August Extravaganza

Alright, it's been a very long time since I wrote, which means there's a whole lot to relate!  Looking back, August was a non-stop series of events, visits, festivals and new experiences.  I would love to spend a whole entry on each of these, but I'm afraid I'd never get through them that ways, so instead you're gonna get a nice short intro to each and if you want to know more, well you'll just have to ask!

The first major event was an international conference being hosted by my office, urbam, at EAFIT university.  The theme of the conference was "Urban Environments" and drew some very big name speakers who discussed everything from teaching people in Vietnam how to build stronger houses to visionary ways to re-imagine cities of the future.  If you think this stuff might be of interest, you can check out the presentation slides here.

Needless to say, hosting a conference took a fair bit of time an energy, but was thoroughly rewarding.  However, in addition to hosting the conference, two of the invitees were also going to be starting a new project with myself and 3 other architects here in Medellin to research and propose solutions to the issue of informal construction in high risk zones along the mountainous borders of the city.  As such, we spent a few very long days hashing out the details of the project as well as going on various site visits.  In addition, their visit fell over a weekend, so there was also some less structured hosting to be done.  Luckily, the same weekend happened to be the beginning of Medellin's famous flower festival, so the whole city was teeming with activity and pretty much everywhere we went there was something to see or do.  That said, we didn't want to limit our guests experience to just the city, so we also took an excursion to Peñol and Guatape to show off the stunning countryside that surrounds us.

This time, rather than attempting to scale the bare rock of Peñol, we took the stairs.  All 600 or more of them!  Which was particularly interesting considering the way they're rather precariously stacked into the cleft of the rock, but made for some very interesting spaces on the way up and down.

 However, whereas the view down was rather precarious....

The view out was really quite stunning!

 Once we'd had our fill of the spectacular view and sore calves, we made our way down the hill to the city of Guatape.  This place is a gleaming little jewel of a town situated on the edge of a large lake with every house painted an array of bright colors.  In addition to the somewhat common detailing of ballestrades and trim, this particular place is known for a tradition of adding 'zocolo's to the base of every building.  These images are iconic little elements that run along the base of nearly all the buildings, sometimes denoting the wares of the shop behind and other times simply adding variety to the street scape.

Once we'd had our fill of pretty countryside, the afternoon rains convinced us it was time to head home.  Unfortunately, the traffic coming back into town delayed us over an hour at a near standstill, but we still made it back in time for "Noche Negra," a concert celebrating the African rhythms of the coastal inhabitants of Colombia.  This was a particularly fun event, not just because the music was awesome, and we ran into my housemates in the crowd, but because we got to see one of the many well designed public spaces of Medellin transformed into an outdoor concert complete with tiered levels to stand on and a backdrop, all with no additions to the space beyond that of the stage.  All in all quite a nice sight to see and a great end to a long and exciting day.

The following week consisted of a whole lot of work while we organized to get our new project up and running, but the flower festival continued all week with the final events the following weekend.  On Saturday there was a parade of antique cars, which was quite a scene and lots of fun to meander through.

Even if a few cars needed a little help from their friends...

And of course there were a few unofficial additions to the event...

All in all, quite the scene to behold and lots of enjoyment for the morning, but the day was still young!  After walking half way across town (and stumbling upon the other climbing gym), we hopped a cab over to Parque Bolivar where the largest artisan market of the year was in full swing.

We wandered about for several hours marveling over the beautifully hand crafted objects of all shapes and sizes, spending way more money than we should have, but not nearly as much as I would have liked to given all the gorgeous works available for purchase.

The next day was the crowning moment of the festival, the parade of "silletas."  These are the traditional flower arrangements for which the festival is held.  Apparently the original festival included a parade all the way from Santa Elena up in the mountains, down into the city, which is really quite amazing considering the size and weight of the displays these people carry!

We'll get to that another day....

Bus(k) Culture

Since buying my bicycle, I have not been frequenting the bus lines quite as much as I had previously. However, since last week's work required semi-professional attire due to a kick ass conference, and the sooty blasts of exhaust I would have to ride through don't mesh well with dress clothes, I reverted back to being a motorized commuter for the week.  As such, I've been reminded what a unique experience it is to ride a bus in Medellín, especially when that bus happens to be the most well traveled and ever present route in the city.

Since moving to my new apartment I've had the privilege of being only a few blocks from the Circular Sur bus route.  This is one of only a handful of routes that do wide circles through the city and has by far the largest coverage of any of the options.  As such, it runs about every 2 mins and I'm lucky enough to get on at a stop where there is always a bus waiting for its companion to come up behind and and send it off on its way. 

But the convenience of the bus is not really what I want to talk about.  The real thrill is the culture that you are periodically privileged to partake in.  This comes in many forms.  As I may have mentioned before, the informal economy is thriving throughout the entire country.  Students carry boxes of snacks to sell to their peers, artists hawk their wares in most major parks and on various key party streets, and various salesmen and musicians periodically get on and off the buses to ply their trade.  This means that on any given day, you could be offered anything from candy to specialty coat hangers to needle threaders to children's books to a Bach concerto.

At first, I found this a little disturbing as those selling products get on, pass out whatever their selling to every person who will take it, give their shpeal and then come around to collect either money or their product back depending on how generous you're feeling.  Some of these people are genuine entrepreneurs just trying to a make an extra buck, while many others are people who have fallen on hard times or who have physical or mental disabilities that make it difficult for them to encounter steady work.  In these cases, they've all got a story, which usually includes sick relatives they're responsible for or a history of drug abuse they're trying to out run, or the like.  In some cases, those coming aboard to sell their goods wear T-shirts proclaiming their place in a rehab or mirco economic charity to give a little extra credence to their tale.  In all cases, no matter what anyone is selling, the price is never more than 2000 pesos, or about $1 and is often less.  In many cases, passenfers give what change they have without asking for any product in return, or overpay just to help out.

That's the story of the hawkers, but now that I'm on one of the major bus routes, I get an entirely different treat.  Nearly every single time I've taken the bus to or from home or work, somewhere along the way a musician or two have hopped on board, warmly greeted the audience, and politely informed everyone they're there to add a little culture to our lives.  This 'culture' comes in the form of music that can range from a haughty teenager rapping along to a boombox, to love sick guitarists, to traditional folk singers, and all the way to full on concerts of classic music (my favorite of which is played by two young men on violins).  Now, the music would generally be impressive in it's own right, but when you add the fact that these people are standing in the aisle of a busy bus, careening down the far-less-then-smooth road and managing to keep their balance and rhythm even when the driver slams on the breaks to pick up a last minute passenger, you can't help but walk away with a lot of respect.  As such, I've taken to carrying a little extra change in my pocket and am always happy to see someone get on board with an instrument in hand looking to make my ride just a little more pleasant.

Peñol Revisted

Remember that amazing rock formation I was raving about a few months ago, but never got to climb due to inclement weather?  Just to jog your memory, it looks kinda like this:

Well, after two more scheduled and then canceled attempts, today I finally got a chance to see the place close up.  Pretty much all I have to say is 'WOW.'

 

This thing is one massively enormous hunk of granite.  It also happens to be perched on top of a very steep hill with an entirely unmaintained 'trail' which consists of a series of slightly leveled patches of grass followed by dried mud slicks where mother nature has carved out her own lines for the disbursement of rain waters (and the ascension of determined climbers).  Fortunately, the view from the base of the cliffs is rather priceless and well worth the precarious approach.

Once we'd caught our breath from the hike in, it was time to try out some routes, all of which consisted of ridiculously balancey moves on gritty but hardly featured granite.  Almost every route consisted of a series of thin crimps and barely-there slopers on a slight incline with tiny but surprisingly solid foot holds, and an infinite array of viable smears. 

Luckily, this is precisely my style and hence I had a blast scrambling up the slightly pock marked routes with little more than thin foot holds and something with just enough grip for your hands to aid in balancing you against the shear cliff that abounded on both sides. 

Now, I should probably mention that the one pitch routes we were working on were never more than 25m high, but as such they couldn't have comprised more than a tenth to a twentieth of the height of the monolith that rose above us and for the first few hours at least, sheltered us in its lengthy shadow.

Once we'd done a couple routes at the first area we came to, the sun had started to catch up with us, so we ventured into the jungle along the base of the cliff on something that I seriously hesitate to call a trail. 

That little brown smudge you see on the left is what we were following, and just in case it's not clear from the picture, I'd say it was at about an 87 degree angle from horizontal.

As we pushed through vines and budding flowers of all varieties, at least the now scorching sun was fairly well blocked and we were able to stay cool while taking turns on our next route.

Can you spot the climber?

As I sat in the shade waiting my turn, it quickly became clear that despite the large barren granite block dominating the landscape, we were in fact in the midst of a jungle teaming with life.  Most of that life tended to come in the microscopic to 3-inch range, but some of it was welcomingly pretty nonetheless.

When my turn came, I had to move quickly to keep from sweating myself off the rock, but about half way up I took a second to look around and was pleasantly shocked to discover a well secured hammock happily swinging beneath the enormous roof I was ascending to.  Even better, our next route apparently commenced directly below said hammock!

At this point, the sun was in full force, causing the dark rock to become shockingly hot to the touch in an alarmingly short period of time, and I was pretty much ready to call it a day.  However, that lazy blue hammock so beautifully perched up above was just too good to pass up, I'd have to get back on the rock just to get a chance at such a unique experience.  So, hiding in the shade for as long as I could, I laced up my shoes, tied in, slathered my hands in as much chalk as they could hold and took off.  I'm not sure that at any point in the 8+ years I've been a fairly serious climber that I've ever attempted to climbed rock that was quite as hot as this.  It was so steamy that you literally couldn't hold on for more than a few seconds without your fingers beginning to scream that they thought you were holding onto a lit stove.  Inside the black rubber of my shoes, my feet didn't fair much better.  Absolutely the only option was to keep moving.  Luckily, that hammock was beckoning from beneath a happily shaded roof, so there wasn't much to hold me back.  A few minutes after leaving the ground I found myself looking out at a spectacular vista of the Guatape valley with that precious little hammock dangling invitingly from only a few feet away.

In the interest of not causing my mother to go into cardiac arrest, I will skip a graphic description of exactly how you get into this free hanging hammock, and move right along to the simple joyful feeling that came from hanging comfortably cradled in soft fabric 30m from the base of the cliff, but a good 100m from the level ground below.  It was shear heaven!

Well aware that my climbing partners were sweltering away at the base while I enjoyed this exquisite experience, I regretfully couldn't spend long swinging in the breeze.  Fairly soon I clambered back out of the hammock and made my way back down to my friends who by this time were well over the ridiculously hot sun and ready for some shade. 

We ended up hiking all the way around to the other side of the mountain, which included a rather shocking passage over the wall that separates the tourists from the technical climbers, and on through a parking lot full of trinket sellers, cafes and visitors milling about at the base of the stairway.   By the time we got past all that and over to the shady side of the rock, it was beginning to get late, and the only routes we could find that were readily available were a 5.12 and a 3-bolt something that looked a whole lot harder.  So, happily exhausted and finally cool for the first time in several hours, we were all content to turn back to the road and take the easy, long way back to the car.

All in all, a rather perfect Sunday if you ask me!

Joy Riding

After moving to my new neighborhood two weeks ago, I discovered that the climbing gym is only about 12 blocks away, which makes me very happy.  However, it's just a little too far to walk regularly (especially at night), but not quite worth taking the bus for.  So, I decided it was time to invest in a bicycle!  I asked around a bit and found out the best place to get a cheap, second hand bike would be at the Minorista market, so last Saturday, after saying goodbye to some visiting friends, I made my way over to the market and had a look around. 

Somehow, I get the feeling that young women don't often show up at this particular local looking for bicycles on their own, and my request made quite an impression.  The shopkeepers at all 3 or 4 stalls displaying bikes were exceedingly helpful and in no time at all I'd had a chance to look at pretty much all the girl's bikes they had available.  The first one I took for a spin proved to be rather disastrous with a seat the rocked constantly and brakes that barely functioned.  Luckily, the second option was way better, and even included working gears!  It wasn't perfect, but there happens to be a bike repair shop directly adjacent to the bike sellers, so I managed to negotiate the original price down after determining how much it would cost to change out a brake pad and re-align the back wheel.  In the end, I handed over 80,000 COP (~$40) and was pleasantly surprised when they asked if I would like a record of sale to certify the legitimacy of the bike I was purchasing.  And here I had been under the impression that there was a good chance most of what I was looking at had been stolen!  Well, I still have a feeling many of the parts are, but they re-configure everything well enough that no one would know the difference. 

In any case, about 40mins after I arrived, I rode away on my newly refurbished trek mountain bike complete with lock and lights, all for under $50.  Now it was time to brave the traffic and meander my way home.

Before I tell you about my ride, I feel like I should provide a better understanding of what the streets are like in the city.  First off, the traffic consists of everything from tractor trailers to massive public buses to minivans to private cars to a plethora of small taxis to numerous motorcycles to akward 3-wheel motorized contraptions to bike-powered food carts to bicycles and the occasional wheelchair.  As you can imagine, this varied collection of moving vehicles would lead to a rather chaotic experience in the best of times.  Add to that a rather loose interpretation of traffic laws, signals and norms and you get a whole different ball game.  The most noticeable deviation from North American regulations is that no matter how many lanes there are for cars, there are always at least 2 more for motorcycles (and other small vehicles).  This is because motorcyclists ride the line, and both shoulders far more often than they follow the car lanes.

In addition to what makes up the traffic here, there is also the issue of the traffic patterns.  I would wager a guess that over half the streets in Medellin are one-way.  This includes many of the main thoroughfares, which has the effect of requiring both an intricate understanding of the layout of the city as well as enormous patience for the unending series of circular routes required to navigate to your destination.  Luckily, in my neck of the woods, most of the main road are two way, but they all intersect at traffic circles.  Now, I'm generally in favor of traffic circles as they seem to keep things moving, but I'm pretty positive that no one had bicyclists in mind when traffic circles were invented.  This is particularly true in a country where no one seems to think they need to be in the outside lane to exit the circle, which means that vehicles of all shapes and sizes routinely cut across 3 or 4 lanes of traffic to make their way onto the road of their choice.

Keeping all of these obstacles in mind, I was a little nervous to set out from the market on my new bike and make my way across half the city to my new home.  However, as soon as I got across the bridge, I found myself happily cruising along with very little trouble.  As far as I can gather, drivers here are so used to looking out for motorcycles zooming up along their sides that they are constantly vigilant for people on the shoulders and between the lanes.  On the same note, motorcyclist are so used to looking out for, well, just about everything (cars, buses, potholes, beggars, pedestrians, construction debris, etc), that they are also uniquely aware of their surroundings.  As a result, I've found that as long as I keep a steady pace and a straight line, everyone else goes around me.  Suddenly having a bike in the city was looking far more appealing!

This feeling was confirmed as I came up to the stadium and discovered a beautiful bike lane paralleling the road.  After cruising along that for awhile, I knew I'd have to turn off to get where I was going and on a whim took a road that winds along the edge of a canal.  That turned out to be a lovely choice, as the entire canal was lined with trees and a narrow pathway, just wide enough for a bike to pass pedestrians without issue.  I tooled along happily enjoying the scenery until I came out to the main traffic circle a few blocks from my house.  Steeling myself for some excitement, I pulled out and stayed well to the edge for the three quarters of the circle that I had to make it around before setting off onto my quite side street.  Luckily, the same logic prevailed for the traffic circles as had for the main roads, and keeping my speed steady allowed everyone else to judge my course and according work around me.

Since Saturday, I have gone nearly everywhere on my bicycle.  I can't possibly describe the wonderful feeling of freedom that this purchase has brought.  I no longer have to spend precious time looking up bus routes, fretting about which corner to stand on hoping it stops for me, paying a small fee and then passing by all sorts of interesting places without the ability to stop.  On the contrary, I can now step out my front door and head anywhere I want with as many stops as I like along the way.  Well, anywhere I want is a little bit of an overstatement.  I can go anywhere within the valley portion of the city.  The neighborhoods that start up the hills on either side are rather enormously daunting and I have yet to work up the courage to attempt any of those incredibly steep hills. 

On the plus side, since Saturday I have discovered that there are a variety of streets in the city that contain well designed bike lanes.  These are generally positioned on a wide sidewalk with a buffer of trees between you and the roads.  Unfortunately, none of these paths seem to last particularly long and they all terminate rather abruptly at busy streets.  I'm pretty sure there's a wider plan to connect them all, and when that day comes I have a feeling bikes will be infinitely more visible throughout the city.  In the meantime, I'll have to continue to contend with the traffic, which really wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the large quantity of soot and grim that gets kicked up and comes out of nearly all the vehicles.  The first time I got home after a ride, I blew my nose and was shocked to see the snot was nearly all black.  Definitely gonna have to learn the back roads so I can keep to the cleaner air and quieter streets.  I have also been on the look out for a pair of sunglasses, but may just go in for some safety glasses instead, as that's what I'm really in need of.  Either way, this week has brought infinite new discoveries and boosted both my desire and ability to get to know this city more and more each day. 

Dance Festivities - Week 02

After a week's respite, during which I took the opportunity to get out climbing at La Mojarra, the dance festivities were set to recommence.  This week was the 3rd annual Colombia Salsa Festival, the winners of which would variously be invited to Las Vegas and Dubai for different international competitions.  The festival ran all weekend, but required paying for entrance, so I elected to only attend one night.  The other night I simply went out and salsa-ed up a storm in celebration. Well, I thought I'd been salsa-ing up a storm until I saw these performances.  Once again, all I can really say is wow.

These guys were not only incredibly dancers, but phenomenal athletes as well!  They did more flips, throws, turns and crazy death-defying feats of gymnastics than you typically see at a Superbowl halftime show!

In addition, Colombia has a particular style of Salsa that involves some amazingly rapid foot movements.  Not sure of the origins of this particular aspect of the dance, but the outcome is a rather astounding athleticism incorporated into the rapid beats.

As far as I'm concerned, all 15 of the couples were mind-blowing.  So, if you haven't had enough just yet, here're a few more videos to keep you happy.

Once all the couples had performed (we missed the kids portion, but I'm sure that was amazing as well), the groups took the stage and upped the anti.  Theses performances exuded so much energy you could literally feeling it wafting over the audience in waves.

Luckily, part of the program included live music and an open dance floor.  As soon as the VIP barriers were moved aside, anyone who wanted to could enjoy the music as all salsa music is designed to be enjoyed; from a standing, gyrating position in the middle of the dance floor.  Despite clearly being the least advanced individuals out there, we took full advantage of this unique opportunity and danced till they closed it down and a started handing out medals.

Man, do I love this city!

Dance Festivities - Week 01

In the past 3 weeks, there have been 2 major dance festivals in the city of Medellin.  The first was an International Tango Competition, which was free for anyone who signed up in advance.   The second was the Colombia Salsa Festival which cost less than $10 a night and was worth every penny!  Let's start with the Tango Festival, since that came first.

About a month ago, I started taking Tango lessons with a friend who had a few years experience in this incredibly complicated art form.  When we heard that there was to be an international competition and that all the events would be free, there was no way we could miss out.  Luckily, our new found dance company happened to be sponsoring the event (as well as the Salsa Festival) and hence we were conveniently able to pick up our tickets during one of our lessons.  The following weekend we met up in the afternoon to check out some Tango in the park before heading over to the semi-final presentations.

We arrived on time, which meant we had about a half hour to wait til they actually opened the stadium where the presentations would be taking place.  Once we got in, I realized we'd probably want some water during the 4 hrs or so of presentations we'd be watching and very reluctantly paid the outrageously high price of 4000 pesos for a bottle.  Then we found seats with a nice, if skewed, view and sat down to be entertained.

There were about 20 different pairs who each came out to give their rendition of various styles of Tango.  It was really quite impressive to see the range that was presented.  I don't know much about Tango, but there was everything from old-fashioned, slow, sensuous movements to upbeat dynamic duos.  However, this appeared to be a ballroom style competition, so there were very few tricks or lifts, just complicated steps and good stories.  Nonetheless, it was fascinating to watch.  So fascinating I entirely forgot I'd brought my camera, so you'll just have to trust me that the performances were truly inspiring.  It wasn't until they started the kid's group competitions that I went searching for my camera because this was just too adorable.

The kids in these groups were absolutely amazing!  They strutted about as if they'd been on stage their whole lives (which many probably had) and then took to spinning, lifting, tossing and generally impressing the pants off everyone watching!

By the time the grown up groups came on, it was already late and we decided we'd had enough of sitting on concrete benches for one night.  Besides, we'd be back the next day for the finals!  So, after a couple adult groups, we called it a night and stepped out into a torrential downpour.  The street in front to the stadium was so thoroughly waterlogged that there was nothing for it but to jump in, wade across and wave wildly for an oncoming taxi.

The next day there was an outdoor concert which was scheduled to include an awesome electro-tango group called Tangetto.  We certainly didn't want to miss that, especially since it was essentially in my friend's front yard.  So, we met up for a tasty lunch of traditional Ecuadorian potato soup before descending into a full crowd and fantastic music.

We weaved through the happy onlookers until we found a small patch of grass next to an enormous St. Bernard and enjoyed a band whose name I didn't catch, but who played some beautiful music.

To our significant delight, this first set was also accompanied by a dance performance.  This time, there weren't any competition rules to abide by, so they went all out.  There were lots of sexy moves accompanied by lifts, flips and mind boggling precision.

As the light faded, the first group ended and the DJ took over while they switched over to the next performance, which would be Tangetto.

I decided to take the momentary lull as an opportunity to locate some brews and scope out the rest of the party.  As I made my way through the crowd, I was shocked and delighted to hear someone calling my name!  I turned around to see a whole group of climbers happily enjoying the afternoon fiesta.  Beyond being happy to see friends, I felt a surge of pride at the fact that I now know enough people in the city to occasionally run into people by chance.  Yes!

In any case, I found some beers, collected S from his perch beside the enormous St. Bernard and moved over to enjoy the rest of the concert from the company of many happy friends.  As Tangetto took the stage slightly eerie but magnificently beautiful music swept the grounds and the whole crowd swayed in rhythm with the bandoneón, the accordion-like instrument that defines much of Tango music.  This was accompanied by a keyboard, a digital dj, a cellist, bass and drums.  Quite an exquisite combination.

All too soon the concert came to an end and it was time to traverse across town to catch the competition finals.  Saying our goodbyes to our lovely compañeros, we caught a taxi and arrived just in time to catch the groups we'd left out the night before.  Pretty much every group was jaw-dropping, and I most definitely didn't catch the best on film, but I did grab a few samples for you all to enjoy.

Once we'd seen all the competitors, and the judges scores were being tallied, the organizers took the opportunity to spark our interest in the upcoming Salsa Festival that would be happening in 2 weeks.  Last year's champions were invited to the stage to give a little preview presentation.

And, it worked!  About 20 seconds into the performance, I already knew the next festival was not something I could miss.  But we'll get to that in another post.  For the time being, our Tango evening was not yet over.

After the group performances, there was a milonga style competition.  I'm still a little fuzzy on the details of this, but basically about 10 couples would all come out on the dance floor and dance in a cyclical formation, each passing by the judge's table during a portion of the songs.  I'm pretty sure that this was an improve competition as they would play small sections of various styles of tango music with short breaks in between.  Each couple would start up as they found the beat, but had to keep their spacing with those around them.  Quite fascinating, but incredibly hard to watch all the participants at the same time!

The following hour or so consisted of awards, but we stuck around because the schedule had said the night would include a public milonga, or Tango party, and we didn't want to miss out on that.  Unfortunately, it was after midnight by this point, so our resolve was waning, but boy were we glad we waited!  After all the awards had been distributed, the appropriate pictures taken and the myriad of announcements were over, the judges were invited to perform.  The judges, some of whom happened to be the reigning Argentinian Tango Champions.  Wow.  They were truly amazing.  With no regulations and no pressure to compete, these 3 couples went all out.  Now this was what Tango is all about!

By the time all the presentations were over, it was close to 2am, and they were just beginning to clear a space for the public milonga.  With a full day of festivities behind us, and visions of swirling, sensuous beauty to accompany us home, we decided we'd probably had enough tango for the day, and besides, we might need a few more lessons before we can hold our own in this crowd! 

Exhausted but happy we wrapped up a beautiful weekend of outstanding performances with another slog through the rain.  Luckily this time the river had yet to manifest and we were able to make it to the taxi with (nearly) dry feet.

La Mojarra revisted

I have at least two more entries in the back log that I've been trying to find time to write up, but this weekend was so wonderful that I can't wait to share it, so we're gonna go ahead and skip ahead for now. 

Last Friday, after over a week of playing paper tag with the rental agency, we finally managed to get keys in hand for our new apartment.  Having never seen the place, I was excited and apprehensive, but there was very little that could dampen my mood at that point.  The day before, when I found out that going climbing at Maseo for the weekend was looking fairly unlikely due to the lack of a 4WD vehicle that could make it down the road, I had called up a friend who recently moved out to Bucharamanga and inquired as to his plans for the upcoming 3-day weekend.  He immediately responded that if I was willing to make the trip out, we would most definitely be going climbing at La Mesa (aka La Mojarra).  Deal.   Hence, late Friday evening I found myself packing all my belongings into a taxi and venturing over to our new abode to drop everything off before catching the overnight bus to Bucharamanga.

It was dark by the time that I got to the new place, but it was still apparent that it was a fairly nice choice.  The kitchen was leaps and bounds ahead of what we've been working with, the bathrooms appeared to be brand new and a  nice little balcony looked out on a few low rooftops and a large mango tree.  The rooms themselves weren't much to speak of, but for the price we're paying you can't get everything.  Happy that we'd finally settled on a place, I swept out my new room, deposited my suitcases in the corner and headed back to Carlos E. to help pack up the rest of the house.  A few hours later I found myself saying goodbye to the space that has been home for the past 4 months, shouldering my climbing gear, and heading to the bus station.

Unlike the last time I made this trip, this time I thankfully knew exactly where I was going, roughly how much it should cost and at what times the buses depart.  I also came prepared with multiple jackets and sweaters to ward off the astounding cold that blasts from the air conditioner on nearly all Colombian buses.  I have yet to figure out the logic of this, but my best guess is that the blanket companies made a deal with the bus drivers some time ago and have since been reaping the benefits of exceedingly chilly passengers huddling beneath their freshly purchased armor.  As I took my seat, the guy next to me looked over rather shocked and asked where my bedding was at.  I confidently informed him that I was prepared this time around and showed off the fleece and warm sweater I'd brought along.  He looked sincerely concerned, informed me he had a plethora of blankets and that I was welcome to one should I need it. 

3 hours later, I needed that blanket. I can't really emphasize how ridiculously cold they keep these buses!  I was wearing sneakers, socks, jeans, a long sleeve shirt, a fleece and had a sweater rapped around my head as a pillow/hat.  I was still freezing.  The guy next to me was snoring away happily under his mountain of no less than 4 heavy blankets.  I didn't want to wake him and ask for a spare, but I was entirely unable to sleep due to the cold (or maybe it was the annoying spanish sitcom that had just ended, or the metalic salsa music that was now drumming insistently from the speakers above me, either way, the cold was the most uncomfortable issue).  So, careful not to wake my companion, I quietly slipped a corner of the closest blanket over my legs and instantly relaxed.  Now I could sleep.  And for what was left of the trip, that's exactly what I did.  In fact, I slept so well that the next thing I knew my friendly blanket man was shaking me awake as he departed, leaving me and a family with a few small children as the only remaining occupants of the bus.  Happy to have arrived, I stuffed my sorely inadequate warm gear into my bag and hurried off to call my friend. 

As I pulled out my phone, I was a little shocked to see that we had arrived 2 hrs earlier than I had expected and it was just past 6am.  A little nervous to wake L so early, but anxious to get to the rocks, I gently pressed the call button and held my breath.  To my relief I was greeted with a warm 'Good Morning!' and informed he'd be over to pick me up in an hour or so.  I chose a spot I thought I could easily describe when the pickup time arrived and settled down to enjoy a little early morning Bill Bryson.  I quickly got lost in the gloriously written tale of "A Walk in the Woods" and in what seemed like no time at all my phone was ringing and my ride had arrived.

It took about 40mins to get back to L's apt, by which time we were both starving, so we treated ourselves to some chicken pastries and fresh juice on the street corner.  As the infinitely small world of climbing would have it, L informed me that the guy whose house I had stayed at in Suesca had recently re-located to Bucharamanga and would be picking us up in his 4WD in a few hours and joining us for the weekend's adventure.  With a full belly and only a few hours of chilly sleep behind me, I quite happily took advantage of the lag time to stretch out on the couch and catch up on some shut eye while L organized his gear for the weekend.

By 10am I was back on the road, this time with 2 old friends plus a new acquaintance, bouncing happily along to a vibrant collection of music that ran the gammut from Uruguian rap music to airy pop classics and salsa tunes well known enough that even I could occasionally sing along.  We wound through the city and off into the beautiful hills that make up the Colombian countryside.  I was beside myself with happiness.  After 2 very stressful weeks in the city, the wide open spaces and lush green scenery that unfolded around us was more than welcome.

I can't remember if I mentioned in my last post about La Mesa, but on the way out there is a beautiful little market that was recently constructed with a living roof and a myriad of booths selling all sorts of foods, drinks and crafts.  On my last journey G had stopped off and bought me an Arepa de Chocolo, which is basically cornmeal fried and stuffed with farm-fresh cheese.  To date, that was probably the best single item of food I've had since coming to Colombia.  Hence, I was quite pleased when my request to duplicate that event was met with great enthusiasm.  This time, in addition to the most delicious arepas in the whole wide world, my new friend C insisted that we try a few of the local homebrews that were beckoning on from the countertop.  These consisted of a sweet fermented rice meal that was dangerously tasty and another thick, creamy but tangy beverage that was made out of who knows what.  Luckily we only sampled 2 small glasses between the 4 of us, so there was no risk of getting particularly tipsy, but I can definitely imagine lazy afternoons starting out with an unassuming glass or two and ending in riotous fiestas.

Fueled up and on the road once more, we had just one more stop before the rocks, we needed to check in to our sleeping quarters for the weekend.  To my delight we headed back to the same pretty little place I had stayed last time around, but when we arrived, there was no one there.  A few phone calls later determined that the owner was out of town for a film festival and that we'd have to choose a different spot to sleep.  Luckily, there's another climber's hostel just up the hill and even closer to the rocks.  We turned the car around and headed over, only to find the single lane country road entirely blocked by an enormous delivery truck.  After waiting for a good 10mins it became clear that we were gonna be stuck for awhile.  J & C generously offered to hold tight with the car and make sleeping arrangements whenever that became a possibility if L and I wanted to hop out and hike to the wall.  Did we ever!  Thanking them profusely, we lightened our packs and gingerly stepped around the truck and down the road to La Mojarra.

The beauty and serenity of this valley is truly breathtaking.  You enter from above, so from the very first you are greeted with expansive vistas, complete with a distant waterfall, trails leading to a sparse scattering of small farm houses, and of course the beautiful red cliffs that we had come for.  I fairly bounded down the path and was thrilled when L suggested we warm up at the closest wall. Yipee!  Within 20mins I was happily belaying as L strung gear up on a pretty little 5.9 face climb.  When my turn came around I fairly floated up the wall.  It was heaven.  I hadn't been on real rock since Suesca back in April and there's really just no substitute.  The valley fell away before me and the holds spread out above.  The skies across the valley were ominously grey, but this particular stretch of land has a peculiar ability to avoid bad weather and the sun occasionally came out to play with us as we meandered up and down a series of 5.9 and 5.10 climbs, wrapping up with a challenging 10c named Dharma.  As we were coming down from that, our friends finally made it into the valley and invited us to meet them out at a cliff a little further along.   It was already getting late by the time we caught up with J & C, but there was still a line of people having goes at Gullich, a pumpy 11a that traverses under a steep overhang.  This was one of L's favorites and was keen to give it another go, but with the cue of people ahead of us, L was kind enough to let me hop on another 10a called Matrix while he waited his turn.  While we cleaned that route I was surprised to discover that the shadows had lengthened and it was quickly getting dark.   Apparently that didn't phase many of the climbers out that particular day as they were still hanging around working on this pretty roof.  By the time they handed the rope over to L so he could take down the draws, headlamps were out and C has happily cranking away the battery-less lamp he had designated as the climber's spotlight.  We all looked on as L made his way up and then climbed back down removing clips as he came.  Not generally the suggested method of cleaning, but in this particular case significantly less of a pain than attempting to rappel and manuever your way horizontally back under the overhang.

Happy with the days endeavors we soon packed up and hiked back out through a dazzling starlit night.  When we got up to the hostel, I could already tell that this place must be stunning, but it wasn't until the following morning that I found out just how magnificent of a location the owner managed to select.  In the meantime, our tummies were rumbling and it was time to commence what will hopefully be a long tour of Bucharamanga's delicious gastronomical fare.  For this night's selection, we drove down into the small town of Los Santos and camped out in the town square where there were a series of food carts serving up mounds of mouthwatering deliciousness.  We opted for arepas filled to bursting with chicken, various sauces and, well I was too hungry to notice what else, but let me tell you, it was TASTY!  We followed that with french fries and chorizo which came with any sauce you could imagine including a tangy pineapple goo that was most definitely my favorite.  As we chowed down C informed me that Bucharamanga has some of the best food in the country and that there are so many things I need to try that I would just have to come spend a whole week there so we could make our way through the menus.  Yessir!  After this small sampling, I will most definitely put that trip on the agenda.

By the time we got back to the hostel, it was clearly time to crash.  However, having spent a night on a bus and a day on the rocks without stopping for a shower, I somehow managed to work up the bravery to dowse myself with a cold trickle of water while staring happily up through the open air skylight at the star filled night. 

The following morning I woke up and headed to the bathroom only find myself staring gawk-eyed at the full breadth of the valley below with nothing but a narrow pathway separating the showers from a steep tumble of stones sloping off to the valley floor.

After such a full day before, we were all moving a little slowly, and the sun was blasting down hard, so we opted for a lazy morning complete with hot breakfast and hammock time.

 

When we finally made it down the road, the sun was still broiling on the path, but the rocks were thankfully shaded.  This time we skipped the warm up wall and hiked out past where we'd greeted the stars the night before.  A little stiff but more than happy to be out on the rocks again, I opted for some top roping since there were several routes already up and slowly made my way through to an 11c that started on a massive overhang and basically required a pull up followed by a hand-foot traverse to get off the ground.  In the meantime, J & C were busy improving routes by adding bolts and replacing anchors.  I was thrilled to see such diligence and happy to lend a hand passing up drills and hanging chains.  In between we lunched on sausages, cheese and bread while gazing out at the valley beyond. So passed another happy day in La Mojarra.

As we made our way back out we passed by a big group working on Gullich again, and J decided he'd better put a second bolt at the anchor, which currently had just one.  L spied a couple friends who had put some trad gear up on a hard 11 next door and asked if I'd be willing to provide a belay.  Just as L started up the wall, I immediately wished I'd opted out of belaying in favor of picture taking.  As I looked over my shoulder, there was J jumaring his way up a rope dangling at the edge of a cave full of climbers as the light slowly shifted to that beautifully rich yellow of pre-dusk.  To top it all off, across the valley emerged a rainbow, gaining strength and arcing up to meet J as he made his way to the anchors.  It was truly a sight to behold.  Every once in awhile in my life I've had the luxury of experiencing those perfect moments where impossible events align and the true beauty of the world seems to solidify for an instant.  This was just such a moment.  I didn't manage to snag a picture to share with you all, but I sincerely hope that image never leaves my mind.  It was an absolutely delightful moment to end a gratifying day.

That evening was filled with beers, local empanadas, tortillas, good company and crazy coincidences.  As we sat beneath the bare bulbs of the corner store with a crowd of other climbers, I overheard a young guy mention he'd soon be on his way to Philadelphia.  Really?  My ears perked up and I asked what would bring him to that end of the world.  As the logic of the world would have it, this young man will soon be starting school at the very university, in the very program of which my uncle in the chair.  Not only that, but he's able to attend due to a scholarship to play squash, which happens to also be my uncle's preferred sport.  I couldn't help but marvel at the crazy little world we live in as I swatted mosquitos drawn by the only light for miles around in this rustic rural village of Colombia.

The following morning, I awoke to my 3rd and final day full of energy and rearing to go.  The second the sun slipped from the cliffs we were on our way out and this time I had some objectives in mind.  First on the list was to lead an easy but super pretty 10 that I'd toproped the day before.  Once the blood was pumping, I was determined to try my hand at leading Rebel Music, a gorgeously technical 11a that had peaked my interest while giving it a go on toprope.  That first 10 went off without a hitch and I came down exhilarated and itching for the 11.  Unfortunately, a few other people had had the same thought and were already half way up the route I was dying to try.  Not to worry, this particular valley has plenty to offer.  In fact, we'd kinda been eyeing a nice long route that had a set of anchors at the top of a 5.8 but extended beyond as an 11b.  L took the first lead on this one, but the minute I saw his face when he came down I knew I'd have to give it a go.  I hadn't been able to see the last portion of the route from where I was belaying, but L assured me I was gonna love it.  I was feeling great anyway, so we pulled the rope and up I went. 

The lower section was a delight of mirco bulges on a sheer face that required tight balance, but very little effort.  This was followed by a small roof and a nice airy arete with a platform big enough to sleep on above.  Only, to start off again from that cozy perch required either a super crimpy, balancey traverse, or a he-man lunge and heal hook mantle up to the next bolt.  Feeling strong, but not quite he-man-ish, I opted for the crimpy variation and slowly eased my way up through the first set of bolts.  The next rest was a thin ledge with a smooth face looming straight up another 10 ft or so to a dusty ledge and the final anchors.   The only way up was to trust a small sidepull and a miniscule crimp, get your feet onto a super thin, high, sloping hold and lunge as far as you could go up to a solid jug.  It took me a good number of tries, but that little rest ledge allowed for backing off fairly easily, so when I finally hauled up far enough to get the jug and finished with an ugly mantle, I had done so without ever weighting the rope. Yahoooo!

By the time we got back over to Rebel Music, C was giving it a rather unconvincing go, and soon came down disgruntled.  I happily stepped up and tried to show him how it was done.  Unfortunately, I'd used up most of my strength on the last route and ended up falling just short of the anchors.  I worked the moves anyway, but was frustrated not to get the whole route in one go.  After a bit of rest I gave it another try, but to no avail.  If I want to get that one down clean, I'm just gonna have to go back for it another day. 

Already searching the calendar for my next 3 day weekend....

Apartment Woes

As seems to have become the norm, it's been a couple weeks since I last wrote, but rest assured it was not for a lack of experiences!  In fact, the last couple weeks have been been jam packed with most free time dedicated to the search for a new apartment.  As aggravating and time consuming as this process proved to be, it has in fact been a really wonderful way to get to know the city.  I can now locate nearly every major neighborhood, tell you which ones have easily accessible public transport, and roughly how much it costs to live there.  In addition, I got a chance to see quite a few areas from the back of my housemate's motorcycle, which has drastically improved my understanding of traffic patterns in the complex and often inanely complicated system of one way streets, rivers, canals, highways and metro overpasses that make up the city of Medellin. 

That said, it's still no fun to look through thousands of advertisements, pick out a couple dozen, make the requisite inquiries and end up with a short list of 3 or 4 visits.  Of the 5 or 6 places I personally saw, only 3 were livable.  Of those, 2 were beautiful, but in terrible locations and the third was way over budget.  Luckily, my housemates stumbled upon one that seemed to have everything going for it at the end of last week, and we rushed to get the papers signed.  Or rather, we tried to rush to get the papers signed. 

I'm still not exactly clear as to what papers we ended up needing precisely, but since barely anyone uses a credit card and banks are just where you go to cash checks, there's no such thing as a credit check to assure the validity of a potential renter's ability to pay.  Instead, you must get someone who has a certificate of ownership for a vehicle to sign on your behalf, as well as someone who owns their own house.  I think there might have been a few other requirements, but those were the ones that stuck.  Each of those people has to receive the original, hard copy of the appropriate form directly from the leasing agency, sign it, fingerprint it, and return it.  In our case, this meant sending  half the paperwork as quickly as we could (24-36hrs depending on the day and time) to V's parent's in Bogota, and the other half had to be driven out to R's cousin an hour outside of town.

Then we waited 2 days, hoping for good news.  On the second day we called to determine whether our application had been accepted.  Well, not quite yet.  Apparently the central headquarters for the government agency responsible for leases had attempted to call our references, but had only gotten through to one, as the other works on a flower farm in the middle of nowhere and doesn't have reliable cell phone service.  Naturally, we asked whether he could call them instead so we could resolve the issue the same day.  Nope.  That particular office seems to not have a phone number, despite having the sole responsibility of calling and confirming references.  They kindly informed us that they would go down the list one more time the following day, but that if our reference didn't answer at that precise moment, our application would be denied.

Having no back up apartment on the books and with no more time to go through the whole papershuffling extravaganza again, all we could to was to cross our fingers and hope.  Late the following day, by some miracle our reference managed to receive the precious phone call, passed all inspections and our application was accepted as of today.  Well, almost.  We're accepted, but now we have to get the same 2 people to sign (and fingerprint) the lease.   So, we've send off all the appropriate forms and are once again awaiting with bated breath, hoping the gods of mail delivery shine upon us.   With the best of luck, we should have the keys late tmw.  With not such good luck, well, let's not think about that option.

Coastal Encounters

Alright, I know it's been a while since I wrote, but I've had a good excuse, I've been out and about making sure my parent's enjoyed they're 10 day stay here in Colombia!  It was a short trip, but we managed to pack quite a bit in including most of the major tourist sights in Medellin, a quick trip to Barranquilla and a weekend in Cartagena (both of which are on the Caribbean coast and consequently muggy and exceedingly warm).  But, before we get ahead of ourselves, let's talk about Medellin.

My parents arrived on Sunday night, which worked out perfectly other than the hour delay due to the loss of one piece of luggage.  Luckily it only contained things I had asked them to bring, all of which I could easily live without for another week.  So, after filling out all the appropriate forms, we haggled for a cab and made our way down into the valley.  That night was spent sipping beers and catching up before we all called it a night.

Now, I had asked for Thurs and Friday off from work so we could all go to the coast, but I still had to work Mon-Weds, which meant my parents would have to wander the city on their own for a bit.  Luckily, being seasoned travelers, I wasn't too worried about sending them off to fend for themselves.  Unfortunately, both the places I tried to send them on their first day here turned out to be closed.  Whoops.

Equipped with a map and not afraid to ask around, they did finally manage to find a museum that was open, and which happened to be free for the day.  They also somehow managed to stumble upon quite a few depictions of naked ladies along their way.  Not something I can say I'd really noticed until I flipped through their photos, but maybe the museums are on to something with boobs leading the way to their doorsteps (or adorning their door)...

By the time my parents arrived at my university they were in high spirits.  I showed them around the lovely campus I spend my days at before we headed up to El Poblado for a bite to eat.

The next day went a little smoother on the sight seeing front while I frantically tried to wrap up all my obligations in preparation for our Weds afternoon departure.  We even managed to sneak in a lunch together at the Botanical gardens, which was quite lovely.  However, Tues night happened to be host an NBA finals game, so we wound up back in El Poblado since it was the only place I could guarantee a broadcast.  The place was super noisy with a soccer game vying for the crowd's attention, but the NBA game held it's own with a neck to neck run.

On Weds afternoon we were scheduled to fly to Barranquilla where I had been invited to meet the dean of the new school of architecture at Uninorte.  However, every time I mentioned to anyone here that my parents and I would be going to Barranquilla I was met with the same confused expression and statements like "what're you going there for?" and "but there's nothing to do there."  We tried to keep our own hopes up, but as we rode a taxi into town, it was hard to banish the feeling of desolate waste that seems to prevail over much of the city.  Once a bustling hub and still the largest sea port in Colombia, this sprawling city somehow managed to miss the boat.  Or maybe it just fell off somewhere along the way.

The hotel my dad had booked was in the historic old city, just a block from what appeared to be a beautiful cathedral full of stained glass.  Unfortunately, this district's glory days were far gone.  The hotel we stayed in had gorgeous tile work, arching colonnades, gilded ceilings and a picturesque lap pool with a sculpted crocodile keeping guard, but the room's mini fridge had dark stains of mold, the air conditioner was older than any of us, and, as luck would have it, the entire municipal water system was shut down for 24hrs.  The street we stayed on was lined with gargantuan mansions with curved drives and ample gardens where weeds pushed through the asphalt and shuttered windows stared blankly at the passing cars.

When we tried to go see the cathedral in the morning, we walked the entire perimeter without encountering a single open entrance other than the patchwork of holes where intricate stain glass panels had been knocked out.  Figuring there had to be something else to do in the city, we went across the street to a new-looking (and thankfully air conditioned) mall and asked around for a map of the city.  We continued to ask around for a map for the following hour, entirely without success.  Guess they don't get many tourists in these parts.

We finally had to give up the quest for a pictorial presentation of our new surrounds in favor of a long taxi ride north to the university.  As we made our way up through the city, it became clear that much of the affluence is to be found in the newer districts of the northern sector.  By the time we got to the Uninorte campus we had passed through the entire city and found ourselves looking out at the coast over a lush bed of foliage.

The afternoon turned out to be quite pleasant as we shared lunch with two lovely ladies with whom a friend had put us in touch.  One of them had to take off early, but the other, who was young, bright and full of interesting stories, took us on a tour of the campus and told us all about their recent activities.  An hour or so later she handed me off to the dean of the school of architecture, who explained that they had just opened the program and were wrapping up their very first semester.  Curious to see what this entailed, I asked to see some of the student's work and was rewarded with a thorough presentation of a variety of projects from mosaics to sprinkler sculptures to single family homes.

By the time we got back into the city, it was nearly time for dinner, so we did not freshen up since there was no running water, but we did enjoy a few moments of cool air before deciding to try out a restaurant that the grocery announcer had recommended when we befriended him during our search for a map. We hailed a taxi, negotiated our price (there are no meters!) and headed off.  Luckily, the driver knew the place we were looking for and drove us in past a slew of other restaurants, 2 of which were on our list of recommendations from various friends.  Not wanting to miss out on the atmosphere, we checked out a few menus before deciding on the BBQ place we'd originally aimed for.  Man, was that a good choice!  We only ordered 2 full meals between the 3 of us, but we ended up taking home a stack of leftovers nonetheless.  Everything was super tasty with new and intriguing combinations of flavors.  On top of that, they also happened to have a TV in the corner, and were more than willing to switch it to the NBA playoffs at our request.  2 for 2 on catching the games!

Since it had become abundantly clear that there wasn't a whole lot to keep us in Barranquilla, we arranged for an early morning taxi to Cartagena on Friday.  The ride out was quite scenic with the road winding through rainforest and occasionally offering glimpses of the shore we were paralleling.  An hour or so later we rolled into what I believe is the oldest colonial city in Colombia (maybe in S.America?).

All around the historic core highrise apartments and luxury hotels dominate the landscape, but we had opted for a spot just outside the main walls, but still within the city center.  Well, we thought we'd opted for that hotel, but there was a bit of a miscommunication and between the fact that they were asking double what we'd anticipated and that the 2nd bed I was to sleep on was really a cot set up at the bottom of the real bed, we decided we'd have to look again.  While my mom guarded our luggage, my dad and I set out into the still unbelievably warm, sticky morning in search of a different abode. The first place we tried brought flashbacks to our days of backpacking in China and didn't seem quite like the relaxing weekend we were hoping for.  Luckily, the second place we passed turned out to be quite quaint and have a suitable, if tiny room available.  Just as we were about to take it, the proprietress mentioned they had a sister hotel around the corner that might suit use better for only a slightly higher price.  Not wanted to turn down what could be a good option, we followed the doorman around the corner and were greeted with a lovely, large, clean, air conditioned room.  They still didn't have hot water, but since the air temperature didn't seem to get below boiling, we figured we could handle that minor inconvenience.

Once we'd settled in and waited out the worst of the heat, we took a stroll into the old city, which is nearly entirely surrounded by a 39ft (10m) thick stone wall.  Despite the oppressive heat, the city was quite stunning.  Every turn yielded a new view or a pretty little square and the view from top of the wall was beautiful.

On the way out, we even managed to catch some dancing in the streets!

We were hoping to also catch some nice beach time while we were this close, but the city beaches didn't seem to offer much in the way of the tropical experience.  So, we spent the next couple hours trying to figure out how to get to Playa Blanca for a few hours.  The answer turned out to be, you can't.  In fact, the only way to get to Playa Blanca, even if they tell you otherwise when you buy your ticket, is to take either a fast or slow boat out to Isla Rosario, spend a few hours there and then go to Playa Blanca.  Having exhausted all possible alternative options, short of renting our own boat for over $100, we had to face that fact that if we wanted to get to a beach, we'd have to suck it up and buy the tour.

Annoyed with the restricted access and overly touristy set up, we gave up just as the sky turned pink.  We quite happily enjoyed the pretty sunset over the water before heading back for some tasty grub and a good night's rest.

The next morning mom and I woke up early, bought our tickets, said not to all 5 hawkers who tried to solicit us with tickets on our way down to the dock, paid the dock fee, found the guy who was to get us on a fast boat, and took our seats.  Over an hour later, after we had watched nearly every other boat in the area fill up and take off, we were finally on board.

As we made our way out of the bay, we were greeted with a few of the 'new' city and the bustling industrial district.  About 10mins into the ride, we found ourselves pulling up to shore in front of a nondescript dock at what appeared to be someone's backyard.  A little confused, but happy to see a small glimpse of the 'real' Cartagena, we took it in while a young man jumped aboard and we headed back out to sea.  A few moments later, it became clear that our new passenger was a volunteer guide.  As a large fort came into view, he politely informed us that this was Bocagrande, matched by a similar fort on the other side and built by the Spaniards to protect the entrance to their vital port city.

As we were all admiring the scenery, this young gentleman rowed up next to us and informed everyone that if they felt the desire to throw coins into the water, he would gladly display his skills as a swimmer by catching them in his mouth....

This proved to be mildly amusing, if slight disturbing, for a few moments before we took off at breakneck speed into the open ocean.  And I mean, BREAK-NECK speed.  Now, I've been on my fair share of boat rides, including a few rather questionable ones during journeys to and from Bluefields.  Not once have I ever felt quite as terrified nor as physically wracked as on this particular ride.  The boat would literally get air as it peaked over the crest of choppy waves and then come slamming down with a violent jolt as we careened across the water.  The fact that we had chosen the second row certainly didn't help much, but judging by the hysterical laughter mixed with nervous screams that came from the rest of the boat, I'm not sure it made much difference were you sat.

One white-knuckled hour later we finally slowed down as we approached a series of small islands.  Some islands were populated by homes built in every style imaginable while others were simply small stretches of beach with a few huts scattered about.  As we pulled up to our destination, an island with an aquarium that apparently included a dolphin show, our volunteer guide informed us that we now had 3 options.  We could pay 20,000COP (~$10) to go see the aquarium, walk the perimeter of the very small island for free, or pay another 25,000COP to stay on the boat and go snorkeling.  A little peeved that there were more fees involved, but not particularly interested in walking around a tiny, overgrown island for an hour, we opted to stay on the boat. 

They took us back around to a small bay we had passed on our way in, laid anchor and informed everyone that it didn't matter whether you could swim, or had ever snorkeled, they would be taking everyone on a 'guided tour' of the coral, some of which was rumored to change color if you touched it.  After a short shouting match with a couple who had brought their own gear, and hence didn't feel that they should be paying any additional fees, we all hopped into the thigh-high water and tried out the masks we'd been given (there were no fins provided). As I got my mask on and swam about a little, I was minorly perturbed to see a large, spikey sea anemone only a few feet from where our host and directed us to jump down into the water.  As I came up to check on mom, I found her struggling to keep water out of the mask she had been given.  10 tries later it was clear that the mask was defective, so we handed it back to the boatman and asked for a different one.  He tried out the mask himself, realized it was broken, but didn't have any more in his boat.  So, he solicited 2 nearby boats asking to swap it out.  Neither was interested, so he turned back to us and informed us there was nothing wrong with the mask.  Really?!  Luckily we had brought along our own goggles in anticipation of some swimming, so mom switched out the mask for googles, kept the snorkel and we headed off. 

As we started swimming we were greeted with gorgeous coral formations separated by sandy white shallows.  Unfortunately, as we approached our group we came across several people standing and walking directly across the fragile formations.  Others were hanging onto an orange life preserver ring while reaching out and attempting to touch the soft wavering tips of the coral below.  Not wanting any part of such destruction and pretty sure we'd see a whole lot more the further we got from the swirling mass of bodies with whom we were supposed to be 'guided',  we quickly chose the opposite direction and swam off on our own.

As soon as we got into a calmer section, we were rewarded with the sight of an enormous flounder resting peacefully on the sand.  A few strokes away we spotted a large lobster just visible within it's rocky abode.  Just when I thought it couldn't get much better, I looked down to see a small flounder who was nearly invisible lying on the white sand.  In a flash it had moved off to a rockier section where to my surprise and delight dark spots began to appear on the flounders back and in a few seconds it was the exact shade and pattern of the place it had landed!  We had definitely made the right choice when we opted for snorkeling.

Over the next hour or so we happily flitted about following deep canyons between coral mountains that come up to just inches below the surface.  On the deeper side I spotted a huge silver fish that resembled a small shark who had gone through a laundry press.  The thing was less than an inch thick over the whole length of it's 3 or 4 foot body.  I followed for a bit until I lost him in a huge school of tuna lazing about dear the surface.   When I had got my fill of the big game, I turned around to see a train of blue and yellow fish followed by hundreds of a smaller, less brilliant variety.  The whole group was strung out over maybe 20 ft or so and the moved fluidly along, bumping up and down in rhythm with the coral formations below.

For as far as we could swim we were met with an abundance of life in every hue, size and shape imaginable. The only mar on this magnificent underwater experience were the numerous motorboats that brought droves of tourists right into the heart of this pristine wilderness only to plunk them down on top of the fragile existence they were so eager to see, leaving bald edges and broken limbs in their wake.

When we finally got back to the boat, elated and full of pretty images, we were not particularly shocked to see that nearly all our fellow travelers had cuts on their feet and violent red welts on their hands from their overly physical encounters with the wilderness below.  Slightly vindicated but still a little sad to see that this wonderland has little chance of surviving in it's current awe inspiring state without severe changes in mentality, we soon found ourselves bouncing back across the water on the way to our final destination of the day, Playa Blanca.  Everyone I had talked to in Medellin said this was the best beach around, and we were excited to see for ourselves. 

The boat came around a point and there ahead of us was a sweeping arc of white sand for as far as the eye could see.  Palm trees and coconuts marched along creating a waving green backdrop to the pretty blue ocean below.  As we came a little closer, it became clear that nature was not the only inhabitant of this particular location.  The minute the boat's nose touched the sand there were at least 30 hawkers swarming about trying to sell fresh oysters, massages, shell necklaces, piña coladas and anything else you could possibly imagine anyone might want. 

Pushing through the crowds, we made our way to a series of wooden tables and benches laid out so we could consume a tasty meal of whole fish, rice and salad.  The moment the last morsel had been swallowed, the troops moved in, poking and prodding, proffering and offering.  It was clear there would not be much relaxing to be done on the shore, so we walked out a little ways and escaped into the ocean.  The water was perfect, just on the coolly refreshing side with soft sand to dig your toes into.

And the beach was in fact rather stunningly beautiful once you got past all the economically driven molestation.

Another short, bumpy ride brought us back to the city and a delicious seafood dinner.  The following morning was our last in Cartagena, so we decided to check out the history museum, which happened to be housed in the former house of the Inquisition.  The general history portion might have been more enthralling had they chosen to use the airconditioners installed in each room, or at the very least turned on the fans.  As it was, the sweat was dripping so fast if was very hard to stand still and focus on the in depth history lessons displayed on each wall.  However, the building itself was rather stunning, and the exhibit of the implements of the inquisition, though quite creepy was also rather fascinating.

That afternoon we caught a plane back to the blessedly cool hills of Medellín and were back home with just enough time to head out and catch the last half of that evening's bball game.  Looking back on the trip, I certainly came away with mixed feelings about the notoriously enchanting city of Cartagena.  On one hand the history, architecture, setting and surrounds of the city are all truly stunning.  On the other hand, the blatant orientation towards tourism seems to have dampened some of the true spirit of the place.  I'm very glad to have visited, but I can't say I'd jump at going back unless I had the privilege of being accompanied by someone familiar with the place who had their own car, or better yet, their own boat!