From Tunja to Villa de Leyva. Beautiful town, in which the tourism (especially the Colombian) has been invasive.
I was in a low activity mode: other than strolling around, I did nothing. I considered some touristic things to do, but that implied to stay another day… and I wasn’t really into it.
Should I see Cobra Verde of Werner Herzog to raise my interest on that town? (well, that film probably lessens or even destroys my possible interest on Leyva)
Archive for category: RtWp02
Cold. Rain. So cold… what’s happening with my left lung?
Shit, it’s freezing.
(meanwhile, Agalloch as the OST)
Unfortunately, I don’t think that I have time to visit Panama and Costa Rica. So I won’t… in this trip. I will take a flight from Bogota to Havana, after visiting the promising north of Colombia.
I went to the hotel were Mr. Vladislav and Charline were staying, and I reunited with Vladislav. Near Botero Park, that zone was curiously dodgy. Nothing happened, though it was interestingly annoying being followed by beggars at all times. My pseudoargentinian accent worked somehow in some situations.
One night, I strangely (meaning drunkly) bought a crack pipe from some disturbed hobo after talking with him for a while. I gave him around 300COP (0,12USD)… well, he was quite desperate, it seems. But other than the situation of talking with him for a while about the drugs he consumed with that surprisingly refined crack pipe, everything seemed absurd the next day. And the pipe had too much freebase residue to carry it around! Not healthy!
We spent a lot of time playing pool. Sometimes even 6 hours in a row.
Overall, Medellin wasn’t a very enriching experience. It was only enriching in terms of pool technique.
At the ‘Eje cafetero’ you gotta do what you gotta do: drink coffee, visit coffee plantations.
Chinchiná has the most important factory of freeze-dried coffee, according to what they say. But I discovered -in a swift visit with Daniel- that is not the touristy spot that someone could expect. I mean, they had a tourist information office (something that can be curious for a town that small) with a hot and helpful girl there, but there’s no real attraction, no real plan. Especially if you arrive later than 9am.
So we just wandered randomly, and saw the coffee factory in which you cannot enter because they had wonderful industrial secrets (and of course, they are producing weapons of mass destruction).
At least we tried the coffee there!
Little more than jumping from a bus to another.
Rebecca had recommended me Salento. But I didn’t consider that Holy Week was going to be that terrible there. That special holiday triggered a sequence of deceptions. First, everything was full. Second, it was pouring rain. Third, the places I found had their prices inflated. Fourth, I didn’t have patience, nor cigars. Five, I had to carry a lot of stuff while walking around (well, not that much, thanks to Lili).
When I made the decision of fleing away from that town, I started finding places that were acceptable. But it was too late for my damaged patience…
It was the third time something similar happened to me. Meaning, a bad day for a(n apparently) good place. Baños, Popayán, Salento.
I fled towards the north.
I left Cali, without looking back. In Armenia there were no caucasians, nor people on the street. The Carrera 14, though, was overcrowded. Holidays celebration: let’s concentrate on four blocks.
Random memories: The danger was in following the other way, la ‘poderosa’ (fruit salad), mimo, Costeñas, the pizza, and the television.