Valle De Cocora

Chasing after the FARC, I left Bogota and ventured into the mountains. Ok, perhaps the rebel militant group was not exactly what I sought. I’d actually prefer to avoid them altogether. Instead, I was in search of the Valley of Cocora. Rumored to be home to some of the most beautiful scenery that Colombia has to offer, how could I say no?

Nestled into the hills is the tiny town of Salento which would by my jumping off point for exploring the valley. Equipped with a pair of rubber boots to combat the muddy conditions of the trail, I set out early in order to try and beat the rain that begins at 3:00 PM every day like clockwork. In order to reach the valley, one must catch a ride from one of the Jeeps that departs from Salento’s main square periodically. I had never fathomed that this could be half the fun.

The drivers of the Jeeps refuse to leave until they have packed more people than imaginable into one of these vehicles. I saw one about to leave, but stalled because it looked like there was absolutely nowhere left to sit. And indeed there wasn’t. Then I saw a guy climb up on the back, so I joined suite and off we went. With my rubber boots clinging to a narrow running board and my white knuckles clenching a piece of the Jeep’s frame, I hung on for all I was worth as we tore through the hills.

Upon arrival, the bug count in my teeth was at 18. That mild hygiene issue could have been easily avoided had I been able to contain my joy and just quit smiling. Alas, the wind in my face and the epic scenery on the way to the valley teamed up to sharpie a bug catching smile on my face that could not be erased.

While I did my best to remove the bugs, the smile stayed put as I set out on the trail into the valley. Cocora is home to Colombia’s national tree, the Wax Palm, which grows to over 250 feet in height. Hike far enough into the valley and you also find yourself deep within the mystical Cloud Forest. Closely following a river, I wound my way through the valley admiring my surroundings that put the scenery in Jurassic Park to shame. The insane amount of lush greenery, broken up intermediately by boldly colored flowers and trees led me to realize the Valley of Cocora is a special place. The term “breath-taking” has been used up, worn out, and holds no definitive power to describe this place. Instead, the astonishing views come at you from all sides, beat you over the head, and rob you of your breath in what can only be described as a breath-mugging.

Seriously. Amazing. So, I made my way through the valley and began my ascent into the Cloud Forest. To continue trekking, one must cross the river various times by means of hanging bridges that make even the one at the end of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom look safe. Indeed, it was all part of the experience that was difficult not to love.

Making sure my calves stay in pristine, chiseled condition, I chose the route that led me up one of the mountains to a lookout point. They call it the Cloud Forest for a pretty obvious reason as you actually ascend into the clouds on your way up. I made it to the summit and guess what I saw…..cloud. Not quite the encore type view I’d had in mind. Not one to settle, I became determined to locate a satisfying viewpoint.

Back down the trail I scrambled until I figured I was at the right elevation. Then, unsure of what may lie in wait to greet me off the path, I went trudging off into the forest, leaving the trail behind. A short while later, I emerge at a break in the trees and the valley was laid out before me with the clouds hanging just overhead. This was the money shot.

With the valley expanding before me in all its glory, the wax palms and brightly colored various decorations dotted the sides of the hills and slowly faded into the cloud above us. In no way was the cloud inhibiting any of the view as it actually acted as a lid that was somehow containing all the beauty beneath.

After only a slight bit of wandering, I found my way to the trail and made my way back down through the canyon, splashing mud everywhere as I went. After a few more hours of mudtastic hiking, I was back at the trail head and ready to get back to Salento for a nap. Only a severely packed Jeep ride stood between me and that snooze.
With room for realistically 7 people in this Jeep, we were able to squeeze a full 10, with me happily hanging off the back again. As the drive back developed, we paused every so often to pick up new passengers. By the time we hit town, that little Jeep was transporting 17 people! I may have been dangling by a boot and an arm like a few of the others, but none of us could stop giggling our faces off at the absurd amount of people using that vehicle.

Everything about Salento and the Valle de Cocora is inspiring and revitalizing. So glad I popped in for a peak. Next up, the former home of Pablo Escobar and the most powerful drug cartel the world has known. Medellin, come to papa!

A Tale Of Trouble

My first week in Colombia has been heavy on the research. My investigation of the country, the conditions, and the attitudes/feelings of the Colombians concerning violence and the drug trade is plowing ahead full steam. More on all of that action in future posts. For now, a tale of trouble...

After my eye opening visit to the National Police Museum in Bogota, I was feeling like a bit of exploring needed to happen. Off I went, deeper into the city, taking a turn here, and a turn there on a whim, basically just heading towards whatever looked interesting. I should have learned by now that a strategy like that can get me into bad situations. And it did.

Me and my affinity for wandering into parts of a city that can only be referred to as "Rapeville", is a skill that I rather I never developed. But I did. And its a thing I do. Usually not on purpose. Like this day.

Finding myself waist deep in a gringoless part of town that I clearly had no business being in, I kept my head up, moved with a purpose, and acted like I new where I was going and what I was doing. That is pretty much my standard mode of operation when finding myself in these situations and I've never had a negative experience to report. Until now.

I walked by a particularly sketchy looking side street that emitted enhanced levels of rapeyness and immediately decided that would be a poor route choice. About 3 steps later, I discovered the problem with walking with your head up - this prohibits you from seeing that ill-placed chunk of pavement sticking up in an effort to trip you. And let me tell you, it was a good trip. Like the kind that really sends you flying forward, complete with arms flailing in some poorly executed attempt to keep you from falling. Lucky for me, an unsuspecting gentlemen's back interrupted my less than graceful sprawl. Then I became unlucky. Quite quickly. Like, immediately when the gentleman turned around.

Im still not sure if this was the same dude I saw chasing another guy down the street my first night here with those insane, sharpish, metal nunchucks, or if carrying a weapon like that is just commonplace here. I'm thinking it was just the same lunatic. Either way, even after some back pedaling and my best Spanish apology, he rushed at me, weapon whirling.

Even though I've never fully seen those metal nunchuck things in action, I wasn't about to stick around to see how they worked. My flight instinct instantly kicked in and I booked it down the closest side street in an attempt to get away from the psycho. Unfortunately, that side street also happened to be named something that is roughly translated to Super Rape Avenue, the same street I had just decided NOT to go down.

Somehow, this tight, crowded street was darker than any of the others despite it being near noon. I'm not sure if it was the tarps hanging over each of the booths or if the ominous atmosphere literally blotted out the sun, but it definitely made dodging pedestrians, vendors, and random fruit stands all the more difficult. While no one made an effort to get out of my way, they had no problem clearing out for the nunchuck wielding crazy person behind me. So, while he was gifted with a clear path, I had to unleash a variety of athletic maneuvers that ranged from sleek ballerina spins to avoid women, children, and donkeys, to showing off my linebacker skills by straight up bowling over the dude carry lots of bread.

After a couple blocks of these stereotypical chase scene shenanigans, I had put at least a more comfortable distance between me and my pursuer. Time to ditch the fool. As soon as I hit the next block, I hung a quick right disappeared beneath one of the first stands I encountered. Peering from behind a pile of rip off Nikes, I was able to watch as the guy ran by, glimmering nunchucks swinging away. I was actually glad he had been twirling those stupid things the whole time as it wasn't very conducive to a proper running form.

I looked up from my hiding place and the lady tending the stand just sort of game me an understanding look that invited me to stay as long as I liked. I accepted her hospitality for another couple moments to make sure the guy was gone, and then I booked it out of there to double back the way I came. I'm not sure I stopped running until all of Rapeville and it's ridiculous Nunchuck Man were at least a full zip code behind me.

Back at my hostel, I reviewed these recent events and had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Except for the whole metal nunchuck thing, it was a classic foot chase through a dodgy part of town that I thought only happened in movies set somewhere in the Middle East. I have no idea what that guy would have done had he caught me, which of course was highly unlikely given my superior speed. He might have just been playing a harmless joke or he could have been a legit crazy person who meant to give me a nice slash or two. Either way, I'm pretty happy with never having to find out.

Travel moral of the story: Yes, it's one we all probably already know, but be smart and refrain from going into parts of town that are obviously infused with excess rape danger, well, unless you'd like to see how you fare against Nunchuck Man!

Fingers crossed that my next post features a significantly less potential for harm.

Lovsies!

From California to Colombia

I'm not dead yet. The first couple days in Colombia have been survived LIKE A BOSS! The few days leading up to my flight out of LA involved some sweet road trip action down the coast of California. I loved getting to spend some time with some great people in the Bay Area, Santa Cruz, and LA. But now it's business time...

Last night, it was not the obscenely loud traffic/street activity just outside my window that woke me up. Nor was it the man snoring at a stupid high decibel in the bed near my own that jostled me free of my happy snooze land. I have learned to sleep through distractions like these, ear plug free. Instead, I was ripped from my rather pleasant dreams by the terrifying sound of a mosquito in my ear. At this point I thoroughly freaked out. It was in these first few moments of awakening that I was convinced that I was back in the Amazon, being bombarded by all manner of massive bug life. The thought of having to face another day on the river being tortured by Nasty Hot and his buddy Gnarly Humidity crushed my spirit. I lay there, eyes wide open, envisioning all the things that would try and kill me in the waiting hours ahead.

About three seconds of horror quickly subsided and I realized two things. One, I am 8,000 feet high in Colombia's capital city of Bogota and not in the Rainforest. The things that are trying to do me harm here are of a completely different breed. Two, I am obviously not ready to venture back into the jungle to take on another raft race. I'm going need a little more time. Sorry Kyle and William. I know you were so anxious to get back, but I'm going to have to postpone until the night terrors cease. Also, I never heard the mosquito again and it is quite possible that there never was one to begin with. I may have gotten the bed a bit soggy for absolutely no reason.

So, here I am in Colombia and I have survived the first 48 hours like it ain't no thang. I have gone against the advice of the majority and ventured down here because of what I have heard from the minority. The reason I trust the minority is because they have actually been here, and have glimmering things to say about this country. The majority is made up of people from the States who are basing their negative connotations off of information that was relevant 10-20 years ago, but is now outdated.

My mission is to investigate all that Colombia has to offer, and hopefully bring a good report back home in order to change opinions and spread the word that Colombia is a super legit, amazing, and safe travel destination.

That being said, my first outing the night I arrived included looking outside the restaurant to see a dude with these crazy sharpish looking metal nunchucks chasing another guy down the street. I love it here already.

Tomorrow, I bail on Bogota via an overnight bus in hopes of finding the small town of Salento to partake in all the majestic natural beauty the surrounding area has to offer.

Until next time, lovsies!

Traveler Vs Vacationer

Here we go again! I am less than a week away from returning to South America after a couple months of spending time with friends and family. And while I loved my time in traveler rehab, I could not be more ready to jump off the wagon. So, as a kick start to the second coming of Ese in SA, I have decided to address a slight issue.

It has come to my attention that a misconception has arisen and it must be squashed. Apparently, some people are unable to differentiate between Traveling and Vacationing. Yes, there is a difference. Quite glaring contrasts actually. Allow me to break it down for you.

First, we shall define Vacationing and Traveling. A vacation is usually two weeks or less in length, includes one or two destinations, is an escape from reality, and 74% of the time a beach is involved. A Travel experience can range anywhere from 1 month to 3 years. Anything over 3 years and you are technically dealing with a hobo. Traveling takes people to many destinations, becomes a reality of its own, but beaches are still included in 58% of cases.

Now, you need to understand how to identify and distinguish between a Traveler and a Vacationer. Take a look at how they pack their belongings. If you see a suitcase, that is a dead giveaway that you have a Vacationer on your hands. If there are wheels anywhere on the luggage, that signals a Class 5 Vacationer. Watch out for those with multiple pieces of wheeled suitcases as they will most assuredly be taking up an absolutely ridiculous amount of space at the most inconvenient of times.

On the other hand, if you instead see a backpack, odds are you have some kind of Traveler. The size of the bag is usually an indication of what type of Traveler this is. If you see a Jansport like the one you were using in high school, this person is a minimalist and is probably rotating back and forth between the same two pairs of underwear. Either that or they have foregone the whole underpants hoax altogether. If you see someone with a backpack that dwarfs them, and is large enough to accommodate 36 boxes of Twinkies, Thomas Jefferson's oak desk, their own flight attendant, and a moderately sized Mexican family, this person plans on traveling for quite some time. In fact, they may already be pushing dangerously close to the hobo zone.

Take a look at the actual individual. If you see any of the following, a visor, designer sunglasses, a giant city map that screams, "steal from me", or a quick reference language guide than includes nothing more than basic greetings and the local word for bathroom, you are looking at a Vacationer. Perhaps you see someone that very closely resembles a hippie, gypsy, or any other kind of vagabond. There is a very real chance that this person is just a Traveler and hasn't been able to locate a shower for the past couple days. Just plug your nose and continue on.

Hopefully, next time you start to confuse Vacationing and Traveling you can help sort out the madness by referring back to this quick guide. If you have any further questions please feel free to send them my direction and hopefully I can set you straight.

In conclusion, a Vacationer goes elsewhere to get away from their troubles, real life, and exist for a short period in a fantasy world. A Traveler goes elsewhere to live their life on the move. Strange foods, foreign languages, different experiences, and saying goodbye to new friends more often than desired becomes reality. Travelers face day to day problems just like anyone else, but all they have to combat those issues is whatever they have strapped to their backs. Traveling: it's not always easy. It's not a vacation. It is a different way of life.

Vacationer and Traveler aside, each and every person that has been given the opportunity to get out and see another piece of this world is blessed. I am continually thankful for the chances I have been granted to explore and experience different places. And as long as I am able, I will never stop devising ways to make it happen again and again.

Colombia, let's do this thing!