Colombia entre la frontera y San Agustín

Early on in this trip we had expected to skip Colombia because of all the crazy stories about kidnappings and drug runners and the like, but everyone we have met who had been to Colombia urged us to come. I did some reading about the security and found that not only had things improved dramatically in the last few years, but that the FARC has never been very interested in bothering with tourists and their backpacks full of dirty clothes, perferring to kidnap more wealthy or publicity-catching people such as businessmen, politicians, and journalists. In our Lonely Planet guide book (which is often dreadfully wrong) it says that they will sometimes pull over a bus, get all the people off, make sure they have all their luggage, then burn the bus as a political statement. So far we have not witnessed this. We did meet one English guy who said his bus had been pulled over by the FARC but that they just made the passengers stand in the rain for a few hours and listen to their explanations before letting the bus go on safely. All we have seen are many heavily armed soldiers and police who have been quite friendly and courteous to us.

What everyone has told us has turned out to be true so far, that Colombianos tend to be friendly, love to talk, and are polite and helpful to tourists. It is also the first country in Latin America where we have found a real bar scene. I found perhaps my favorite bar in the world in Popayán. A little place, 40 years-old, run by a cheery little old man named Agustín who had an incredible collection of old salsa, tango, and Latin jazz LPs behind the bar and served ice cold beer. The bar flies were friendly, one a little too much so, boring us with drunken rambling until we were saved by Roxana and Alex, who were much more sober and interesting.

But let me start at the beginning...

In Ecuador we were driven to the border of Colombia by the very kind Andrés, a taxi driver and computer engineer who promised to fix Steffen's computer for free anytime (he just has to get it to Ecuador). He left an excellent last impression of Ecuador on all of us. The border region was beautiful and we saw a couple of startling rainbows from the bus.



We spent our first night in the somewhat forgettable town of Pasto and went on the next day to beautiful, colonial Popayán, a place where we spent a couple of nights that made us fall in love with Colombia. They had the excellent bar and a breakfast place with heartbreakingly good coffee. After suffering through so many instant coffees over the last months it is nice to finally be in a country that takes coffee seriously.









We then took a jouncy oversized bus with what appeared to be underpants on the seats over the rutted dirt roads to the site of Tierradentro, a small but fascinating national park where we hiked and visited over twenty pre-Columbian tombs some painted with surprisingly festive colors and carved with strange but reassuring triangular faces. Despite being tombs the atmosphere was anything but grim and we all felt relaxed and happy, especially enjoying the easy going nature of the locals, the companionship of our new Swiss friend, Marcel, and the delicious juices made by the woman across from where we camped.






















The area around Tierradentro also had interesting plants and animals (including a little café with a huge cage full of parrots), and lovely views.
















After a couple of days in Tierradentro we took two pickup trucks, a giant produce truck, a taxi, and walked across a long wobbly footbridge to get to our next destination, San Agustín. It was a long journey and quite fun for everyone else. Unfortunately I was succumbing to a flu that reduced me to a shell of myself.






We didn't see much of the town of San Agustín as we were camping in the rain outside a hostel high on a hill outside of town. The site featured lots of mud and a bevy of barking dogs that drove me to the point of screaming madness by the second night. Luckily Hilary, Steffen, and Marcel took care of me, feeding me and not treating me like the insufferable grump and bore that I am sure I was.

San Agustín is famous for its park full of pre-Columbian statues carved for the dead. They were quite magical to walk among in their jungly habitat. My feverish state made it hard and unpleasant to walk but it did provide a dreamy, almost hallucinatory, atmosphere that went well with the statues. At the end, as we were resting outside the museum, a young falcon swooped down and stood on Hilary's head. Later a guard gave Hilary some chicken and she fed it from her hand. It was an unforgettable place.