Shocking that I’ve spent close to a total of three years living in various parts of Colombia and it still hasn’t made its way on to this blog. Unfortunately the last time I was there was as far back as December 2014 – time does indeed fly – so most of these tales are recounted with something of a hazy memory.
I won’t try and pretend this series is a guide for tourists, as I probably can’t remember enough of the nitty-gritty details that would help out a prospective backpacker. Instead, I attempt to give an insight into the nuances of this wonderful country and tell some amusing stories along the way. And of course, it’s an excuse to re-share some amazing photos!
Eje Cafetero
When asked which is the best place to go in their country, many Colombians will skip the amazing beaches of Parque Tayrona, the historical walled city of Cartagena and cultural centre of Bogotá. Indeed, most I’ve spoken to would say that the Eje Cafetero, literally, the Coffee Zone, is the must-see destination.
It’s hard to disagree. Sat between the big cities of Cali and Medellín (well, if sit means sit on a bus for at least six hours) is a region of luscious mountain ranges wrapped in every shade of green you can imagine. If I remember correctly, I spent about a week there and here’s what happened.
Pereira
There a few medium-sized cities that you can get direct buses to, and coming out of Medellín, we opted to go to Pereira. I can still picture the spiralled entrance to the bus terminal now. Strange why I’d recall that. Anyway, my female companion and I had arrived in the rather early hours, though thankfully day had broken. We were lucky enough to find a cheap enough hotel close by the station, and so headed there for a rest before embarking on tourism. Now, in those days I didn’t have a smart phone, and one had to either use one of the PCs at a hotel reception or scrawl all one’s travel notes in a scruffy and soggy notebook. You’d then get to your destination and ask the locals what to do, where to go and how to get there. I fear that these days having Internet on the tips of your fingers really takes away from the thrill of spontaneous trips into the unknown.
Montenegro and Parque del Café
My research hadn’t clearly defined where the best place to go in the vast Eje Cafetero was, but a chat with the receptionist meant that we decided to head to Montenegro the following day, as that was the closest to the Parque del Café, a kind of theme park with rides, natural walks and of course, good coffee.
We got into Montenegro and wandered round looking for a place to stay. We found one that fit our budget, and as you do in Colombia, we negotiated a discounted price. Though it was July, there were very few tourists in the area, and I don’t think there were any foreigners other than me.
After checking in and getting information from the lady in the hotel, we discovered the only way to get to the park was on foot, and so set off on what might have been a 2-hour walk. Which I can have no complaints about, as the views were absolutely stunning. Think abounding green mountains in all directions, and a bit of sweat dripping down your face and you have the idea. Not only were there no tourists around, but we also encountered few cars on the roads and pretty much had the roads to ourselves.
So, getting to the park, and we probably paid about 50,000 pesos (25 USD at the time), which seemed a bit of a hefty price. We had apparently arrived just as high season was starting and the day before the price had been half of what we ended up paying. As I recall, the ticket allowed us to access certain rides as many times as we liked, and others just once.
In the theme park we went on a few minor rollercoasters, a log flume and the bumper cars, and I also did some go-karting, which I won at a canter, lapping everyone at least once. I never use the brakes, love it. Buy me a go-kart track.
After going on all the rides we went on a ‘coffee ‘walk’ which explains the process of how coffee is made step by step, and then ended the stroll with a coffee at Juan Valdez (the famous Colombian coffee chain where drinks are at least triple the price of non-branded cafés) and I got my favourite, the good ol’ tinto campesino, black coffee made infused with panela (a block of brown pre-refined sugar which you will find in every Colombian household).
With that we headed back to Montenegro. There may have been a bus service, as I can’t imagine we’d have walked back in the dark.
Speak faster, please
Now, when you go to foreign countries and speak the native language, the majority of people are rather normal about it. They treat you as they would a local and just get on with things, perhaps asking you where you are from. A perfect example of when this doesn’t happen was when we got back to the hotel. There was a gentleman on reception. When we arrived, we had a brief chat, absolutely fine, but then after asking my nationality, it seemed he turned on a switch and decided that he had to speak extremely slowly, enunciating syllable by syllable. Granted, possible he’d previously had contact with tourists who had difficulty in understanding, but given he’d just had a normal conversation with me the moment before, it was weird of him to go into robot mode.
The way I dealt with him was to speak to him at usual speed in the hope that he’d realise he could have a normal conversation with me. No, sir. It reminds me of a time I was out with friends somewhere else way off the Colombian tourist trail and there was a new guy in the group. Apparently he worked for a petrol company in which there was a Finnish guy who struggled with Spanish, so had to speak slowly to him. Despite witnessing me having normal speed conversation with all those around him, he felt the need to speak to me with the infinitive verb plus basic vocabulary pattern, saying things such as ‘I. HAVE. WORK. OTHER COUNTRY. COLLEAGUES. WITH. ME.’ Even though I responded to him normally, he persisted, so I gave in and decided to speak to him as he was to me, putting on the worst possible pronunciation I could. This seemed to satisfy him. His mates found it hilarious. He didn’t realise the joke was on him.
Salento + Stalker
During our stay in Montenegro, we took a day trip to another recommended location, Salento. To get there we had to get a bus to Circasia, and then ask about a dozen people where the bus to Salento left from before finding out. Most of them seemed to have no idea of the place’s existence.
Strange, because upon arriving we quickly realised that it was a lot more touristy than where we’d previously been. I’d describe Salento as one of those hippy towns which gets a reputation and word of mouth means backpackers flock there. I mean the town itself was rather picturesque, kind of set in a valley with more green mountains surrounding it, and there were an abundance of hippy-type vegan cafés, brightly-painted buildings and the odd rasta-haired white person here and there.
Talking of tourists, we spotted a long-haired specimen attracting quite a crowd because of his huge shiny motorcycle, which he’d apparently driven all the way down from the US. Many of the local youths were asking if they could have a go on it, and he politely declined. I was rather jealous of his wheels.
Anyway, we headed for the viewpoint of the city via a laborious set of steps and were rewarded with yet more fantastic views. We bumped into a group of Colombians who asked where we were from, and as was custom at the time, I lied and said I was Brazilian. Being British abroad makes people think several things. The most common assumption is that you’re loaded. Another is that you have zero language ability. Saying your first language is English either makes people insist on practising it with you or turns a switch like the guy in the hotel and they think you don’t understand them anymore. Some people say being a native English speaker is advantageous. Not necessarily so for the traveller who wishes to learn foreign languages. I mean, Germans don’t speak Spanish any better than English native speakers, but no one assumes that they can’t. I try not to bring up where I’m from in conversation. Talk to me , not my country.
Anyway, having taken in the landscapes, we felt like a wander and there was an enticing trail to follow. As we set about going for a walk, we noticed a local a bit further along acting rather strangely and glancing over at us more than would be usual. Seeing this we hesitated. He came towards us and began talking to us. About what, I can’t remember. But he was distinctly weird. I think he wanted to give us advice and offered to show us where to go, but we declined. He then left the way we had come and we carried on. It was indeed a nice walk and gave a few different views we hadn’t seen from the top. But then we heard rustling in the bushes and he appeared out of nowhere a few dozen metres away. He didn’t acknowledge us and pretended as if he was looking at something. At this stage I said to the girl I was with that it might be better just to go back, just in case this guy had sinister motives. Though he didn’t look dangerous and may have only wanted to chat to visitors, the awkwardness of the situation meant we made our getaway at something of a fast pace.
Conclusions
The Eje Cafetero was certainly very picturesque and well worth a visit, if only to gorge on the wonderful views. The theme park was fun and it was nice to go to a place with relatively few visitors, so as to have a feeling that the experiences you are having are more unique than those you have in the large tourist hubs.
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