East is a long and bumpy road away

This is part 1 of the adventure that was EL COCUY, a little national park, we hadn't actually heard about until Alex suggested to meet up there with her and Toni. Alex and Toni are friends from Dresden and also traveled in Colombia, even around the same time. Plan A had been to do the Ciudad Perdida hike together, but for different reasons Catha and I didn't wanna do it anymore. So we took the jeep from Minca to Santa Marta and - actually the journey itself is a good story!

First we went to a huge modern shopping mal to find a substitute for Catha's stolen boots, but it turns out there wasn't a single outdoor gear shop and generally not many shoes size 39 or bigger. At last, a pair of blue-pink beauties decorated Catha's feet and we rushed to the bus terminal, caught a nightbus and waved goodbye to the north.

Bucaramanga, 5am, heavy rain, no bus until 8am (nobody in the ticket office until 8am!!), scrambled eggs for breakfast. 7.40am, we get tickets, but only to Malaga.
Next 8 hours are along curvy mountain roads, or as I said before: 100km in second gear! Scary, and I got sick, which I never did before! Midday break in a cute town, I dismiss the scrambled eggs, fertilizing a tree in the small park.
Arrival in Malaga at 4pm, I feel like dying but Catha finds a taxi collectivo to Capitanejo, where the woman next to me eats fast food... Enserio?!
In Capitanejo we learn there are no more buses to Cocuy, there's only one a day at 3am. Or maybe 4am. Or was it 2.30am? Nobody really seems to know. We go to bed at 8pm in a weird little hotel without running water.

Alarm goes off, so do we, there's nobody awake but a lady on the street selling coffee/ juice/ Aguardiente, and we wonder if she's waiting for her special bus driver... There are many busses, but not ours. Only after 4.30am we climb into an old school truck that is full of fruit, drive over dusty and bumpy roads in complete darkness and are not able to find more sleep. After 5 hours, 1,5 of which were fruit deliveries, we finally arrive in Cocuy!

Now we only need to check into the np, wait, what? We need insurance? And we have to know how many days we stay (7000 COP/ day - no refunds)? Oh well, I need a coffee! And while we sip our tinto, another traveler approaches us: 'Are you the Germans?' He and his friend were looking for people to share a jeep with, the np guy gave them a hint about us and 1 hour later we are up in the mountains at the cabaña Esperanza, only about 48 hours after leaving Minca... And who is that waiting for us outside the hacienda? Toni!!!

Full moon fiesta

Ein kleines Intermezzo auf Deutsch, Pardon my English-speaking friends!
Wie ich hier so sitze in dem gemütlichen Garten der Villa Kunterbunt, direkt am Ausblick über die grünen Kaffeeberge bis hin zu Armenia, während Alex und Toni im letzten Licht der Dämmerung Frisbee spielen, Catha in der Küche Mangomarmelade kocht und die Hunde unter meiner Bank Löcher buddeln. Eigentlich ist es nicht unser letzter Abend in Kolumbien, aber es fühlt sich so an, den morgen werden Catha und ich sicher die Nacht im Bus verbringen wie schon ein paar Mal zuvor. Ich will überhaupt nicht weg, große Überraschung! Naja, ich möchte schon zurück, zurück zu dir! Doch natürlich ist es hier in Salento, oder besser unser Hostel Yambolombia genau die Oase, nach welcher wir für unsere letzten Tage gesucht hatten.

Wie quasi überall im Lande sind die Leute total nett, gestern wurden Catha und ich überraschend zum Abendessen der Volunteers mit einigen ausgewählten Hostelgästen eingeladen, Paolo hatte Pesto selbst gemacht. Der Begriff 'Familie' drängt sich förmlich auf. Hier fragt man wie es mir geht und hat tatsächlich Zeit (und Nerven) für die Antwort, man teilt sein Essen miteinander, selbst den teuren Wein - eine der wenigen Sachen, die nicht günstig sind hier. Es ist kein übertriebenes Gehabe, zumindest scheinbar nur das richtige Maß an Offenheit und Fürsorge. Kurz gesagt, ich fühle mich pudelwohl und die letzten  Tage vergingen wie im Flug.

Mittlerweile ist es fast dunkel geworden, eine kühle Brise weht um meine nackten Füße und die Lichter von Armenia strahlen hell im Westen. Zum Vollmond wurde ein Lagerfeuer angekündigt und der Abend ist noch jung, kein Grund zu verzagen. Dennoch lässt sich eine gewisse Schwere nicht abschütteln, der Wehmut, dass unsere Abenteuer bald schon vorbei sein sollten und wir die Wärme und all das Grün hinter uns lassen um daheim auf Ämtern zu versauern oder wieder der Versuchung des ständig verfügbaren Internets zu erliegen (Stichwort youtube, hier gibt es kein WLAN).
Noch einmal tief seufzen, und dann auf zum Abendessen begleitet vom Zirpen der Grillen, immer direkt hinein in welche Abenteuer auch immer uns in den letzten Stunden noch erwarten werden! Wir wollen doch die letzten wertvollen Momente nicht mit Schwermut verbringen!

M.I.N.C.A.

M: maracuja cheese cake
I: incredible views from hammocks
N: natural pool just for us
C: Cacaw saved the day
A: American interference

Part I
Heading out to Minca ended up being quite easy but uncomfortable, taking a taxi collectivo (more people than seats in a stuffy jeep) for about 45 mins up the green hills behind Santa Marta.
First things first, some coffee and maybe wifi in a café downtown! Also to wash down the first bad impression, there was lots of construction and dirt where we got off the taxi, I gotta admit I was a little disappointed since we had hoped to find a natural retreat. The café had no wifi (broken) BUT we spoiled ourselves with coffee and some maracuja flavoured cheesecake and really enjoyed the green terrace at the 'Lazy Cat'! A real treat!

Part II
Since we'd been recommended to stay at Oscar's Hostel, not even the 20 min walk the moto-taxi drivers warned us about could stop us. As usual it took several questionings to find the way but not even 15 min to reach the little paradise Oscar has created. His hostel is on a hillside overlooking Santa Marta, full of fruit trees, has a little fish pond and lazy dogs to cuddle.
We chose the hammocks with the best view, right on the edge, no mosquitos at night and not much noise from the house - but that's only important at American interferences (see part V).

Part III
It wasn't that much cooler in Minca than at the coast, maybe 27 instead of 33°C, so Catha and I headed out into the rich green hills to cool off in a natural water pool. It was less than an hour walk from town, passing by a friendly Colombian couple selling jugos (fresh juices) and locally-made food products. The guy recommend going to the lesser known 'pozo verde', hidden after the entrance of an hacienda. In the way there we saw mango trees which must have held at least a ton of fruit, were joined by a dog and eventually reached a beautiful river with enough space to swim in. There was no one else and we felt lucky to have the spot all to ourselves, took a fresh dip in the water and a sunbath on the rocks to dry off. The dog came up to us, put his snout on our shoulders and relaxed with us.
After all Catha and I decided to take a look at the other pool, pozo azul, which was so not worth it! A long and bumpy walk interrupted by mopeds honking and overtaking, and a river totally crowded with people and the worst arepas we have had so far. You can imagine how proud we felt that we had found a much nicer and and more tranquil place before! Every now and then there's still a non-tourist spot to discover!

Part IV
On the way back from the pools to Minca, we encountered the Colombian couple again and bought coffee, jam, and little presents, drank another jugo and had another nice talk with Cacaw and his wife. He gave us some pure cacao butter as a present and we thanked him for saving our day. Just another example of the Colombian friendliness, despite being involved with tourists!

Part V
The second and final night at Oscar's was really social, we hung out with another German girl, two Swiss guys and an Austrian. We had lots of fun just talking and playing music together, also thanks to Oscar's generosity of sharing his plants with us! It was a warm night and the city lights of Santa Marta were glowing in the back, when suddenly a stampede of 14 Americans rolled over the place, said hello and their names, went on to take a group picture in front of the view before we could tell our names and then disappeared back to the house. We exchanged a bemused look and continued or private party. Little did the others know that they wouldn't get much sleep that night, because the new group had set up their own party at the house. Catha and I slept very well, though, swaying in the hammocks with a soft night breeze in our face, peacefully dreaming of our next adventure - or so they say.

Tayrona NP - a summary

written mostly by Catha!

Monkeys, stolen shoes, rocky jungle path to a small lost city, sand flies, coincidentally running into Joni + Karo while they looked for gold on the beach, crazy salsa party with loads of Aguadiente served by camp owner Giovanni, who obviously had a little crush on us, beautiful beaches with way too many people on them - which contrary to what the book said didn't contribute to the feeling of wondering off the beaten path, very nice night in hammocks over the sand and across the leaf-cutter ant path, with a very charming guy called José providing us with just the right amount of a push in the hamock every time we seemed to be running out of movement and when we thanked him answered 'de nada, mi amor'

Those lazy days

Slowely waking up in the morning to the chattering and laughter of people downstairs, the air already warming up and of course the cock shouting his good morning, which he had been doing since about 5am. Staying at Simon's is so different from my enclosed comfy spot at home and I've started enjoying the social aspect, well, say I came to accept it.
I love the outdoor shower with a view over a fruitful papaya tree but the water pressure is ridiculous, more like a dripping that turns washing my hair into an hour long adventure. Also it felt nice how people share their food and what not without being asked, so Simon's felt rather like a community than a hostel. And it was dirty like one! Ah yes, the hippie life...

Palomino was nice but we imagined it a bit prettier and quieter. The beach turned out beautiful and not crowded at all, it wasn't the comercial like white sand but I'd always trade that for less people! One night we hung out there with our Argentinian friends Adrian, Gua and Conny, sitting in the sand under the stars, watching a red moon rising and feeling quite high, you know, on being lucky.
Catha and I spent 2 days on the beach, going swimming, lying in the sun and getting some tan like all those other backpackers have! The waves weren't high but rolled in quickly, I battled them to a body surf session and I came in second. I never went out far, there was a strong undercurrent and I am not a strong swimmer.

A couple of days being lazy were enough and we urged to get to the nearby Tayrona National Park, which the guide book had a pictured as deserted beaches with wild horses on them... Nature was calling!
But hold the line - no ATM in town! Luckily the nice lady of the hotel where we used (read: had to pay for) the internet told us to take a taxi to the next little village where there were even 2 banks. So after enabling ourselves to afford whatever spoils Tayrona might hold, we said goodbye to Adrian and the cool girls, who had treated us so friendly and made us feel like we belong in this huge group of South Americans, despite our limited language skills (unlike some arrogant German guys). After some fruit shopping, we got onto a bus on the third day, Tayrona on the horizon and some suprises right behind.

Oh beach where are thou?

It had been a long day in different busses. Catha and I had skipped Santa Marta and Taganga for the promises of a sunset on the beach in backpacker's heaven: Palomino. The expectations were high and my spirits were a little low (still feeling tired and my head hurt) while the bus was driving through jungle-like hilly terrain. How beautiful it looked outside, lush and green despite the missing rain.
But isn't this Palomino there? The bus just wouldn't stop, so I took my little Spanish and asked the Colombian girl next to me. Because by now I can express myself at least a bit and ask questions about where something is or how much. The only problem remaining: it's very hard to understand the answer, and we never get a short one! So the girl said yes, that's Palomino, and then something about mountains, and I thought, well maybe we'll stop a little later. But we didn't. So finally Catha walked upfront and talked to the bus driver, which didn't seem to help, and as we drove on further away from our destination with the sun slowly setting, our nervousness was rising. We tried to get out and maybe hitchhike back but the driver wouldn't let us out. I felt a little desperate, not in the mood for any adventures, just wanted a bed.
And then suddenly the bus stopped in the middle of the road, we were called out and switched to a bus going back the other way, which our driver must have called. So we eventually got out in Palomino just after dusk! No one else got out, no wonder the bus didn't stop!

After some asking around, we found the hostel we were recommended to stay at, not at the beach but a bed costs less than 2,5€ the night. As we first stepped onto the premises we got a hippie flash - it was like being back in Cinderland in  Hawaii! The owner Simon greated us, personally made our bed and even gave us a long hug, I mean a really long one! It was nice being amongst true hippies again and yet I felt I'd smell dried sweat everywhere...

Adrian, a friendly Argentinian (again!), talked us into having a beer with him 'in town', which means on the main road, where we met 2 Arggentinian girls, Gua and Conny, and scratched the bits of Spanish from the bottom of our tired souls, fuelled with sone arepas. Tired as we were, I had a feeling this place would be worth the troubles!

Around Palomino 

Kitchen at Simon's Hostel

Disneyland for Gringos

Just when the sun rose over the hills before the Caribbean coast, I woke up to see a much dryer and poorer part of Colombia. We met an Argentinian guy called Ivan at the bus station and went into Cartagena together, he was a great help asking for directions or prices in Spanish because he actually understood the answers! We found a cheap and nice hostel near the Walled City, took a shower and then strolled through the old quarter. It was nice and colorful indeed, but blame it on the heat or the many tourists, it wasn't for us! We had a fun time hanging out by the sea and eating bitter fruits in a shitty while shady place, but returned to our hostel after a couple of hours!

Tired travelers need some time to relax and then of course food! Somehow we craved pizza and found some at a square within the Walled City, seeing a wedding procession coming out of the church and some talented kids doing hip hop dance right from our seats, chewing on what they call pizza in Cartagena (or own fault!).
Back in the hostel we stayed up for quite a bit and drank way too much Aguila beer while watching people from the balcony. There was a woman trying to get into a door and she kept knocking so persistently, we made bets on when she would give up!
The next morning I felt dizzy and nauseous from the heat and the beer, the shower helped a little but the bus towards Santa Marta and the crazy driving didn't!

Anyways, we said goodbye to Ivan, and made our way back to the bus terminal and again I was impressed by the friendliness of the Colombians, pointing out the right ways and helping us catch the right bus! We reached Santa Marta after 4 hours and one horrible violent movie, had a snack and caught another bus to Palomino, dreaming about finally chilling out on a real beach and taking a dip the Caribbean Sea! It's supposed to be a cheap and beautiful getaway for backpackers, but little did we know that getting there wasn't as easy as we thought!

Medellin short story

After the first good impression of Colombia came an even better one the next day! Our host Dess and her roommate Jamir took us on a tour through Medellin, using 4 different means of transport: first a bus to a little tourist town up a hill with nice views over the city, then several taxis into the city centre and to a mall, then the metro and the metro cable (cable cars), which took us over the suburbs up the hill and had been built to give the poorer people a better access to the city. Also there is a modern library at the end for students and generally Medellin has become a much safer place than it was in the 80s and 90s. Dess said even the suburbs aren't as dangerous as they used to be, and we took a walk in her neighbourhood after dusk without being worried. We're aware you should be careful still but it was not nearly as threatening as people made us believe before the trip! I really liked the colorful houses and the slow life in Medellin, even downtown didn't feel very stressful.

Still Catha and I wanted to leave for the coast the next day and decided to take a night bus to Cartagena, which was supposed to be a beautiful town!
Before we went back to Dess' apartment, her and Jamir took us to the cool botanical gardens, no entrance fee and really beautiful!

So the next day we left Dess and thanked her for being such a fantastic host and making the start of our trip so easy by taking care of us. We tried taking the bus to the bus terminal in the north but due to contradicting information from different locals (blame it on our limited Spanish knowledge), we ended up taking a taxi (the driver talked a lot and we got to practise), bought a surprisingly expensive bus ticket and went into town again for the afternoon. We strolled through the busy streets chatting, went to a church where many people hang out - and wow there was some intensive praying - and after seeing some male prostitutes ended up in a little park for a coffee and a cigarette. Lots of locals hung out there and one helped us asking for a lighter, and despite some homeless people the park never appealed dangerous to us.

Before entering the bus we made guacamole and a pile of sandwiches (much to the amusement of others), gathered some blankets and sweaters since it is always so cold in busses with a/c. After we drove off from Medellin a guy in the bus got up and started talking to the passengers. First we thought he's telling us about the journey and got a bit nervous when he used the word 'muertos' (the dead), but then I realized he's some kind of priest talking about Jesus our savior. At least he wasn't collecting money after his intense 15 minute speech!