After a twelve hour night bus from Ica, I arrived in Cusco just in time to check-in with Peru Treks for my four-day hike commencing the day after my 29th birthday (now that’s what I call starting the year off right!). Alone again after saying goodbye to Mike, who was heading to see the Nazca Lines, I quickly made friends at Priwa Hostel with some Israelis and Deutsch who happily helped me celebrate my birthday at midnight alongside a fellow traveler who was turning 23 (way to make me feel old!). See the photo of us being serenaded on top of a bar when the clock struck twelve.

The following day was dedicated to recovery and getting my game face on for the 42 kilometer roller coaster (as in up and down, not fast) of a hike to Machu Picchu kicking off at 4am the next morning. Like others on my trek, we were all a bit intimidated with the physical aspect, but I can report that everyone out-performed expectations.

There were thirteen people on my trek – I being the 13th wheel as everyone came in pairs. But, it turned out perfectly because I got my own tent and had adequate time to befriend everyone over four days of walking. We also had two guides, 17 porters (carrying camping and cooking equipment), and two cooks – a small army with one mission, conquer Machu Picchu.

As a side note, I choose Peru Treks because they have a great reputation for not only excellent treks, but also taking good care of their porters (paying the wage equivalent of a teacher in Peru) and supporting the local communities through building schools and purchasing computers to improve education. I paid more than some of the more economical treks, but it was worth it to know that the money spent would do more than just take me on an incredible adventure.

The first day from Cusco to Wayllabamba was a pretty easy 12 kilometers with frequent breaks, interesting information about Quechua culture (Inca is actually the King, not the civilization), and delicious food. I will say that hardest part was walking after a huge lunch and I understand why they say wait an hour before swimming now (that should also apply to hiking).

The second day from Wayllabamba to Pacamayo was another 12 kilometers, but is billed as the hardest day as you climb for five hours up to 4,200 meters through Dead Woman’s Pass and then down another three hours (in the rain in my case which made for a slippery descent.)

The trick is to take long, slow steps up and steady your breathing. Going down was hardest for me as you have to concentrate where you step to avoid failing down the rocky terrain. Also, don’t bother with a rain jacket and a bag cover, just bring a poncho as it is better at the keeping the rain out, easy to take on and off, and helps avoid the feeling of being in your own personal sauna.

That night, everyone attempted to dry their wet clothing and to rest their cold and tired feet. The highlight of the evening was the warm rum beverage that everyone had pitched in a dollar for earlier in the day which provided a much needed warm up and helped everyone to get some shut eye for our longest day from Pacamayo to Wiñay Wayna spanning 6-8 hours and 15 kilometers.

Day three was long and arduous, but with beautiful vistas and a DOUBLE rainbow! We also visited the most impressive of the Inca ruins, Phuyupatamarca, which means ‘Town in the Clouds’ and was where the Quechuas did rituals to cleanse themselves before arriving at Machu Picchu.

After feasting on another delicious lunch prepared by our porters, we tackled the last of that day’s trail (much of it in the rain) and reached the final campsite just as darkness set in and I began cursing what felt like the longest walk ever. That night, the porters surprised our English trekker, Owain, with a birthday cake baked in a cooking pot, and treated all of us to mulled wine as I was elected to deliver the thank you speech (in Spanish) to our troop of porters. Afterward it was an early night as it would be an early morning (3:30am wake up call) to be one of the first groups for the last 5 kilometers thru the Sun Gate and to our hard fought prize – Machu Picchu!

Scaling the last 50 vertical stairs up to the Sun Gate, I was so focused on not falling that I didn’t even realize that in front of me was the world wonder illuminated in fresh sunlight. It was a long four days, but I imagine the exhilaration of reaching this majestic sight was how many of the Quechuas felt arrival hundreds of years ago.

Three Days and 22 Kilometers into the Depths of Colca Canyon

After a few days relaxing in Cusco complete with $5 massages (a must if you’re there!), it was off to Arequipa, my last stop in Peru before heading to Argentina. While at first, I only planned on staying a few days, the thought of working through the logistics of multiple buses and boarding crossings thru Chile to Argentina made my Aussie friends’ (Justin and Sarah) invitation to join them on a multi-day hike into Colca Canyon a worthy diversion that I gladly accepted.

Before beginning our trek, we stopped at Cruz del Condor and witnessed these massive scavengers soaring through the canyon before the masses of tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of the rare birds.

From there, we hopped off our shared bus with our guide, Miguel, for a rocky 6 kilometer hike straight down into the canyon (which is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon) to our first stop for the night in San Juan de Chuccho. Photo of the 6 km path below… quite a doozy.

The accommodations were rustic and perfect with the luxury of hot water for the first few to shower and candles provided at night as there are no lights in the dorm rooms. Arriving by 2pm and with four hours to kill until dinner, we did what any normal person would do to keep ourselves busy – played drinking games!

While some may say, “why would you do that when you have another ten kilometers to go in the morning?” I say that it’s all about timing… playing a drinking game before dinner means that you sleep like a baby right after dinner and wake up with 8 hours under your belt and ready to tackle the next leg!

The next morning, we decided to up the ante a bit and add a hike up to Tapay which features a beautiful square and where we met Pedro, an outgoing nine year old, who elected himself our guide for his village of about 50 families.

From Tapay, we walked along the canyon wall through the Coshñirhua and Malata Villages which were simple, small, and gave the impression that little had changed culturally there since the Spanish established them hundreds of years earlier – with the exception of the 30-odd trekkers a day that pass through and the few kiosks selling Snickers and boxed wine to buy along the way (both of which I purchased for our evening at the “oasis.”)

I was amazed that these communities survived in the canyon as almost all provisions are brought in on mule or on people’s backs, as the area itself only really produces a type of cactus that is home to the cochineal bug which is harvested for its powerfully pigmented blood used in European lipstick (eww) and in Starbuck’s Strawberry Fraps (double eww until a recent uproar by customers causing the company to switch to the tomato-derived lycopene.)

The people continue to speak quechua and most wear the indigenous dress of the area which consists of layers upon layers of colorful, embellished skirts completed with an equally decorated vest and embroidered hat.

We also saw colcas which the canyon is named for that were used in pre-Inca times by quechuas to store and keep provisions cool.

Descending into the Sangalle Valley, we could see our prize “the oasis” at the bottom where we would be spending the night, but we also saw what our fate would be the following morning with a vertical trail of about 6 kilometers out of the canyon.

One step at a time though… we enjoyed the “oasis,” had a great last night playing cards, and awoke at 4am to tackle the ascent before the heat of the day seized the canyon. Reaching the top, I yelled and did a victory dance to celebrate the 22 kilometer journey!

Travel is all about pushing your boundaries! I think that treks like these have also helped me to push my physical limits and realize the power of perseverance… something that would come in handy as I made the 40 hour overland journey to Argentina the very next day!

Reporting from Jungle Beach, Vietnam… til next time!

Traveling around and down the Amazon

After the Zona Cafeteria, I swung through Bogota for one last visit before flying down to Leticia, the southernmost part of Colombia and gateway to the Amazon leading to Brazil and Peru.

In hot and humid Leticia, I explored the mighty Amazon for a day complete with adorable monkeys, two-toed sloths (the slowest animal ever), pink and gray dolphins, and a poisonous tree that bleeds when you cut it (indigenous use the poison for their darts to hunt and it can also blind you). If you speak Spanish, negotiate with guys offering tours on the street for a much cheaper deal. With four people, we got our own boat and tour guide for about $30 each compared to $60-70 offered through agencies or hostels.

We stayed at Mahatu Hostel which is set on a beautiful property with lush trees, lagoons, and baby ducks. There was a pool which was great to break the heat when it wasn’t raining (it is the rainforest) and Gustavo is happy to give advice on tours as well as how to navigate a boat trip to either Brazil or Peru.

Other highlights included renting motorbikes (which dominate the streets) and riding through Tabatinga, Brazil, and the surrounding countryside in Leticia. For food, we repeatedly went to a series of food stands set up under a plastic tarp featuring grill meat, fried fish, and chicken kabobs served with rice and yucca for only $5.

From Leticia, we hopped on a 13 hour fast boat to Iquitos, Peru, at 3am in the morning. The boat was essentially the same as a bus with seats that slightly recline and sub-par food. For those interested, you buy the ticket in Tabatinga, Brazil, and must stamp out of Colombia and stamp into Peru (which is done in Santa Rosa island, accessible by small boat from Tabatinga) the day before you leave.

Arriving in Iquitos, we were mobbed by moto-taxi drivers, but with no Peruvian money, walking was the only option. Phil, one of my German traveling companions, had stayed at Mad Mick’s Bunk House on his last visit and while he warned that it may not be a place for ladies. I told him that I was no lady, I’m a backpacker!

Now Mick is a gregarious Australian and his bunk house is in a prime location on the main square, but I will say that the bare straw mattresses and staff walking through the room starting at 8am was a bit uncomfortable.

Iquitos is a rough around the edges town born out of the 1880s rubber-boom and was founded in the 1750s as a Jesuit Mission to convert the indigenous. While there we went to Pilpintuwasi Butterfly Farm & Amazon Animal Orphanage where they have an amazing collection of butterfly species and adorable animals, like Harry the ocelot, that have been saved from being sold at Belén Market or rescued from owners that couldn’t care for them.

After visiting Belen Market, it was clear that one could acquire pretty much anything within the maze of stalls shielded by plastic tarps selling homemade remedies, special roots from the Amazon, and live chickens as hundreds of vultures fight over the food scraps left by local sellers. I gave the locals a laugh when I got “carried” by a water-filled tarp that reached its tipping point just as I stood beneath. After the initial shock, I laughed and it was a moment shared regardless of language or cultural barriers.

While I only intended on staying for a couple days, we ended up going to a “Jungle Lodge” for a few days where we spent some time with a Shaman named Adella and Mike managed to get 150 mosquito bites.

Upon returning from Nauta, it was off to Lima to start traveling around Peru and make it to Cusco by March 22nd to check in for my 4 day trek along the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.

Leaving Lima After Barely Arriving

Arriving in Lima with grey, cloudy skies, loud cars, and dirty, crowded city streets, it was clear that this town was not for me. While the Plaza de Armas and cathedral were beautiful sites, it wasn’t enough to stay there another day so we booked a bus to a beach town called Paracas, four hours from Lima.

Back to Nature in the small beach town of Paracas

Paracas is a tiny town known for its national reserve and the Ballesta Islands (also known as the “poor man’s galapagos”) which is home to millions of birds, sea lions, and Humboldt penguins. The reserve features a mars-like desert terrain, amazing coastline views, and El Candelabro, a massive Geoglyph carved in the Paracas Civilization.

It was a nice stop to take in some nature and also, celebrate St. Patricks Day in nearby Pisco where we were taken in by some locals and went dancing at a local club… though they had no knowledge of the holiday.

Sand boarding in the Desert, Staying in an Oasis

From Paracas, it was off to Huacachina, a literal oasis in the middle of the desert located just outside of Ica. A local vacation spot, this tiny town consists of hostels and restaurants lining a deep green lagoon and offers sand boarding and sand buggy rides.

Sand boarding was incredible. We took a dune buggy out of the oasis and within minutes all you could see was miles of massive sand dunes. While a bit cumbersome with your feet strapped to old snowboards, riding down the dunes was so much fun and falling was even better! The last dune must have been at least 10 stories high and I rode down on my stomach going so fast that I could barely hear myself screaming. The day ended watching the sunset over the desert and just soaking in my surroundings.

Before jetting to Cusco – as I needed to check in with the trekking company within 48 hours – I did a night out visiting the Pisco wineries in Ica and was lucky enough to participate in the stomping of the grapes. I won most enthusiastic as I dance in a massive concrete vat of grapes while sampling the finished product. We ended the night at a winery dancing among a hundred barrels of fermenting wine.

Next post, I’ll share with you my trekking adventures to Machu Pittchu (42km) and into Colca Canyon (25km). I discovered that I really enjoy trekking and will be embarking on another trek tomorrow in Sapa, Vietnam, near the border of China.

Til next time!

The ride south into the lush valleys of Colombia’s Zona Cafeteria was a tapestry of green with landscapes fit for a painting in a museum. My first stop was Manizales, a university town of hills akin to San Francisco with many microclimates to match. While I had hoped to set up an excursion to see the snow capped volcano, Nevado del Ruiz, and visit one of the hot springs in the surrounding area, my friend Ed returned to the Mountain House Hostel with less than stellar reviews of the very same excursion. Apparently, he spent most of his time in a bus stopping only to take pictures and the hot springs resembled that of a suburban pool, so with that information I cancelled and decided to accompany him to Salento the following day.

The best part of Manizales was reuniting with Ed (did I mention it was his birthday!) and meeting Andy from Austin, a fellow wanderer with plans of opening a hostel in Colombia. We celebrated Ed’s birthday at a local pizza joint, proceeded to cruise the main strip sharing shots from a small box of aquardiente and returned to the hostel to play pool until we all failed miserably.

Another major upside in Manizales was Andy’s excellent collection of music which he put on my and Ed’s Ipods the following morning. When traveling, music is your constant companion and soundtrack in many ways. There’s nothing like a revamped playlist to put a new spin on your trip.

Credit: thetallgringo.com

Another four hours south of Manizales, Salento is a small town nestled in between coffee plantations and the breathtaking Valle de Cocora. You know you’re in a small town when the directions to the hostel include, “get off at the Fire Station and take a right.” Frankly, these sorts of towns have been my favorites while on the road as they are cozy, friendly, and become familiar faster than big cities.

Credit: viewphotos.org

Our hostel, the Plantation House was idyllic with beautiful grounds, lush foliage and amazing views of valleys. With a range of accommodations from rustic rooms to the plain ol’ dorm, Plantation House has a working coffee farm down the road which you can tour and also work if you’re looking for that experience. They also offer plentiful, good coffee around the clock which is rare since Colombia exports its best beans.

I was reminded again how small my new world was when we ran into the Deutsch couple from Cartagena’s Playa Blanca AND Dan, the New Yorker and first person I met in Colombia, who I shared a cab with in Bogota 3 weeks earlier!

Later in the evening after wandering around town, we stumbled upon Speakeasy for dinner. Run by a gregarious Australian, this laid-back establishment features one dish a day (that night homemade meatballs) and the big and messy burger which was the best I’ve had since being on the road.

The next day, we caught a jeep from the main plaza to Salento’s main draw and one of the most impressive landscapes in Colombia, Valle de Cocora.

Home to the country’s national tree, the towering wax palm, Valle de Cocora offers a 2-3 hour hike through a pastoral valley leading you into a lush jungle complete with waterfalls and up into a cloud forest where a butterfly and hummingbird farm greets you with piping hot coffee (with cheese, a Colombian tradition).

In the evening, we searched for the local Tejo establishment, a quintessential Colombian game. Think corn-hole, but instead of a bean bag, you throw a metal disc about twenty feet at a target filled with gun-powder which makes a loud bang if the player is successful. I had been obsessed with trying this game since I arrived in Colombia, but alas it wasn’t meant to be that night. When we walked in, it was like a scene from Animal House when they arrive at the Roadhouse and the music just stops and all heads turn to the strange looking newcomers. Once in the back where the tejo lanes resided, we had a beer while watching the locals show us how the game was played. While no wallflower, that night it seemed appropriate to just watch and move along. Maybe if we had a local with us, it would have been more organic, but sometimes you just go with your gut and keep moving. Tejo remains on my list so I’ll be coming back to Colombia for that reason alone.

We ended up back at Speakeasy sitting around a bonfire until my eyelids felt as heavy as one of those tejo discs. Another fellow that I’d seen in Medellin, Rene, was there – and little did I know at the time that he would be one of my new travel buddies in Leticia, Colombia’s gateway town to the Amazon, just a few days later.

Our last day in Salento was a wash… literally, it rained heavily all day. While those with only one or two week vacations curse bad weather, it allowed me to spend the day guilt-free napping and catching up with friends. That night, we were back on the night bus heading to Bogota where I’d be catching my flight down to Leticia, the southernmost part of Colombia and my last stop before heading via the Amazon to Iquitos, Peru.

Medellin was a stark contrast to the sleepy Caribbean coast with a first class metro system and diverse population bursting the city’s seams. We arrived from Cartagena and hopped on the metro which runs overground across the entire city as well as up into the mountains where there are hiking trails at the very top (limited to 2,000 visitors a day so go early!).

Located in Medellin’s Zona Rosa, our hostel Casa Kiwi was Asian-inspired with bamboo accented patios on three levels. Lleras Square is at the center with plenty of pricey (by backpacker standards) restaurants and bars. Unlike Bogota’s La Candelaria district, this area is safe to walk around at all hours of the night and is the go to spot for Medellin’s young and hip crowd. It is also a very different world than the realities of most that live in Medellin which I’ll delve more into later.

That night, we were dead set on dancing and, at the recommendation of hostel staff, we asked our cab driver to take us to La Kasa, a club that apparently didn’t exist anymore (Note: it is an “our pick” in Lonely Planet Colombia). After a 20 minute goose-chase, we ended up back outside our hostel with a new recommendation to Mansion, a packed local club that was only a ten minute walk away and plays a mix of Columbian music and techno. Despite the night’s earlier hiccup, we had a great time dancing and sharing shots of Aquardiente with newfound friends into the early hours of the morning.

The next day, Patrick and I ventured out of Zona Rosa to explore El Centro, Medellin’s downtown area filled with touristic sights like the Metropolitan Cathedral and Botero Square (filled with iconic “fat” sculptures of the Colombian artist). Walking from the Cathedral to the Square, we also stumbled upon transvestite hookers in see-thru tops (now that was a double take) and sampled guava fruit given by a street vendor when we asked what it was (better in juice form in my opinion).

We also surveyed what I like to call “one stop streets” which is essentially a street with one item or genre like only shoes or bags or electronics – a South American phenomenon that I’ve seen repeated in Peru and makes it quite easy to find what you need and shop around for the best price. The best part of the day was sharing a steak at a local parrilla (barbecued steak served on a piping hot metal plate) complete with chimichurri, a glass of port to wash down the delicious carne and live local Colombian band overlooking a street filled with vendors selling socks and stores stuff with bags.

Looking to get out and see some smaller towns outside of Medellin, we took off on a day trip to Guatape, located in what I would call Colombia’s Lake Region. The town is also home to El Penol, a giant monolith with more than 400 steps built within a crevice where you are rewarded at the top with an amazing 360 degree view of lakes as far as the eye can see.

I don’t know how a monolith is formed, but it’s like someone or something placed an enormous rock smack dab in the middle of a lush valley (which forty years ago was flooded to form hundreds of lakes complete with trout which we would sample later in the day). After El Penol, we took a Mini Chiva (similar to the brightly covered tuk tuks that you see in Asia) to a local restaurant in Guatape for a trout lunch and after, took a nautical bicicleta (i.e. paddle boat) out for a ride around the lake.

What made Guatape stand out from other towns in Colombia was the ornate and colorful bas reliefs that line the base of every house, restaurant, and even the doctor’s office. Each one is totally unique with some as simple as birds or beach chairs to others painting you a picture of their life stories.

Another highlight of Medellin was taking the cable car up to Santo Domingo neighborhood where concrete buildings housing the city’s poorest are part of the fabric of the city’s mountain side.

It was a place that I was reticent to explore, but have Patrick to thank for pulling me out of my comfort zone. Mind you, ten years (even five years ago), even Colombians didn’t venture up into these areas that were once the recruiting grounds for Pablo Escobar and where the government waged a “war” to root out the rival drug gangs that followed after his demise.

Walking down into the neighborhood to take in the view of the city, we were approached by young girls giggling and curious about where we came from. It was a Sunday so families were out in full force with the teenagers pushing kids on miniature motorbikes and giant trampolines set up – just like one that my sister and I had as kids. That afternoon, I experienced one of the wonderful things about travel – connecting with people. Looking beyond what makes us all different and discovering those rituals that bring us together like spending a Sunday with the ones you love.

Later that week, Patrick and I said goodbye as he headed back to Zurich. It was sad to see him go, but it was time to take off my travel training wheels (i.e. his excellent Spanish and company) and continue on my journey. I also saw Ed, our Canadian co-traveler, off on his way to the Zona Cafeteria (where I’d see him a few days later).

My last few days in Medellin, I went paragliding over the mountains (a first and not as terrifying as I thought it would be).

With new friends from Casa Kiwi and some awesome paisas (people from Medellin), I salsaed until sweaty in the equivalent of a grungy, DC dive bar – my favorite kind, I might add. Other highlights include wondering around the beautiful botanical gardens and acting like a kid again at the futuristic and fun-fueled interactive museum (complete with aquarium and Imax theater).

I really enjoyed Medellin but, after 4 or 5 days, my wanderlust kicked in and with itchy feet, I hopped on a bus into the lush valleys of the Zona Cafeteria to explore Manizales and Salento.

Arriving on Monday evening into Cartagena’s bus station, we caught a cab into the historic part of the city where there are lots of cheap accommodations and a 10 minute walk to the gates of the “Old Town ” that is housed within fortified stonewalls built by the Spaniards in the late 16th century when Colombia was a colony.

The ride itself took over an hour in traffic, but you really got a sense of one of Colombia’s largest and most visited cities. Cartagena really feels like three cities in one from the chaos and extreme poverty akin to India (at least how I imagine) around the market and road from the airport to the high-rise section of white-washed hotels and condos with mirrored windows reminiscent of Miami’s South Beach and the charming, colonial “Old Town” with colorful flowers hanging from balconies overlooking cobblestone streets.

Exhausted from Carnaval, we arrived at Media Luna Hostel which had been recommended by our Tayrona travel buddy, Lucy. It’s a converted mansion with large courtyard in the center framed by 2 floors of dorm rooms. It is also… most definitely a party hostel. With no strength to search for a more peaceful hostel, we checked in and enjoyed our first showers and access to internet in days.

It was here that I also realized that the world of backpacking is a pretty small place as I ran into Clara from Bogota’s Cranky Croc hostel in the shower AND saw our Argentinean friends, Lorenzo and Eric, from Santa Marta walking down the street. Despite desperately needing sleep, we all went for a walk to check out the “Old Town” which was beautifully lit in a yellow glow. I also had an amazing hot dog with crushed potato chips,honey, and cheese melted on the chorizo – absolute heaven!

Sitting outside drinking cuba libres, I began to fall asleep in my chair so I decided it was time to go to sleep – which still didn’t happen until an hour or two after that moment.

The next day, we checked out the city’s beach which reminded me of South Beach except tons of vendors constantly harassing you. The most challenging was the women offering massages since they would start to “demonstrate” and you were either lured into submission or very awkwardly had to keep saying no until they stopped.

We also moved into a small, quiet hostel, Casa Viena, where the Argentineans were staying (as well as two guys from Costeno beach… again, the small world of traveling.) I would highly recommend Casa Viena. The staff are incredibly helpful and will organize boats to Playa Blanca, trips to the mud volcano (it’s like a hot tub at the top of a small volcano except with mud and you can’t sink if you tried), as well as bus tickets to Medellin and other Colombian cities.

Playa Blanca was a must do on our list with white sandy beaches and tranquil teal water. The process of getting a boat was a bit stressful as it’s a tourist trap and the only way to get to the beach (with the exception of a three hour multiple vehicle trek). We secured a fast boat for 40,000 COP each (and an additional 10,000 COP entry fee) and waited to be called as hordes of people were funneled into various boats.

The boat ride was nice with scenic views of the “Old Town”, metropolitan high rises, and the remnants of various Spanish fortresses designed to protect the port city. One downfall was the two hour stop at Isla Rosario which is the tropical version of Sea World (I absolutely hate to see animals in captivity, especially dolphins).

Four hours after we began our endeavor to the beach, we finally arrived and shared a lunch of fried fish and arroz de coconut (delicious!). Down the beach away from the crowds, Mama Ruth’s was a perfect place to get a hammock (for only 7,000 COP/ $3.50) and spend the rest of the day chilling on a lounge chair.

In the evening, we met up with Ed, our Canadian friend and future travel buddy, and a Dutch couple for a leisurely dinner on the beach illuminated by candles in water jugs to protect from the strong offshore breezes. I say leisurely because the meal itself took about an hour and a half to arrive (and two of the dishes were wrong), but it’s never a bad evening with cold beer and good company.

The only real annoyance with Playa Blanca was the damn boat situation. Apparently, our roundtrip ticket was only valid for one day so the captain wouldn’t honor it and wanted another 15,000 each. Now, for those who know me, I’m a pretty relaxed and patient person UNLESS I feel cheated. So with that said, I yelled at him in as much Spanish that I knew and promptly went down the beach to bargain a lower price on a faster and nicer boat.

A trip to Playa Blanca wouldn’t be complete without sampling the infamous Coco Loco drink with various liquors and rum (10,000 COP or less if you buy more). It was also a great treat before hopping on the speed boat which soaked just about everyone on board, but that’s part of the fun!

If you’re looking to go to Playa Blanca, use Islamar. They have a kiosk at the port in Cartagena and offer direct boats to Playa Blanca for 40,000 COP – just make sure that you can use the ticket on other days if you plan on staying.

We cooked a great meal with the Argentineans on our last night in Cartagena with Lorenzo making a beef milanese and I made a tomato and mozzarilla salad with french bread since quintessential American food is a little lacking. They dubbed it “Kim Salad” which made the Italian dish even more memorable in a town known for fish and ceviche.

I spent the last day wondering around the “Old Town” with Ed and admiring remnants of Spanish architecture that transport you back to the days of colonial rule. That night we took a 13 hour night bus to the modern city of Medellin that is nestled in a beautiful valley with slums soaring up the mountains.

Travel tip – for cheap eats, go to El Coroncoro, right down the street from Casa Viena, where you can find plentiful meals for less than 6,000 COP.

After a couple of weeks of laid-back beach, it was time for the big game and in this case, that epic event was Carnaval in the port city of Barranquilla – the second largest celebration after Rio de Janeiro. I hadn’t intended on going as I heard accommodations were hard to come by and that you should expect to be robbed at some point during the festivities. But with every person that I met, it became clear that Carnaval was in the cards and with my travel buddy, Patrick, firmly committed to finding the real life Aguila girls in the parade, I cast my lot with the millions of locals and tourists alike.

With no place to stay, we hopped on a bus from Santa Marta early on Saturday morning as the parades began in the early afternoon. You could sense the energy radiating from everyone donning bright neon t-shirts that are cut and knotted turning plain into pretty awesome (note to college girlfriends: throwback!). Wigs, ribbons, and Minnie Mouse bow headbands were also very prominent – and that was just in line to get our bus tickets in Santa Marta.

Pulling into Barranquilla, you could see the stands for the parade route set up for miles as various groups of colorfully dressed Colombians representing their area’s trade or culture (my favorite was the men dressed as crocodiles) made their way to line up for what would be a six hour procession through the streets. The Battle of the Flowers is the first and most important parade of Carnaval. The flowers symbolize replacing bullets and trading war for peace.

Did I mention that Patrick and I had no place to stay at this point? We were able to get in touch with Juan, a businessman from Medellin who we met in Cabo, who had rented an apartment for Carnaval and let us drop our big bags with his doorman for the first day. This would be the beginning of three days in the same clothes, no bags, and my sports bra becoming my wallet.

With bags safely stowed away, we grabbed a quick lunch of carne asada (my fav and only COP 9,000!) and stopped into a hair salon to apply these dot stickers that Patrick brought from Zurich and frequently rocks in the clubs there. In lieu of costumes, Patrick decorated our faces with a circle of neon around our eyes – the shopkeepers were immensely entertained by this and had never seen this sort of flair for Carnaval before.

Only a few blocks from the parade, we made our way through the streets to where the masses gathered to watch the festivities and vendors sold beer, carne on a stick, and these long tubes of spray foam which I would soon become very acquainted with!

Perched on street corner, everyone was laughing and dancing with the various floats which in the beginning carried the logos of Colombia’s most popular food and booze then transitioned to troops of dancers and bands representing various parts of Colombia and her history.

While I had first been concerned of petty thieves, I became quickly aware that the real danger at Carnaval was the sneaky and relentless party-goers armed with spray foam and flour – and they love going after foreigners and aiming for the face! The first hit me in the ear then across the side of my face and proceeded to cover my clothes. It’s a fun, jovial atmosphere so it’s best to laugh and just wipe it off – those that took issue found themselves covered in even more foam.

Stopping at a bar along the parade route, Patrick and I were quickly adopted by a large Colombian family, who had set up chairs along the sidewalk and initiated us with plenty of foam, flour, and passed around small shots of whiskey in a communal plastic cup – they also took one of the only pictures from all of Carnaval of me on their cell phone which I’ll post if I get a hold of it.

For me, that family represented what Carnaval was all about – a time for people to come together and celebrate. A place where neighborhoods became block parties and the young and old pass around Aguardiente, a strong liquor made from anise and a staple in Colombian nightlife, while dancing in the streets outside a Marc Anthony concert (he’s quite popular here).

My three days in Barranquilla were a blast filled with lots of dancing, laughter and copious amounts of street food. We met up with the whole Costeno crew on Saturday night and joined with thousands in the street to eavesdrop on Marc Anthony’s concert. On Sunday after brunch at McDonalds (I know, terrible but sometimes necessary after a night out drinking), we headed to Puerto Colombia and spent the day at a beach club straight out of Miami where you can watch surfers paddling out at sunset from the dance floor. Sunday night, I went to a huge concert where I practiced my salsa with Joe from Brooklyn for hours.

Monday morning, Patrick and I scaled a metal fence and jumped down five feet to escape our crash pad which had become a scene of debauchery and destruction in the early hours of the morning. The house mom was on her way to wake up the leader of the Costeno crew, who had earlier punched a hole in one of the room’s ceilings. She had the key to the gate, but we weren’t about to wait (especially since a large majority of people had already fled the scene). Not the highest point of the weekend, but everything worked out in the end.

After recovering our packs across town and refueling, we were back on a bus for two hours to head West to the bustling beach city of Cartagena for cobble stone streets and the white sand beach of Playa Blanca.

Flagging three motorbikes, we left Costeno for a couple of days to check out the beautiful Tayrona National Park where the rainforest opens up to horseshoe-shaped beaches framed by huge, delicately-piled boulders.

There are several beaches connected by long stretches of hiking trails with the first stop being Arrecifes, a 45 minute hike from the trail entrance with restaurants and hammocks for rent. There is a beach, but it is not safe for swimming. The currents are incredibly strong and have killed more than a hundred there. The two beaches safe for swimming are La Piscina (20 minutes from Arrecifes) and, my favorite, Cabo San Juan (45 minutes).

Some Logistics Tips:
- Entrance to the park is COP 31,000 ($16) and you should take the collectivo for COP 2,000 to the trail entrance (it’s a 2km paved road uphill, save your energy for the scenic part).
- If you can, leave the large pack and bring a smaller bag that is more conducive to hiking with frequent ups and downs.
- Bring some layers of clothing. It gets cold at night, especially in hammocks which are the cheapest and most comfortable option. I learned this the hard way and spent two nights shivering using a damp towel as a blanket.
- Bring food and water. Everything is transported into the park by horse and a (not-so-great) plate of fried fish with rice and salad will easily be COP 20,000 or more. Fruits, vegetables, and bread will go a long way to offset the costs of meals (for example, a bowl of cereal will cost you $5 in Cabo San Juan when you could buy a whole bag of fruit for that much at Exito in Santa Marta). Other option is the Pan Man, see below.
- Bring your own toilet paper! I don’t really have to explain this one, do I?
- Wear insect repellent starting in the late afternoon when the mosquitoes come out for dinner.

Arriving at Arrecifes close to sunset, we walked another 10 minutes to Bucaru camp where hammocks with bed-nets are COP 12,000 ($6). The campsite has space for tents and large bathroom facilities (albeit prison-style). Spoiled from two days of meals at Costeno, it was clear when the horse pulled up with supplies around 8pm that it could be awhile before dinner at Bucaru. So flashlights in hand, Patrick and I took the beach back to Arrecifes where we had seen a few restaurants. While en route, we found ourselves ducking as teams of bats flew over our heads (and a few times at our heads).

Once safely at the restaurant, we enjoyed cold beer and mediocre plates of fish and chicken while watching South America’s version of American Idol. It was the auditions episode which is just as hilarious in Spanish as in English.

The next morning, we got up early to hike to Cabo San Juan de la Guia and hunt for the legendary “Pan Man,” who sells delicious breads filled with chocolate, arequipa (caramel), cheese, and ham and cheese.

Within minutes we had chocolate-filled bread in hand (although from a different pan man, we would later find out) and, 45 minutes later, arrived at the packed Cabo San Juan campsite. Hammocks (without bed nets) run about COP 20,000 ($10) which is pretty pricey for Colombian standards and food ranges from COP 16,000-30,000.

The beach was beautiful as you can see. With the first two beaches well-populated, we made our way to a “secret” beach which can be reached through a small trail on the left side of the second beach. Also a nude beach, it was less crowded and we spent the rest of the afternoon working on our tan (and getting rid of few tan lines).

The campsite was quite full of Argentinean students on the equivalent of Spring Break and Colombia is THE destination right now due to cost and proximity. You can easily spot an Argentinean by the thermos of hot water and Mate cup – and if it’s a group, typically a few guitars. I’ve really enjoyed the Argentineans that I’ve met, but when they are in a pack, it’s virtually impossible to penetrate.

Tired of paying COP 20,000 for dinner, I just bought a can of tuna, crackers, and a couple of beers for about COP 10,000 ($5). I convinced the “restaurant” to let me borrow silverware and, with the aid of hot sauce, enjoyed my budget meal.

After a chilly night’s sleep, it was another day of beach with frequent visits to the Pan Man (the real one this time) for deliciously filled bread for about COP 3-4,000 ($2).

Around 3pm, we pulled ourselves off the warm sand and began the 2 hour trek back to the park entrance. Winding through the trails, you feel as if you’ve stepped into Jurassic Park combined with Avatar as the tentacles of trees weave together connecting the veins of the jungle.

Though crowded and over-priced, I really enjoyed Tayrona National Park with it’s idyllic beaches and hikes. From Cabo, you can also hike up to Pueblito, a lesser known and less well-preserved Tayrona ruin than La Ciudad Perdida.

Continuing on the hunt for beautiful beaches, the next stop was Costeno Beach and Surf Camp, which is located just past Tayrona National Park, about an hour outside Santa Marta.

Off the “Lonely Planet” trail, Costeno was started by two Canadian brothers that make you feel like part of the family right from the get go. With two large white-washed, solar-paneled eco-lodges, three beach villas, and a hammock shack constructed with bamboo and palm accents, the camp is filled with coconut trees and an almost empty beach.

It’s a simple, laid-back atmosphere where the owners may be playing a game of volleyball when you arrive so just sit back, relax, and enjoy the crashing waves framed by the Sierra Mountains in the distance.

The crowd is diverse with travelers from all around the world looking for a quiet piece of beach, a little surfing, and the occasional beach bonfire. Meals are served three times a day at an incredibly reasonable price of 5 mil ($2.50) for breakfast and 10 mil ($5) at lunch and dinner time. Beers, surf boards, laundry, and everything else are tallied on a sheet daily and you settle up at the end of your stay.

Arriving by collectivo (cheap shared mini-buses), we walked from the main road to Costeno and, after a half an hour, first spotted the camp from the beach by a volleyball net and a few sunbathers. We were quickly welcomed by the current Costeno crew and walked along the beach to the river mouth for sunset and surfing.

On the walk, I met Lucy, a young Australian who just spent much of the past year studying in Mexico and was wrapping up her time exploring South America. She had plans to go to Tayrona in the coming days so we decided to band together for a couple day excursion in the park.

That night, we all ate at a large communal table surrounded by colorful Christmas lights. Everyone shared highlights and hilarious moments from their travels, as well as the stories of what motivated many to leave life as they knew it for the open road. Some on just a month vacation from work and others going on 13 months of country-tripping, but all drawn to Costeno for a relaxed break from the typical travel of sight-seeing, party-hopping, and logistics-planning for the next jump. Most were resting up for Carnivale kicking off in Barranquila at the end of the week… and I can tell you that this crew can be as crazy as they are chill, but that’s another post to come.

Monday morning started with a game of beach volleyball and breakfast of buttery arepas topped with eggs and a side of fruit. I started reading “Great Expectations” by Dickens as I rediscover the classics during long stretches of time on beaches and buses.

In the afternoon, a group of us went on a hike to a secret waterfall organized by Costeno. Arriving at the “entrance” in the back of a pick up truck, we steadily made our way up through green-canopied paths and traversed huge boulders along the stream – of which I gracefully slipped several times (still clumsy after all these years).

The waterfall was multi-leveled with cool, deep green pools of water that you could drink from the palm of your hand. Everyone took turns leaping from various heights and taking what would be the shower for the day under the powerful cascades of water.

Upon return, we had a hearty serving of chicken fajitas which I covered in Aji (Colombian hot sauce). After, the guys unleashed their inner cavemen to start a beach bonfire and the Canadian girls surprised everyone with ingredients to make SMORES (graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows) – which the Europeans had never encountered! Under bands of stars that comprise the Milky Way, we ate our fill of gooey sandwiches in the glow of the bonfire and fell into a goodnight’s sleep to the sound of the ocean.

On Tuesday, it was off to Tayrona National Park for two nights. We would return for one last night at Costeno on Thursday before the massive exodus for Carnivale.

I’d like to especially thank Colm, Loren, Brian, and Bijson for being so awesome, feeding an army, and doing it all while being totally chill and having fun.

For those interested in going to Costeno Beach, if you require internet access (there is no Wifi and one computer for emergencies), a special diet (the menu is set, but you can always cook your own meals), or expect someone to cater to your every whim – this may not be the place for you.

For me, it was a wonderful place to relax and make some wonderful new friends. I’ll definitely be back.

About two weeks ago, I flew North from Bogota to hit Colombia’s Caribbean coast with stops in Santa Marta, Taganga, Costeno Beach, Tayrona National Park, Barranquila (for Carnival), and Cartagena (with a night on the white beaches of Playa Blanca).

This post is about the bustling city of Santa Marta and the laid back lair for backpackers of tiny Taganga. I’ll also be using “we” at times as I’ve been traveling with a young German doctor, Ryan, who I met in Bogota the night before and happened to be on the same flight with the same route in mind.

Flying into Santa Marta, the first sight out of the plane’s window is the Caribbean ocean filled with massive barges and, with the runway just feet from the water, a sense that you’ll be having a water landing instead of hard ground. Emerging from the plane, the heat and humidity hits you after mild and balmy Bogota weather. With bags secured, it’s a $10 cab ride into town where I had booked a bed at La Brisa Loca for the night.

Cab rides have become quite an adventure as two-lane roads become four at times and motorcycles whizz in-between cars and buses. Despite the white-knuckles of passengers, drivers seem deftly skilled at navigating the traffic and I’ve always arrived safely to my destinations so far (knock on wood).

The “party” hostel, La Brisa Loca is a converted neo-classical mansion with a pool, in-house bar, and roof-top terrace with hammocks and yoga classes available in the evenings. There are also storage boxes under the beds which is great for storing valuables. You also receive a welcome beer upon arrival which is usually followed by more beers as things to do are limited in Santa Marta (note: the bar tab is paid when you check out, so keep track of drinks to avoid a shock at the end of your stay).

Santa Marta is mostly a stopover point for travelers heading East towards Taganga and Tayrona National Park. I also recommend stocking up on groceries and anything that one might need there as prices go up as you travel into more remote areas (especially Tayrona!).

With the beach-calling, I took a cab the following day into the fishing village of Taganga where I stayed for three nights (though the plan was only two). As we drove over the mountain, the view is quite breath-taking of a horseshoe-shaped bay surrounded by the Sierras. It’s a place where beach meets desert as cactuses replace palm trees.

After checking in at La Tortuga, an affordable hostel with a fantastic roof-top bar complete with hammocks and a BBQ (which we put to use our last night in Taganga), it was off to the beach. Jennifer is the bartender. She makes amazing frozen drinks, is a fantastic salsa dancer, and all-around awesome gal!

The beach in Taganga is filled with fishing boats and hippies, but you can hike along the cliffs to find several coves ranging in size and crowds. While looking for the path, we met Vicente, a local chef on his way to the beach.

He then brought us along with him to a remote fishing cove complete with a little shack that served up cold beers (Aguila) and fresh fish that you pick for about $7.

Check out the beautiful red snapper with before and after pictures below.

BEFORE

AFTER

Walking to the cove, you can see fisherman using the traditional atarrayas (round fishing nets) as they slowing tighten the nets and pull their haul to sell on the main beach around sunset.

Vicente was a great new friend and terrific guide to Taganga. We went out the first night for dinner around midnight where we enjoyed a salmon topped with shrimp, calamari, and a delicious coconut creme sauce.

After dinner, it was off for dancing at El Mirador (a bar overlooking the beach with a better view than music) and after that bar closed, we headed to Stragos where the owner opened its’ doors to new and old friends. We danced salsa until 5am and got back to La Tortuga as the sun rose.

The following day was similar with beach during the day and dancing at night (this time emerging from Stragos to sunlight and people heading to the beach to begin their day). After two late nights, I was adamant that we leave and head to the more relaxed Costeno Surf Camp and Beach. With no sleep, I packed my bag while Ryan slept on a hammock. With an hour until check out, I went up to wake him, but ended up falling asleep on a hammock to awaken two hours later.

With the room for one more night, I went with Vicente and Ryan back to our fishing cove and slept the whole day. That day, we bought a fresh tuna that weighed in at about 5 lbs which Vicente cooked that night and it was one of the best fish that I’ve ever had in my life. See before and after below.

BEFORE

AFTER

With a full belly and finally a good night’s sleep, we headed to Costeno Beach on Monday for some much-needed R&R. I’ll save that for the next post on Costeno and the breath-taking Tayrona National Park.

Hastas Luegos Amigos!

Before hitting the Caribbean coast, I took the bus ($20 r/t) for four or five hours outside of Bogota to a charming old Colonial town called Villa de Leyva. This small village overwhelms the senses as you make your way over cobble stone streets with the smell of flowers permeating through the air and soft yellow lights reflecting off of white one-story houses with terra-cotta roofs and dark green doors.

It was really refreshing to be in Villa de Leyva after five days in bustling Bogota. The bus ride also gave me my first look at Colombia’s beautiful countryside with rolling hills, rich green valleys, as well as indigenous Colombians wearing coarsely woven ponchos and bollo hats.

In de Leyva, the primary form of entertainment is found at Plaza Mayor, a huge square (one of the largest in the Americas according to Lonely Planet) where everyone gathers at night with beer and rum bought from small kiosks along the perimeter while locals strum on guitars and music blares from nearby restaurants.

We arrived in the evening at El Solar Hostel and Campesina, where friends had stayed a few weeks earlier and raved about the property, which sits on an acre of land, has an area for nightly bonfires and is run by a lovely French woman named Martha who showers you in hugs and sings “mi amor” as your arrive. While she had not received our reservation and didn’t have any room, she served us coffee and called a nearby friend, Luis Miguel, who agreed to put us up for the night. His house was perfect with a courtyard, an adorable kitten, and enough space that I got my own room (first time since being in Colombian hostels, dorm-style).

Fate seemed to be on our side that day since we barely made the bus from Bogota and then we arrive with no place to stay only to get the equivalent of an airline upgrade from coach to business class. With a roof over our heads secured, it was off to Plaza Mayor to join the laid-back party scene and later head over to El Solar for a bonfire that went until sunrise.

I recommend a visit to de Leyva to anyone who comes to Colombia. Compared to Bogota where walking around at night is discouraged, de Leyva is very safe and you can walk around at all hours of the day and night. For those looking to get out into nature, the area has a couple of waterfalls within hiking distance as well as mountain biking and horse-back riding for the more adventurous.

On Sunday afternoon, we sat across from the bus station contemplating the ride back to Bogota… a few minutes later, we found ourselves back along those cobble stone streets to the Square where we found a hostel to stay another night.

One of the lessons that I’m picking up about long-term travel is you gotta know when to stay and when to go – and the tranquil Villa de Leyva was a great place to wind down and rest up for Colombia’s crazy Caribbean coast and Carnivale!