Finally we were heading somewhere where the locals would be able to understand me when I spoke...or so I thought.
We arrived at about 12.20am after an uneventful flight to New York via San Jose (Costa Rica). After being stamped in by possibly the most disinterested customs agent I have ever met, we got a taxi and headed to our hotel. The bit I was least looking forward to was tipping but I had read up on the net about the tipping etiquette and was ready. I tipped the taxi driver and he sprung out of the car and helped us with our bags with a big grin so I guess I got it right?
Over the next few days we saw quite a few sights around New York including the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the world trade centre site, empire state building and even watched 'Chicago' on Broadway on my birthday. The whole are of Manhattan seems very nice and pretty clean and the subways work well too.
The main language in New York is English. I too also believe that I can speak English. However there seemed to be a large number of people in shops and restaurants who seemed to have quite a lot of difficulty in figuring out what I was saying!! I know that there are varying degrees of the Australian accent and I probably have a reasonably strong accent, however I pride myself on usually being able to speak clearly enough so that people can understand me. Sometimes I felt that I should try speaking in Spanish as I might have been able to be understood better!!
Overall though, we had a great time in New York and would recommend it for a look. Soon enough it was time to head back out to the airport and for an overnight flight back to London and back to the flat. So after 5 and 1/2 weeks, 5 countries, about 37 empanadas, 24 Banana daiquiris, 12 Long Island Ice teas and just a couple of beers, our honeymoon was over.
Sunday 10 February 2008
In to Venezuela and the beach of Adicora
We took a bus from Cartagena (Colombia) to Maracaibo (Venezuela). The bus was another luxury style bus and this time an international bus! It was going all the way to the capital (Caracas) but we wanted to spend a couple of days on the coast before getting to Caracas which we had heard nothing good about!
The border crossing was quite tense due to everyone's bad stories and the fact that some other friends had told us that they nearly got left at this border crossing a year earlier, except for the fact that one of them spoke fluent Spanish! With my Spanish best described as a combination of 2 word sentences and charades, I felt a little nervous. We followed people from our bus to the Colombian border post where we got stamped out. We then walked the 150m or so across 'no man's land' to the Venezuelan border post. As everyone lined up there was 2 girls there filling out everyone's forms for them and then giving them a small tip. So we handed over our passports and they filled out our forms. My occupation was a squiggle and Melinda's something similar! So I guess that was good as we could just make it up?!
We were 25m in Venezuela with no problems and waiting around with our driver and fellow passengers while the bus in front of us had all their luggage searched. The sun was setting and the driver went over to talk to one of the Venezuelan police men. The driver came back and shooed everyone on the bus. It seems we had come to some 'agreement' of 5 Bolivars per passenger (about US$1.25 at the black market rate/ $2.50 at the official rate) and our delays would 'disappear'. So we were off again towards Maracaibo, our destination.
As we came in to Maracaibo, the drivers asked me where I wanted to get off. I told them I wanted to go to the bus terminal. 'No this bus doesn't go to the terminal' they told me. OK, take me to the town centre. No, we don't go there either. Then they suggested 'Plaza de Toros?' What the bloody hell would I want to go there for I wondered as I madly looked at my guidebook map. Next thing, he has stopped the bus and his assistant has got off to get our bags. We jumped off the bus to keep an eye on our bags. He got them off as I kept on asking (in Spanish) 'where is a taxi???' over and over. In this part of the world, not all taxis are yellow with big signs on them and some of them are dodgy people who like to take you for a ride via several ATM's (cash machines) while you empty your account for them. The cheeky bastard looked around and then ran and jumped on the bus as it took off.
Shit.
My first words to Melinda was 'try not to look nervous', followed by 'welcome to Venezuela' and some other choice adjectives about the bus driver, his assistant, their ancestry and my hopes for their near future. In fairness, there was lots of young, professional looking people around who also looked like they were waiting for taxis. I finally managed to see the tiny 'taxi' sticker on an old bashed up car. We got in and I told the guy where we wanted to go. It turns out he knew the hotel and was very friendly and gave us his phone number in case we needed any help (or another taxi ride). We got to the hotel and after a long discussion in Spanish and a few kilometres walking around the area looking for an ATM I finally came to an arrangement of how to pay for the hotel up front. (Everywhere else in South America so far let us pay when we left).
The next day we left Maracaibo ASAP and headed for Coro. As it was Melinda's birthday the next day we splurged on a nicer hotel and hung out in town. On Melinda's birthday, we caught a collectivo/taxi out to a famous windsurfing town on the Caribbean coast called Adicora. So after a day and night on the beach, it was time to start our long journey to Caracas and on to the plane to New York.
I wont bore you with the details but in summary:
- An overnight bus to Caracas
- My belly decided it was time to get sick for the first time on the whole trip at about 3am (on the bus)
- 3 hours waiting for dawn in the bus terminal (bus was 3 hours early!!!!)
- 10 hours waiting in the airport terminal
The border crossing was quite tense due to everyone's bad stories and the fact that some other friends had told us that they nearly got left at this border crossing a year earlier, except for the fact that one of them spoke fluent Spanish! With my Spanish best described as a combination of 2 word sentences and charades, I felt a little nervous. We followed people from our bus to the Colombian border post where we got stamped out. We then walked the 150m or so across 'no man's land' to the Venezuelan border post. As everyone lined up there was 2 girls there filling out everyone's forms for them and then giving them a small tip. So we handed over our passports and they filled out our forms. My occupation was a squiggle and Melinda's something similar! So I guess that was good as we could just make it up?!
We were 25m in Venezuela with no problems and waiting around with our driver and fellow passengers while the bus in front of us had all their luggage searched. The sun was setting and the driver went over to talk to one of the Venezuelan police men. The driver came back and shooed everyone on the bus. It seems we had come to some 'agreement' of 5 Bolivars per passenger (about US$1.25 at the black market rate/ $2.50 at the official rate) and our delays would 'disappear'. So we were off again towards Maracaibo, our destination.
As we came in to Maracaibo, the drivers asked me where I wanted to get off. I told them I wanted to go to the bus terminal. 'No this bus doesn't go to the terminal' they told me. OK, take me to the town centre. No, we don't go there either. Then they suggested 'Plaza de Toros?' What the bloody hell would I want to go there for I wondered as I madly looked at my guidebook map. Next thing, he has stopped the bus and his assistant has got off to get our bags. We jumped off the bus to keep an eye on our bags. He got them off as I kept on asking (in Spanish) 'where is a taxi???' over and over. In this part of the world, not all taxis are yellow with big signs on them and some of them are dodgy people who like to take you for a ride via several ATM's (cash machines) while you empty your account for them. The cheeky bastard looked around and then ran and jumped on the bus as it took off.
Shit.
My first words to Melinda was 'try not to look nervous', followed by 'welcome to Venezuela' and some other choice adjectives about the bus driver, his assistant, their ancestry and my hopes for their near future. In fairness, there was lots of young, professional looking people around who also looked like they were waiting for taxis. I finally managed to see the tiny 'taxi' sticker on an old bashed up car. We got in and I told the guy where we wanted to go. It turns out he knew the hotel and was very friendly and gave us his phone number in case we needed any help (or another taxi ride). We got to the hotel and after a long discussion in Spanish and a few kilometres walking around the area looking for an ATM I finally came to an arrangement of how to pay for the hotel up front. (Everywhere else in South America so far let us pay when we left).
The next day we left Maracaibo ASAP and headed for Coro. As it was Melinda's birthday the next day we splurged on a nicer hotel and hung out in town. On Melinda's birthday, we caught a collectivo/taxi out to a famous windsurfing town on the Caribbean coast called Adicora. So after a day and night on the beach, it was time to start our long journey to Caracas and on to the plane to New York.
I wont bore you with the details but in summary:
- An overnight bus to Caracas
- My belly decided it was time to get sick for the first time on the whole trip at about 3am (on the bus)
- 3 hours waiting for dawn in the bus terminal (bus was 3 hours early!!!!)
- 10 hours waiting in the airport terminal
Cartagena and the carribean coast
An overnight bus saw us in Cartagena with the carribean coast and heat. The bus was quite comfortable and almost like business class on an aeroplane reclining seats and leg rests. Once we reached the bus station, we had to take another smaller mini bus in to town as the main bus terminal was about 10km out of town. It got pretty crowded and with our packs sitting our laps, pretty soon neither Blake, Melinda or I had any idea when to get off. We'd all assumed someone else was navigating! So we got off somewhere and caught a taxi to the hostel we'd picked.
We arrived at the hostel that Martin and Fred said they would try first and it was full. We asked her if Fred and Martin were there and she said 'sorry chicos'. I noticed a few people were calling us 'chicos' which means 'guys' in Spanish. All I could think of was 'Chico babies', some lollies (sweets) we have at home like jelly babies...
Any how, we went around the corner to the hostel she recommended (and had rang for us) and as we checked in we saw Martin and Fred's name on the register! So we asked and the guy said that they had just checked out!! So we had no idea what they were up to so we dumped our gear and headed out in to town to explore.
Cartagena was the main port where all the gold and other riches of South America was sent to Europe on Spanish ships. This made it quite vulnerable to attack by pirates and so the whole place is a series of fortresses. Even the English had a crack at Cartagena and Sir Francis Drake managed to extract a hefty fee to leave them alone. Funnily enough the Spanish refer to him as a terrible pirate and the English seem to revere him. We saw a maritime museum and a castle as well as some lounging about in the shade to escape the heat.
The castle we went to was quite impressive and afterwards, we (Melinda, Blake and I) decided we would walk back to our hostel. On the way back we saw a bloke running towards us holding something in one hand and a knife in the other. We were walking over a bridge and he was heading for under the bridge. We soon saw a crowd come around the corner with bats and assorted weaponry! They were yelling at the bloke with the knife who seemed to be taunting them and daring them to follow him under the bridge!!! They obviously knew something we didn't as the weren't keen on following him. Anyway we didn't bother hanging around to find out what happened next and pressed on back in to town.
So with a final night out on the town, we were resigned to the fact that our time in South America was running out fast and we had to press on to Venezuela the next day.
We arrived at the hostel that Martin and Fred said they would try first and it was full. We asked her if Fred and Martin were there and she said 'sorry chicos'. I noticed a few people were calling us 'chicos' which means 'guys' in Spanish. All I could think of was 'Chico babies', some lollies (sweets) we have at home like jelly babies...
Any how, we went around the corner to the hostel she recommended (and had rang for us) and as we checked in we saw Martin and Fred's name on the register! So we asked and the guy said that they had just checked out!! So we had no idea what they were up to so we dumped our gear and headed out in to town to explore.
Cartagena was the main port where all the gold and other riches of South America was sent to Europe on Spanish ships. This made it quite vulnerable to attack by pirates and so the whole place is a series of fortresses. Even the English had a crack at Cartagena and Sir Francis Drake managed to extract a hefty fee to leave them alone. Funnily enough the Spanish refer to him as a terrible pirate and the English seem to revere him. We saw a maritime museum and a castle as well as some lounging about in the shade to escape the heat.
The castle we went to was quite impressive and afterwards, we (Melinda, Blake and I) decided we would walk back to our hostel. On the way back we saw a bloke running towards us holding something in one hand and a knife in the other. We were walking over a bridge and he was heading for under the bridge. We soon saw a crowd come around the corner with bats and assorted weaponry! They were yelling at the bloke with the knife who seemed to be taunting them and daring them to follow him under the bridge!!! They obviously knew something we didn't as the weren't keen on following him. Anyway we didn't bother hanging around to find out what happened next and pressed on back in to town.
So with a final night out on the town, we were resigned to the fact that our time in South America was running out fast and we had to press on to Venezuela the next day.
Medellin, plastic surgery capital of Colombia
Paragliding, nightclubbing and no natural boobs in sight...
That's how you can sum up Medellin for us if you don't want to read on. We arrived in Medellin and caught a taxi to the area where we wanted to stay. We drove straight through the nightclub area and our accommodation was about 150m away from this area. Melinda and I had shared a taxi to the hostel and Blake, Martin and Fred shared one. By the time we got out of the taxis, even Melinda was impressed with the sheer number of very good looking people around! It seems that Medellin is the plastic surgery capital of Colombia. Fake boobs, liposuction, face lifts and even bum implants seem to be de rigeur in this town!!
We were hoping to stay at a hostel which seems to be quite popular with back packers called Casa Kiwi. Its know for being a party hostel and not the place to be if you want to sleep. When we got there, there were only 2 beds available. So the Dutchies stayed there and Melinda, Blake and I went around the corner to a recommended quiet hostel. This proved to be a good development for us as our hostel was only 100m away which meant we could come over to Casa Kiwi and party and then go back home for a sleep!
We put our stepping out gear on and headed out on the town. We visited a few bars before ending up at what is one of the most popular and most expensive nightclubs in Medellin. Blake asked for a rum and coke and was served a bottle of rum with 1 small bottle of coke!! So we all made do with some mouth mixed rum and cokes! I've never really been in to rum before going to Colombia but I seemed to be getting the taste for it.
The next day was a pretty lazy day with some looking around town and then doing one of my favourite things to do when in a non-English speaking country - get a hair cut! Blake and I ended up with Mohawks and Martin and Fred seemed to get away with some more conservative hair cuts. Out on the town again that night for some more rum...
The next day we arranged to go Paragliding. We turned up and all of us guys were keen to go but Melinda had decided to be photographer for the day. Soon Fred, then Martin and then Blake all took off on their flights. The bloke running the trips was looking around a bit stressed. He finally came over to me and told me he was waiting for a light pilot with a big parachute. Too bloody heavy eh? I was pretty disappointed and didn't expect to get a go. Finally he found a little fellow who could take me up! It was funny on take off as I was still running along the ground and the pilots legs were in the air!! The flight was great and we were flying alongside some hawks who were going around in circles enjoying the updraft from the side of the mountain.
That night Fred and Martin decided to head to the Caribbean coast to Cartagena on an overnight bus. Blake was going to stay another night in Medellin to check out some more of the town. Melinda and I were going to go to the beach too but a migraine came on for Melinda which made our decision for us. We were staying another night and Melinda was early in to bed. The next day after a day around town the three of us headed to Cartagena on an overnight bus.
That's how you can sum up Medellin for us if you don't want to read on. We arrived in Medellin and caught a taxi to the area where we wanted to stay. We drove straight through the nightclub area and our accommodation was about 150m away from this area. Melinda and I had shared a taxi to the hostel and Blake, Martin and Fred shared one. By the time we got out of the taxis, even Melinda was impressed with the sheer number of very good looking people around! It seems that Medellin is the plastic surgery capital of Colombia. Fake boobs, liposuction, face lifts and even bum implants seem to be de rigeur in this town!!
We were hoping to stay at a hostel which seems to be quite popular with back packers called Casa Kiwi. Its know for being a party hostel and not the place to be if you want to sleep. When we got there, there were only 2 beds available. So the Dutchies stayed there and Melinda, Blake and I went around the corner to a recommended quiet hostel. This proved to be a good development for us as our hostel was only 100m away which meant we could come over to Casa Kiwi and party and then go back home for a sleep!
We put our stepping out gear on and headed out on the town. We visited a few bars before ending up at what is one of the most popular and most expensive nightclubs in Medellin. Blake asked for a rum and coke and was served a bottle of rum with 1 small bottle of coke!! So we all made do with some mouth mixed rum and cokes! I've never really been in to rum before going to Colombia but I seemed to be getting the taste for it.
The next day was a pretty lazy day with some looking around town and then doing one of my favourite things to do when in a non-English speaking country - get a hair cut! Blake and I ended up with Mohawks and Martin and Fred seemed to get away with some more conservative hair cuts. Out on the town again that night for some more rum...
The next day we arranged to go Paragliding. We turned up and all of us guys were keen to go but Melinda had decided to be photographer for the day. Soon Fred, then Martin and then Blake all took off on their flights. The bloke running the trips was looking around a bit stressed. He finally came over to me and told me he was waiting for a light pilot with a big parachute. Too bloody heavy eh? I was pretty disappointed and didn't expect to get a go. Finally he found a little fellow who could take me up! It was funny on take off as I was still running along the ground and the pilots legs were in the air!! The flight was great and we were flying alongside some hawks who were going around in circles enjoying the updraft from the side of the mountain.
That night Fred and Martin decided to head to the Caribbean coast to Cartagena on an overnight bus. Blake was going to stay another night in Medellin to check out some more of the town. Melinda and I were going to go to the beach too but a migraine came on for Melinda which made our decision for us. We were staying another night and Melinda was early in to bed. The next day after a day around town the three of us headed to Cartagena on an overnight bus.
Santa Rosa natural hot springs
Melinda at Santa Rosa hot springsWe went to Santa Rosa and found ourselves a hotel room with 5 beds in it. There were now 5 of us travelling together as we were now joined by an American guy - Blake. We dumped our stuff and got a taxi out to the hot springs. We were greeted by a spectacular waterfall with some pools at the bottom which were steaming. So we all got changed and slipped in the hot pools. We kept ourselves cool with some cold beers which made the perfect contrast!
We lounged around for few hours alternating between the very hot springs and then standing under the cool waterfall. After the springs we went back in to the town of Santa Rosa and called in at a bar where there was a couple of flirty old barmaids playing what I can only describe as 80's Colombian music at full volume. The bar was pretty empty but there was possibly the drunkest man alive sitting in the corner, but the barmaids seemed to know him so I guess he is a regular fixture there.
The next day with our hot spring experience complete, we headed to the town of Medellin - famous for being the base of Pablo Escobar and the Medellin Cartel.
Genuine Willys Jeeps in Santa RosaA stroll through the coffee fields in Solento
We arrived late at night in Solento and starting looking for the hostel we were recommended. A young boy appeared on the street and asked where we were going. 'The Plantation House' we said and he started leading us down an unlit gravel road on the edge of the village. I immediately got suspicious of this and hung back a little bit to see if there were any nasty surprises waiting for us in the dark...
It turns out that he was just a friendly boy and didn't even ask for 'propina' (a tip)! We got our rooms and settled in for a few beers with the other travellers there. Almost everyone had come from either Ecuador or Venezuela with a few who had made a boat trip from Panama. We met some Aussies for the first time since we were in the Americas too.
Walking to the coffee plantation with Fred and Martin
The next day we went for a walk down to a coffee plantation where the farmer takes people for tours around his farm. We were walking through the coffee plants and he could only speak Spanish. He also wanted to ensure that we didn't move on until we understood him. Martin seemed to understand what he was saying and after repeating a couple of words he was saying and some vigorous si, si, si's (yes, yes, yes's) we would move on. After a while I said to Martin 'whats he saying?' to which Martin replied 'I have no idea!'. We saw coffee plants from seedlings to full grown plants, the beans, the drying process, the grinding and then finally we drank some coffee.
The coffee plantation owner - if only we spoke more Spanish...
A refreshing cup of fresh ground coffee after a brisk stroll!!
From here we went on a good long walk through the countryside and along a river and back around to our accommodation. The next day after a lazy start we decided to head off again towards some hot springs further to the North.
Random donkey outside a church near the plantation
It turns out that he was just a friendly boy and didn't even ask for 'propina' (a tip)! We got our rooms and settled in for a few beers with the other travellers there. Almost everyone had come from either Ecuador or Venezuela with a few who had made a boat trip from Panama. We met some Aussies for the first time since we were in the Americas too.
Walking to the coffee plantation with Fred and Martin
The coffee plantation owner - if only we spoke more Spanish...
A refreshing cup of fresh ground coffee after a brisk stroll!!
Random donkey outside a church near the plantationChicken bits soup for lunch and on to Cali
On the way up to Cali we made a detour to a market town called Sylvia to have a look and for some lunch. We travelled there with our new Dutch friends, Fred and Martin. The locals were out and about in their traditional dress but there really wasn't much happening as we arrived the day before market day. We stopped in at a little restaurant and Melinda and I said we'd have chicken and the Dutchies had beef.
Lunch with Martin and Fred in Sylvia
Chicken bits soup?
The first thing out was a chicken soup in which the stock was made from many parts of the chicken that weren't required for eating. With running commentary from Martin and Fred like 'oh look there's a foot, there's a neck, are you guys enjoying this?' we soon both lost our appetite! When they brought out the main course of chicken, I had no desire to eat any more!! A bloke hanging around the table where we were sitting watched me for a while and asked if I was going to eat it. I happily handed him the food!
Locals in Sylvia
So after lunch we got the next bus to Cali. On the way, we had our first military check of our passports. An army guy came on the bus and got our passports...and then walked away!! Fred and I jumped off the bus and followed him but all he did was take it to his boss who looked long and hard at them and then gave them back.
Passports please!!!
I hope they give them back Fred!
We got to Cali and had to go to a couple of different places but finally we found a room (a four bed shared dorm room). We were just near a big strip of Salsa bars but it was all a bit dead being a Monday night. The next day we had a lazy morning and much discussion about what we should do next. We decided just after lunch that we should head to Solento in the 'zona cafeteria', an area to the North with lots of coffee plantations.
Drinks service on the bus
Lunch with Martin and Fred in Sylvia
Chicken bits soup?The first thing out was a chicken soup in which the stock was made from many parts of the chicken that weren't required for eating. With running commentary from Martin and Fred like 'oh look there's a foot, there's a neck, are you guys enjoying this?' we soon both lost our appetite! When they brought out the main course of chicken, I had no desire to eat any more!! A bloke hanging around the table where we were sitting watched me for a while and asked if I was going to eat it. I happily handed him the food!
Locals in Sylvia
Passports please!!!
I hope they give them back Fred!
Drinks service on the busCrashing birthday parties in Popayan
We left Pasto and spent a few hours on the bus looking at some of the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen. It reminded me of the Himalayas in Nepal but instead of rocks and snow, it was grass and trees. The area we were travelling is regarded is some of the most dangerous sections of the Pan American highway with regards to guerrilla activity, so there weren't any unplanned stops along the way!
We got to Popayan and all of its chalk white facade buildings. We found a nice little hostel with a nice little old lady (who spoke no English - virtually no one does around there) running it. We got our room and wandered in to the hallway where we saw a couple of Dutch blokes Martin and Fred having a beer. We got chatting and since we were all looking for a feed we all went out together. Just as we were leaving there was a Canadian couple who also were heading out and had been in Popayan for a few days and seemed to know where to go, so we followed them.
Chalk white buildings of Popoyan
We went to a pizza place and ordered some beers and food. We got a little spiel from the Canadian girl about giving up meat one day a week because it has a large carbon foot print. I wasn't the only one at the table who found it ironic that she was telling us about this when we were sitting in Colombia. I'm tipping she didn't paddle a boat or ride a push bike there. Any how it was also the town's birthday that day and there were fireworks that night. We finished our food and headed out to watch. The Canadians shot away to get some pics so Melinda and I watched them in the street with Fred and Martin. We then went for a few beers and before stumbling in to a massive street party complete with salsa band and hordes of people drinking and dancing.
We walked through the crowd and suddenly there was a family in front of us. We barely talked for 10 seconds before they poured a little shot of rum in to a cup and held it out to me. I had all the thoughts of 'don't drink anything from strangers, you'll be drugged and they'll take your kidneys and steal your wallet, blah blah'. So I took the cup, looked at Melinda and downed it! It was surprisingly good. So we soon finished off their whole bottle so I bought another one, which we shared with everyone and anyone. There was some guys there who had an aniseed tasting drink called Aguadente. A bloke came up to me and pointed at the bottle and then did the crazy sign (twirling his finger near his head) and said 'loco' (crazy), before handing me a shot. I've got to say that I really liked it!
Soon enough it was 2am and the family were heading home - to party! We were of course invited and off we went towards their house. I started walking about 100m before Melinda and I realised how very, very tired we were (and possibly a bit tipsy) and decided to do a runner and go home. So if that family from Popayan reads this, sorry for bailing on you! Martin and Fred (we found out later) had gone of with some Colombian guys and went to about 4 different parties before arriving back at the hostel at 5.30am, somewhat 'tired' themselves.
Then next day I awoke with possibly one of the worst hangovers in my entire life. And to make matters worse, the Canadian couple had found an American couple in the hostel with a guitar and she was merrily singing away. I cant begin to describe how bad I felt. Finally at around 4pm, I came good and so we had an early night.
The next day we set off for the famous city of Cali.
Finally, the hangover is gone and time for bed at 'Casa Familiar Turistica Hostal'
We got to Popayan and all of its chalk white facade buildings. We found a nice little hostel with a nice little old lady (who spoke no English - virtually no one does around there) running it. We got our room and wandered in to the hallway where we saw a couple of Dutch blokes Martin and Fred having a beer. We got chatting and since we were all looking for a feed we all went out together. Just as we were leaving there was a Canadian couple who also were heading out and had been in Popayan for a few days and seemed to know where to go, so we followed them.
Chalk white buildings of PopoyanWe walked through the crowd and suddenly there was a family in front of us. We barely talked for 10 seconds before they poured a little shot of rum in to a cup and held it out to me. I had all the thoughts of 'don't drink anything from strangers, you'll be drugged and they'll take your kidneys and steal your wallet, blah blah'. So I took the cup, looked at Melinda and downed it! It was surprisingly good. So we soon finished off their whole bottle so I bought another one, which we shared with everyone and anyone. There was some guys there who had an aniseed tasting drink called Aguadente. A bloke came up to me and pointed at the bottle and then did the crazy sign (twirling his finger near his head) and said 'loco' (crazy), before handing me a shot. I've got to say that I really liked it!
Soon enough it was 2am and the family were heading home - to party! We were of course invited and off we went towards their house. I started walking about 100m before Melinda and I realised how very, very tired we were (and possibly a bit tipsy) and decided to do a runner and go home. So if that family from Popayan reads this, sorry for bailing on you! Martin and Fred (we found out later) had gone of with some Colombian guys and went to about 4 different parties before arriving back at the hostel at 5.30am, somewhat 'tired' themselves.
Then next day I awoke with possibly one of the worst hangovers in my entire life. And to make matters worse, the Canadian couple had found an American couple in the hostel with a guitar and she was merrily singing away. I cant begin to describe how bad I felt. Finally at around 4pm, I came good and so we had an early night.
The next day we set off for the famous city of Cali.
Finally, the hangover is gone and time for bed at 'Casa Familiar Turistica Hostal'Ecuador/Colombia border crossing and a night in Pasto
We crossed the border in to Colombia in to what is generally regarded as guerrilla territory. People told me before I left that we'd be kidnapped, drugged, robbed or made to work as drug mules. The first people we spoke to as we were in line at the Colombian border to get our passport stamped was a family from Bogota (the Colombian capital) who gave us their phone number and address and told us to give them a call if we came to Bogota!
Bus in Colombia
Even the money changer guys didn't bother you too much. One was asking me if I wanted to change money (they just keep on saying 'cambio, cambio, cambio') and I said no thanks, I'm finished. So then I asked him where to get an immigration card. I couldn't understand his answer and so after a few people all trying to tell me in Spanish, someone in the line spoke English and established that we didn't need one. She then turned around and told everyone (I presume) that we had come from Ecuador so we didn't need one. They all nodded their heads in agreement and then the cambio guy gave me a nod and went away!
Guerrilla Country!
One funny thing happened as we went from the last bus station in Ecuador to the border in a taxi. We were sitting in the back and the drivers in these parts of the world are pretty keen on overtaking, blind corner or not. So when the driver veered on to the wrong side of the road and stayed there for a couple of minutes with a sweeping blind corner ahead, our eyes nearly started to pop out of our head. The driver smiles and casually looks back and says 'Una via' (one way). Instant relief!
Anyhow, we made it to the town of Pasto which was nice enough. We found a hostel called the 'Koala Hostel' or something like that and dumped our gear to head in to the town. We ended up in a salsa bar where there were plastic chairs, tables and cups and the waitress brings you beer to the table and you pay her straight away. Not sure if I am alone here, but that seems like the sort of place which is prepared for trouble. There wasn't any while we were there so we had a few beers and watched the locals salsa away (and sit down at the end of each song).
Bus in ColombiaEven the money changer guys didn't bother you too much. One was asking me if I wanted to change money (they just keep on saying 'cambio, cambio, cambio') and I said no thanks, I'm finished. So then I asked him where to get an immigration card. I couldn't understand his answer and so after a few people all trying to tell me in Spanish, someone in the line spoke English and established that we didn't need one. She then turned around and told everyone (I presume) that we had come from Ecuador so we didn't need one. They all nodded their heads in agreement and then the cambio guy gave me a nod and went away!
Guerrilla Country!One funny thing happened as we went from the last bus station in Ecuador to the border in a taxi. We were sitting in the back and the drivers in these parts of the world are pretty keen on overtaking, blind corner or not. So when the driver veered on to the wrong side of the road and stayed there for a couple of minutes with a sweeping blind corner ahead, our eyes nearly started to pop out of our head. The driver smiles and casually looks back and says 'Una via' (one way). Instant relief!
Anyhow, we made it to the town of Pasto which was nice enough. We found a hostel called the 'Koala Hostel' or something like that and dumped our gear to head in to the town. We ended up in a salsa bar where there were plastic chairs, tables and cups and the waitress brings you beer to the table and you pay her straight away. Not sure if I am alone here, but that seems like the sort of place which is prepared for trouble. There wasn't any while we were there so we had a few beers and watched the locals salsa away (and sit down at the end of each song).
Straddling the centre of the earth and a volcano crater lake
Adam in the Northern Hemisphere, Melinda in the SouthWe made it to the "Mitad del Mundo" (equator after negotiating the local tram system (well looks like a tram but with ordinary wheels?) and then a bus out to the spot. At the equator is an impressive monument that you can climb in to with lines marking North, South, East and West. So of course we played the game of jumping from the Northern to the Southern hemisphere, straddling the equator and standing in opposite hemispheres (not exactly a new experience for Melinda and me over the last year!).
The line at the equator
We were pretty paranoid when we got to Quito as people kept on telling us in Costa Rica to beware of our belongings, don't carry anything that might get stolen, don't walk the streets at night etc. I don't think we even came close to getting robbed but we were very careful and I inflated my chest to appear 'massive' whenever I felt it necessary. Probably quite ridiculous considering the average Ecuadorian makes Melinda feel average to tall height!
A few shots around Quito
After a couple of nights adjusting to our new down scale accommodation regime, we hopped on a bus to a famous market town called Otavalo. We sat in the bus station for 20 mins before we took off with only us and 1 other guy on the bus. As soon as we got out the gates the drivers assistant was singing 'Otavalo, Otavalo, Otavalo' out the door. There were hordes of people waiting along the street to catch whatever bus they wanted and it took us about another 45 mins of picking up people in the street before we got going! I guess they didn't want to pay the compulsory US 10 cent fee at the bus terminal?
Some people protesting about corruption in Quito
Otavalo is a nice little market town and according to our guide book the second most popular tourist destination in Ecuador after the Galapagos Islands. We had our first 'empanadas' there, kind of like a samosa but different stuff in the middle. The market had some beautiful stuff and if it wasn't for the fact that I know I wont go on the tube to work wearing an Alpaca poncho, I would have bought one! But we did buy some bits and pieces including an Ecuadorian hat which I was most pleased with. I was most annoyed with my self when I managed to leave it on a bus about 2 weeks later.
We decided it was time to do some touristic stuff and so we got a taxi off the street who we (in stages) ended up hiring for the whole day. He was a really friendly guy who served us well as driver and tour guide for the day (with a combination of his non-existent English and my atrocious Spanish). We went and saw a magic tree which apparently heals people (or something like that) and then to a Condor park run by some Dutch bloke who's first comment when I told him our taxi driver was waiting for us was 'How much did you pay for that?' I told him and he replied 'Well I think you should have bargained harder, I think you got ripped off'. I wanted to tell him that I thought he should get £*€£€&, but I was looking forward to seeing the birds so we pressed on. The birds were beautiful and very impressive and obviously highly intelligent. There was even one bird not much smaller than Melinda!
Melinda and a little birdy
From there we went on to a volcano crater lake. Its at an altitude of about 3,000m so we were a little puffed when we were there! We took a little boat ride around the lake and saw bubbles coming through the water from the volcano below. We even had a top view of some hawks diving at something in the scrub! From there we went back in to town and got ready to head for the border of Colombia - ready to meet all the guerrillas, drug traffickers and associated nasties that everyone who's never been to Colombia warned us about!
Despite the authentic local look, it is Adam!
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