Throwing rocks and waxy palms
It was with a heavy heart that I ordered the Uber to begin my journey out of Medellín. It had been a great week, and there was still more for me to do here, but time waits for no man - I had an Inca Trail deadline of December 10th looming, with more of Colombia, Ecuador and the Galapagos to cram in before then. Medellín didn't let me leave so easily though. The 11am bus I aimed to take to my next destination, Salento in the coffee region, was full, so I spent a bonus two hours blogging at the southern bus station waiting for the 1pm.
The longer than expected bus journey took 7.5 hours (it's not a good idea to be in a rush in Colombia), but the other travellers made it interesting - including a couple of Aussie blokes (one of whom gave off all the signs of a debilitating coke habit) and a solo French traveller, Xavier, from Nantes. After yet another nighttime arrival in a new place, us bunch of random travellers made our way through some deserted and incredibly peaceful village streets.
It looked like the whole town was tucked in for the night, but this place is on the backpacker trail, so I shouldn't have been surprised when we turned a corner and stumbled across an outdoor food court setup with delicious food catering for travellers arriving off the bus. Stomachs suitably filled (with a beer to wash the food down), we made our ways to our various accomodations. I had agreed to an early start with Xavier the next morning, to catch the 7.30am jeep transport to Valle de Cocora for a solid day of hiking.
The early scenery was more than pleasant, not a million miles away from the Irish country side, and the fresh country air was a refreshing change from city pollution. Even the lost city trek blisters on my feet had healed up, so I was able to enjoy this immensely. Tackling the more challenging part first, Xavier and I followed the trail alongside a small river all the way to a hummingbird sanctuary deep in the forest growth, where we picked up another soloist, Oli from Reading.
Refuelling with a traditional hot chocolate and cheese, we marched onward towards wax palm country. Wax palms are the national tree of Colombia. They look like someone got a palm tree and put it in a medieval torture device to stretch it way beyond its normal height. They're just as skinny as regular tropical palm trees, but can grow up to 60m in height.
Xavier and Oli were struggling with the uphills and the altitude, whereas my well-trekked legs were barely registering any strain. We eventually reached a fantastic viewpoint over the valley, with many a wax palm in view. Take away the alien palm trees,and this could be Ireland (Donegal more specifically according to my father). A refreshingly delicious lulo smoothie was just reward for a gentle six hours of hiking.
The journey back to Salento was via a shared jeep taxi. The front-seats and back were full, so Xavier, Oli and I hung out at the back, which was way more fun, especially when we had to duck to avoid low-hanging tree branches. The three of us reconvened after this typical travelling experience for dinner and drinks that night, including sampling some Old Parr, a type of Scotch whisky that hasn't been sold in Europe for decades, but is still bizarrely popular in Colombia. It wasn't bad, but I won't be bringing it to my Amsterdam whisky club any time soon.
The next day was all about two things: coffee and tejo. Salento is in the Zona Cafeteria, the main coffee producing region of the country, which is the main reason to visit this province. With a coffee finca tour booked for the afternoon, I had a nice relaxing morning free to...drink coffee. A hostel recommendation led me to an amazing little cafe run by a French woman that did a fantastic cappuccino, with fast wifi and great scones. Mornings in a place like this allow me to recharge my travelling batteries (as well as plan and book stuff).
After a morning drinking good coffee, it was time to see how the stuff was produced. The first part of the tour was excellent. I had never actually seen coffee trees, or coffee beans in their natural environment before. Our guide carefully led us through the whole process, from planting the trees, cultivating them, picking the right beans, removing the husk, sorting them by quality and drying them. Living in Australia, which along with New Zealand has the best coffee in the world, turned me into a coffee addict, so this felt like valuable information to know. Colombia focuses on quality over quantity, selling a higher quality arabica bean, often still using the hand-picked traditional way (no machines).
All this talk of high-quality coffee made me crave a cup of the good stuff, so when we moved on to the next part of the tour in the coffee lab I was licking my lips in anticipation. We had to suffer through a loosely related taste and smell exercise first, before we finally got to drink. In the past I've been called a coffee snob. Maybe that's true, because the coffee we finally had was...meh. It was filter coffee, not espresso based. I'm guessing if the same grind had been put through an espresso machine, it'd be good, but this was average in my book.
With a couple of hours to spare until Xavier and I needed to start the overnight journey to Bogotá, Oli suggested we try a game of tejo. It's a Colombian pastime where you throw shaped rocks at gunpowder, and drink beer at the same time. It's just as awesome as it sounds.
A couple of Basque travellers happened to be there at the same time, so we took them on. The rules are pretty simple - get the closest piece to the bullseye, and you get one point. Hit the gunpowder-filled sachets ringing the bullseye for three, and land in the bullseye for six. Beer is mandatory. I think I'll open a tejo bar in Amsterdam when I get back.
We were enjoying the game so much (we were winning) that Xavier and I ended up tight for time to make the local bus to Armenia, the nearby city where we'd catch a bigger bus to the capital. Filled up on some hasty street arepas for dinner, we arrived in Armenia bus station, armed with the knowledge that if we could find a bus that was a double-decker, the lower floor was "VIP" and a much better option for a 7-9 hour overnighter.
We managed to find a company that had one, and were so happy to have done so. With big wide leather seats that reclined more than usual, we left the coffee region in style. It had been a great couple of days travelling with Xavier, who like me was a little older, wiser, and able to stretch the budget for a nice meal or bus, unlike most of the other younger travellers. Now it was time to go our separate ways, and for me to take the capital.
More photos of Salento
The longer than expected bus journey took 7.5 hours (it's not a good idea to be in a rush in Colombia), but the other travellers made it interesting - including a couple of Aussie blokes (one of whom gave off all the signs of a debilitating coke habit) and a solo French traveller, Xavier, from Nantes. After yet another nighttime arrival in a new place, us bunch of random travellers made our way through some deserted and incredibly peaceful village streets.
It looked like the whole town was tucked in for the night, but this place is on the backpacker trail, so I shouldn't have been surprised when we turned a corner and stumbled across an outdoor food court setup with delicious food catering for travellers arriving off the bus. Stomachs suitably filled (with a beer to wash the food down), we made our ways to our various accomodations. I had agreed to an early start with Xavier the next morning, to catch the 7.30am jeep transport to Valle de Cocora for a solid day of hiking.
The early scenery was more than pleasant, not a million miles away from the Irish country side, and the fresh country air was a refreshing change from city pollution. Even the lost city trek blisters on my feet had healed up, so I was able to enjoy this immensely. Tackling the more challenging part first, Xavier and I followed the trail alongside a small river all the way to a hummingbird sanctuary deep in the forest growth, where we picked up another soloist, Oli from Reading.
Refuelling with a traditional hot chocolate and cheese, we marched onward towards wax palm country. Wax palms are the national tree of Colombia. They look like someone got a palm tree and put it in a medieval torture device to stretch it way beyond its normal height. They're just as skinny as regular tropical palm trees, but can grow up to 60m in height.
Xavier and Oli were struggling with the uphills and the altitude, whereas my well-trekked legs were barely registering any strain. We eventually reached a fantastic viewpoint over the valley, with many a wax palm in view. Take away the alien palm trees,and this could be Ireland (Donegal more specifically according to my father). A refreshingly delicious lulo smoothie was just reward for a gentle six hours of hiking.
 |
| Back of the jeep selfie |
The journey back to Salento was via a shared jeep taxi. The front-seats and back were full, so Xavier, Oli and I hung out at the back, which was way more fun, especially when we had to duck to avoid low-hanging tree branches. The three of us reconvened after this typical travelling experience for dinner and drinks that night, including sampling some Old Parr, a type of Scotch whisky that hasn't been sold in Europe for decades, but is still bizarrely popular in Colombia. It wasn't bad, but I won't be bringing it to my Amsterdam whisky club any time soon.
The next day was all about two things: coffee and tejo. Salento is in the Zona Cafeteria, the main coffee producing region of the country, which is the main reason to visit this province. With a coffee finca tour booked for the afternoon, I had a nice relaxing morning free to...drink coffee. A hostel recommendation led me to an amazing little cafe run by a French woman that did a fantastic cappuccino, with fast wifi and great scones. Mornings in a place like this allow me to recharge my travelling batteries (as well as plan and book stuff).
 |
| Coffee beans |
After a morning drinking good coffee, it was time to see how the stuff was produced. The first part of the tour was excellent. I had never actually seen coffee trees, or coffee beans in their natural environment before. Our guide carefully led us through the whole process, from planting the trees, cultivating them, picking the right beans, removing the husk, sorting them by quality and drying them. Living in Australia, which along with New Zealand has the best coffee in the world, turned me into a coffee addict, so this felt like valuable information to know. Colombia focuses on quality over quantity, selling a higher quality arabica bean, often still using the hand-picked traditional way (no machines).
All this talk of high-quality coffee made me crave a cup of the good stuff, so when we moved on to the next part of the tour in the coffee lab I was licking my lips in anticipation. We had to suffer through a loosely related taste and smell exercise first, before we finally got to drink. In the past I've been called a coffee snob. Maybe that's true, because the coffee we finally had was...meh. It was filter coffee, not espresso based. I'm guessing if the same grind had been put through an espresso machine, it'd be good, but this was average in my book.
With a couple of hours to spare until Xavier and I needed to start the overnight journey to Bogotá, Oli suggested we try a game of tejo. It's a Colombian pastime where you throw shaped rocks at gunpowder, and drink beer at the same time. It's just as awesome as it sounds.
A couple of Basque travellers happened to be there at the same time, so we took them on. The rules are pretty simple - get the closest piece to the bullseye, and you get one point. Hit the gunpowder-filled sachets ringing the bullseye for three, and land in the bullseye for six. Beer is mandatory. I think I'll open a tejo bar in Amsterdam when I get back.
We were enjoying the game so much (we were winning) that Xavier and I ended up tight for time to make the local bus to Armenia, the nearby city where we'd catch a bigger bus to the capital. Filled up on some hasty street arepas for dinner, we arrived in Armenia bus station, armed with the knowledge that if we could find a bus that was a double-decker, the lower floor was "VIP" and a much better option for a 7-9 hour overnighter.
We managed to find a company that had one, and were so happy to have done so. With big wide leather seats that reclined more than usual, we left the coffee region in style. It had been a great couple of days travelling with Xavier, who like me was a little older, wiser, and able to stretch the budget for a nice meal or bus, unlike most of the other younger travellers. Now it was time to go our separate ways, and for me to take the capital.
More photos of Salento
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