by Jane | May 9, 2014 | Colombia, My travels |
I know that some of you are following my route and you may be a little bit confused about where I am now and how I reached this place as my reports have been jumping around a bit.
I am currently living more or less in the middle of Colombia, about an hour outside Medellin and I am working on a permaculture farm for the next five weeks. We have no access to the internet unless we walk for about thirty minutes down muddy lanes and then tackle the nearby town’s free Wifi in the central park, so you can have a bit of a breather from my adventures.
sugar white buildings of Popayan
After Peru I galloped through Ecuador so that I could travel into Colombia with M. Once in Columbia we steadily worked our way up through the country. Our first stop was at Ipiales with its fairytale church and then we went just a few more hours north to the town of Pasto. There is not a lot in Pasto itself – it is just like any other large town in Latin America but it is the jumping off point for some really good countryside. We stayed an extra night so that we could watch the lunar eclipse and then we went on to Popayán. The Semana Santa festivities were in full swing at this special little town so we decided to stay an extra night before moving on to Cali.
Depending on which report you read, Cali is the fifth, seventh or tenth most dangerous city in the world but it is also the capital of salsa. Me and M parted company here for a week whilst I moved in and stayed with a family and she did her own thing although we did meet up a couple of times and I am pleased to say that we stayed here without incident
it looks modern but is ancient.
We joined forces again at the end of that week and then we took a bus to Armenia. This town is one of my favourite large towns to date and it is the perfect hub if you want to visit the coffee region. Whilst here we did trips out to Salento and Buenavista; we rode horses, hiked lots and visited a coffee finca. I could have stayed here for another three weeks or more but I had a prior appointment on the permaculture farm and M had to get to Bogota and the airport. We explored Medellin for our final couple of days and then on the Sunday after a journey by bus and then a jeep I settled into my new home which is where I shall be based for the next month or so.
by Jane | May 1, 2014 | Colombia, My travels |
Leaving Ibarra behind we set off on a bus for the border. I have to admit that me and M were both a bit jittery about travelling into Colombia, after all, you should read the Foreign Office website; ” The Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) advise against all but essential travel to the following parts of Colombia…there is a high threat from terrorism“. We were going in!
Me, being me, I had already approached a couple of backpackers at the bus terminal at Ibarra for a natter and they had the same feelings as us, so we agreed to team up. There is after all, safety in numbers. We had to get a cab from the last town on the Ecuadorian side to the border, check out of Ecuador, walk about five hundred meters across a bridge over a river, check into the Colombian side and then get another cab to the closest town of Ipiales. We were all expecting the worst because both me and M had already had some not so nice border experiences (check out this link to see how we fared in Bolivia) and the Dutch couple had also had some hairy border crossings previously.
As the four of us negotiated the various stages of the transfer we kept glancing at each other and raising eyebrows and frowning. Something had to go wrong in a minute. There were no screaming, jostling cab drivers trying to scam us and no rogues trying to steal our bags. The border police on both sides were happy and smiley and immigration in Colombia chatted and winked at us. We were all a bit shell-shocked and kept wondering why it was so easy. Walking across the bridge over the river which divided the two countries the experience was the polar opposite of our bridge experience whilst going into Bolivia at Christmas but none of us were complaining. The only explanation that we could think of was that both Ecuador and Colombia are desperate to change their image and want to attract more tourists. Tourism is booming in Ecuador and it has been a great success story, but now that I have been in Colombia for a couple of weeks already, I think it is because the Colombians are the smiliest, chattiest most inquisitive people. You can’t get on a bus in Colombia and expect to keep yourself to yourself. Everybody chats to everybody else and if you are different in any shape or form then even more so.
We parted company with the Dutch couple who set off further north whilst me and M went over to our hotel which was directly opposite the bus terminal in Ipiales. To be perfectly honest it was a bit of a dump. We expected a bit of a dive, after all, one of the travel websites warned of the local ladies of the night who would hire rooms by the hour. It was adequate for a very quick visit although the room was freezing cold and the promised Wifi was useless. The staff on the front desk were as grumpy and unhelpful as hell and M wanted to know why on earth we had arranged to stop here, but I had been given a tip off that there was something that we shouldn’t miss close by the town and she should trust me.
The fairytale church
Setting off to find a collectivo which wasn’t heading back to the border, we journeyed about twenty minutes away from the town. And there was the little gem as recommended by my Russian friend Mishka. Snuggling deep in a gorge and spanning a small river was a bridge. But this was no ordinary bridge. Tall arches propped up a church at one end. And this was no ordinary church either. It was a fairytale castle/church and as the afternoon sun set behind the mountains it appeared to float in the amber light. There was an unusual little museum set deep in the bowels of the building which displayed religious icons. I personally didn’t find the exhibits especially interesting but the location was atmospheric with the brick barrel ceilings and little dark alcoves everywhere. Las Lajas was built on the sight of an eighteenth century miracle and the number of healings here are said to be second only to those at Lourdes in France.
Las Lajas church
The church part of the castle/church was quite beautiful and it was full of people preparing it for Semana Santa. Large flower displays were being fussed over and fairy lights around the altar checked, much like we check our Christmas tree lights when you get them down from the attic every year. The frustration was the same when a bulb failed to light, but to me, it was very odd to watch people deciding whether to drape the lights over Jesus’ ear or not.
Back in our miserable hotel (I refuse to name it here and give it any advertising at all) we piled as many blankets onto the bed as we could find and settled down to what was to be a dreadful nights sleep for the both of us. The next day we checked out as quickly as we could and we trudged across the road to find transport to the town of Pasto.
Arriving in Pasto with no accommodation our cab driver came up trumps and we found a nice hotel with a private room on what turned out to be one of the main streets. The following day we took a collectivo (shared cab) to the Laguna de la Cocha. During our journey the two ladies that we were sharing with asked if we would like to alter our journey plans slightly and go to another part of the lake and take a boat trip over to the small island with them. Never one to turn down an opportunity to see something else, me and M agreed and we ended up spending the rest of the day with them, although I do have to confess to missing the bit about the boat or I would have questioned them more closely.
Laguna de la Cocha
The boat turned out to be nothing more than a canoe with an outboard engine. These tiny little craft were buzzing around over the surface of the lake (the second largest in South America and weirdly shaped like the continent). I was pleased to see other passengers wearing life vests but then found out our canoe didn’t contain any. Our man was wearing a red poncho and really looked the coolest Colombian but that wouldn’t help him if we ended up in the water, so I wasn’t that impressed. The island was small but quite cute with a boardwalk up through the middle of jungly stuff to the other side. We did survive the boat trip and had a late dinner together with our new acquaintances before heading back to Pasto.
We were told that the following night was to be a spectacular lunar eclipse, and if we would like to delay our onward plans by twenty four hours perhaps we might like to watch the eclipse (weather permitting of course) from Lady’s wooden cabin in the countryside. Me and M thought for all of twenty nine seconds about this and decided that yes, of course we would love to accept Lady’s offer so we went back to our hotel to pack our bags once again.
N.B: By the way, when revisiting the Foreign Office website for the quote for this blog, I realised that me and M have already inadvertently travelled into, and have come out unscathed from one of the areas which is blacklisted. Oops!!
by Jane | Apr 29, 2014 | Ecuador, My travels |
Our chiva
M does like a nice waterfall and in Banos there is a road that runs for about thirty kilometres along what is known as the Ruta de las Cascadas so this was a must for us to do. Many people choose to hire bikes and they freewheel down the road and then later they catch a bus back up to the top of the hill with the bike loaded on the roof. However, the day that we planned to do this route it was raining hard and I allowed myself to be persuaded by M to take a trip in a Chiva bus instead. As we boarded the open sided truck I wondered if I was making the right decision as the driver turned the music right up VERY LOUD and we boomed and thumped our way out of the town.
At least there was a wall at this point
To begin with it was all very nice. We drove over the top of a very high dam where the water charging down the mountain was harnessed and powered a hydro-electric plant. Clouds of misty spray and rainbows filled the air and the truck vibrated with the force of the water plunging down. We soon came to the mouth of a tunnel which was cut into the mountainside …but our chiva negotiated a little slip road to avoid the tunnel and followed a teeny tiny track around the outside. It was at this point that it dawned on me that the Spanish for chiva is goat; and goats, especially the mountain kinds, have a fondness for bouncing around on the sides of mountains.
The Yank behind us started jumping around screeching ‘Holy Sh*t’ over and over and I tell you, if I could have unpeeled my clenched hands from off the bar in front of me I would cheerfully have clenched them around her throat – and I wish that I had done when we reached our first pit stop.
zip lining madness
If somebody was as afraid of heights as she was making out they would not be first in the queue to launch themselves across a wide deep ravine on a zip wire. And certainly not face down, trusting themselves to a single saggy cable. Actually our party in the truck were an adventurous lot with the majority giving the zip wire a go, including a twelve year old girl. Of course, I decided to stay on firm ground and watch from the relative safety of a rickety old bridge.
Back in the chiva we continued to slowly pick our way down the track, inching below overhanging rocks and pausing under waterfalls which clattered onto the roof of the truck. I next considered strangling M for subjecting me to this torture but all my energy was focused into not hysterically breaking down. At least on the bike I could have clung to the inside edge of the track and gone as carefully as I liked. I had believed that my fear of heights was almost cured, but this trip was proving different.
no way was I getting in this
We rattled over a bridge which appeared to be made of loose planks and continued to our next optional addition – another of those cage baskets which traverse ravines. I hadn’t climbed into the one in Mindo and I certainly wasn’t going to get in one now. Obviously our Yank friend had a go and she travelled over to the other side for a closer look at the waterfall. We could see the cascada perfectly well from our side of the river and I was quite happy doing just that so I stayed firmly put and took more photographs.
The final straw was a stop at what was to be the best waterfall of all, but we were then told that we would have to cross two rickety plank and rope bridges. My nerves gave out completely at this point so I plonked myself down on a rock and ate a bag of cheesy puffs after asking M to take some photos so that she could show me what I was missing. All of our group returned safely and it was time to head back to Banos. By now it was beginning to get dark so the truck turned on disco lights inside and out to go with the thumping music and we headed back up the mountain.
swing over the edge of the earth
The next morning having recovered from my terrors, me and M shared a cab with H and L and we drove up the mountain to the “swing over the edge of the earth”. Hanging from the branch of a tree hung a swing. It was nothing swanky, just a little wooden seat and a sort of seat belt which was a mere nod at Health and Safety and up in the tree above was a cute little wooden tree house. The idea was that you swang (or should that be swung) out over nothingness. Well, obviously there was something below but it was a long way down. I wasn’t sure if I would try it but I did eventually give it a go, swinging out into the low clouds. It was beginning to drizzle by now so we didn’t hang about too long and we went back to our waiting cab. Me and M checked out of the Santa Cruz hostel, got the bus to Ibarra and then checked in to the Hotel Fevilamir.
by Jane | Apr 23, 2014 | Ecuador, My travels |
After Baños it was back on the bus for the six hour journey north to Ibarra. Or it was sold to us as a six hour journey but obviously it was always going to take nearly eight. We got off to a bad start when the bus dropped us at a deserted petrol station in the dark in the middle of nowhere rather than at the terminal. We looked sad and pathetic and asked a lady if we could share the only cab with her to our hostel as we didn’t fancy standing around on the deserted dark streets. Luckily she agreed because as we drove down silent back streets behind the market I was getting a little worried – and these worries escalated as our chosen hostel appeared – cloaked in darkness.
the modern interior of the Fevilamir
Our cab driver waited whilst we rang the bell and eventually a man appeared to let us in. Climbing the tiled staircase with its stainless steel handrails we speculated why there was no indication from outside that the place was open or occupied. To be fair there was a whopping great big illuminated sign spelling out ‘hostel’ but a little lamp inside the door would have helped. I was just relieved to have M with me and the lady waiting in the cab.
The next day the Fevilamir hostel luckily redeemed itself. The gentleman who had opened the door to us the previous evening introduced himself as Geovanny and couldn’t be nicer, and we also met and chatted to Maria who cooked us some good eggs for breakfast and made us juice.
There was an airy dining room at the top of the building. Breakfast wasn’t included in the price but it was very reasonable and it was tasty and filling. We stayed two nights at the Hostal Fevilamir which was a heap of contradictions. Arriving at night it looked run down and empty. The prices were very very reasonable for a room for the night indicating that perhaps we should not expect great surroundings or service. However, once inside, the place was immaculate, nicely decorated and with real modern touches like the staircases and the decorations in the dining room. Geovanny showed me around many of the rooms and was meticulous in his presentation of them, squaring tables off and tweaking cushions in order to give a good impression.
The Fevilamir’s dining room
We had stopped off at Ibarra to break our journey to the Colombian border and although we didn’t expect too much of the town it wasn’t too bad at all. We tracked down the tourist information place and picked up a good map with all the places of interest marked on it; but bizarrely the place that we found the most fascinating – the museum which contained some excellent exhibits inside the by now, expected colonial building – didn’t get a mention or a pin point on the map at all!
Whilst at the museum we happened upon a presentation of poetry by local school children and we got chatting to one of the teachers. He then introduced us to other teachers and soon we were having our photos taken by them all. We were introduced as almost-celebrities but we were more fascinated by the female teachers clothes and were dying to get our own photographs of them.
The other draw at Ibarra was the park. This new park is very much still work in progress but it was a lovely place to wander around. It is the most unusual shape resembling a tennis racquet with a large area at once end and with a very long thin ‘handle’. And it was long – stretching way off into the distance. When we arrived they were in the process of removing giant sculptures of hummingbirds from packing cases and positioning them around the string end of the tennis racquet. The birds were all decorated in different ways and were really very beautiful. It seemed that they had been sponsored and represented different things from the local area. Some unusual types of water features and fountains were dotted around, there were sports pitches, a Japanese garden (planted with cactus) and a couple of long slender footbridges. The strange shape was eventually explained when we discovered that the site was originally the airport. I would expect that the majority of local governments would have sold the land for housing and I think that it is a very progressive, socially acceptable thing to turn such a large space into parkland.
We took a bus to the nearby Laguna Yahuarcocha. The lake is also known as Blood Lake due to a massive battle which took place here centuries ago and in which the lake turned red from the number of corpses floating in it. It was a nice lake but nothing special although I suspect in high season it is crowded with tourists on the little boats. We stopped for a while to eat some fresh fish cooked in a pan outside one of the little cabins whilst trying to avoid the sinister dogs which were roaming around. Ever since we got attacked by a horrible dog in Cajabamba, me and M are very nervous around some of these street dogs.
And I can’t finish writing about Ibarra and not mention the helada de paila. This is ice-cream to die for and originated in this region. It is made by stirring fruit puree inside large bowls which sit inside even larger bowls containing ice. Gradually the fruit mixture freezes and sugar is sometimes added and egg whites but nothing else. It is an almost sorbet and an almost ice cream – but the explosion of fresh fruit flavours makes it stand out from the rest. The best places make it in front of you – not in a pretentious way, but simply because that is where and how they make it and we found what was supposed to be the cafe in which it was originally was invented, so of course, we had to try a flavour or three.
Would I recommend the Hostal Fevilair? Yes, and please don’t be put off if you arrive at night when the streets are deserted – just ask the cabbie to hang around while you gain entry. During the day the streets are a hive of activity with the overspill of the nearby market stalls. There are some suites with their own private outdoor patio areas and some family rooms as well as the usual twins and doubles. If you want some modern comfort at very reasonable almost hostel prices go along and check out the Fevilamir.
one of the suites
Note:- Whilst I received complimentary accommodation at the Hostal Fevilamir this did not influence my opinion or review in any way. I have portrayed an honest picture of my stay
by Jane | Apr 21, 2014 | Ecuador, My travels |
Trundling down the Avenue of the Volcanoes we were treated to yet more spectacular scenery through the window of the bus on the way to Baños.
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Just a few days previously I had received a flurry of messages from friends and family who wanted to know that I was all right as the Tungurahua volcano had erupted. It has been rumbling away for a few years now, every so often sending plumes of flame and ash high into the air, causing roads to close because of lava flows and villages and towns to be evacuated. Web sites were advising us not to travel to Baños at the moment – but every Ecuadorian that we asked looked at us as if we were mad and raised their eyebrows. I guess they live with the threat of volcanic eruptions, earthquakes and tsunamis every single day and if they were to put their lives on hold with every tremble and puff of smoke they would never do anything, so off we went.
The bus wound its way around and down the side of the valley, crawling like a tiny and insignificant beetle against the side of the volcano and we were deposited unceremoniously in the drizzle at the terminal. Resembling a beetle myself with my large rucksack and smaller pack worn on my front we crossed the main plaza in search of our hostel.
The Santa Cruz Hostel is situated behind brightly painted walls very close to the town centre. The rooms were contained within two separate buildings which were separated by another small plot, but both had chimneys/open fires, self catering and kitchen areas and TVs. There were some little gardens with hammocks and security was very good with large metal gates. Myself and M were given a triple room – containing bunk beds and a wide single bed and although small small it was very clean. We were on the ground floor and outside on a little patio area there were deckchairs and our own hammock. A covered courtyard at the front contained plenty of tables, chairs and seats, a television and a computer and a large raised open fireplace, together with a good supply of logs. The receptionist Monica Flores was super friendly and the cleaning staff thoroughly cleaned all of the rooms including the windows when guests checked out.
The colourful Santa Cruz hostel
We had just got ourselves settled when a friendly face from Quito turned up and checked into the room next door. H had arrived, fresh from climbing up to the snow capped rim of the Cotopaxi volcano. We were to share a bathroom with him via a little interconnecting corridor, so leaving him to freshen up and sort himself out we set off to climb our own mountain.
one of the gardens at the Santa Cruz
I am not sure how far we clambered but it took us an hour. We made it up to the very top where a large illuminated cross stands and we were rewarded with a great view of the town just as dusk was falling and all the lights began to twinkle below. We then realised that we had to get back down the very muddy, slippery path and didn’t have much time as the twilight would rapidly be turning to dark. We got down in record time – in just twenty five minutes although we covered the last few hundred yards in the pitch black. To reward ourselves, me and M took ourselves off to the hot springs.
Banos at dusk
Fed by natural hot water which came from deep in the volcano we joined hordes of other people in the large pool. It was busy but very calm and relaxing as people were content to sit neck deep on the ledge around the sides, gossip with neighbours and generally absorb the atmosphere. The complex was situated at the bottom of a waterfall which crashed loudly down the sheer mountainside, and which was lit up with pretty coloured lights in the dark. Steam rose from the hot water into the cool night sky. The water was a dirty sandy colour but it had a very clean, metallic smell and it was as hot as a very hot bath. After a while we went to investigate the smaller pool. I dipped a toe in and I almost fainted. It was scalding. I managed to get in up to my thighs but I couldn’t manage anymore. We were quite the celebrities and the locals were all giving us advice and laughing at our discomfort. Against my better judgement I decided to trust them when they persuaded me to sit up to my neck in the cold tank. They promised that it would help but I remembered from my physics class that this would only accentuate the heat. After I had turned numb from the cold I got into the cooking pool… and…they were right. It worked. I got in and I managed to stay in for about seven minutes before feeling my internal organs giving up, so with some approving smiles, I scuttled out as fast as I could.
Feeling very relaxed and with skin baby smooth we went back to the Santa Cruz Backpacker Hostel where I sat by the crackling log fire and chatted to a couple from Toronto who were touring down through the Americas from Canada on their motorbikes. Adam and Jen had chosen the hostel to rest and recuperate and to do a little bit of work on their bikes which were locked securely in the courtyard. The best bit about travel for me is the people that I meet along the way and listening to their stories. Everybody has their dreams and their reasons for travel and they are all interesting.
The following morning M lost her tweezers. Hunting around the bedroom she swore that she had been holding them just a few minutes before. Giving up, she carried on getting ready to go out and then stopped. Laughing loudly she said, ‘Ooh, I think that I know where they might be. There is something hurting my foot inside my walking boot’. M had found her tweezers!!
Baños is jam packed with activities for adrenaline junkies and whilst I am definitely not the adventurous type we did want to do something whilst in the area. The volcano was off-limits due to its current volatile state so we went to check out what Geotours had to offer. Guests at the Santa Cruz Hostel could get ten percent off here – along with a free bike if they stay at the hostel for four days or more. We had met Geovanny Romo the man in charge of the tour company the previous night because he is also the manager of the Santa Cruz hostel. I will tell you in another entry if I did in fact do that bungee jump, go canyoning or anything equally dangerous.
Note:- Whilst I received complimentary accommodation at the Santa Cruz Backpacker hostal this did not influence my opinion or review in any way. I have portrayed an honest picture of my stay
by Jane | Apr 17, 2014 | Ecuador, Hostels, My travels |
I returned to Quito after my little foray to Latacunga and I was as pleased as punch to see some familiar faces at the Minka Hostal.
Pedro and Josh are both working as volunteers there and are two of the loveliest men that you could ever hope to meet, along with Sandra who is the lady who owns the hostel.
such a cool space
The Minka is situated just half a block away from the imposing stone grey Basillica in the old part of Quito and hides behind an unimposing green garage door. I can vouch for the fact that no matter what time you ring the bell you are NOT left standing in the street – and I have witnessed Josh or Pedro actually sprinting for the door. The street outside is very quiet at night with little traffic noise.
Once upstairs, you go into large, open airy white spaces, decorated with really cool artwork and with walls made up of collages of travel pictures. Sandra explained to me that the building was owned by her family and it was used as a warehouse and storage space until she invested in it and converted it into the hostel.
The dorms are airy and comfortable with the most massive lockers that I have yet come across and they have the most comfortable bunk beds too. I was in the ten-bed dorm but I had the best nights sleep ever. We had a tiny little en-suite bathroom – and a complete bonus for a hostel – the beds were made up for us everyday.
the light, bright comfortable dorm
A basic breakfast was also included in the very reasonable price up in the communal area on the top floor. This large open space contained a well equipped kitchen, beanbags and hammocks, a pool table a computer and access to a tiny little terrace.
I spent six nights here in total over two weekends and I just loved the chilled, laid back and very friendly atmosphere. Everybody worked together to create a homely feeling and socialised with the guests. I was to meet up again with two of the guests a few days later in Banos – H, the Australian with the impressive facial hair and L from the UK with her very funny paramedic stories, but all the guests that I met there were lovely.
the upstairs social area
On my second weekend in Quito I again met up with my Christmas and Carnival travel companion M as she had now left the NGO in Peru and we planned to travel together for a few weeks. We walked for what seemed like miles around Quito city centre as I tried to replicate some of the tour that my friends had given me the previous weekend and then later we caught a bus to the top of the hill above the city where there is a large glass exhibition centre set in some parkland. The late afternoon views as the sun dropped in the sky were amazing and we just sat quietly soaking up the views.
The following day we jumped on the Trole bus system and headed off for the Mitad del Mundo (the Middle of the Earth).
its in the wrong place!
This site which is dominated by a large monument was built to represent the highest point where the equator line runs around the planet, but in fact the French placed it a few hundred metres off course. All the guide books said that it is a bit of a disappointment – and it was – but to be honest, I am glad that we went there first. After our rapid visit to some less than average exhibitions we walked a few hundred metres up the main road to the correct place where the contrast between the two sites was massive. The first place was tacky and had the most boring exhibitions I have ever seen. I didn’t pay the extra to go into the small museum on site and that may have been amazing although I doubt it, but the proper equator venue was really good. There were exhibitions and displays of traditional indigenous homes and also some real-life, very old shrunken heads. The tribes people in the area used a technique to shrink the heads of their victims from war or they preserved the heads of their important leaders which they would either wear as a lucky necklace or stick on the end of their spears.
the correct equator line
There were also some cool experiments on the equator line. We all know that water swirls down a plughole in the opposite direction depending on whether you are in the north or southern hemisphere, but did you know that it is almost impossible to balance on the actual line itself, and due to less gravity, you have less resistance to somebody pulling or pushing you around. Apparently you also weigh less too and this was a cue for most of us ladies to jump onto the line and pose.
After a tiring day out me and M made our way back to our respective hostels. The charming Pedro shared his home made soup with me whilst I had a bash at forcing everything back into my rucsack because me and M were once again moving on the following day.
Note:- Whilst I received complimentary accommodation at the Minka Hostal this did not influence my opinion or review in any way. I have portrayed an honest picture of my stay
