Walking Around Quito in my Andeswear and the Return of Jesus

On entering Ecuador I came face to face with the rising Andes. I put them on. They fit nicely like a new pair of boxers. No constriction and they looked pretty fancy.

I had my cheapest meal yet in Quito the first night. Burger, fries, soup and a drink for $1. Im not blaming the delicious $1 meal but I think it might have been created by the devil or Steve Darling from GlobalTV.



After defeating the $1 meal I had a peaceful slumber. In the morning I walked upstairs to the patio for breafast and I was graced with the return of my old friend. The last time I had seen him was half way up Oreo Mountain in Salento. It was Jesus!

Jesus and I decided to tour the city. Our first stop was a museum exhibit dedicated to the revolution. It illustrated how the devious Spaniards had exploited the people here and how the people eventually struck back. I was sure to remind Jesus that he was a Spaniard. I was quite impressed with the state of the art technology used in the museum. I´m not sure who produced the films in the museum but they had a strange fetish for talking paintings. They took paintings of historical figures and used their superior technology to make their lips move. Outstanding! The whole exhibit was in Spanish so I was lucky to have Jesus translate it all for me.

Afterwards, Jesus wanted to take me to all the churches in the city. I think he wanted to save my soul. I only went in one of the churches because I heard that you get to climb some precarious ladder to the top. Jesus vouched to hang around at the bottom as he didn´t feel like walking anymore. I climbed my way up the shaky stairs and exposed ladder to the top of the tower. I don´t know why they made it so difficult to get to the top. I feel sorry for who has to climb up to ring the bell everyday.

(Stallone- ¨This is the worst photoshop I´ve ever been in!¨)

The next day I was supposed to meet Jesus for breakfast at my hostal but he wasn´t there. That Jesus. So mysterious. I would soon regret the $1 meal but thats for another blog entry! As you have probably noticed, my camera is broken and so I won´t be uploading pictures for a while. For now you have to make due with random pictures.

¨Goodnight everybody.¨

Fin de Colombia

"Hello Jeremy. Welcome to Popayan."

I spent my last few days in Colombia in Popayan and Pasto...

Popayan is a classic colonial city. It is full of white-painted colonial architecture and churches. When I arrived, several parts of the city were quartered off by the police. This led me to believe that there had been trouble here involving the upcoming election.

I checked into my hostal: Casa Descanso (not to be confused with Casa Familiar next door which is apparently full of dogs). The hostal is inside a large house. It is furnished with 50´s era furniture and has that typical old person smell to it. I´m pretty sure my room was just a large closet, but, it had a window! Yipee! The window opens up into the living room. This place seemed quite familiar. As I was nodding off that night, I realised that the place was somewhat like the Overlook Hotel in the Shining. Now all I needed was creepy twins to appear in the middle of the night and blood to flow down the hallway!

¨Fresh towels!?!"

One night at the Overlook Hotel is good enough for me! The next morning I headed out to check out the sights in town. I had breakfast in the park where I was sure there would be some good people watching. As I finished my strawberry croissant some man sat down beside me on the bench. You can always tell when someone is looking at you, especially if they are about 3 feet away. All right, I will turn. I turned and this strange man was smiling at me. It was a Colombian version of Peewee Herman sans large shiny braces! He began to speak to me and so I figured I would see how far I could get with my Spanish. Once the extent of my Spanish dried up I would say ¨Yo no entiendo¨ ( I don´t understand) or ¨Yo no se¨ ( I don´t know). This did not stop Colombian Peewee Herman. He kept trying to speak to me. I think he may have asked me if I will be in Pasto in 3 days. Eventually, I had to just kind of turn away and drink my coffee in another direction. It was a nice park and I just wanted to sit there without beying bothered. He´s still staring at me isn´t he. I turned slightly and he grinned at me with his bracy smile. Well, time to head to Pasto! I packed up my bag and my erotic Spanish novel I had mistakenly boughten and went to the bus station.

In Pasto...

Apparently, people from Pasto are the brunt of many Colombian lightbulb jokes. Unfortunately, I didn´t have the chance to test this as my Spanish is still improving. There were two things i could do in Pasto: hike up the active volcano or go to the lake. This traveler from Germany told me he was just going to walk up to the top of the volcano. As it is an active volcano with lava flow on the side im pretty sure he met the same end as Arnold Swartzenneger in Terminator 1.

I didn´t feel like hiking so I decided to see what a Colombian lake is like. Another German and I took a collectivo ( a taxi or van full of random people) to the lake. When we got there it was raining like crazy and we hopped into this canoe-like boat with a motor on it. A man got in beside the motor and drove us towards an island. The canoe was taking in a lot of water but the driver didnt seem to mind. On the island we wandered around through this nature reserve. Lots of strange plants and trees. Looking over the lake from a clearing, the clouds and rain over the lake reminded me of BC. If it had not been for the plants, the lake could easily pass for one in BC! Afterwards we went into this house along the lake where we had the local specialty: trout. If I had known a Colombian look-alike of Tommy Lee Jones would be serving my food I would have brought some paper for an autograph!

The next day I made my way for the border and jumped on a bus to Quito, Ecuador.

¨Trout will be trout¨

Colombia Stats:

(#´s)

Lunches bought for me by locals: 1
Local rumbas gone to: 2
Overnight buses taken: 3
Overnight buses with crying babies in the next seat: 2
Travelers who told me about their experience with Russian Roulette: 1
Times chased by armadillos: 1
Amount of times Gringo Power worked: 1 +
(bypassed line for South American Games: Mens volleyball final)
Amount of surprise food eaten: 12 +/-

Number of soldiers seen: 1,000 +
Number of police seen: 1,000 +

Number of good looking Colombian women seen: 5,000 +++

(most random)

Sitting on the back of a mototaxi (motorbike taxi) and driving through billowing smoke on the highway. People just randomly burn bushes on the side of the road. As we drove through the smoke we slowed down as there were stopped cars ahead. There was a circle of people standing in the middle of the road. A man stopped his car and walked into the circle and put an aligator in a sack and casually got into his car and drove away.

(most friendly)

When it was one of my first days in Medellin, Colombia and I could barely speak or understand any Spanish. A girl from Bogota who spoke some English escorted me from the Metro to the bus terminal. She spoke to the ticket people for me because I didn´t know how to communicate with them properly. She got them to keep an eye on me and to let me know when the bus was leaving.

*honorable mention- hotel owners in Salento who took me out for food and taught me some essential Spanish

The Mysterious Carvings From 4,000 BC

Somewhere outside of San Augistin

Brian, Kara and I decided to go check out the carvings. We decided we would visit two of the sites: Chikira and El Tablon. The carvings are quite mysterious. It was a hot day so I was sure to bring plenty of earthy water that I got from the hostel. The trail was quite muddy as it had rained the night before. It only took about 2 and a half hours until we began to approach the Chikira site on the side of the hill. I can see why the people chose this spot. It is a perfect spot for the carvings because it is on the edge of a cliff facing a meandering river in the valley and there are a few waterfalls across the way escaping from the cracks in the rocks. Now let me give you a detailed description of the carv... “Oh hello!“

mmmmm earthy water

Some friendly Colombian teenagers approached us. They were carrying delicious fruit! They gave one to Kara and I asked for one. I held the fruit and inspected. Aha! Round shaped. Just as I suspected. I cant recollect the name of the fruit. I grasped it firmly in my hand pushed it towards my mouth. I bit in. Sweet and sour flavours salsa danced across my pallette. I chewed and swalled. How kind of these people. I wonder where they got this fruit? Kara suggested the ground. As she told me that I held up the other half of the fruit and spied something mysterious. Maggots! In the fruit! Oh my...Had I just eaten a biteful of maggots? I tossed the fruit into the dirt and spat whatever remnants were left in my mouth. The Colombians giggled. This is when it began. I began to feel strange. I could feel the bugs wriggling throughout my body. I looked down at my arms and could see them moving under my skin. My arms began to turn a purple color. I fell to the ground. The others quickly propped me up against a rock and gave me water. It didnt go down. How am I going to get to a doctor? It was at that moment that the spirits of Chikirah must have heard me. A masked man came galloping to the edge of the cliff and scooped up my body. He put me over the back of the horse and rode away. I awoke to bright lights in the hospital. I was being pushed on a gurney. The doctors spoke rapidly in Spanish. If only I had listened during my 2 hour Spanish class the week before. They pushed me into a spacious oval room with many machines running. They passed off my medical chart.

“¿Esta tentaculo?“ asked the new doctor.
“Si.“ replied the old doctor.

Tentaculo? I know THAT word. I know it from the seafood restaurant I went to. Why the hell would they be talking about tentacles? They propped me up in a bed and strapped me in. My arms were numb now and were completely purple. My legs also felt strange. They pulled off my boots and my legs split into fours.

I gasped and began to panic.
“What! What the hell is going on!?“
“Silencio hombre.“ replied the doctor as he stuck a needle in me.

My legs were now tentacles. This is what they had been talking about. They lifted one of my tentacles and brought over a plate of glass. A Garfield plush toy with suction cups was stuck to it. They grabbed my tentacle and threw it against the glass beside it. It stuck. The doctors scribbled in their books.

“Bueno, bueno bueno...“ they all muttered.
“En agua por noche!“

What? In water? What in water? They lifted me with some sort of machine and lowered me into a tank of water. I have never felt so buoyant. They then left the room and shut off the lights. That night I dreamt of fish. What the hell is all of this? I just wanted a normal trip. I awoke hungry the next morning. Some military-type people entered my room. A man who spoke English approached me.

“The president would like to speak with you.“

I didnt have a choice and so I nodded. He entered the room.

“Ahhh Tentaculo Canadian. I had to see it to believe it.“
“Shouldnt you be running your re-election campaign?“ I asked.
“No. I have governed for 2 terms. Now I will leave all that is political.“
“Thats a little far-fetched of a story.“ I replied.

The president picked up a medical pole and poked one of my tentacles with it. My tentacle grabbed the pole and snapped it with ease.

“This might be the right investment.“ he said to himself.

This angered me.

“You cant keep people locked up like this! Poking your stick in when you please. I must be free!“

With that my tentacles shattered the glass tank and I made a break for the door. I barelled over the president and the medical staff. I was out of the room. A hall full of military men stood in my way. They swung their batons. I swung my tentacles. I crawled over their unconscious bodies and burst through the front door.
Where was I? There were no other buildings. I was in the middle of nowhere. In front of me I spotted a cliff and I could almost hear and smell the sea. At this point the president and his guards had caught up behind me. I raced along the grass towards the edge of the cliff.

“Stop!“

I turned around.

“We could make millions. You can have whatever you want.“ offered the president.
“Why? So you can secure your cocaine trade profits by using un-detectable tentacle people as drug mules?“ I asked. “Just wait a minute.“ he pleaded.

I shook my head.

“No, I belong in the sea.“

And with that I dove off the cliff plunging into the deep waters below. A calm breeze blew over the ocean that afternoon. It was oddly silent. It was heard from a sailor that he saw a large tentacle stick out of the water and then at sunset...


This is probably what would have happened had I eaten the maggot half of the fruit. Oh, and the carvings at Chikirah and El Tablon are mysterious. Nothing is really known about them.

Jesus, The Armadillo and Oreo Mountain

(sleepy Salento)

A few days ago I went hiking in the Cocora Valley. The Cocora Valley is known for its gigantic wax palms, hummingbird sanctuary and sprawling view from the top of Finca de Montana (Farm Mountain).

(the Wax Palms)

It was 630am. I leapt out of bed at 645 after winning the battle against sleepiness. I quickly grabbed a coffee and food from my hotel. I was told that i could get some food at the hummingbird house but that I should pack a bit anyhow. I decided on a small bag of oreos, two croissants and some water from the store.

At 7 I jumped in the back of a jeep in the square and I was on my way. The jeep ride was about half an hour. When I got to the valley my first stop was El Bano. Its very important if you plan on hiking for around 6 hours.

(Finca de Montana AKA Oreo Mountain on the left)

(Is it any different if I wet my pants before I fall in?)

I hiked amongst the gigantic wax palms for a while and would be greeted by the occasionally moooo from the livestock around. When I made it to the forested area I saw the sign for the hummingbird sanctuary. It told me that the sanctuary was near. I would soon find out that the anti-Rainman made these signs and must have been terrible with numbers. After several precarious river crossings, I made it to the hummingbird house.

(Welcome!)

At the hummingbird house I spoke with the man who lived with the hummingbirds. He made cheese and sold me a piece. The Cheese Man began to tell me about the area. He told me that there are pumas and at one time there were a lot of bears. ¨There are not so many bears anymore¨ said the Cheese Man as he pointed to a comic on the wall depicting a man knifing a bear. Not long after our discussion, a man around my age walked out of the house. He told me that he was from Spain and that his name was Jesus. He also planned on hiking to the top of the moutain so we decided to go together.

Jesus and I got to the path leading up the mountain and we joked about the inacurrate distance markers. From there, we began the Grouse Grind-esque climb up the muddy trail. Luckily I found a sweet walking stick to help me gain traction. Jesus followed me for a while but he often fell back. He told me that he might be out of shape and that I shouldn´t wait for him. I waited for him for a while but then decided to move along as I wanted to make it to the top on time.

Eventually, I made it to a farm with a restaurant. It was at this spot that the trail was indistinguishable. I asked some people at the restaurant which way to go and they told me to go through the farm. I understood and opened the gate to the farm and began to walk up a trail crowded with horses and cows. I got close to the horses and they wouldn´t budge. Both of them turned around (likely getting ready to kick me if I got too close). Luckily, I know horse whispering and so they soon moved out of the way for me. I walked towards where I was told to go but there was no trail. I decided to take a break and drink some water while Jesus caught up. Jesus arrived at the restaurant at the bottom of the hill and told me he would be heading back as he was tired. I asked him to confirm the directions for me and he did. He told me that I could go either left or right. Oh okay! He told me that the paths connect. I decided to go through the gate on the right as I could see that trail. There was no signage on the gate. I opened it an entered the new trail.

The forest progressively closed in on me the higher I got. The trail got smaller and it began to get dark as a set of clouds descended into the valley. It was then when I was hiking through the shadows that I began to doubt that I had took the right trail. Could this be the trail leading to El Diablo?

I made my way around a bend in the trail and all of a sudden something came charging towards me. I stopped in my spot as I had no idea what it was. What the hell is barrelling towards me and is it running from something larger? It looked nothing like I had seen in the forest before. I identified it. It was an armadillo! It got about 10 feet from me and stopped as it probably had just noticed me. Whats it going to do now? Should I use my stick to flip it on its back if it comes closer? I know that turtles get stuck on their back. Surely armadillos are similar as they both have shells. I slowly reached for my camera to try and get a picture of it but it dashed off the side of the trail. I walked towards where it ran to. There was a big drop-off. I looked over the side and there was no sight of the armadillo. I´m not sure that any animal could survive from that height. I feared the worst for my shelled friend.

After being charged by the armadillo my paranoia began to set in. It was getting darker and I was the only one on the trail. I would also often hear large thrashing in the bushes. Were these the pumas taunting me before their feast? Probably not. I managed to see one of the animals. They were birds the size of wild turkeys. They swooped up in the trees and back down into the bushes. One of them began to follow me from above. It looked down with its vulture-like beak and observed. Did this bird know something I didn´t? As I walked away from it I think I heard it laughing.

I pushed forward. After a while I made it to the top of a ridge. I was told there would be a house at the top but there was only a dilapitated thatched roof. Was this the top? It was suggested that there would be a house with people. I sat under the a piece of the roof and looked around. The large clouds had climbed up the mountain alongside me and completely filled both sides of the valley. I was sandwiched on the ridge like a reverse oreo. This area would have had an awesome view if it had been clear. I was still unsure whether I was on the right trail or not but I decided I better eat something. I munched on the oreos and passed on the croissants as I had discovered earlier that there was surprise salty cheese inside them. I thought it was best to not eat the salty cheese croissant as I should keep hydrated. I looked at my watch and it read 1245. The last jeep at the bottom of the valley leaves at 5. I figured I could either briskly hike back the way I came but that could easily take 3-4 hours or I could continue on along the ridge. It would have helped if there were some proper signage! I figured heading back may take too long and if I were on the right trail it would soon descend off the ridge into the valley as I was told. I decided I would walk 15 minutes ahead and if the trail did not begin to go down I would go back the way I came.

The trail descended and I made my way off Oreo Mountain. On the way down I came out randomly above the farm with the restaurant. There was no way i would have found that trail earlier. I went down past the restaurant and took the trail Jesus took to get out. The clouds condensed and it began to pour. I made it to the jeep spot around 3, soggy and cold. The hike had taken around 7 hours. I waited an hour in the rain for the the jeep to ready. Some guy from London tried to talk to me but I wasn´t having any of it. I was too busy trying to stay warm and eat as I picked out the cheese from the croissants.

All in all it was a good day/hike. The scenery was awesome and there was plenty to keep me entertained. Im just glad I made it off Oreo Mountain. Legend has it that there are two ways to get off : off the side or to hike down. I´m glad I chose the latter!

All My Friends Are Hairy

Just when I thought I had enough hairy friends some more always come along. I suppose it is my own doing but who knew a small piece of pastry would result in a friendship rooted in stalking.

I was sitting the park early this morning enjoying some breakfast when they entered my life. One of them popped a squat beside me and looked at me with its baleful eyes. All right, I will give you one piece and then you leave me alone. This was the beginning of the end. It left after I gave it a piece and I foolishly believed I was alone until it returned with an entourage.

The one who I fed had marched the rest over believing I had opened a buffet. I got up and began to evade. They followed. I walked to the end of town (its not very big) and I knew they were still with me. I could hear their panting behind my back. I made a break in the opposite direction and began to strafe back and forth across the street. I ducked into a shop for a bit to buy some things and when I got out there they were, sitting...waiting.

Not long after, I went to a coffee plantation and the owner gave us a tour. He was from England and had owned the plantation for two years. He giddily told me his plan to produce less yet better coffee rather than a mass amount of mediocre coffee. He´s a madman! It was at this point he looked exactly like John Hammond from Jurassic Park.

´Less, yet better coffee! muahaha!´

John showed me around the crops and the production process. Then he showed me the septic tank he had just bought. His plan was to use the tanks and just bury them when they got full. He didn´t want any human waste in his soil. At the end we tried some of the fresh coffee. Some more of my hairy friends gathered around (different ones) and observed as I drank the coffee. John you are a madman but this just might work.

Upon returning to town my old hairy friends acknowledged me. I guess I can relate to them in a way. All I want is cheap/free food like them. In this way my friends are hairy but so am I...a bit.

Flashes on the Horizon

I look out the window of my night bus and see flashes on the horizon. I dont see lightning but I sometimes hear the thunder. It is not just this 16 hour bus ride that I have seem them but I have also seem them on others. This reminds me of the confrontation between FARC and the militiary. You occasionally hear about things happening but you will probably never see anything.

Of the cities I have visited thus far there has been a large military presence. Grand, contemporary, military sculptures are ubiquitous and so are billboards recruiting the young through the use of a military mascot. Apparently there is an invisible war going on in these cities. This war is not televised and skirmishes do not make the domestic or international media. The armed sector of FARC has become quite small and has been pushed into the north, near the lawless Darien Gap, and the south within the jungles bordering Venezuala.

Sometimes you will hear stories from other travelers about their bus being stopped by FARC in FARC areas. The result is that they let the bus go or, in rarity these days, tell everyone to get off with their belongings so they can torch it. From there you hope another bus comes along soon to pick you up!

Originally FARC was comprised of ideological intellectuals whose aim was to assist the rural poor in getting a larger cut. Unfortunately, they moved into the coca production for cocaine which gave international powers the legitimacy to intervene. International funding for the ´War on Drugs´ and the training of the Colombian military by international powers sealed FARC´s fate. FARC became desperate and resorted to political kidnappings and car bombs. In this way they lost the hearts and minds of most people and may soon fade into history.

(´Escopetarra´ - a decomissioned AK47 now used to make music. A symbol of non-violence in Colombia)

History in Latin America has often been kind to the military. People have tried to retain power and control by building expansive armies. With the right combination of having a bloated military which must be pleased and Latin American brand corruption, it is only time before large armies assert control. Hopefully, Colombia can defy history and not be sliced by their own sword which is depleting FARC.

For the time being, Colombians go on with their lives as if nothing is happening. Many of them hear about FARC but will never encounter them. I suppose they are tired of caring and worrying. Sometimes its best to just sit at the beach and eat ice cream.

Toomuchpollo

It is quite often in life that we believe we are ordering one piece of pollo (chicken) and end up with a dozen. Things are not always as they seem. This is especially true in travel. As I sat inside Mr. Tommy's Pollo restaurant in Medellin I could feel the Colombians watching me. Is he really going to eat twelve pieces of chicken in one sitting?


Medellin and Cali are said to be the cities with the most beautiful Colombians. Now, I haven`t been to Cali yet but I can say without hesitation that Medellin is a boob and ass city. You will find women of all ages with boob and ass implants (sorry, no pictures). Apparently it is common for a father to give his daughter breast implants for her sixteenth birthday. It is also common for a woman in her sixties to get an ass implant. This leads to a city full of people with oversized breasts and ass.




This is finely balanced by Botero´s art which is scattered throughout the city. His interpretation of Colombians and famous historical figures is the opposite of the established definition of beauty. He tells it how it is. He makes his female sculptures plump and small breasted and gives the male sculptures tiny packages.

Eventually it was time to leave Medellin and head to the Caribbean city of Cartagena which is known for its history of piratry and rum. A British traveler and I decided it would be best to check out the nightlife in the city. We began at a local salsa bar named Donde Fidel where we ended up being the only gringos there. The owner, who I assume was Fidel, had a massive gut and was huffing and heaving around the bar. People would jump out of the way when he walked about. We came to the conclusion that Fidel must be similar to a Don in the mafia. He seemed to garner a lot of respect and when he would wag his finger in tune with his labored breathing, people would bend over backwards for him.



After we took advantage of the cheap beer prices we decided to find a club. We began to ask the locals where the good spots were. We got several suggestions and one old woman led us to a bar called Queens. We were excited and ready to have a good time when we stepped into the bar. The Brit stepped in first and burst out laughing. I stepped in after him and scanned the room. We were the only men in the bar and there were about 20 young Colombian women sitting around. I was immediately reminded of the time I was unknowingly led into a whorehouse in Morocco. This happened several more times throughout the evening as locals kept leading us to these houses. We finally gave up our search for a normal club when we were led to a pirate ship docked in the bay full of hookers in pirate costumes. As my side was hurting from laughing and was beginning to get chafe we decided to head back to the hostel area.




The next day was mud volcano day. I climbed the mound and got in the mud. It is probably one of the strangest feelings i have had before. The Colombians begin massaging you and covering your body in mud. Afterwards, you head down to the lake to rinse off. At the lake, there are more people who massage you and help rinse the mud off. All of a sudden, one of the Colombian women took my shorts off so I was sitting in the lake naked (no I don´t have pictures of that either). From there, they proceed to clean and massage you...As I looked around I could see that other people had not known that this was part of the mud volcano experience either.







Things are not always as they seem but getting extra pollo or having something happen that was not planned can make for good travel.




This is why I say bring on mucho pollo!