and the kids on night duty hid behind the computer. People bring their stereos to the pool and play THEIR music whenever they feel like it. The private rooms are next to the entrance of the two dorm rooms and the giant room with shower stall, all this adding to the noise level.

The “Bienvenido” sign at the bus station in Bucaramanga announced another “Ciudad Bonita” and we simply grinned at each other: we had to stop here for the night to catch a flight to Medellin. What a nice surprise to find a strikingly clean and very modern city. This positive image certainly was enforced by the welcoming Kasa Guane Bucaramanga, best know here as K.G.B., full of cozy corners and a very helpful staff. So far, this is the best hostel in Colombia we have seen, even though we wondered how we would have managed if it was only halfway full, with only one bathroom for 3 dorms & 2 private rooms...

The cream of their many services is a free visit to the Country Club up the street, which we certainly used, hanging out at the pool reading and relaxing. Lot of the guests set camp here or at the sister hostel out of town to take lessons in paragliding.

The only bad surprise was the tattoo shop next door playing “Rage Against The Machine” at maximum volume until late at night. The nice surprise was meeting an American student analyzing the market of money lenders in Colombia, a grey zone of the local economy, but obviously widely spread. From him we learned that interest rates can be up to 20% a month for very small amounts for a short period, for instance 50 to 200 USD over 1 to 3 months.

He also explained us that Colombia was one of the countries with the widest differences, with an estimated 53% (!) of the population living below the threshold of poverty (World Bank statistics) and almost 18% living with less than 2 USD per day. This partly does not fit with what we observed, with much less “obvious” deep poverty as in other countries in South America, for instance Brazil or Bolivia.

The road between San Gil and Bucaramanga partly follows and even descends into this majestic canyon, providing a stunning vista with Rio Chicamocha snaking along more than 1.000 meters below. The area is desert-like, with lots of thorny shrubs, cactuses and even more goats climbing with ease through the steep terrain, tugging at twigs.

Halfway between these two cities is El Parque Nacional de Chicamocha, the baby among all Columbian National parks, which only opened in 2006 and popular it is. Within the next two weeks the millionth visitor is expected, the numbers of guests increased sharply after the cable car started operating in February 2009.

For those wondering if it is worth dishing out the 30.000 COP or 15 USD for the 6 kilometer ride down and up to the other rim, La Mesa de Los Santos, well, the best view of the canyon is actually from the “Mirador” high above on the side of the entrance gate, because you have a 360 degree view and can see the river’s meandering around a mountain. This view can be bought for only 10.000 COP. If you want to be really thrifty, be happy with what you see from the bus, which is spectacular, or get off at the entrance and use the lookout of the cafeteria located outside the park.

The trip in the brand new “Teleferico” is okay. Actually, especially watching the Columbian families being excited when getting on and over the cliff is good fun, but the view from across the canyon is truly disappointing. That side is also a work in progress, lots of hammering and chiseling. On a weekday during off-season this place looked completely oversized and some attractions rather desperate attempts to increase the number of sights, like the four lone ostriches or the gigantic bow of a ship perched on the mountain top.

To sum it up, we surely enjoyed the great view, but above all chatting with Columbian families who looked at us in amazement: it seems the park does not get a lot of foreign visitors!

Well, there is one more major activity to do in Barichara: hiking the old “Camino Real” to the tiny village of Guane. From the viewpoint behind the cemetery, the path descending down the canyon and across the plateau below can be seen, as well as the Rio Suarez in the distance.

What a great walk! We left shortly before 09:00 am, because then the first part, which takes you straight down, is still in the shade. Later it got really hot and there is only one little farm along the whole 9 kilometers trail that had a sign outside: “Se vende agua”. Otherwise, we only ran into an elderly lady herding her goats that nibbled on shrubs.

Again we enjoyed being emerged in complete tranquility and were quite surprised to reach Guane only after a leisurely 2 hour walk. Guane is an extremely quiet hamlet gathered around a plaza dominated by a small church made of the same okre colored blocks of stones like the churches in Barichara. After circling the plaza we dropped into one of the three restaurants, where we tried “cabrito”, young goat meat with some intestines as a side dish.

By noon a few other tourists had arrived, all Columbians, who chose to do the trip in their cars on the now paved road. Due to the heat and the prospect of an only uphill trek back to Barichara, we opted for the local minibus back.

Nothing less does this colonial village claim to be. So after “the land of adventure” we set camp in “Columbia’s most beautiful village”. When we arrived on a Sunday at around 03:00 pm you could hear a pin drop: nothing, no cars, hardly any people, no music from bars or backyards, the town had simply shut down for the hot hours.

Nothing we wanted more for ourselves!. While Gilles guarded our luggage in the shady plaza, Heidi checked every accommodation in town, a task which can be accomplished within half an hour, given the size of the “Pueblito”. Our choice, Hospedaje Aspentos, right on the plaza, is by far the best deal in town, a big, airy room for 80.000 COP or 30 Euros, while Posada La Nube asks for 180.000 COP for its très chic, but small and windowless rooms.

Their restaurant is excellent though, a sea fish served with carrot & ginger puree will be remembered, not cheap either. Unfortunately, Color de Hormiga, the restaurant famous for its filet mignon topped with a sauce made of giant ants, closes on Sundays at 05:00 pm. No mercy when we showed up at 06:00 pm, explaining we came all the way to try that dish. Nevertheless, we had the best food at the simple and relatively cheap Café Plenilunio.

Barichara takes great pride in its outstanding colonial architecture, but it does so in a less showy way than Villa de Leyva. It seems as if locals have chosen to live like this and accept the frequent tourists without getting too excited about them. When wandering through the quiet streets, only the many chaotic electrical lines overhead give away that we are in the 21st century.

This is the perfect place to relax and & chill out: quiet, very few travellers, at least during the week when Colombian visitors are not around and no party hostels. The whole purpose of coming here is to stroll through the cobble-stone streets, marvel at the unique colonial architecture and drop in a few churches.

At the village cemetery, we watched a senor announcing the beginning of mass at the adjacent little church by pulling long ropes to chime the tiny bells high up. “I have done so for 30 years”, he told us and then tied the ropes around a tomb stone and walked away. Yes, times stand still here it seems.

This rather unremarkable little town chose this high-flying title “the land of adventure”, because it attracts lots of tourists who sign up the various adrenaline-pumping activities. White water rafting ranging from a comfortable class 1 to a frightening class 5 is high on the agenda, followed by kayaking, caving, paragliding, abseiling, horseback riding, mountain biking, paint ball, bungee jumping and eco-walks are others we can remember.

Heidi chose a class 3 rafting tour down Rio Fonce and it was just perfect. For 1.5 hours she floated along a peaceful river with occasional rapids, surrounding by splendid scenery. The rivers banks are hugged by bamboo and huge trees covered with long silvery moss, like out of science fiction movie.

There is more challenging rafting down Rio Suarez, but Gilles wanted more, he reached for the sky. Tied to an instructor he took to the air over the “Zona Tabaca” for about 20 minutes. This is the first time Heidi felt that she really missed out on something, because of her own mental limitations.

San Gil itself is nothing to rave about, except its Parque El Gallineral, with its huge Gallinero trees covered with moss, called old men’s beard. The main plaza could be nice if it was not surrounded by choking traffic. San Gil is a hub in its very sense, all activities start somewhere in the countryside, about 10 to 15 kilometers from town.

Posada El Conde, right on the main plaza, was our base here. Though surrounded by noisy traffic, the rooms facing the market are quiet and the large common area is airy and comfortable, plus it features goodies like a kitchen and WiFi.

Apart from that Saturday nightlife is at your door step, we joined the crowd on the plaza for a bit of partying and drinking. After the usual exchange with other gringo travellers from the Maconda Hostel, a group of curious high school students chatted us up, curious about what we think of Columbia and why we came to visit.

El Fosil is a must excursion from Villa de Leyva, which you can do either on horseback, as we did, or with a jeep. Here, a 120 million year old baby “Kronosaurus” fossil is on display, at the very place where it was found in 1977. Since its tail went missing, it is “only” 7 meters in seize, making it the world’s largest complete fossil of this pre-historic marine reptile.

This part of Columbia, like, Tatacoa desert, was an ocean at the time of the Kronosauraus’ fatal end. Even nowadays, small fossils are so common here that they are used for decorating floors and walls in people’s homes.

Nearby El Infiernito was an astronomical observatory for the Muisca culture a few centuries AD. It is best described as two parallel rows, about 9 meters apart, of one meter high cylindrical stones. Within each row the stones are about 0.5 meter apart from each other. The length of the shadow cast by the stones helped the Muiscas determine the planting season. The day of shortest shadow told the beginning of summer, the day of the longest shadow signalled the winter season.

A bit further away giant upright phalluses garnish the scenery, symbols for the fertile soil so essential for the Muisca’s high developed agriculture. Thus also being a ritual site the early Christian conquistadores named this place El Infiernito / Little Hell in a desperate attempt to keep the Muiscas away from it.

Small flyers all over town promoted the performance of a group of dancers from Cordoba, Argentina. In a small outdoor venue the show began with great pathos: Argentine’s flag was carried in, we all rose for the country’s hymn, the directors were introduced and the Columbian people praised and thanked.

In the meantime, the young dancers waiting for their gig simply started to dance next to the stage. It kind of set the mood for what followed: a top performance of folkloristic dances from the Cordoba region presented in a firework of emotions and devotion that brought tears in your eyes.

The show ended in an invitation towards the audience to join a rather funny and easy dance, a “chacarera”. When we walked away we felt moved and euphoric, the spirit of the young dancers had definitely touched us.

Tell any Columbian you made the ancient colonial town of Villa de Leyva part of your trip through Columbia and you get raving descriptions of its beauty and nothing but praise for your good judgment. Located only 160 kilometers north of Bogota, it is a very, very popular weekend destination for city dwellers, who enjoy the clean air and dry climate in this charming town.

Having visited countless “most beautiful colonial towns” all over Latino America, we immediately noticed this one was different. Who has ever seen a plaza 120 meters x 120 meters in seize, all cobble stone with a tiny fountain in its center, surrounded by beautifully restored colonial homes? By the way, cobble stone streets here means a kind of terrain even tough to walk in trekking shoes.

Apart from the giant plaza, Villa de Leyva’s architecture differs from those of other famous colonial towns. All houses here are painted in elegant white, not the colorful melange of Salvador or Olinda in Brazil, Trinidad in Cuba or Cuidad Bolivar in Venezuela. But above all, it is extensive, not a tiny wee historic center with run-down barrios a few blocks away. Even the area further out - easily recognizable by its paved streets - is well-maintained and worth a visit.

Already in 1954 Villa de Leyva was declared a national monument for preserving its colonial character, so do not expect a hidden gem. Its enterprising inhabitants have turned their colonial homes into beautiful “hospedajes” or Boutique hotels, trendy restaurants or pricy handicraft shops. Monday to Thursday, the town is relatively tourist-free, it is on weekends, December to February and during the “Semana Santa” that the place is packed.

Hospedaria La Roca, right on Plaza Mayor is where we stayed for € 30,- per night including breakfast. So it does not qualify as a budget hostel, but it was worth every peso. Actually it is the place we enjoyed most so far, three weeks into the trip! The beautifully renovated colonial building is drowning in flowers and plants. The owner, a Dona who tightly controls the ongoing on her premises from a tiny bench, simply added another building behind the one facing the plaza. So it is delightfully quiet, although centralissimo.

At this point Restaurant Antique needs to be applauded. Again maybe not budget, for € 11,- per person, we enjoyed such tasty, exquisite food that it will always be remembered!

On our last day in town, sunshine touched Plaza de Bolivar and the thousands of pigeons that ascend on Bogota’s most famous square to feed on the maize that children throw at them. The very same children then take great pleasure in running into the throve of pigeons making them to fly off in panic. The plaza is surrounded by churches and official buildings underlying its importance.

Another landmark, Cerro Monserrate with its huge white church, we also saved for the very last evening. The funicular took us up to 3.152 meters in no time. The view of the 1.700 square kilometer capital below was even impressive with a light drizzle setting in.

Probably it takes more than four days to reveal Bogota’s true beauty, like its pulsating night life, which we did not have the energy to check out.

Most certainly we noticed the many positive initiatives that aim to improve Bogota’s enduring image of being a dangerous hotbed of drugs and street crime. One is the ambitious TransMilenio project, a super modern bus system with its own lanes that eventually replaced the too costly plan of a subway system. Sundays ciclovia is another one and also La Candelaria is getting a face lift, with more and more of the dilapidating colonial houses being restored.

Equipped with several phone numbers we arrived in Bogota, relatives or long time “amigos” of Leonardo, our Columbian friend and neighbor in Vienna. One was Carmen, a friend from Leonardo’s studies at the Academy of Art. Carmen’s family owns the very cozy Restaurante Rosita on the Plazoleta del Chorro de Quevedo, the supposedly very place where Santa Fé de Bogotá was founded in 1538.

At Rosita, an evening full of laughter, excellent food & wine received it final and perfect touch by two amazing musicians and singers. Claro & Obsuro, two extremely handsome young men performed with great charm for a very intimate circle of maybe 15 persons.

The following day we joined thousands of Bogatenos in the Ciclovia. Every Sunday and Holiday, 122 kilometers of Bogota’s busy streets are closed for traffic and people on bikes, skateboards, rollerblades or others simply walking or pushing a pram take over.

The streets are lined with legal and illegal food stalls selling anything from yummy fruit salads, “Arepas” to corn on the cob. Again we got so involved, enjoying the peaceful crowd and sampling the food that we biked to the most northern point of the Ciclovia and then cut across to the west as far as possible. Shortly before 02:00 pm, which is the time when the streets are turned over to cars and busses, we realized that we were still 80 blocks from La Candelaria.

By then we had already covered an ambitious 250 blocks and were simply exhausted. Black clouds announcing a downpour further dampened our morale. We had a vague map of this city of 8 million and with this we desperately tried to find a short cut to get back home. Heidi was in tears. Near collapsing we rode amidst horrid traffic partly through neighborhoods that even braver people would consider a no-go-zone.

Despite all this self-inflicted misery, we have no regrets. It is a real pity that tourists are not ready yet to use the Ciclovia to see more of Bogota than just La Candelaria. It even seems that they do no even explore this very center intensively, but eat, sleep and hang out in hostels recommended by the Lonely Planet.

Now let’s turn to the bright side of the city. The Museo del Oro leaves nobody untouched. Not only does it display an unbelievable 55.000 (!) pieces made of gold and other materials, but the museum is also very cleverly organized.

A short introduction of mining methods and techniques as how the precious metal was worked by the different cultures, leads to the most impressive and exhaustive section: a display of the incredibly delicate and beautiful ornaments that each culture in pre-Hispanic Columbia produced.

Although physically exhausted after leaving the Museo del Oro, we were so inspired that we headed straight for the Museo Botero. This is part of the “Museo de Arte del Banco de la Republica”. Yeap, this complex is as confusing as its very name. There are several entrances; the one we chose took us first through the Coleccion Numismatica of the Casa de Moneda. Rushing through displays of ancient coins and huge minting presses, we finally found the Botero exhibition.

We must confess that we approached this exhibit of Columbia’s most famous painter, Fernando Botero, with a certain suspicion. All we knew was that he focused on portraying and sculpturing “Gorditos”, chubby people / animals / anything. We did not expect to particularly like such kind of artistic presentation.

Well, we left as truly devoted fans of the artist. Botero makes a plump couple dancing together appear like floating weightless elves. Each and every piece is truly aesthetic and often humorous like the chubby-faced Mona Lisa.

Almost tipsy from all this terrific artwork, we even tried to get into the special exhibit, “Andy Warhol, Mr. America”. Luckily, there were so many people lined up that we called it a day and returned Monday refueled with energy. Although we had seen exhibits of Warhol’s work at several occasions, there were a few things that stuck. One was the very powerful installation depicting the four days immediately after John F. Kennedy’s assassination. Others were quotes by Warhol on topics like money or the USA.

Everyone we met before arriving in Bogota had a very clear opinion of the very capital - so we were curious which side we would end up taking, especially since we never really enjoy huge cities, with a few exceptions, like Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Aires, or … Hong Kong. Our first steps made us rather lean on the negative side. But all is not lost!

A painfully slow approach through Friday evening rush hour brought us to the very centre. This was followed by a nerve-raking research for liveable accommodation.

Like most backpackers, we stayed in La Candelaria, the partially preserved colonial centre. Doing this over a weekend, you either need to be a party animal or bring good ear plugs! Our search for a comfortable place took on epic dimensions. The very first night at the lovely, but pricey Casa Platypus was plagued by thumping meringue music from the neighbouring disco, as well as freezing temperatures in the room.

So Saturday morning we tried Hostal Fatima, a supposedly more upscale hostel. At 10.00 in the morning, some people were still holding on to whiskey glasses and swaying to the tunes. Next stop was Hostal Sue which had great vibes, but it felt more like an undergraduate fraternity house with the chaperon being on leave.

We really liked Posada del Sol, but no private rooms were available. So we turned to the Cranky Crook which seemed very cosy, but also had no private rooms. When we returned in the evening to give it another try, the little roofed courtyard was filled with chocking smoke.

Finally, just around the corner from Cranky Croc & Casa Platypus, we discovered the Hospedaje Cacique Sugamuxi, which was at least quiet inside. To make sure we checked the surroundings for clubs, bars and places that could produce loud music. Darn, we were caught by surprise, when the hairdresser across the street turned in a Casa de Cultura for the night and played “Indie Rock”!

But this was topped by a really scary experience the same night. Heidi heard a loud hissing noise and cars started honking like mad. Sticking her head through the window, she noticed the frightening odour of gas that had filled the entire street. Literally scared to death she raced to the “senora” on duty who called the fire fighters, who quickly got things under control.

Generally all hostels in the area are in old colonial buildings, with either tin or tiled roofs. A common characteristics are huge gaps where the roof should meet the walls to allow the chilly mountain air penetrate the room. At 2.600 meters altitude, this does not necessarily create a comfortable temperature. Travellers coughing while emerged in their Lonely Planet are a common sight, Bogota’s pollution caused by diesel spewing busses does not help either.

Some travellers we met along the way raved about this place and since it meant a nice break in the 9 hour bus ride from San Agustin to Bogota, we decided to check it out and we LOVED it. Located in the valley between the Cordillera Oriental & the Cordillera Central, it gets relatively little rain and being situated only 441 meters above sea level, means it is warm, really warm. What a nice change after the rather chilly evenings in San Agustin, Tierradentro and Salento.

The sleep town of Villavieja sits on the edge of in the desert, which by the way is not a real desert but rather a semi-arid area full of shrubs and cactuses. Immediately when we jumped off the bus on the huge plaza full of trees, Chopo, a young enterprising man approached us. He had invested in a small vehicle, a motorbike attached to a small cart sitting four people. For 60.000 pesos he offered a four hour long trip to the main attractions of the desert and also had advice on accommodation.

While Gilles negotiated the trip, Heidi checked out the home of Dona Pasqua, her daughters and great children. The super friendly family rents out two rooms, looking into a courtyard full of plants. So within ten minutes after arrival, we were set to start our excursion to Desierto de Tatacoa. An experience we would not want to miss for anything!

There is a small observatory 4 kilometers from town, next to a makeshift restaurant and a campsite. A week before we arrived, 800 people had gathered there celebrating the annual Fiesta de Estrellas, a three night party every July at the full moon. Unfortunately, the observatory was closed when we visited.

A short walk down takes you into amidst incredible rock formation of different reddish colours, the “Laberintos de Cusco” (Cusco Labyrinths), dotted with different cactuses. The little towers, cliff and ravines were sculptured by the wind and infrequent rain. This place definitely runs under “a highlight” of our whole trip so far. Continuing down a dirt road in our moto-taxi, brought us to the highest point of the desert called “Ventanas” (fensters), which we found of little interest.

Also the natural swimming pool at Los Hoyos did not take our breath away. What makes this place very special are the bizarre rock formations that leave little room for interpretation: these are ghosts or “Fantasmas”. We just got back to the observatory in time to watch a spectacular sunset and chat with some of the over 40 school kids from Bogota. They truly were enjoying their school trip, sleeping in tents and munching cake and French fries for dinner. Shortly we had contemplated sleeping in the desert, but were afraid it would be too cold and too boring to spend the time between sunset and falling asleep. How wrong we were, it never got really cold at night and at least at the conservatory a generator provides electricity until 10:00 at night.

Back in “town” we enjoyed a beer on the plaza. Just to be able to sit outside in the evening made us so ecstatic that we even considered staying another day. But the high temperatures already in the morning made us continue our trip straight away to Bogota.

Since it is quite a way to get to San Agustin, we decided to make the most of it, especially given the stunning landscape surrounding the town.

Our first day in San Agustin we spent in the archaeological park, strolling through a lush forest where about 130 sculptures peek from around every corner. Some are really fine work, others look a bit weathered. Only a few were originally found in that area but most of them were taken here from the surrounding hills. The museum itself exhibits pottery, jewelry and some background information about the San Agustin culture.

The following day, Pacho took us around the scenic hills on his most patient horses to more remote sites. This was an unforgettable experience, in perfect weather we soaked in the beautiful scenery. This was definitely the best way to reach the remote sites of El Tablon, La Chaquira, La Pelota and El Purutal. La Chaquira is particularly special, there faces are carved into the rocks and the view of the still tiny Rio Magdalena deep down below is stunning.

The third day, we ventured even further out in a jeep, together with a very nice couple from Salento. Our first stop was at the El Estrecho, the narrowest part of the Rio Magdalena, with only slightly more than 2 meters. A deadly place it seems, the crosses along the river demonstrate the unbelievable force of the water and commemorate the 15 people who have drowned there. Alto de los Idolos, among many sculptures, is home of the largest statue (7 meters) in San Agustin, in Alto de Los Piedras we marveled at the famous Doble Yo, a statue with four figures carved from a single block.

On the way we passed endless fields of sugar cane and eventually stopped at a “Trapiche”, where we had a chance to watch the entire process to making “Panela”. “Trapiche” is the word for the very place where this happens, but also for the machine that squeezes the juice from the stalks. The freshly cut sugar cane is brought there by horses and then stuffed in the press - “Trapiche”. The juice spills straight into a basin that is heated by burning the dried stalks left after the juice is extracted. The boiling juice is than scooped in other basins, in each the liquid is reduced until it is poured into molds. Once hardened it is packed into bags holding nine bricks of “Panela” and taken to the market to be sold.

Tourism in Columbia, apart from Cartagena, has been picking up slowly over the last few years, with the vast majority being domestic tourists finally daring to leave their cities and venture into rural areas.

In San Agustin, Columbia’s main archeological site we came across the following statistics. In 2008, a total of 13.543 visitors visited the more remote site of Altos de los Idolos, of which were 11.680 Colombians (85%) and 1.683 (!!!) foreigners. The biggest numbers are German (279), French (178) & USA (173), with only 34 Austrian (ranking 13th).

The proportion here is very much in favor of foreigners, because to reach Altos de los Idolos you need to rent a jeep for 150.000 Pesos for up to 5 people and Columbians usually shun this expense. Although we found out that local tourists always pay less, no matter what, renting a “caballo”, a jeep, even in restaurants they sometimes get a discount…

Little to nothing is known about the civilization that chiseled these mysterious sculptures from volcanic rocks about 5.000 years ago, making it one the oldest cultures in the Americas.

Unfortunately, as so many ancient civilizations in the Americas, it had no writing and had disappeared before the Spanish arrived. So scientists provide this or that hypothesis to explain the statues large and small. Nevertheless, the true meaning of them might very well remain a mystery forever.

First excavations began in 1913 and 1914, and several sites have only been discovered as recently as 1993. Local farmers were the first to discover the stone slabs, but they were only interested in the offerings inside the tombs next to the sculpture. Beside there was no way for the “campesinos” to carry these huge blocks away, sometimes they even tumbled them down the slope which caused considerable damage to them.

Yeap we did it, arriving in San Agustin not knowing it was Columbia’s Independence Day! Naturally, any half way decent room was gone, considering that this is one of Columbia’s major tourist attractions. No, there are plenty of hostels, but very few meet the expectations of foreigners: access to reliable information on onward transport / sights / tours, Internet, laundry service and most important exchange of current information with other travelers. The use of a kitchen is a great plus, since “frijoles, arroz y pollo” gets a bit boring. This is not a joke, that is the never ending diet in cheap restaurants!

So for the first night we ended up at the very friendly and arty “Casa de Francois”. There, the above mentioned infrastructure is superb. Francois is really dedicated to help travelers and make them feel at home. Francois’ wife even bakes “real” bread, which is a highly appreciated change to the local sweetish one made of maize. Another big advantage, although the hostel is high above the village, a local bus passes nearby. Unfortunately, only a very small, windowless room with shower and toilet outside was all that was available. Normally this would not bother us, but Heidi has a bad cold and the evenings and nights here can be chilly, especially if it is raining.

So upon Heidi’s repeated requests, we moved to Casa de Nelly, which has beautifully decorated rooms and a tropical garden that leaves you speechless. BUT, the place is quite outside the village and far from everything. None of the above mentioned infrastructure was available and since we were the only non-Columbian guests, this limited our social interactions. Although Arturo, a friend of the owner made up it, at least in Heidi’s opinion... He never ran out of stories and was always surrounded by a rather bohemian crowd.

On our first evening we hiked all the way to Hostal El Marco, owned by a Swiss guy, René. Even if it received “our pick” in the Lonely Planet, that particular evening even this place looked depressing. The rain had turned the lawn into a murky affair and sitting in an open air restaurant just did not seem appropriate in this chilly weather. Our mood improved when our meal, a delicious curry arrived, the whole reason why we came out here and climbed the steep hill. Although Rene was fully booked, we only ran into one other guest who happily joined us for dinner, a charming lady from Arizona with Puerto Rican ancestors.

One day we even passed the more up-scale Hostal Anacoana, if we had known it is also on the local bus route we might have given it a try, but again it is one of these beautiful, comfortable, scenic place, but lonely since it is way above a traveler’s budget.

Until we reached Popayan, the roads we travelled were excellent. These conditions changed rapidly when we travelled from Popayan to Tierradentro and further on to San Agustin. These two trips, a few times, reminded us of the notorious “Death Road” in Bolivia. The main difference is that there is very little traffic here. The cliff is also “only” a few hundred meters deep, not one thousand.

Chivas is one mode of public transport in rural Columbia. These old Dodge buses huff and puff up steep mountains roads, changing gear often causes frightening noises. Basically, we wondered that these busses do not fall apart. The others are tiny pick-up trucks. It is needless to mention that all these are hopelessly overloaded. Only briefly did we reflect on how the brakes handle the excessive weight. Of course there are “normal” busses, but those do not run frequently.

To cover the 120 kilometers from Popayan to Tierradentro took us 6 hours, which was topped by the 9 hour trip between Tierradentro and San Agustin. The distance you would never guess: 130 kilometers! This voyage is particularly tricky, since the eruption of the volcano Nevado del Huila last year created such landslides that the bridge crossing the Rio Cauca was washed away. This is not the first time this has happened: in the mid-1980s, whole villages were destroyed in that valley killing more than 1.500 people.

Since the bridge was only replaced by a little swaying footbridge, these are your options: rent a jeep or motorbike in Tierradentro to get to the bridge 10 kilometers away, walk across, then get into one of the Chivas waiting on the other side to take you to La Plata, next bigger town. Or, endure a 3 hour detour on roads that cannot be found on any map...this trip also eventually ends in La Plata.

Chivas are old Dodge busses used for local transport in rural areas and look quite intriguing: the cab is painted in wild colors and so is the interior, which consists of five wide rows of painted wooden benches each sitting six people.

There is no aisle and no windows, each row is entered individually. Thus the sides of the bus are wide open and airy. Sacks of merchandise and people pile onto the roof of these vehicles. On markets days, the number of people and especially the cargo takes on dimensions hard to describe. The loading of a Chiva at the end of market day reminds of loading a cargo plane, it takes up to two hours. Once it starts moving, it stops again at every house and path along the way to allow people to get off with their shopping.

Not knowing that there is no other kind of transport, we foolishly decided to visit the Saturday market at Inza, the bigger village next to San Andres. Chivas will pass every few minutes we were told, to take us to the market. As a matter of fact, we waited for 1.5 hour for the Chiva taking us to Inza.

The main staple sold there is coffee, vegetables, fruits, clothes and shoes. One item offered definitely we found intriguing: an ointment made from huge snails’ “saliva”. Supposedly it helps against any kind of pains.

Obviously it is very unusual to encounter foreigners here, lots of people stared at us in amazement, like “what the hell are you doing here?” After about 1.5 hour strolling around aimlessly, we decided we had enough and tried to get one of the “supposedly” many Chivas going back to San Andres. First challenge was to figure out which Chiva goes where, of course people gave contradictory information. When we finally found the right one, it was already packed with people, but somehow we pushed our way in and the long wait for the bus to be elaborately loaded began.

After more than 1.5 hour, we were told we were on the wrong bus, and that the bus next to us was the right one. Only when we got out, we figured out that it was not true, but then our seats were already taken. Our new bus was not less crowded but now we were so furious, so we no longer took “no” for an answer. We just climbed into the seats next to the driver, although “reserved” by stacks of cartons of eggs and sacks of maize. Against his repeated protest, we put the stuff on our laps and did not budge. Enough was enough!

During the last minutes before “take off”, the driver gulped down a can of beer, definitely not the first one that day. After 30 minutes we stopped - another big bottle was downed in less than two minutes. These are the moments when we wonder if people back home would found any compassion for us tumbling down a cliff…

Interestingly, there are presently mainly foreign tourists in Tierratentro. Why? A group of Columbian university students brought light into this affair. There is a Columbian website that informs local tourists whether an area is safe to travel. If not, it is “Zona Roja” or Red Zone, where either the FARCS or the Paramilitary Militias are active. We were just glad we did not know all this. More comforting was the information we received from locals that there has never been any trouble around here.

The name Tierradentro says it all - amazing underground tombs are scattered around the slopes of this most scenic valley. Scientists believe that between the 7th and 9th century these tombs, the only ones of this kind in the Americas, were dug out of soft volcanic rock to place urns filled with bones.

Thus these tombs are secondary burial sites, which means the dead were initially first buried in tiny stone chambers and later moved to here. The minute we arrived we fell in love with the place and immediately agreed to stay for a few days. Although for those in a rush, the various burials sites could be visited in one day. At the entrance of the archaeological park, we received a little map that suggested following a 4 hour circular walk that covers all five sites.

Segovia, the most important burial site, is an easy 25 minutes climb, there a warden received us and opened one tomb after the other for us to climb down. The opening of these tombs is covered with a kind of lid which is closed with a padlock, so much for security. Of the 28 tombs at the Segovia site, about 12 are accessible and lit. Most fascinating, they are quite different, some are up to 9 meter deep, other only a few steps below. The bigger ones have pillars to support the doomed roof. Many are decorated with geometric motifs in red, black or white colors. Some of the pillars or niches are embellished with faces carved into the rock. One was even full with urns scattered around, which to us look more like big pots.

The climb down gets easier with each tomb, but the huge steps often made us wish to have legs like a giant. Actually it takes quite a while to visit all of Segovia, especially if there are a few visitors around, only two or three people can squeeze into one tomb.

After another short climb we reached El Duende. These tombs are less impressive, but the walk and the view are not to be missed. We skipped El Tablon because the sculptures displayed there are not that great and headed straight for San Andres, the very village. The village church took us by surprise, an old adobe building from the 18th century with a thatched roof, like out of a movie.

Almost all houses had coffee beans spread out in front to dry in the sun, even the street was used to do so. At La Portada, the only restaurant in San Andres, we enjoyed an excellent lunch and were shown around the house made of bamboo. Incredibly beautiful! Leonardo, the owner, had built this, as well as the hostel across the road, so new that nobody knows about it yet.

By then the temperature made us call it a day and explore El Aquacate and Alto the San Andres - on the other slope of the valley - the next day. Happily we retreated to our latest favorite hostel - El Refugio. After spending 354 days travelling Around The World and staying in 174 different places, we have become almost obsessed with judging the quality of our temporary home, and for € 17.50 this place rules. Nice, quiet rooms arranged around a garden and a deep blue pool. All the hostels are all a few kilometers down the road, next to the entrance of the museum, except one hostel that has just opened, opposite to the restaurant La Portada.

Silvia, a village situated at 2.650 meters, about an hour drive from Popayan, is the centre of the Guambiano region, one of Columbia’s most traditional indigenous groups. The Guambiano still use their language and dress in colourful clothes, especially for market day. Then the men wear blue skirts, wrapped around their waste, thin hand-woven ponchos and a bowler hat. The women sport voluminous black skirts, large blue shawls around their shoulder held together by safety pins.

They live in the surrounding villages and arrive in throngs for the Tuesday market in Silvia to sell their agricultural products, turning this picturesque village in a sea of blue. To us it seemed their main crop consists of spring onions, sometimes a whole family, or a few women stand behind a bundle of this vegetable and you wander whether this is worth the trip.

But considering the large groups of Guambianos who just hang out at the plaza it also seems a social event to meet up with friends. When they leave Silvia early afternoon, sacks full of newly purchased goods pile up high on the roof of their colourful Chiva busses. One of the most popular products is “Panela” made from sugar cane. It is sold in large square junks, the size of a brick and is so sweet that it is impossible to be consumed just like that.

After our experiences at the Sunday market in remote Tarabuco / Bolivia, where the indigenous did not react too well when being photographed, we were cautious. For a few hours we just walked around the market area and the plaza, looked, observed and bought some vegetables for dinner.

Since it still was a bit chilly in the morning, Heidi bought the blue woollen shawl that Guambiano women wear and triggered a sensation. All of a sudden people were all smiles. Everybody made comments how beautiful Heidi looked in this dress and all that was missing was the white bead necklace that makes this attire complete. We passed on that, also repeated offers to purchase a bowler hat. Since the market area is rather small, by noon everybody knew us and we had lots of opportunity to take photos without getting anybody upset.

During the five or six hours we spent in Silvia we counted exactly 15 other tourists, a lot more than in Popayan where we still are the only gringos roaming the street.

In the previous text on Popayan we marvelled why relatively few tourists visit this city, despite its beautiful colonial centre and scenic surroundings. One guess is, travellers easily bypass what is not clearly marked as a high-light in their “bible”, the Lonely Planet and the number of other kinds of tourists is still marginal.

Another reason could be the city’s lack of modern tourist infrastructure. A few examples: the tourist information is staffed with friendly soldiers who have no clue of what is going on. We asked them about a dance festival that was widely advertised and got nothing but blank stares. Feeling somehow devoted to this city, we paid tribute to the two small museums Guillermo Valencia and Casa Museo Mosquera. Well, only those who have never ever seen a selection of 18th & 19th century colonial furniture, weapons, paintings may be really impressed. It did not help that the assigned soldier guides rattled of what they were told to memorize.

Also accommodation is a bit tricky. Yes, there is a new Scottish owned hostel in town, HostalTrail. It provides everything backpackers need: super modern, clean rooms, reliable information, Internet, cold beer, laundry, a TV room, but unfortunately it is situated right on a busy bus route and a super noisy intersection. On top of that, the building is so modern that once you enter you lose all feeling for where you are - it could be Stockholm.

For these reasons, we checked into Hotel Los Balcones, located in a 200 year old colonial building with grand rooms and furniture dating from colonial times. No, it is not within a backpacker’s price range, but we decided to dish out the € 36,- per night and reside in a two room suite with a small kitchen. Actually the main reason we moved to Los Balcones was that Heidi needed a quiet place to work that has WIFI. Guess what: the Internet is down! Not that anybody noticed it, since we are the only people in the whole hotel using it. Luckily, we found the Juan Valdez Café on the main plaza that has WIFI in a quiet patio…

The conditions of some roads does not help either: to cover the 115 kilometres from Popayan to San Augustin, Columbia’s most famous archaeological site, takes 6 to 8 (!!!) hours, same dilemma for Tierradentro. So those tourists really interested in visiting these places probably will use the good road from Bogota, never setting a foot into Popayan.

Our initial reaction, after we read about this city in our guide book, was “Yeah, another Ciudad Blanca / White City”. Did not Arequipa / Peru adorn itself with the same fancy title? Only to have its few white colonial buildings disappear in a madness of honking cars / busses and exhaust fumes that make you dizzy?

What a difference! Popayan’s historic centre truly deserves to be called Ciudad Blanca! Literally every building is beautifully restored with elegant iron grills in front of the windows and massive wooden doors also decorated with iron works.

Most of the historic buildings house busy government offices, banks or insurance companies. Since Popayan is the capital of the department of Cauca, during the day the centre is milling with people lining up for whatever service they have come for. The city is also famous for its many colonial churches, and there surely is a demand - they are packed with worshippers in the evening, even on week days.

All this is even more impressive considering that many of the buildings were damaged or even destroyed in various earthquakes that plagued the city, the last one as recent as 1983.

Considering all these assets, why did it take two days of wandering around in the city before we encountered the first tourist? A wild guess - it is not earmarked as a must-place to go in the Lonely Planet. Let’s face it, backpackers are more or less the only tourists in Columbia, except maybe for Cartagena. So mainly travellers on their way to Ecuador stop here, maybe do a side trip to Silvia, and then move on. Few like us have the time or take the time to explore the area.

The bus trip from Armenia to Popayan first takes you through never ending fields of sugar cane. After Cali, the scenery becomes more diverse, a wild melange of banana, mango and palm trees, giant bamboo, sugar cane and once in a while a random, completely out of place pine tree.>

But Cali also is an obvious divide in the ethnic make-up of the population. The fair-skinned local breed in Salento and the neighbouring cities does not miss a chance to brag about their Spanish ancestors. But hey, not some “campesino” from Andalusia, oh no! That region was settled by Conquistadores from the Basque Country, they proudly tell.

Well, Cali is different. There is a large black population and you find every shade of colour in between. Arriving in Popayan, the strong presence of an indigenous population makes you immediately aware that the Andes are very close: from Popayan it is only a daytrip to Ecuador.

This out-of-the-world-scenic valley stretches to the east of Salento. Jeeps starts early in the morning from there and after 30 minutes drop you off at the trail head. The first hour of the hike takes you through a narrow valley with slopes and ridges dotted with mega-tall wax-palm trees. Although we started off on a very sunny morning, big clouds of mist floated through the valley hiding the palm trees, but soon setting them free again. The other part of the trek takes you straight through the cloud forest, the canopy immediately closes overhead and you feel completely immersed in green, lush rain forest.

The trek is relatively easy but partly muddy and can be explored on foot or on horseback. Mostly it runs along the Rio Quindio, which needs to be crossed at least six times, mainly on a couple of trees thrown across. Once we used a real bridge, which could have been out of an Indiana Jones movie, unstable with rotten blanks.

While the Columbian tourists prefer to move around on a “caballo”, the few “gringos” vigorously march the 5km up to the Acaime reserve, basically a farm. There, at 2.710 meter, an elderly indigenous lady awaits the weary trekker with a mug of hot chocolate accompanied by a huge junk of cheese. Sounds like a strange combination, but it actually tastes delicious. While we rested on the steps of the farm house, a bunch of fearless hummingbirds zipped by us like fighter planes.

Fit wanderers climb even further up, an agonizing, lung-bursting 5km to Estrella de la Aqua, before heading back to Cocora. Since we heard mixed reports about the maybe not so great view from up there, Heidi opted for the less painful version and Gilles happily joined in.

No, it does not rain coffee, as this popular song claims, but nevertheless there is plenty around here in the Zona Cafetera.

Even though we visited quite a few coffee plantations in other countries, like Bolivia or on Atiu, Cook Islands, we could not resist joining Tim, or Don Eduardo, as he likes to call himself, our host, on a tour through his new “Finca”. No regrets, he explained with great expertise and enthusiasm every step of the process that it takes to finally enjoy a cup of coffee.

To make it short, after the red or yellow beans are hand-picked in November, they are peeled, soaked, dried and taken to Jesus, the local master in the art of roasting coffee. All work on a coffee plantation is done by hand. Only for peeling the beans a very simple machine is used. For this hard work, 5.5 days a week, local farm hands on Tim’s Finca get minimum wage, $ 220 USD a month, which he claims is not the rule.

Did you know that it takes around 70 coffee beans to make you a decent cup of coffee and that one coffee tree will produce around 0.5 kg of ready to consume coffee?

Okay, one last bit of data - in 2007 Columbia produced 14% of the world’s coffee, which makes it a major player in the coffee market. Unfortunately, the harvest of 2008 has been extremely bad, due to the heavy rain shortly before the harvest.

One idea Tim developed sounds very promising - your very personalized coffee. This idea is based upon a concept already used by wine producers. The customer can lease a minimum of 10 plants. The coffee produced by these plants is harvested and processed separately and then sent to this customer as “his own special coffee.

Salento is a small village perched on the foothills of the Andes in the middle of Zona Cafetera. Apart from the scenic surroundings, the village’s particular charm stems from its picturesque “Paisa” architecture. The small houses are painted in bright white, but the wooden shutters that serve as windows and the doors come in all colours. Often a tiny balcony adorns the home. Especially the plaza around the village church features some impressive buildings, which all host a bar on street level.

Now, do not draw the wrong conclusions from the abundance of drinking holes - to call the village tranquil is probably a wild exaggeration! That is the reasons why backpackers hardly ever stay for the weekend, but head for Cali or Medellin for some serious partying. Que pena, because they miss the city coming alive on Saturdays, with busloads of Columbian tourists from Bogota, Medellin, Cali or Pereira. Here they soak up the fresh air and eat trout, the local specialties.

Salento is also home of a vivid artist colony who sells jewellery, artefacts made from bamboo and local garb, like “campesino” hats or ponchos. The stalls line the narrow street leading from the plaza to the steps of the mirador. The benches along this stretch are popular hang outs for local men who preferably dress in robber boots, ponchos and a smart hat, carrying a small whip seems a must.

The charm of Salento, the stunning scenery around it and the pleasant climate have attracted an ever increasing number of tourists. Although the vast majority is Columbians from the big cities, backpackers can be spotted in the more and more frequently, especially after the first hostel, the Plantation House, opened five years ago. Here travellers from all corners of the world meet, exchange their stories and receive valuable information from Tim, the British owner and his Columbian wife Christiana.

On July 7th, we reunited in Panama City, when Heidi arrived from Vienna. The following day we took a tiny plane to Pereira / Columbia, since it is this country we finally want to explore over the next seven weeks.

Our first impression of Colombia was fascinating. We got a great view of the Zona Cafetera when the plane approached Pereira. The sheer beauty of the land beneath made Heidi immediately forget that she was in a small plane and really afraid. Only if you know how much she hates being in what she calls “these little tin boxes”, will you comprehend how impressive it was what we saw below.

Green hills ending in a sharp ridge with slopes that seemed to have been scratched with a huge fork. Set in between you could spot splendid “Fincas” with swimming pools surrounded by a belt of high trees to guarantee absolute privacy. Quaint villages perched on small plateaux completed this picture-postcard vista. Immediately we decided that we liked this place very much.

Our positive first impressions were confirmed by the kind reception at the airport, the quick and reliable onward public transport to Armenia & finally Salento, our first “base” in Columbia.