because i know you have all been waiting with bated breath....
pictures from coloooombia!
i'm only averaging about 2 months per album...think that's about right for south american time!
28.1.10
25.1.10
i can´t think of a creative name
i´m in the andes. it´s cold. and it´s raining. how cliche!
after stocking up on all things alpaca (thick woolly socks, homeless-chic fingerless gloves and the like), i thought i would be set. except when i wear them all together i look like tourist extraordinaire.
after that cotopaxi debacle, i headed to baños (yeah, toilet. odd name for a town, eh). i think it´s supposed to represent the thermal baths that the town is famous for, but i still giggled whenever i said the name. baños. yes, i´m 12 years old. a tiny town in the valley of the andes, the sun competes and continually loses with the hanging clounds. the mist fits, though. looks steamy, like everyone just got out of the jacuzzi. and speaking of steamy, nearby volcan tungurahua was showing off, in the biggest eruption in 100 years. this was around the same time there were tornado warnings in san diego? mother nature, it seems, is not so pleased with us humans.
sick of the cold and missing the playa, we went to the hippy party beach town of montañita for the weekend, where there was--you guessed it--hippies, parties and a beach. it felt like rosarito, minus papas & beer and frat boys, plus an influx of mossies. ugh me gusta la playa pero no me gusta mosquitoes!
now in cuenca on my slow move south. it seems like a cool city, and if this torrential downpour ever lets up, i think i´ll go explore.
missing you all alot today. too many hours on bumpy buses with crying babies and horrendous dubbed action movies and a broken ipod, i think.
after stocking up on all things alpaca (thick woolly socks, homeless-chic fingerless gloves and the like), i thought i would be set. except when i wear them all together i look like tourist extraordinaire.
after that cotopaxi debacle, i headed to baños (yeah, toilet. odd name for a town, eh). i think it´s supposed to represent the thermal baths that the town is famous for, but i still giggled whenever i said the name. baños. yes, i´m 12 years old. a tiny town in the valley of the andes, the sun competes and continually loses with the hanging clounds. the mist fits, though. looks steamy, like everyone just got out of the jacuzzi. and speaking of steamy, nearby volcan tungurahua was showing off, in the biggest eruption in 100 years. this was around the same time there were tornado warnings in san diego? mother nature, it seems, is not so pleased with us humans.
sick of the cold and missing the playa, we went to the hippy party beach town of montañita for the weekend, where there was--you guessed it--hippies, parties and a beach. it felt like rosarito, minus papas & beer and frat boys, plus an influx of mossies. ugh me gusta la playa pero no me gusta mosquitoes!
now in cuenca on my slow move south. it seems like a cool city, and if this torrential downpour ever lets up, i think i´ll go explore.
missing you all alot today. too many hours on bumpy buses with crying babies and horrendous dubbed action movies and a broken ipod, i think.
20.1.10
soroche and the beast
ecuador, ecuador, ecuador. the country where you can buy cuy (that would be guinea pig), freshly roasted on a spit, off the street and the bus drivers are crazier than their guatemalan counterparts. i love it.
quito´s old town is amazing. unfortunately, no photos were taken becauase after three girls got robbed at knifepoint and the hostel across the street got raided, i decided that my mind´s eye would be sufficient. my favorite building was the basilica del voto nacional, a beautiful gothic cathedral with massive naves, stained glass reflected rainbows on the stone floor, and the best part, sea turtles and monkey statues instead of gargolyes keeping watch on the exterior walls. i wanted someone to be the guinea pig and try cuy (get it??!?!) but haven´t had any luck yet. we wandered out to the middle of the earth and jumped back and forth across the equator, southern hemisphere, northern hemisphere, just because we could, and balanced an egg on a nail for the heck of it.
bring on volcan cotopaxi, who at nearly 6000m is the highest active volcano in the world. it´s everyone´s idea of a perfect volcano, cylindrical at the top and dressed with white snow. almost like a child painted it. she is a beast. and for some reason, i decided to climb her.
¨how long have you been in quito?¨asks the tour guide operator. ¨a couple days.¨¨oh, you should probably give yourselve some more time to acclimatize.¨¨nahh...i think we´re ok.¨ ¨have you climbed any other mountains to practice?¨¨oh...nope.¨¨hm, you should probably do that before attempting cotopaxi.¨¨eh, we´ll be fine.¨ after giving us the once-over and a shrug, she signed us up and we were off to the races.
i had gone running for the first time in 5 months 2 days before. franky had never even SEEN snow before, let alone climbed in it. it was a 2 hour trek to base camp and a 6-8 hour strenous climb to the summit, and we were running around at the bottom with our ice picks like little kids.
and so the climb began. loaded up with a sleeping bag, crampons, ice picks, plastic snow boots, fleece pants, snow pants, fleece jacket, rain jacket, 2 pairs of gloves, 3 pairs of socks, a baclava, beanie, scarf, water, and food, we started our trek up to base camp. already, i felt the effects of the alitutude and we were only at 4000m. as my body struggled for oxygen that wasn´t there, i thought (for the first of about 300 more times) that maybe a longer acclimitazation wasn´t such a bad idea. everyone said that the beginning was the hardest, so we continued uphill, our packs on our backs like dead weight, struggling against the wind, panting, hearts pounding like we were sprinting. and that was just getting to the refuge. two other independent groups of climbers, american and french (and all men, by the way), were already there when we arrived. they were talking about training for EVEREST. franky and i exchanged looks--oh lord, what have we gotten ourselves into? tea warmed our already-frozen fingers, our guides whipped up a quick dinner, and we were off to bed by 6 pm, shivering in our thermal sleeping bags--out of cold and nervousness--and fruitlessly tried to get some sleep before midnight. you climb during the night, because during the day the sun will melt the snow. the wind was howling outside. twice i woke up freaking out, thinking there had been an avalanche, but then i realized that the refuge is probably the safest part of the mountain.
a 12am wake-up call, a scramble into oversized clothes that made me look like a color-blind snowman, filled my water bottle with hot water (so it wouldn´t freeze on the mountain), forced down half a banana into my nauseous stomach. even though i was feeling fine the night before, i woke up with a pounding headache, my head throbbing like i had just downed 20 shots of tequila. one of the first signs of altitude sickness. fabulous. gulping two steaming mugs of mate de coca (coca tea--yes, made from coca leaves that locals swear by as a cure for soroche), i crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
snow boats on, crampons loaded, ice pick in hand, let´s go climb a volcano!
we headed off into -10 degree darkness. ok, i don´t exactly know what i was expecting--a trail maybe, a winding path of sorts. no no. we were literally climbing up the face of the moutain. straight up. it was pitch black, no moon to light our way, only frozen-over headlamps. all you could see was a steady stream of lights heading up and the snow-covered back of the person in front of you. the americans brought ski poles for walking sticks--smart. the wind was blowing ice in my face, and sometimes the gusts were so strong i nearly fell over. great, i´m going to fall off this god-forsaken mountain, my body will be eaten by wolves and i´ll never be found because i wrote down a fake passport number. literally, hell had frozen over. no, i did not sign a waiver. yes, this is supposed to be fun.
the higher up i got, the more lightheaded and dizzy i became. my nose was running, so i had nice little snot icicles hanging from my nose. there was so much pressure i felt like my head was going to explode. remember, this is supposed to be fun. at 5650m, we turned back. being that lightheaded and with the weather conditions so horrible (it had started to snow), it wasn´t safe to continue on. i´m not sure how many people made it to the summit. i honestly don´t remember much from the glacier, just thinking, ¨get me off this mountain.¨our guide got lost four times coming down because our trail had been blown away. he would stop, scan the horizon with his lamp, find a marking on a rock or a footprint or a star constellation or something, and continue on.
we were back at base camp by 5am, smelling like mountain and defeat. it´s a mind over matter climb, and i´ve never felt so let down by my body. to be honest, it´s the first physically demanding thing i haven´t been able to finish. altitude and the weather played huge factors, and i couldn´t think straight enought to reason with myself, but i let that mountain beat me. now i know how people feel when they fail k2. by 11am, i was back at a normal altitude, my head stopped pounding, and i had already resolved to tackle her again. a year from now, cotopaxi will be mine. it´s my own personal everest.
quito´s old town is amazing. unfortunately, no photos were taken becauase after three girls got robbed at knifepoint and the hostel across the street got raided, i decided that my mind´s eye would be sufficient. my favorite building was the basilica del voto nacional, a beautiful gothic cathedral with massive naves, stained glass reflected rainbows on the stone floor, and the best part, sea turtles and monkey statues instead of gargolyes keeping watch on the exterior walls. i wanted someone to be the guinea pig and try cuy (get it??!?!) but haven´t had any luck yet. we wandered out to the middle of the earth and jumped back and forth across the equator, southern hemisphere, northern hemisphere, just because we could, and balanced an egg on a nail for the heck of it.
bring on volcan cotopaxi, who at nearly 6000m is the highest active volcano in the world. it´s everyone´s idea of a perfect volcano, cylindrical at the top and dressed with white snow. almost like a child painted it. she is a beast. and for some reason, i decided to climb her.
2 things of note: 1.) soroche, altitude sickness, is a very real thing (i mean, really, who knew?) and 2.) summiting cotopaxi is not hiking or trekking. summing cotopaxi, my friends, is straight-up, hardcore, don´t mess with everest mountaineering. owning to the fact that i am no mountaineer, in any way, shape, or form, i think we all know how this story will end.
¨how long have you been in quito?¨asks the tour guide operator. ¨a couple days.¨¨oh, you should probably give yourselve some more time to acclimatize.¨¨nahh...i think we´re ok.¨ ¨have you climbed any other mountains to practice?¨¨oh...nope.¨¨hm, you should probably do that before attempting cotopaxi.¨¨eh, we´ll be fine.¨ after giving us the once-over and a shrug, she signed us up and we were off to the races.
i had gone running for the first time in 5 months 2 days before. franky had never even SEEN snow before, let alone climbed in it. it was a 2 hour trek to base camp and a 6-8 hour strenous climb to the summit, and we were running around at the bottom with our ice picks like little kids.
and so the climb began. loaded up with a sleeping bag, crampons, ice picks, plastic snow boots, fleece pants, snow pants, fleece jacket, rain jacket, 2 pairs of gloves, 3 pairs of socks, a baclava, beanie, scarf, water, and food, we started our trek up to base camp. already, i felt the effects of the alitutude and we were only at 4000m. as my body struggled for oxygen that wasn´t there, i thought (for the first of about 300 more times) that maybe a longer acclimitazation wasn´t such a bad idea. everyone said that the beginning was the hardest, so we continued uphill, our packs on our backs like dead weight, struggling against the wind, panting, hearts pounding like we were sprinting. and that was just getting to the refuge. two other independent groups of climbers, american and french (and all men, by the way), were already there when we arrived. they were talking about training for EVEREST. franky and i exchanged looks--oh lord, what have we gotten ourselves into? tea warmed our already-frozen fingers, our guides whipped up a quick dinner, and we were off to bed by 6 pm, shivering in our thermal sleeping bags--out of cold and nervousness--and fruitlessly tried to get some sleep before midnight. you climb during the night, because during the day the sun will melt the snow. the wind was howling outside. twice i woke up freaking out, thinking there had been an avalanche, but then i realized that the refuge is probably the safest part of the mountain.
a 12am wake-up call, a scramble into oversized clothes that made me look like a color-blind snowman, filled my water bottle with hot water (so it wouldn´t freeze on the mountain), forced down half a banana into my nauseous stomach. even though i was feeling fine the night before, i woke up with a pounding headache, my head throbbing like i had just downed 20 shots of tequila. one of the first signs of altitude sickness. fabulous. gulping two steaming mugs of mate de coca (coca tea--yes, made from coca leaves that locals swear by as a cure for soroche), i crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
snow boats on, crampons loaded, ice pick in hand, let´s go climb a volcano!
we headed off into -10 degree darkness. ok, i don´t exactly know what i was expecting--a trail maybe, a winding path of sorts. no no. we were literally climbing up the face of the moutain. straight up. it was pitch black, no moon to light our way, only frozen-over headlamps. all you could see was a steady stream of lights heading up and the snow-covered back of the person in front of you. the americans brought ski poles for walking sticks--smart. the wind was blowing ice in my face, and sometimes the gusts were so strong i nearly fell over. great, i´m going to fall off this god-forsaken mountain, my body will be eaten by wolves and i´ll never be found because i wrote down a fake passport number. literally, hell had frozen over. no, i did not sign a waiver. yes, this is supposed to be fun.
the higher up i got, the more lightheaded and dizzy i became. my nose was running, so i had nice little snot icicles hanging from my nose. there was so much pressure i felt like my head was going to explode. remember, this is supposed to be fun. at 5650m, we turned back. being that lightheaded and with the weather conditions so horrible (it had started to snow), it wasn´t safe to continue on. i´m not sure how many people made it to the summit. i honestly don´t remember much from the glacier, just thinking, ¨get me off this mountain.¨our guide got lost four times coming down because our trail had been blown away. he would stop, scan the horizon with his lamp, find a marking on a rock or a footprint or a star constellation or something, and continue on.
we were back at base camp by 5am, smelling like mountain and defeat. it´s a mind over matter climb, and i´ve never felt so let down by my body. to be honest, it´s the first physically demanding thing i haven´t been able to finish. altitude and the weather played huge factors, and i couldn´t think straight enought to reason with myself, but i let that mountain beat me. now i know how people feel when they fail k2. by 11am, i was back at a normal altitude, my head stopped pounding, and i had already resolved to tackle her again. a year from now, cotopaxi will be mine. it´s my own personal everest.
10.1.10
south for the winter
just a quick post to say that, for the first time ever, i am OFFICIALLY in the southern hemisphere!!
kind of exciting for a northerner like myself...
kind of exciting for a northerner like myself...
6.1.10
caught in the crossfire
what happens when you are caught, freshly showered (and wearing your last clean shirt), walking around a colombian city during the carnaval de blancos y negros??
i think they got extra points for targeting gringos...
the festival dates back to the early days of colonization, when the spanish decided to give the slaves one free day to celebrate their ancestry. january 5 is the day of the blacks, followed by the day of the whites. we arrived in popayan at the tail-end of the festivities, when everyone is armed with white talcum powder and foam, their hands covered with black grease and paint. somewhat unaware, i showered after a long day of travel and ventured out looking for food. 10 minutes later, i looked like...well, see above. such fun, though, running around the city, dogding street kids with handfuls of powder, getting paint smeared all over your body and just laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.5.1.10
cocaine and coffee
two of colombia´s most famous exports, and what medellin and salento are most known for, respectively. but that only scratches the surface of what these two cities are really about.
after the coldest overnight bus ride of my life (seriously, it was like a meat locker. i coudn´t feel my toes , could see my breath and felt the first twinges of hypothermia. ON the bus), arrived in medellin. while the city was known for being the stomping grounds of pablo escobar and having the highest murder rate in the world, due to urban drug wars and teenage kids being hired to off people for 30 bucks a pop, today it´s touted as the safest big city in colombia. talk about an image makeover.
it also has a metro, one of the cleanest i´ve been on in my life. probably because your not allowed to eat on it, something i realized while getting yelled at by a policia mid-bite into my empanada. lo siento!
we rolled into medellin a couple days before new years, and met up with a huge group we´d been traveling with for the past month or so. more aussies than i can count, a couple scottish, a couple irish, one kiwi and the trusty american! days were spent riding throughout the massive city, visiting the musuem of modern art for a bit of culture, the aquarium for a bit of wildlife, and the mall for a taste of the exquisite colombia fashion (insert sarcasm here. everything is tight and bright). the main town is centered in a large valley, with overpopulation crowding houses up on the slopes of the hills, some homes built on 45 degree angles. at first glance seems a bit drab and monotone, but the beautifully cool climate and distinct urban vibe was a nice change.
bring on new years! our entire hostel ended up at a club called mangos, themed like a circus, trolling with clowns, midgets and my personal favorite, midget clowns. insanity doesn´t even begin to describe it. strobe lights, electro-turned-salsa blasting, go-go dancing mimes, clowns doing makeup in the bathrooms, dancing dancing dancing. ¡diez, nueve, ocho, siete, seis, cinco, cuatro, tres, dos, uno, feliz año nuevo! 2010! a new year, a new decade!
the coffee district seemed like a good place to recover, and salento was the small town of choice. a tiny hamlet tucked away in the heart of the highlands, it seems this town hasn´t changed much in 200 years. surrounded by rolling green hills, rivers and coffee plantations, on a clear day you can see snow-capped mountains of the valle de coroca. easily one of the cutest towns i´ve ever visited. bustling on the weekends, sleepy as ever on the weekdays. small handicraft shops squeeze onto the main street, multi-colored homes of adobe show the wear of sun and time, men wear cowboy hats and traditional striped ponchos, a weekend festival catering to colombian daytrippers with food and music jams the central plaza, and some of the best coffee i´ve ever had the pleasure of consuming is on tap. every menu heralds their trucha and patacones as being THE very best town. the trucha (trout) i can do without, but i will dream about patacones for the rest of my life. a huge plantain, smashed, salted, fried, served with whatever you want. yummmm.
tomorrow, off to cali, the salsa capital of colombia, then the white city of popayàn. sad to leave this country, but looking forward to ecuador!
and as a side note: colombia could quite possibly be my favorite country in the whole world. it was built up for me on my way through central america, and rightfully so. the people are the friendliest--everyone is amigo--the scenery leaves me awe-struck, the tangible resiliency and strength in the whole country is inspiring, and the love of life is contagious.
after the coldest overnight bus ride of my life (seriously, it was like a meat locker. i coudn´t feel my toes , could see my breath and felt the first twinges of hypothermia. ON the bus), arrived in medellin. while the city was known for being the stomping grounds of pablo escobar and having the highest murder rate in the world, due to urban drug wars and teenage kids being hired to off people for 30 bucks a pop, today it´s touted as the safest big city in colombia. talk about an image makeover.
it also has a metro, one of the cleanest i´ve been on in my life. probably because your not allowed to eat on it, something i realized while getting yelled at by a policia mid-bite into my empanada. lo siento!
we rolled into medellin a couple days before new years, and met up with a huge group we´d been traveling with for the past month or so. more aussies than i can count, a couple scottish, a couple irish, one kiwi and the trusty american! days were spent riding throughout the massive city, visiting the musuem of modern art for a bit of culture, the aquarium for a bit of wildlife, and the mall for a taste of the exquisite colombia fashion (insert sarcasm here. everything is tight and bright). the main town is centered in a large valley, with overpopulation crowding houses up on the slopes of the hills, some homes built on 45 degree angles. at first glance seems a bit drab and monotone, but the beautifully cool climate and distinct urban vibe was a nice change.
bring on new years! our entire hostel ended up at a club called mangos, themed like a circus, trolling with clowns, midgets and my personal favorite, midget clowns. insanity doesn´t even begin to describe it. strobe lights, electro-turned-salsa blasting, go-go dancing mimes, clowns doing makeup in the bathrooms, dancing dancing dancing. ¡diez, nueve, ocho, siete, seis, cinco, cuatro, tres, dos, uno, feliz año nuevo! 2010! a new year, a new decade!
the coffee district seemed like a good place to recover, and salento was the small town of choice. a tiny hamlet tucked away in the heart of the highlands, it seems this town hasn´t changed much in 200 years. surrounded by rolling green hills, rivers and coffee plantations, on a clear day you can see snow-capped mountains of the valle de coroca. easily one of the cutest towns i´ve ever visited. bustling on the weekends, sleepy as ever on the weekdays. small handicraft shops squeeze onto the main street, multi-colored homes of adobe show the wear of sun and time, men wear cowboy hats and traditional striped ponchos, a weekend festival catering to colombian daytrippers with food and music jams the central plaza, and some of the best coffee i´ve ever had the pleasure of consuming is on tap. every menu heralds their trucha and patacones as being THE very best town. the trucha (trout) i can do without, but i will dream about patacones for the rest of my life. a huge plantain, smashed, salted, fried, served with whatever you want. yummmm.
tomorrow, off to cali, the salsa capital of colombia, then the white city of popayàn. sad to leave this country, but looking forward to ecuador!
and as a side note: colombia could quite possibly be my favorite country in the whole world. it was built up for me on my way through central america, and rightfully so. the people are the friendliest--everyone is amigo--the scenery leaves me awe-struck, the tangible resiliency and strength in the whole country is inspiring, and the love of life is contagious.
4.1.10
colooooombia!
an attempt to describe the last month of my life...
first up, the walled colonial city of cartagena, a gem of a city, so pillaged and plundered by pirates in the sixteenth century that the spanish up and built massive fortifications surrounding the town. now, the only people doing the plundering are moneyed colombians in town on holiday. we spent days wandering around the labyright of winding streets in the old city, escaping the ever-oppressive midday heat in the shade of narrow alleys lined with colorful, weathered buildings. shirtless men gather to play dominoes in the many plazas, street stands heave with mounds of fresh fruit just begging to be blended into a deliciously fresh smoothies (mango, piña, banana and maracuya--twice a day, everday!), cumbia music blasting at all hours, beautiful people everywhere, dancing in the street. it´s a vibrant, romantic, steamy city--a perfect introduction to colombia, i´d say.
mud, mud, everywhere, and not a drop to drink. 40 minutes through coast and swamp land brought us to volcan totumo, home of the infamous mud baths. natural hot springs mixed with volcanic ash, apparently, create a mud chock-full of theraputic minerals (or so they tout to the tourists). after stripping down to our suits, we gingerly climbed up slipperly steps to the crater filled with dark gray goo. lowering down in one by one, we were each slowly enveloped by the thick, cool mud, laughing hysterically while we did so because words really can´t convey how ODD the sensation of climbing into a vat full of mud is. you´re literally suspended, mineral-laden goo oozing through your fingers and toes. colombian men from neighboring villages were ready and waiting to give massages, which were nice but a tad awkward with hordes of people staring down at us. after the ¨baths,¨we were led towards the lake, where local women with buckets pounced on us, and before we knew what was happening, shoved us in the water, stripped off our suits and scrubbed us clean from head to toe. and just as steathly as they were removed, moments later our suits were back on without a trace of mud-even from behind our ears-to be seen. magic!
first up, the walled colonial city of cartagena, a gem of a city, so pillaged and plundered by pirates in the sixteenth century that the spanish up and built massive fortifications surrounding the town. now, the only people doing the plundering are moneyed colombians in town on holiday. we spent days wandering around the labyright of winding streets in the old city, escaping the ever-oppressive midday heat in the shade of narrow alleys lined with colorful, weathered buildings. shirtless men gather to play dominoes in the many plazas, street stands heave with mounds of fresh fruit just begging to be blended into a deliciously fresh smoothies (mango, piña, banana and maracuya--twice a day, everday!), cumbia music blasting at all hours, beautiful people everywhere, dancing in the street. it´s a vibrant, romantic, steamy city--a perfect introduction to colombia, i´d say.
mud, mud, everywhere, and not a drop to drink. 40 minutes through coast and swamp land brought us to volcan totumo, home of the infamous mud baths. natural hot springs mixed with volcanic ash, apparently, create a mud chock-full of theraputic minerals (or so they tout to the tourists). after stripping down to our suits, we gingerly climbed up slipperly steps to the crater filled with dark gray goo. lowering down in one by one, we were each slowly enveloped by the thick, cool mud, laughing hysterically while we did so because words really can´t convey how ODD the sensation of climbing into a vat full of mud is. you´re literally suspended, mineral-laden goo oozing through your fingers and toes. colombian men from neighboring villages were ready and waiting to give massages, which were nice but a tad awkward with hordes of people staring down at us. after the ¨baths,¨we were led towards the lake, where local women with buckets pounced on us, and before we knew what was happening, shoved us in the water, stripped off our suits and scrubbed us clean from head to toe. and just as steathly as they were removed, moments later our suits were back on without a trace of mud-even from behind our ears-to be seen. magic!
moving north up the caribbean coast, we parked ourselves in taganga for a spell. a small fishermans villages, tiny boats dotting the horseshoe-shaped bay, there´s not much to be done besides recharging the batteries for the upcoming holiday season. i managed a short side trip to parque nacional tayrona, trekking through forests with howler monkeys and sleeping in hammocks on jungle-fringed beaches.
back to cartagena for christmas, the city all dressed up in lights. it was weird, to say the least, not being home for the holidays, but at the same time just didn´t feel like christmas at all. the whole lead up was gone--no shopping, tv christmas specials, parties, baking and, you know, family and friends. christmas eve dinner at the hostel was disappointing but all-night salsa dancing and revelry made up for it. christmas day the whole hostel banded together to make up for the sorry excuse for the meal the night before--spanish rice made by yours truly, frijoles, guacamole, veggie and meat kebabs, spanish omelets, fresh fish and dulce de leche turnovers for dessert.
wow, an attempt to describe the last month and i only made it two weeks in! more to come about medellin, a new years eve involving midget clowns (!), the zona cafetera (yes, the colombia coffee zone, aka alexandra´s heaven on earth), patacones, chivas, rumbas...and i´m not even out of the colombia yet. if i had it my way i´d stay here forever.
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