brits in the mist
after a couple of days of being underwhelmed or uninvolved by bogota, during which time the credibility of the statistic that february was colombia's least rainy month had also been cruelly undermined, we were ready to get moving and eagerly boarded our twin prop to armenia on tuesday morning. i'm not a massive fan of small propellor driven planes at the best of times, having once suffered a particularly hairy bout of turbulence in one when flying from goa to mumbai, and my confidence was further sapped by the presence of an array of mechanics who continued to work on the plane up to and for a good half hour or so after our take off slot whilst the pilot paced around looking nervous. still we eventually set off and the flight was fine; a short bus journey later we were in salento.
salento only warranted a short entry in the current edition of the lonely planet but i fully expect this to have significantly expanded by the time the next one rolls around. picture perfect with a pretty central plaza and surrounded on all sides by rolling green hills, towns like this are redolent of everything which is good about rural south america. this was also a town where you felt completely secure wandering around any of the couple of streets which, in stark contrast to bogota, meant that all day and well into the night locals, gringos and stray dogs were happily ambling around. as such, the apparent desire to head home as soon as the sun sets is not a colombian one, but rather one which afflicts the middle classes of bogota. the hope remains that this malaise of the bogotonas is a consequence of the security situation and, as this continues to improve, bogota will become the kind of all hours people filled metropolis that i felt it was struggling to become.
the main draw in salento is its presence at the mouth of the valle de cocora, a forest of wax palms dotted throughout deep green valleys, and we were all set to go on the day hike the following morning. my mood however darkened as the heavens opened at dusk and my night's sleep was constantly punctuated by what sounded like ever more aggressive bouts of rain, coupled with the wistful howling of miserable damp dogs. still, when we woke in the morning the rain had dissipated, albeit having left the landscape glistening with water, and we set off on the hike hoping against all odds that it did not decide to make a matinee appearance during the day.
the hike was difficult, though not overly so, and wonderfully scenic. we wandered through the forest, over precarious log bridges spanning gushing rapids, under thundering waterfalls and by gentle streams and eventually up to a small log cabin surrounded by furiously quick hummingbirds; stunning, amazing creatures, but utterly oblivious to the needs and desires of amateur photographers whose cameras and reflexes could not even hope to maintain pace. following a hard slog up to just under 3,000m we were right in the clouds at the top of the treeline. as we began the gentle descent down to the bottom of the trail we began to see the wax palms for which the valley is famed, at higher altitudes standing wreathed in mist and splendid isolation before at lower climes they rose to totally dominate the surroundings, their lanky thin trunks peppering the lower slopes. an almost mystical sight and one of the most beautiful, ethereal things i have seen on the continent. bar a return to my indian roots when i in gentlemanly fashion opted to hang from the outside of the jeep rather than sit inside it on the way back, a decision rendered a little dubious by the numerous bends in the road and inertia, we got back in the late afternoon content with a sight well seen.
we were a little sore the next morning so set off to pereira, a larger town in the zona cafetara which was the jumping off point for the thermal hot springs near santa rosa. thursday morning bought welcome sunshine but as we reached santa rosa and commenced the 15km ragged dirt road up to the thermals the clouds once more took control and specks of rain started to pepper the windshield. the setting of the baths is spectacular, deep in a tree lined valley with the mist once more giving the whole scene a slightly unreal atmosphere. we pottered around for a bit in a murky warm pool which it transpires was an algae pool, although the title seemed a useful excuse for the slightly slimy green water, before going for fairly poorly administered massages. as a consequence of the copious amounts of oil used by the masseuses we were slipping around in our havainas and struggling to stay on our feet as the rain once more came down. as it was only light drizzle we decided, more out of pig headed value for moneyness than anything, to finish off in the final pool which in fact was so hot that the rain was actually something of a relief. sitting in the steaming geothermal pool looking up at the forests which enveloped us, watching the drops of rain fleck up off the surface of the water, for all its failings and grubbiness, the termales de santa rosa were in fact deceptively beautiful.
anyway, we have had enough of altitude and rain so the time has come to head off to the caribbean coast. a couple of flights and we should be in taganga for friday night before heading off for some hopefully unspoiled beach time.
oh bogota
there is something about this place. something intangible, something bubbling under the surface but something that is incredibly difficult for an outsider to fully access. as with so much in this city it feels linked to security but the closed restaurants and deserted streets once the sun goes down suggest a place whose inhabitants have become content to eat, drink and be merry behind closed doors rather than risk any trouble outside. perhaps this is me constructing an image onto the city: vicki is entirely unconvinced that, outside of the sleaziest, most unnecessarily risky districts, bogotanos are unhappy keeping themselves to themselves. and yet, i can't shake the feeling that there is something here, hidden away from the heavily policed streets, and if you could just get to it you would tap into a rich seam of vibrancy which properly befits a metropolis like this.
our second day was spent being slung around rickety buses to a town called zipaquira, an hour or so outside of bogota. zipaquira is famed for its salt cathedral, a church carved out of the vast subterranean spaces offered by one of the local salt mines. a bit of an anticlimax to be honest, as you potter along looking at numerous crosses carved into and out of the walls, but the trip was worth it primarily because zipaquira itself has a certain charm, certainly after the uncertainty of bogota. a picture postcard old colonial city with a peaceful central plaza ringed by wooden balconies and churches, it provided a very zen space to spend a couple of hours.
checking out today and off to salento in the zona cafetara. a quick word on our hostel; we had opted for a slightly upmarket hostel, prettier (and more expensive) than your average flea bitten dormpit. set in a nicely refurbished colonial house with the rooms arranged around a central courtyard, casa platypus certainly looked a step up from the places in which i stayed in my youth. unfortunately what you gain in not being kept awake into the early hours by drunk australians and gap year kids you lose at the other end when from 7am onwards hordes of eager sexagenarian german tourists start milling around the courtyard, right outside your window, happily discussing the organised tour of the day. price permitting, hotels where possible from now on i feel; a woken up vicki is a grumpy vicki.
Nuns and guns
flying on delta was our first experience of flying with an american airline, and consequently of transitting through the states. so what did we learn? well, delta favour a slightly more mature air hostess, more mother of cheerleader than last year's cheerleader. this in itself actually turned out to be a good thing as a maternal air is a prime air hostess characteristic, and we were well looked after throughout. good service in the air however may not be enough to make flying with an american airline a worthwhile option given that it also leads to a face-to-face with US immigration staff. bear in mind that we were only transitting through atlanta, and would be in the airport for a few hours at most. this was still enough justification however to take all of our fingerprints (to go on god knows what database) and also put up with incredibly surly, bordering on aggressively unfriendly immigration officials. we're not all mexicans looking to invade your dismal land or islamists looking to blow things up in it so stop being so snotty. to be fair i was grateful to be spared the rubber glove treatment but really, don't make yourself have to deal with homeland security unless completely unavoidable.
immigration in bogota by contrast could not have been friendlier, not least because they are operated by an outfit called DAS. when my chap clocked my surname on my passport and looked down to see those magic letters emblazoned on his lapel much hilarity ensued and we were waved through with a convivial grin. driving through bogota at about 10 pm on a saturday night gave an intriguing foretaste of where this city may be. beautiful refurbished colonial buildings peering out from between their less loved brethren, minutes of empty streets interrupted by bursts of frenetic, salsa heavy, activity, numerous seemingly ambitious public works watched over at night by unsubtly dressed hookers, this immediately felt like a city where, more than any clash between past and present, an age old battle was taking place between gentile refinement and sleazy vigour.
our sunday wandering around the old town very much confirmed this initial impression. after a quick schlep up to monseratte, a hilltop church whose cobbled paths made you realise that bogota is 2,600m above sea level we spent the day wandering around the old district of la candelaria. beautiful old buildings, cheery young colombians wobbling around on bikes, nuns and monks swarming in and around the huge cathedral, and yet the air of comfortable serenity was punctuated by the vast number of military and civilian police on each corner, each visibly heavily armed. this ultimately remains a city where it is unwise to stray off the beaten track at all as, heading out of the areas interwoven with law enforcement, all bets are apparently off. anyway, other than being careful not to dive down too many back streets, bogota did not disappoint at all. in some ways similar to other south american cities such as cuzco or montevideo, the marked difference with bogota is the feeling that this is a city which is going places, which is embarking on a journey to become and remain a better place. we certainly felt it as we lolled in the sunshine sipping our fresh fruit smoothies in the cafe of the new gabriel garcia marquez complex; in ten years this could outshine buenos aires as the most cosmopolitan, artistic, must-visit city on the continent.
so a good first day's mooching. off to see the salt cathedral of zipaquira tomorrow, but first a desperate hunt for anywhere which is open on a sunday night to feed us...
