October 7th-14th 2014

Sorry I’ve not written in a while, I’ve been enjoying life but will try to catch you all up now before I embark on towards the pacific coast of Colombia for the next 8 days where I expect I will be without Wifi of any kind.

At any rate a quick catch up paragraph.  I left Bogota about 10 days ago and caught a flight to Medellin, I spent three uneventful days there feeling a little under the weather before deciding to move on to Guatape, where this entry takes place.  Guatape is best summed up like this:  I came planning to stay two days, and stayed seven, and certainly plan on coming While I spent a total of 7 incredible days Kayaking, Swimming, Walking, and meeting some really cool new people, this entry will focus around a 36 hour period which encapsulates many of the highlights of Guatape.  Here we go.

I drop my knife and fork with a smile on my face fully sated and ready for the rest of the day.  The wall of windows to my right at Hostel El Encuentro (25,000 COP/dorm) widens my grin as I look down on the endless lakes and forests of Guatape, created a few decades ago by hydro electric work.  I shake my head softly,  rare that the human touch on this world creates such staggering, seemingly natural beauty.

I thank my gracious hosts for a delicious Colombian Lunch and again thank my lucky stars I chose to stay here and not somewhere else.  Then it’s off for the days activity, walking to and up El Piedra, a giant Monolith rock which explodes up out of the earth and towers over the region which is an entrancing patchwork mosaic of lakes and forest.

A new guest at the hostel from France is going to accompany me, and as we set off I wonder if this is a good idea.  Usually I make sure I do the difficult climbs and treks alone, so I can set my own pace.

We leave the hostel unsure how difficult it will be, but looking forward to the legendary view of this wondrous part of Colombia.  Our path from the hostel takes us through the town, which is downright charming.  I smile at the small paintings along the bottom of each building,  some seem random, but many others indicate just what the buildings are.  Animated keys smile and wave at us from the locksmith shop, and books, numbers and pencils dot the walls of the school.

Guatape is one of the most colourful cities I’ve been in yet, which says something and the locals match that colour with friendly smiles and greetings for us as we walk by.  People say Colombia is dangerous, Guatape exudes a feeling of perfect safety, and a wonderfully welcoming aura for a town which is quite well visited.

We wander past the local soccer field where there seems to always be an organized game going on and head into the main square where the huge white and red Cathedral dominates the skyline.  There is a stage erected in the Plaza but we have no idea what for and carry on down to the lake, following that main road out of town, retracing the inverse of my 2 hour bus ride which brought me from Medellin to Guatape (12,000 COP from Northern Bus Terminal)

We walk side by side, falling into single file whenever traffic passes by.  As we walk we chat in french about travel, life, the wonders of Colombia and my lack of physical fitness, and everything else.

In just under an hour we reach the road up to the walk and both agree that a taxi up to the base is probably a good idea since it’s only 6000 COP and we still have 700+ steps to contend with.

Ten minutes later we’ve paid our entrance fee of 10,000 COP and are embarking up the steps built into the sheer rock face.  I’m already sweating, but eager to reach the top, and determined.  Always determined.

Every 25th step has it’s number painted on it, and by the time we reach 150 I’m very much in need of a short repose.  The wonderful thing here is quite simple, a pause is just a spare few moments to admire the astonishing view of the countless lakes which dot the forested landscape all around us.

We keep chatting and my companion patiently waits until a minute or two later I am ready to resume.  As we climb the breaks become more frequent and my shirt becomes more wet, still I refuse to admit defeat, and I’m almost surprised by how quickly the numbers are passing us by.

On our last break before the halfway semi summit a young Colombian girl rounds the corner and finds us resting, very much out of breath.  she strides carefully to a step marked in yellow and pauses then proceeds to ask us very directly, and in spanish, why we are tired.

We laugh and say because it is a hard climb.  She shakes her head with the sureness only a young child can muster.

“No, it’s not hard.  You have to only stop at the yellow steps.  That’s what I do. They give me so much energy.  It’s like magic. It’s not hard for me.”

We laugh and my companion asks,  “How old are you.”

“Four.”  She answers proudly a smile blooming on her face.

“It will be hard when you are 30.”  My friend answers in perfect spanish.  The Girl’s mother laughs and smiles but the child still shakes her head, quite sure that the yellow steps offered magical recharge abilities. She continues on ahead of us, and the pace she sets, I have to wonder if she’s right. At any rate, almost all the rest of our stops are on yellow stairs, just in case.

We meet her again at the first mini summit marked by a small religious statue and  truly special view.  Her mother tries to get her to continue but the girl insists on saying a prayer for her family and friends to the statue before bounding off to conquer the rest of the climb that is leaving us breathless.

We admire the view and continue up, again stopping at yellow recharge stations whenever we can.  We make a turn with the staircase somewhere between 600-700 steps in and step out to a sprawling platform atop the rock full of souvenir stands and drink/ice cream/snack stalls.

After a short debate we decide to save that joy for later and continue up the last few dozen steps to the true summit of a tower made by man atop the rock.  In a single instant I forget my never ending chase after my breath, and the sweat dripping down my skin, stunned by the true majesty of the 360 degree view.  We drop our bags and take some too many photo’s of each other and of the view.  Here’s a few to give you a taste of the view, though as always with the world’s wonders a photo cannot truly take you there.

The young girl seems glad we made it to the top, and congratulates us.  Just as I’m set to take my last few photos the battery of my camera goes dead and a shrug, putting away the electronics and revelling in the fresh breeze gusting up off the lakes and forest.  Sometimes it’s important to drop the lens and actually exist where you are.  Did I say sometimes,  perhaps most or all of the time would be more appropriate.

After spotting small sections of a rainbow, and experiencing a wondrous show of light through clouds, shaft breaking through the  puffy white masses in the sky and showering the green landscapes below in shimmering columns, we head back down and have a snack before climbing back down to the base of the rock.

Tuk-Tuk driver’s are there waiting for us at the base, (Yes, Guatape has Tuk-Tuk’s, a little taste of Asia in South America)  but they offer high prices and we decline, choosing instead to walk down at least as far as the main road.  By the time we reach that intersection our legs are burning and it’s getting dark so we agree to pay a Tuk-tuk driver (10,000 COP  but we probably overpaid) to bring us straight to our hostel, hopeful to catch a few other people there before they go to dinner.

Climbing out of the Tuk-Tuk we head down the path to the hostel perched on the hilltop above the lake and find Lina, the amazing woman who works at the hostel, and a new Colombian friend,  Juan Sebastian, preparing to watch the Colombia-El Salvador game.  We all place some bets on the scoreline and decide that we’ll go night swimming at half time before heading to town after the game.

The unstoppable machine that is Colombia’s National team overpowers El Salvador easily enough and we grab our headlamps before heading down for some night swimming, something that is not usually done in Guatape.

It’s spooky down below the hostel in the near complete darkness but Lina and I both make it in to the black water while Juan watches from the shore.  Funny man that he is, he turns off all the lights and were left swimming in the darkness.  The water’s somewhat chilly and the darkness is a little terrifying despite logic so we don’t linger long, back up in the hostel in time to catch most of the second half.  More Colombian dominance.

From there the four of us head into town, in search of food and some entertainment.  After a brief, affordable and above all delicious stop at a small closet of a restaurant which overflows out into the street and serves incredible Sandwiches Cubano (3000 COP), impossibly delicious and cheap Panzerotties (1500 COP), and refreshing iced coffee (Price unknown) we find ourselves sitting on some concrete steps and catching the end of yet another german movie with spanish subtitles.  Luckily reading spanish is my strongest suit, and I follow it well enough.

Once the movie ends we make a brief stop at the local chocolate factory which Lina insists offers some of the best chocolate in the world.  She’s not far off and while the small truffles and bars are not cheap by Colombian standards, they are truly delicious and worth the expense.

From there we head up an alleyway of stair and end up in a pool hall favoured heavily by locals.  The Boys vs. Girls Pool is fun, the trash talking more fun still, and the absolutely open urinals on the far wall the best thing of all.  At the table next to us a very short and elderly Colombian man practices his shots alone tirelessly, offering encouraging smiles whenever our eyes meet. The Pool hall is decorated with truly incredible sexually charged pool images which I will hopefully be able to pull of my Ipod later to add to this entry.

After two games of pool we head back out into the streets and are shocked to find the main plaza incredibly quiet.  Guatape is normally a sleepy little town, but this holiday weekend they pulled out all the stops and we walked into a full on electronic music festival.

The next five hours or so pass in a joy filled blur as we danced and talked the night away into the early morning.  The Entire town is out for the rare party, Alcohol was passed around freely, along with noisemakers, flowered necklaces and glow sticks too.  Kids, Teens, Young Grown Ups, and The elderly all mix together dancing to the music.

As I watch and try to keep up with my good friends all around me I am struck by just how good Colombian people in general seem to be at dancing.  They move freely with the music, and often very sexually.  Watching them dance makes me wonder if maybe I should give the art form another try.  It also makes me wish I was endlessly better at Dancing and that my training in university had not focused on individual jazz dance and instead on more social forms.  Still I do manage to pull off a pirouette to the delight of my friends.

As the music comes to an end the rain begins just before three in the morning and we all decide we need to head home.  The only problem; none of us thought to memorize the code to the door in.

Unsure of what else to do we head back anyway and I manage to crawl around to the dorm window and wake Rafa, the other hostel staff member, a friendly young man from Cartagena.  He is mercifully understanding and lets us in and we all crash into bed, ready to get some rest, and knowing we have to wake up all too soon.  We’ve all committed to a waterfall trek the next morning, Lina to guiding it,and at past 3 am, we begin to wonder at the wisdom in this idea as one by one we slip off to sleep.

Sunlight comes all too soon, though it does flood through the windows and het my sheets in a most pleasant way.  Lina wakes to start work just before 8 and I’m with her. By 10 we’re ready to set off for the waterfall trek alongside two charming half british half Colombian couples.  Only one problem, no sign of Juan.

He wakes after more than a few knocks at the door and maybe 30 minutes late were headed off back through town, over the long bridge and up into the rolling hills that surround Guatape.

Just as we reach the outskirts of town, one of my sandals, only 2 months old, breaks, the sole separating from the base of the shoe.  Luckily there is one shop left and the friendly lady there sells me some glue.  Very much a temporary solution, but better than nothing.

We harvest a few wild blackberries and head further from humanity past a trout farm run by some friendly jewish people.  Just after that we join the small river and begin hopping nimbly from rock to rock.  I’m sweaty and decide it’s better to forget staying dry and start climbing straight through the ice cold water itself, fully starting to enjoy myself in the lush forests of Guatape.

We clamber through the river and up and down steep and muddy embankments holding to gnarled roots and tree branches for purchase as we climb up and back down over and over again.  Twice I almost lose my water battle to the river’s current, discarding it while climbing through the more difficult parts.  Each time I go to reclaim it though.  I can’t stand the idea of coming to someone else’s country and polluting it more than absolutely necessary, especially in this untouched setting of a sparkling mountain stream, rushing down the hillsides, through the forests, and eventually joining the lakes.

We reach the first falls and I lick my lips, having cut through the river rather than grappling up some rope.  The falls are not big, but the whole picture is entrancing, a few meters of falling water, a clear pool, and the thick canopy above masking all but the smallest glimpses of the blue and white sky.

The others arrive and Lina tells us swimming is better at the second falls so we clamber up alongside the first cascades and continue another 50 meters to the second set.  Quickly the clothes come off and soon were all swimming.  (In bathing suits, get your minds out of the gutters!)  One by one we jump into the pool and each reaction is the same, the water is damn near freezing.

I find myself sat in waist deep water at the pools edge shivering but know I have to get back in and under the falling water itself not just near it.  Each person manages this feat which impresses me as the water is actually properly cold, even by Canadian standards, but I stay under the longest, revelling in the raw rush of falling water on my frozen skin.  Only everyone’s readiness to leave pulls me out from the falling towers of water.  Of course we did take a few pictures.

I hurry ahead and climb back down the first set of falls with enough of a lead to jump into that pool too, retrieve my errant water bottle which we  have left in a small shielded pool after a failed throw and catch attempt, and then I plunge back underneath another set of cascades for some brief seconds before climbing out again and continuing back down the stream towards the town.

We take a slightly different path back and walk through farmers fields until we reach the bridge which leads back to Guatape.  It’s the best kind of guided group, casual small and friendly. By the the time we get back into the town, we all feel like good friends.

Lina proposes a late lunch at Donde Sam, a restaurant which I can’t recommend warmly enough.  The owner is a wonderfully friendly Indian man who prepares  food from countless different cultures.  Getting a proper curry in Colombia has been right difficult and so I’m thrilled at my perfect meal of Chicken Tikka Appetizer , Chicken Tikka Masala, and blackberry juice (36,000 COP total) and a few bites from everyone else’s equally delicious meals.

Time escapes us and our wonderful guide has to leave us to go to work at the hostel. The rest of us continue chatting over our meal talking about Education (many are teachers)  Colombia,  just how good life is, and countless other things.  Honestly, the entire meal I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

We settle the bill and head outside only for one of the waiters to come rushing out.  turns out one of the 50000 notes was counterfeit.  We can’t figure out whose it is or how it could be counterfeit since all of us got our money directly from reputable ATM’s but in the end we split the lost money fairly evenly and I’m left with the fake 50 and another cool story from Colombia.

We make our way back to the hostel separately, and though I’d originally planned to leave and head back to Medellin, I find that I just can’t, so I settle in at hostel El Encuentro for more wonderful days of relaxation, swimming, kayaking, camping, walking and wonderful conversation.  Guatape, I’ll be back.