A little bit about Colombia:

The People: The people are very friendly once you engage them, but often times they don’t smile or even look at you until you engage them.  Most likely they are just trying to be polite by not looking at you, but Eli and I joke that they are thinking in their heads ‘if I have to look at you stupid gringos for one more second I am going to kill you’.  Once you engage them, however, you realize that these are some of the most sincere and warm people anywhere in the world.  They are sophisticated, eager to share information about their beloved country and lots and lots of fun.  They look after you too, even strangers on the street might come up to you and tell you to be careful, that the streets are dangerous. 

The Danger:  I know that there is danger here, but it is my impression that it is over-rated.  We have been lost in a number of big cities, been through a few bad neighborhoods, gone out into the middle of nowhere on roads so bad that we couldn’t, on a good stretch, out-run a turtle with a bum knee.  There is trouble that one can get one’s self into anywhere in the world –Colombia is no exception, but it generally feels quite safe.  Being in the car, we often stay in towns that no one visits.  We are off the gringo trail almost all the time.  Our Lonely Planet guide doesn’t have one dog-ear…completely neglected on this trip, but we have never felt threatened (watch us get lynched this afternoon- suckers)  The people of Colombia are constantly telling you what danger you are in where you are or where you are going or where you have been, but they are just being overly cautious.  Dead gringos are bad news for the emerging tourist industry, everyone knows it. My advice, come to Colombia…but don’t necessarily tell everyone else to, because there truly are less tourists here and it is nice that way.

The Food: Chicken, potatoes, rice and fried plantains. Chicken, potatoes, rice and fried plantains. Chicken, french fries, rice and fried plantains. Chicken soup followed by chicken, potatoes, rice and fried plantains. Chicken, potatoes, rice, a small salad and fried plantains. Chicken, potatoes, rice and fried plantains. Chicken, potatoes, rice and fried plantains. Fried fish, potatoes, rice and fried plantains.  Chicken, potatoes, rice and fried plantains. Fish head soup followed by chicken, potatoes, rice and fried plantains.  Chicken, potatoes, rice and fried plantains. Pizza. Chicken, potatoes, rice and fried plantains. Over cooked beef, potatoes, rice and fried plantains.  Last night we actually got menus at the restaurant we ate at, which is very rare. I asked what was good and ordered it…some kind of bistek con salsa criolla.  It was bistek alright, but not bistek de rez, it was bistek de higi-something-whatsy.  Meat covered in a tomato onion sauce arrived.  One bite and somehow I knew….a huge plate of livers.  I just couldn’t do it, but Eli, the stand-up friend that he is, switched plates with me and I ate his fish.  I owe him big for that one.  Eli is one hell of a friend…you know this of a person when they insist on eating your big old plate of livers.  There are a lot of baked good around as well.  Lots of empanadas and croissants filled with one thing or another, breads, dry little cheese donut things, coconut covered, jelly-filled, whoosey-nots-its.  They haven’t learned how to fill a donut here.  They slice them in half and slather their fillings around on the things.  The fruits here are also out of control.  Sooo many fruits that I have never seen before.  Exotic shapes and colors.  When you get a new fruit, you don’t know what to do with it…what parts to eat, what parts to suck out, what parts to peel off, what parts to discard.  You need someone to show you what to do.  Some you just squeeze and they open up.  Sometimes the best part is the part that looks the worst…like mucus with little slime balls clumps inside. Colombia is like a fruit candy land.  I want to try them all, but I don’t have time.

The Music: Salsa, salsa, salsa, -meringue, salsa, cumbia, salsa, -salsa, salsa, salsa.  Up on the Caribbean there is a little more of the reggae-ton, and some samba feel.  But here it is all about the salsa and people are dancing in every bar, all the time.  If you are not dancing, you are drumming on the table with your hands and bopping your shoulders to the beat.  If you are not dancing, you are getting ready to dance and if you are not getting ready to dance there has got to be something wrong with you.

The Police:  There are lots of police check points, but we have never been stopped at one.  We have been pulled over once by two police boys on a motor bike and they walked up to us with huge smiles.  They never asked for a scrap of paper or ID, they had just been following us for a while, staring at our weird Maine license plate and figured that they were in a position to meet a couple gingos.  They passed us and flagged us over.  They must have been 17 years old.  We chatted it up with them for a bit, blew their minds with the notion of the crazy trip we were taking and then we all shook hands, exchanged wishes of good luck and were on our way… leaving them laughing on the side of the road behind us.  In many places there are a lot of police/military and they travel in groups.  We have seen some burly police/military tank-like armored trucks.  The police/military people here don’t ever bother us, but if you approach them they are always very courteous and helpful.  They do tend to stare at us, but usually with smiles.  The license plate is a huge hit here.  Everyone stares, double-takes and tells their friends to stare too.  We have seen a motor bike almost crash in the ditch because the driver was staring at our license plate.  We have seen someone walk into a lamp post staring at our license plate. We have had numerous people take photos of our plates.  The cows even stare at our plates.  We aren’t so interesting, but our plates are out of this world.

It is Sunday night, the 24^th of Feb.  We drove today to the town of Pasto, which puts us in good striking distance to cross into Ecuador tomorrow.  Johnny stayed on in Popoyan to take another stab at getting to San Augustine.  Jamie is catching a lift with us to Ecuador.  Jamie is a middle school teacher from San Diego, CA.  (Jamie is a she) She likes country music and all the fun things that country musicians sing about. (beers and pickup trucks and traveling around the world with a back pack).  Jamie is as laid back as can be, which is a good attribute when traveling with Eli and I.  Jamie has a half Polish, half Mexican boyfriend back at home so you know she must be pretty cool.

Last night Johnny and I went out around Popoyan and stayed out late into the night.  Johnny is a Dane, by the way.  A caterer who heads over to South America every time he saves up enough money to do so to visit his Peruvian girlfriend and backpack around.  He speaks good Spanish, great English and is a load of fun to toss back a rack of beers with and chew the fat.  We first went to a great Salsa bar and drank back quite a few rums, people watching and meeting a friendly bar-fly who spoke a little English.  The bar was small, but played great music and there was a lot of dancing and table pounding.  I would love to learn the different Latin dances someday, but I have not participated in any dancing around here.  Not only are the moves and steps quite specific and very fast paced, but it is also the man’s job to lead.  I am more of the table pounding type, occasionally tapping a lighter on a bottle if I get really carried away and it feels appropriate.  This bar had a wall of music, all salsa our friend told us.  Much of it was in records, which was pretty cool and probably from a pretty old collection.  Anyway, we drank a small bottle of rum at this bar until the closing time (2 AM in the town center) and then our new friend, Jose, invited us to join him to a bar outside the center.  This bar was cool -a real local scene.  Once again dancing, dancing, dancing and everyone carrying on.   This time, however, per the advice of Jose, we ordered a bottle of Aguadiente and polished that off.  By the cab ride home, Johnny and I were pretty loaded…I think him a little more than me.  ..So anyway, this morning I woke up feeling really roughed up, and did for much of the day.  That aguadiente is potent stuff and I’m going to be careful with it from here on out. 

     The drive today was spectacular.  Climbing, climbing up through the Andes.  Rugged but lush spiny mountains. Green valleys with clouds flowing through them.  Road side drop offs that have no visible bottom.  Villages and fruit stands, and police check-points.  Today we got waved over at three different checkpoints.  At one they actually checked our papers, the others just asked a few questions.  All were very friendly.  We also picked up a hitch-hiker and brought him 15K down the road.  He was a nice guy…even invited us to stay with him…but the extra weight was tough on Sliver Al and I had to drive more slowly than ever around the potholes.  During the drive we passed many, many landslide areas…some pretty fresh looking.  A couple times much of the road had washed off down the mountain.  It has rained a lot recently and the land is also wet from the clouds.  It always makes me a little nervous driving through the recent landslide zones.    Falling rocks is another nightmare that you feel close to here.  We passed many rocks in the road, sometimes even having to move some.  That would be a bummer, coming this far to get crushed by a falling rock.

     Once we arrived to Pasto, we found a room pretty quickly.  The guy, Jose, that Johnny and I had met the night before had recommended a place called Hostel Kuala and we found it in a snap. The room we took wreaked of diesel fuel, had no running water in the sink, shower or toilet (even though the reception talked us into the room with the private bath) and had a crazy Colombian boy-band staying at the nicer hotel next door, which has caused a commotion in the street.  Right now it is about 1:30 AM and there is still a mob of screaming kids outside.  They have been chanting and singing since we rolled into town.  Close to a hundred die-hard fans, making a ruckus.  Our room is right on the street above it all and it is a mad house out there easily audible through the closed window.