Bogota to Cartagena

So as it turns out, Bogota has been our favourite city so far. As for myself, I really can't say why it is. Perhaps it is the lack of oxygen that just makes me giddy (it's over 2700m above sea level) or just the hostel we stayed in, but Ilona and myself could definitely spend more than the three nights that we had there.

We ended up arriving at our hostel at around 5:30pm, both very tired and for once, a bit chilly! We immediately found that this hostel was an awesome place to stay, as it was managed by travellers who were staying for long periods of time and were getting free board in exchange for playing a part in managing the hostel. What was really great about it, was the fact that they provided free dinner!

We were in a 4 bed dorm that at the time, only had one other person in it, a Korean university student who was on an exchange trip to learn more Spanish. The bunks were very big and sturdy, which helped because I often find it difficult to fit into a bunk length-wise. We mucked around for a bit checking e-mails and so forth until dinner was served at 7, where we found out why it was so generously provided for free! Our 'spaghetti bolognese' was simply just noodles and some mince that didn't really taste like mince should. All served to us by a very over-enthusiastic Englishman who spoke 5 languages! (English, Spanish, Cantonese, Italian and German). But really, the food was free and edible, so we were in no position to complain and wolfed it down.

Day two in Bogota saw us rise early (for no good reason as breakfast wasn't available until 9am) and then trek off to Cerro de Monserrate and catch a tram all the way to the top of the mountain. The track was incredibly steep and provided us with great panoramic views, only surpassed by what we saw from the top. The peak is 3200m above sea level and has a church with a little market situated there. From there, you could see the entire city laid out before you beneath a layer of cloud and smog, which really made me pause and take it all in with a smile on my face.The Museo del Oro (Museum of Gold) was next, where we learned about how indigenous South Americans manipulated gold, copper and silver to create idols, jewellery and clothing adornments. Some of the recovered pieces were very intricate and in amazing condition, showing the high level of detail that they were able to achieve using simple tools and methods. I had put my name down at the hostel to play football at 3:30 so we headed back there, but not before a delicious lunch at a whole food restaurant recommended by our lonely planet guide, which consisted of pumpkin and ginger soup, stir fried veggies and tofu, rice, salad, freshly squeezed feijoa juice and a strange sweet almond puree to finish it off. All for around NZ$6 each!Football at the hostel was cancelled due to lack of people signing up, so a bunch of us just ended up watching some of the international frendlies on the telly that were playing at the time. Colombia vs. Spain was understandably very hotly debated. Our dinner that night was an attempt at some sort of chicken curry, which was OK, but we still agreed that we could have made a better one for just as little money. Our enthusiastic english friend (who was in Bogota writing his thesis on superstition in religions) learned that we were planning on visiting the Salt Cathedral in Zipaquira the next day, so he asked a favour of us. If we were to come across a man selling chicks and ducklings on the way to the cathedral, could we please buy him a duckling, but only if it was under 10,000 pesos. We agreed, just for the fact that it would become a great anecdote if we could find him one.

Next day, we wandered around the central city trying to find the right bus to catch to Portal del Norte, the last bus station before the edge of Bogota where we would catch a second bus to Zipaquira. It turned out that the instructions we were given were a bit off, but we managed to catch the TransMilenio to where we wanted to go, and then the second bus, rounding off our travelling time at close to 2 hours. The salt cathedral turned out to be a huge tourist attraction, apparently the largest in Colombia and the expensive entry price was indicative of that. But we hadn't travelled for nearly two hours for nothing, so we payed up and went on down to the entrance. We had to wait for a while for an english speaking guide, but the good thing was that our tour group consisted of myself, Ilona and one other guy. Our guide's english was pretty shoddy, but we still managed to get the gist of what he was saying. The cathedral itself was quite different to what we were both expecting, as we thought it would be a huge cavern that was made to look like the inside of a regular cathedral, but it ended up being a series of tunnels that held monuments to the trials of Jesus Christ (where Christ was represented as a stone cross and everything else as the rock wall behind it), staircases that decided how much sin you carried with you and lots of fluorescent lights. There was a large cavern at the end which had an altar, some pews and a cross carved into the salt, but it was all very different to what we imagined. There was a whole passageway dedicated to gift shops and tourist shopping, which was kind of strange considering the nature of the mine. As we exited, we heard rolling thunder on the hills beyond us, so we briskly made our way to the bus back into Bogota. Our search for a duckling was unfortunately fruitless, though our return bus was pulled over by the police and we had to present our passports while they ran all of the Colombian nationals through a database, which we're guessing was to pick up anyone wanted or suspected as being involved with FARC.Dinner that night was a rather nice traditional Colombian soup, consisting of corn, potato and chicken, but unfortunately quite un-filling. We had previously purchased some bacon and bread to make bacon sandwiches for our long bus trip the next day, so we set about preparing these straight after dinner.

The next morning was travel time, so after breakfast, we finished packing our bags, caught a taxi to the bus terminal and jumped on a 12:30 bus to Cartagena. Ilona became a little stressed during this time as we had trouble getting cash out of an ATM and the bus was also delayed 30 mins, which we had no idea of because the announcements came to us in Spanish. But finally we boarded the bus at 1pm and set off in the pouring rain. Our seats at the front seemed pretty good until we found that the bus leaked, and we got a good amount of the water coming in on our heads and bags. Thankfully, it stopped raining quickly and we had no more troubles water-wise, but about 3 hours into the trip in the middle of the Andean highlands, our bus was pulled over by the police once again and we had to get off this time, as they conducted a search along with the routine ID check. Our bus had conveniently stopped by a small roadside eatery, where we bought two empanada looking things from a vendor for 1000 pesos each (around 70c). These combined with the complimentary salsa turned out to be one of the most delicious things we had tasted in our travels so far, They were some sort of curried and spiced potato and beef filled pastry, which may sound simple , but was incredibly tasty, especially when eaten with their salsa (ranking up there with my favourite so far; the coxinha).Most of the journey was spent biting our nails, as it seems that in Colombia, there is no such thing as lanes on the road. Our driver overtook long trucks on blind corners, drifted across the road and used his horn more than I had ever done in my entire life. Our journey was to take around 21 hours, so as night fell, we attempted to sleep through the horn blasts, loud Spanish music the driver kept on all night, bumpy roads and constant stopping and starting. Thankfully the seats were relatively comfortable, though I didn't have much room to stretch out my legs.

Morning came and as we entered Baranquilla, we had to switch buses, which neither Ilona nor I was aware of before. Nobody around us spoke english, so it took us a while to figure out why our driver was telling us to get off the bus. All was well in the end, so after what seemed like a very long 2 hours, we arrived in the much hotter Carribean city of Cartagena, a city with a history of piracy and naval activity. We found from our lonely planet guide that Ilona has a familial connection here, as Sir Francis Drake, a distant relation to her, laid siege to the town in the 16th century. After a cheap taxi to what we thought was the hostel we had booked, we quickly found that it wasn't and Ilona, under stress the previous night, had mis-written the name of the hostel. This matter was quickly resolved as we booked a room there anyway, which turned out to be nice than the one we had originally booked for. The afternoon saw us explore the old town, which is filled with buildings in narrow streets with huge balconies strewn with bougainvillea and a great big fortified wall around the outside. It looked quite like a scene from one of the Pirates movies, or Cutthroat Island. Many pictures later, our peckish stomachs settled on a set lunch menu which included a far tastier version of the Colombian soup we had in Bogota, delicious fresh fish, rice, salad and a fried banana, complimented with freshly squeezed watermelon juice and rum and raisin ice cream for dessert, all for a measly NZ$5.60 per person! The heat began to get to us in the afternoon, so we made our way back to the hostel where we are still struggling to get a wi-fi connection, so this blog may come a little delayed. The manager doesn't speak much english, which is unfortunate, so he hasn't been able to help us. Anyway, those are things that one must expect in our position, so I'm not stressing too much. Until next time, hasta luego!
Mike.