Cartagena Arrival

Before describing Cartagena I want to provide insight into one aspect of backpack travel - the hostel. I am always questioned about this from Americans at home. How do I find a place? what are they like? is it expensive? Answers vary, but Colombia has made the process quite easy for travellers. The guide books are outdated so one finds a hostel by word of mouth or by way of information at a hostel in another city. For instance, in Bogota the business cards of hostels in other frequently visited cities were tacked on a bulletin board. Internet is available and so is beer. Overall Colombia has had the most organized hostels of any country I have visited. Honestly, I havent paid close attention to the cost of stay at each hostel, but on average it is about $7 USD per night. They are filled with people from all over the world and it makes for a potential learning experience.

I include this hostel interlude because I had to hustle my way to find one in Cartagena. I followed my instinct to beat the traveller rush to Cartagena as the new year approaches. I arrived at the bus station in Medellin at 4pm hoping to get tickets for a 6pm bus. As I stood in line an employee of one of the bus companies approached me in a sly manner. He offered to get me on the 4;15 bus at a discount. Hesitant, yet excited to cut a deal to make things easier, I followed him directly to the bus, paid the baggage hand, and took my seat. I had no ticket but only the assurance of the conductor everything would be alright. I took their word and they kept it.

Arriving in Cartagena at 5am I had to find a place to live. The hostel at which I wanted to stay was completely full and they had no information on other places that had vacancy. So, I slept on the front couch hoping someone would check out. Not wanting to waste the morning, I eventually left my bags locked up and walked the beaches and the historic center. At 1pm I returned to find, to my relief, that one bad had opened up and I was given the reservation. My instinct to leave early and to throw on the charm with the ladies making the reservations served me well. Such are the difficulties of a backpacker.

I now find myself in Cartagena. A beach bordered city much like Panama City, Panama. The beach is not beautiful, but it is the proximity to colonial Cartagena that gives it an appeal. The new year has attracted tourists from all over the world and from within Colombia as well. There is an excitement in the air and I feel that that tonight will be eventful.

I caught up on sleep last night in preparation for the evening´s festivities. I always found it intriguing when the television coverage of new years in the US would show live feeds of major cities around the world. This will be my first New Year outside of my country.

Meddling in Medellin

If somebody had told me Medellin would be the most tranquil place I would visit on this trip I would have been hesitant to believe. Yet, so far it is true. Over three days here I have seen little that could qualify as a tourist attraction. So with little must-see places I have just been relaxing.

I took a couple walks to downtown to see more Botero sculptures. The bird pictured here is popular because it was blown up by a bomb during the cocaine wars that occurred here during the reign of Pablo Escobar. Speaking of the drug lord, the city gives little attention to his legacy. I didnt see any Pablo T-shirts for sale or posters paying homage. The cocaine is prevalent but the former mastermind behind its use is not.

Medellin is a gorgeous place. The weather and beauty is like that of San Francisco, CA. It is set among rolling hills and views are available in nearly every area. The aesthetics of the terrain match the aesthetics of the Paisas who live on it.

I spent a little time each day using the workout area pictured here. It is a make-shift gym just around the corner from my hostel. As the beach approaches I figured I needed to work off a bit of the food I have been devouring. Which leads me to another point, I am already a over budget. I didnt expect to be participating in this higher class living. Each hostel so far has been located in the more affluent areas, leading me to have to spend more on each meal. I am missing the tacos carts of Mexico.

I spent yesterday in front of the television. During the day I walked over to the Zona Rosa area to an American owned sports bar called Timeout. I witnessed the most violent episode I have ever encountered on a trip - the Eagles pounding the Cowboys out of playoff contention. The loss made me exhausted and figuratively sick so I took it easy for the night. I rewatched the latest Batman movie for the first time since Guatemala. The joker performance was just as good on the flat screen of the hostel as it was on the imax screen of the theater.

Oh, and in my own defense of this leg of the trip seeming "boring," there was one night of partying until 6am. The sun is alot more beautiful as it rises after a long night out as opposed to an all-nighter to finish an exam paper.

So now I say goodbye to Medellin and head to Cartagena to try and find a place to sleep.

Temporada Taurina

This post is dedicated to my Uncle Roger:

I finally attended a bullfight. For years I have yearned to sit around the wooden walled ring and peer down over at the glory and honor earned and displayed. In high school I accompanied my cousin Tex to bullfighting school in La Gloria, TX. There I was exposed to the intricacies of the sport. As with any art form, having a knowledge base from which to judge allows one to create a more valued if not solely more clear opinion.

That being said, I have not come to a conclusion as to the sport´s relation to civil life. Yet, having watched the fascinating spectacle I do think that it is a glory that might only be understood by the matador who is looking directly into the black eyes of a 500 kilo toro and those who attempt asses the undertaking from that perspective.

I saw 5 toros slain in total. The beauty is derived from the methodical way in which the ends is achieved. What starts as a team task is eventually widdled down to matador v. bull and on this day those of us on the side of opposable thumbs would win out.

Blood? yeah there was blood. Maybe I am a desensitized product of an exposed generation (and hunter culture) but the blood was not bothersome. In fact, amongst the red walls and brown sands it seemed almost natural - just another stroke of the brush on a masterpiece.

Who was I cheering for? the matador of course. Although, it does seem that many people innately feel for the bull as well. Even the older aged woman sitting next to me, who judging by her knowledge of the ongoings must have attended many a bullfight in her day, had sympathy for the bull. I guess the point to be gathered from this is that it really is an adversarial match. As much as it may seem to the naysayer that the bull has no chance, it is simply not the case. The toro is as much a loser to a contest as the matador certainly is if he makes that one small error in precision and grace.

Now can I throw all the politics out? If so, then let me say that bullfighting is damn cool. Through all the tradition I felt as if I was doing something that a 23 year old hundreds of years ago would have been doing across the Atlantic in old Spain. I got chills as the band began playing the traditional anthems and the entire crowd stood up belting out the lyrics in unison. Ole! Ole! was yelled which each pass of the cape.

And lastly, let me add this, just like Golf claims to be a gentleman´s game, so too is bullfighting. If a group of rowdy youths was getting out of hand with the jeers, the crowd would reprimand them. There are both times to cheer and times to be silent while participating. With regard to the actual fighting, there is skill to respect and also careless peformance that does not go unrecognized. In other words, if you are going to take/defend a life then you must do so in a forum that is worthy of respect and in a fashion that demands respect. Sounds a bit like a trial courtroom if you ask me.

It was a magnificent and dignified end to an incredible experience in Cali. There is no question that I will return to this city again and again. Just like is necessary when leaving any love, I tore myself away from the city abruptly. I left the Plaza by taxi, picked up my bags, and headed to straight to the bus station. I am now currently in Medellin after a 9 hour overnight ride.

Medellin posts coming soon.

Cabalgata

The Lonely Planet guidebook could not have been more correct ever in the history of its publishing then when it stated that Cali is the Texas of Colombia. It is very much so in more ways than to which it alluded. Let me count the ways.

First, the city takes great pride in the distinctness of its culture from that of the rest of the country. Some might say that it IS its own country. I do believe that we Texans do the same and wouldnt be crushed if we were to become the Republic of Texas once again.

Second, meat is the only food group. I will likely be fighting at the light-heavyweight class upon returning home. Sausages, steaks, kabobs and arepas con todo are available at all times during the day. I ate at the same restaurant 3 days in a row because I could get soup (possibly the best I have ever had), steak, beans, rice, and a drink for about $3USD. Sorry Texas but I actually like the steaks here a bit more.

Third, the women are stunning. I will not rant about this for more than a paragraph because I dont want to give the wrong impression. However the Caleñas may be deserving of an entire book if not at least an entire blog. They claim they are some of the beautiful in the world and I am beginning to agree. Even without the purchased assets it seems you can not look up without seeing someone that could grace the pages of a magazine. I am not even kidding here - this is a serious subject. Just another reason Cali is much like Texas.

Lastly, and most relevant to the event at hand, Cali has a ranch culture. The Cabalgata is a another Feria parade that showcases the prize horses of the region. I am not schooled in the area of stallions and mares and all that, but I could tell that these horses were extremely disciplined. The riders had a graceful control over the particular trot. Also, the crowd and riders were dressed in their cowboy best. Cowboy hats, jeans, and unbuttoned-buttoned downs were the attire of choice. The unbuttoned applied to the females as well it seemed.

I guess I could describe the horses more thoroughly, but I will just let the pictures convey the message. Right after this event I would catch a taxi to the Plaza de Toros for the bullfight.

Desfile de Salsodromo

I think that the best way of showcasing my experiences during the Feria de Cali is to split up the events. This post is all about the salsa parade.

Cali is consumed with salsa. Every club plays the music and every person knows how to dance it. The city takes great pride in its Rumba (party) lifestyle and it lives up to the hype. Although I have only been to a few places so far it is hard not to believe that Cali is truly the heartbeat of Colombia.

Under the hot Cali sun 5 hours of parade and music would ensue. The atmosphere was electric and the word FUN is enough to completely describe the vibe. The parade consisted of dance school after dance school performing a routine to blasting salsa music. The groups were organized in chronological order with the first group costumed as slaves from early Colombia and the last group concluding in modern attire. The dancing is unreal. Caleñas of all ages participated. Both younger (kids that looked as old as 7) and older (couples at least 70 years of age) entertained the crowd.

To just describe the parade would not be enough. The people around me made the event more special. You know when you go to a baseball game in America, and people try clapping in unison, and it seems everyone is off beat? ha, well that doesnt occur here. Spectators sang along with the lyrics of every song and we all would clap in sync. The day was filled with smiles, laughing, singing, dancing and more and more cowbell. If there was a break in the music then crowd would fill the void with their own beats.

Furthermore, I couldnt help but notice one another characterstic that was recognizable in the crowd. The African, European, and Indigenous ethnic backgrounds of the people here are all commingled and represented. It is a beautiful thing when people of all shades come together under a common love - in this instance music. The people of Cali are incredibly mixed and a de facto segregation is not apparent. It is both refreshing and laudable.

I am including this picture of me as proof I was there. It is difficult to be in your own pictures when traveling solo. I like this shot because of the three people looking into the camera with me. The next day I would go to the Cabalgata and a bullfight.

Christmas Eve

On this Christmas Eve I would like to say Merry Christmas to all readers and especially to my family. Although my Christmas tree is palm rather than evergreen, my meal is made up of international dishes rather than honey baked ham, my climate is tropical rather than frigid, and my music is salsa rather than Mariah Carey´s christmas album, I am still with my family in spirit on this special occasion. So what does one do when abroad on a world-wide holiday? answer: the same thing that everyone does.

The day was spent reading, lounging, and eating. Basically, the same way I would have spent the day if I were in the states. A minor interruption included some grocery shopping for the pot-luck style dinner that we had at the hostel. With representation from Germany, Belgium, Canada, France, Australia, and Colombia we had a variety of foods that made for a satisfying feast. My BBQ bacon cheeseburgers were a hit. I used fellow Columbia Alumnus Bob KRAFT´s BBQ sauce to give the meal an extra American ingredient. Some hammock swinging helped to digest all the food, and I called it a night to be ready for a big next day.

Feliz Navidad.

Calm Cali

So I spent the entire first day checking out the city of Cali. It is a noisy bustling place, lush with high sprawling trees and palms. Cars and people move about like army ants and always in the background is some salsa echoing from one of the hundreds of bars. Imagine a college town atmosphere but without the college. It is very apparent that it lives up to its Rumba reputation. I will be able to offer more about that scene following Christmas day - the Feria de Cali is set to begin then.

Until those anticipated posts I must write about some typical events. I ran around the city in my travel style visiting churches, landmarks, and commercial centers. I have covered all main parts of the city by following the rapid river that cuts straight through the center of town.

In the evening I feasted at an Argentinian restaurant again thoroughly enjoying the flavors of South America. Post food-coma I entered the main plaza to view the city-wide christmas lights display. The entirety of the banks of the river are covered in lights and lit scenes depicting cultural aspects of Colombia.

My time here has been mellow and I can only describe it as the calm before the storm that will take place as the Feria begins. My current hostel is pleasant. We are cooking up a christmas eve barbecue with each person cooking their own dish. It seems everyone will be representing their countries with their addition. I will represent my country of Texas with bacon cheeseburgers smothered in BBQ sauce.

Side note: I am currently 2-2 in Texas Holdém while travelling. Took out some gentlemanly Englishmen last night. Cards, drinks, food and Colombia: Merry Christmas.

Cali, Colombia

Today was a long 10 hour relocation. I would usually take a bus ride of this length at nighttime, but due to the caution I am taking in this part of the country I prefer to travel during the day. Day or night no procedure is going to change the reality that I will be twisting and turning around tall mountains. If some people get their kicks from bungee jumping or skydiving then I guess I might counter that I ride buses in latin american countries.

I was lucky to be sitting next to two of the nicest people in Colombia - a fellow 23 year old and her 7 month yr old baby Sofia. Truth is, I prefer puppies to babies but this one was maybe the most beautiful I have ever seen. The big brown eyes could have come right out of the Garcia family. I helped the mother with the motherly tasks throughout the day. It was definitely an usual, for me, but heartwarming experience.

I tried fighting my hunger headache by feasting at a restaurant called Western Texas. I will be returning to the venue as the tray of meat I devoured was some of the best I have ever eaten. Seriously, I would also prefer hanging out with babies more than eating chicken but the tenderness was unreal.

I might also mention that I am in Cali now. It is evidently a plastic surgery paradise and the host city for the Feria de Cali that will begin on Christmas day. On a final and lighthearted note I am compiling a list of unusual experiences. So far: roasted pig vendor, male transvestite breast implants flash, and old woman sneeze complete with flying dentures.

A Day Without a Camera

Today I left my camera in the hostel on purpose. I don´t have any kids, but I think I now know what parents feel when the kids are away at grandma´s. Without the responsibilities that come with carrying around a camera - guarding the bag at all times, making sure noone is overly interested, turning the camera off and on etc. - I was able to enjoy Bogota with more ease. Because of this I am posting a pictures of the city at night instead of ones from today.

I woke up late thanks to a long night of Texas Holdém and bar searching with my new friends from Belgium. The search was successful but only so much as we ended up at a McDonalds at 4am.

Bogota is most fun on Sundays. Vendors are out in full force selling what seems to be any kind of treasure they have found. It is literally a city-wide garage sale. Also on Sundays the city shuts down an entire network of main streets for bikers and runners to enjoy. Imagine New York shutting down all of Broadway and half of Houston St. I can think of no better way to get to know a city then to run it; that is exactly what I did. I ended up way north on 82nd street (from basically 10th street) in what is the more affluent area of town. After some window shopping I took the Bogota equivalent of a subway home - it is actually an above ground bus system with platform stops.

I leave tomorrow on a 9 hr bus ride to Cali. This is a change in plans but I am completely suckered by the reputation that it has some of the most beautiful women in the world and that the festival that will begin on Christmas day is not one to miss.

Pablo´s Jacket

I spent the morning with naked plus size women and then was accompanied by police. As appealing as that first sentence sounds the truth is I was in museums as those events occurred. I wandered the galleries of Colombia´s most well-known artist Fernando Botero after having a cup of coffee at one of the Juan Valdez franchises. Botero´s work typically involves a unique rounded style that stands in stark contrast to the American ideal. My American mind found his work intriguing but difficult to approach. I couldn´t help but feel something was off in every work.

The police who accompanied me were actually tour guides at the Museo de Policia. A museum dedicated to law enforcement isn´t usually a must-see when travelling but there is a special gallery that caught my attention. The entire bottom floor is dedicated to the 400+ day man-hunt for Pablo Escobar. Some of his personal items along with the jacket he last wore were on display.

In the afternoon I got purposely-lost (not an oxymoron for me) among the Christmas shopping crowds. If you have ever complained about the madness that ensues at local malls then you must reevaluate. People, products, animals, and buses clog the entire length of Carretera Diez here in Bogota. If a local policeman hadn´t told me it was a dangerous area I might have continued among the crowds. Oh, and although I was hungry I didnt partake in the local fare pictured here; whole roasted pig served New York hot dog style on the street corner.

Some reading and a walk through the Christmas lit Plaza de Bolivar finished the evening.

Bogota, Colombia

The Colombia trip has begun. Two days ago I was sitting in a University of Texas classroom trying to answer a constitutional law exam question about whether congress could potentially act on Utah passing a hypothetical plural marriage statute. Having finished the mind bending ordeal that is law school finals. If you want to know what law school finals are like then watch the movie Old School and find the scene in which Will Ferrrel debates the guy from crossfire. If you want to know how I feel right now then watch Braveheart and find the scene in which Mel Gibson yells ¨freeeeedom!¨after being disemboweled.

I am not exactly sure where to start my new blog thread. It seems the blog is just another overlooked item on my list of, well, overlooked items. My pocketknife is sitting sharp somewhere in my room, the lighter I bring on every trip is partying with it, and my lucky vietnam-worn laundry bag that has been washed in many a latin american country is not full of my day´s worth of dirty clothes. This is my most impromptu trip. My mind has barely caught up with me and I am realizing that It would have been nice to have planned more.

Before I write briefly about today´s events I´ll add two other pieces of information that I have learned the hard way. The first is simple: Don´t take a UT fleece with you when you go backpacking. My instinct told me not to bring it, but my longhorns pride got the best of me. I am now a walking orange foreigner. Seriously, I think I am about to trade someone on the street.

Second, knowing your money is really important. This seems obvious, but again I´m pleading law school here. I arrived at the bustling Bogota airport at 8 last night and stood in an hour long line to get through immigration. Shortly thereafter I exchanged to Colombian currency. I half-heartedly counted the amount the teller gave me and basically took her word that she gave me the full 1,060,000 pesos ($500 USD) I was owed. I jumped in a cab. The cab driver and I struck up a good conversation, as I usually do with cab drivers. I handed him the 20,000 pesos for the ride and gave him four bills with ¨50¨printed on them. He looked at the money, asked me if it was a tip, and then gave me back 3 of the 50 bills back. He said it was too much. Intuition told me this was weird, but I figured he felt guilty that he had probably overcharged me for the ride to the hostel anyway. In my cold hostel room I took my money out, spread it on the bed, and counted it - I just didn´t feel right about not doing a proper job at the currency exchange. I was $250 USD short. I was ashamed and angry. I recounted and recounted for about 15 minutes. Finally, exasperated, I thought back to the cab driver and checked the ¨50¨s. Turns out the ¨50¨s are actually worth 50,000 pesos each. Basically I gave a cab driver with integrity a $25 USD tip and he in return taught me a huge travel lesson: Always learn your currency before you use it.

Today was a great start to the vacation. I use the word vacation for the first time in this blog because I hope to relax alot more than I did on the last trip. I woke up at a late 9:30am, drank coffee in a cafe, and did my typical city walk that I do on every first day. My first impression of Bogota is that it gives a feeling of desolation. Buildings are strangely very shuttered and many seem abandoned - abandoned in the sense that they are nice office spaces that seem as if they have never had occupants. Regardless, the people seem friendly and the Candeleria area that I am in is full of culture.

The event of the day was taking the ¨telefonica¨cable trolley to a gorgeous church and park on top of one of the moutains that surrounds the valley in which Bogota sits. I spent a good amount of time reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez´s ¨love in the time of cholera¨while up there. I am trying to read it in Spanish so I completed a solid 3 pages. I´m thinking tomorrow will be the museums but, as you can probably tell from this first post, improvisation will be the name of the game.

¨Freeeeeeeedom!!!¨

Incomplete

I am 2 finals and 8 days away from this trip yet my mind is not ready to give it the attention and respect it deserves.  Likewise, I can't give this blog the breath that would give it life. It is just not time, nor is there time to be spared.  Crim and Con finals await, so Colombia will have to wait.  However, I have at least planned a tentative itinerary.  The map here posted shows the incomplete route. I have a roundtrip flight out of Bogota.  Do I head to Venezuela? Will I have time? Is it worth the rush? (or in my famous words) Why not? If this post seems a bit disoriented then I am succeeding in conveying how my thoughts are right now - like this route, a bit incomplete. Crim on Friday, Con 4 days later, 2 nights of liberation, and then I'm out. 

I may just post again this weekend while saturated with caffeine and adrenaline so time to bookmark.  Oh, and  UT 45 - OU 35.