Carnaval: Debauchery At Its Finest

Upon originally planning this trip to Colombia, it never crossed my mind that I would be here during Carnaval. But when I found out that the hometown of Shakira, puts on the second biggest celebration each year, just behind Rio in Brazil, I set my sights on Barranquilla for an undoubtedly good time.

Each stop up until the big show usually contained a similar conversation with some locals. They look at you like you are freshly ripened fruit freshly plucked from the loony tree, tell you its going to be out of control and dangerous, and wish you the best of luck. After multiple warnings from Colombians, I began to question how gnarly this festival was really going to be if even local people were wary of it. Was it really a good idea to go? I decided that, like with all travel, as long as I stayed smart, sensible, and grew a mustache, things would be golden.

People from all over the country, converged on Barranquilla for the four day shenaniganfest and few were disappointed. The entire city is decked out in festive bright colors and decorations. Businesses close their doors, hotels jack up their prices, and everyone packs the street for a continuous party that doesn't know how to quit.

Around mid day, each day, a 5 hour parade marches down one of the main streets, making it the epicenter of the party. Thousands gather to watch the elegant floats, crazy dresses, beautiful women, and overall awesomeness that ensues. Seriously, these parades are the wildest thing you've ever seen. So many elaborate costumes and floats that probably take all year to design and create. Tons of fantastic music just had the masses dancing in the streets like there was no tomorrow. And there wasn't. The days blend together as sleep takes a back seat to the nonstop party.

Things get messy too. People are constantly spraying foam and throwing flour in your face. Add all the drinks that get spilled all over, and you are one powdery, sticky mess before the sun even goes down. Can't do much but embrace the disaster that your clothes evolve into and go on loving every bit of the crowded madness.

So you watch these parades, you dance constantly, you get bombarded by nonlethal substances, and you it't kind of the best thing ever. Except for all the pickpocketers. I didn't get anything stolen, but you are constantly batting people's hands away from your pockets. I'm not sure why I even bothered. I was smart enough to not even have anything in my pockets. I suppose it was just because I wasn't fond of uninvited people being in my pants.

One of the last days of Carnaval, we positioned ourselves at the very end of the parade route. And I mean the very end. We were actually hanging out in an area where the parade was officially over and it was just all the people that were in it milling about, looking like they had just danced for 5 hours in high heels. But that was because many of them had. It was interesting to see this side of things and get a better understanding of the toll those parades take on the participants. Plus a few secrets were unveiled in the process.

So, all those crazy fine ladies on display during the parade that everyone is checking out are not actually what they seem. The depressing truth was that most either had too many years, too few years, or too much penis. Seriously, it was unsettling how many were revealed to be really old, way too young, or a man once the performance was over. They had so many of us fooled.

Overall, Carnaval was one crazy event infused with music, dancing, and a livelihood that only Colombia could conjure. I've never been a part of, or seen, anything else like it. The energy created by all those people in the streets, doing nothing but loving and embracing life was very symbolic of Colombians in general. Their zest and passion for living is contagious and I love them for it.

Thanks for the good times, Barranquilla!

Next up, a story about a cave. And bats. And spiders. And water. And Awesome.

Lovsies!

Mud Volcano

Volcan de Totumo

Legend has it that a mythical beast lies in wait just outside of Cartagena, Colombia. This creature lures unsuspecting victims into its grasp with promises of smooth, healthy skin. But once you get to Volcan de Totumo, its too late to save yourself. Sure, your epidermis may get a rejuvenating boost, but you are also doomed to endure one of the most awkward experiences of your life. And I loved every second.

Volcan de Totumo is an actual volcano, but just mini sized, and instead of spewing hot ash or lava, it oozes a grayish warm mud that supposedly has healing properties. So, I have the opportunity to cover myself head to toe in a mud hot tub and call it beneficial for my health? You can keep your perks, because I'm doing it either way.

So, you arrive at the little village encrusted at the base of Volcan de Totumo and ascend the stairs up the 40 foot high mound of dried mud with nothing more than a bathing suit or pair of underpants you can stand to get a bit muddy. There are already a handful of people submerged to their necks in the goop, but you slide on in to get a piece of the action yourself.

Upon entry, you are instantly overpowered by a wild new sensation. Your feet can't touch the bottom, (not that you can really keep them under you thanks to an instant lack of body control), due to the combination of the mud being quite deep and very dense so there is this whole buoyancy thing going on. You can try as hard as you want to submerge past your head, but the mud just keeps popping you back up.

About 0.72 seconds after getting in, a local grabs you, makes you lie on your back, and begins to massage you. First, I am fairly certain these dudes have never attended massage therapy school. Second, while this is an "optional" extra and they will obviously ask you for money later, you have no choice in the matter because that massage is happening whether you want it or not. Third, it actually feels pretty good.

So, they cover you, rub you down, then give you a good shove and you zoom over to the other side of the volcano like a muddy torpedo. You watch as more and more people pile into the ooze pit that is roughly the diameter of the 3 foot deep swimming pool your friend had whose house you would spend every day at over the summer in middle school. This is the time to watch other people's inevitably hilarious reactions to the mud and to also try and get your own body situated. The latter just isn't going to happen.

For some reason, you just can't control your body as you try to keep your feet under you and keep everything in an upright position. Volcan de Totumo won't allow for any sort of order as it prefers a humorous chaos. With more and more bodies packing the volcano to capacity and a dwindling amount of hope for control, it was best to just let go and give in to the squishy orgy. Arms floated into danger zones, legs surfaced in no-no land, and the occasional hand “accidentally” grazed random tenderness. It could have been rather sexy if half the people in there didn’t have more wrinkles than a bucket of raisins.

Eventually you get your fill of the goopy grope session and pull yourself from the muck. Careful not to slip and slide your way down the rickety stairs, you make your way down to the river to wash off. Once there, you are bombarded by ladies who want to take off your clothes and give you the best scrubbing you’ve ever had.

Unfortunately these are not young desirable women with soft angelic hands looking to do you any favors other than to get the mud out of crevices you didn’t even know you had. The wrinklefest continues as these old ladies tug at any shred of clothing you may still have on in their efforts to get you cleaner than you ever thought you could be after soaking in a mud volcano. Of course, they want to be paid too.

After all is done and said,(and the equivalent of 4 dollars has been shelled out for the extras), you have been put through an absolute sensory overload of new experiences. Sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and feelings you could never imagine combine to leave you a bit stunned. Attempting to process all that happens over the course of one wild hour is rather difficult. You are far better off just accepting it all as one ridiculously unique experience that you are highly unlikely to ever encounter again. Oh Volcan de Totumo, as awkward as you may be, it’s tough not to love every squishy bit of you.

Well, I’m off to Parque Tayrona to replace the mud in my crack with a little sand. Lovsies!

Medellin

Medellin: World's Most Dangerous City. If you had read those words 20 years ago, they were certainly true. But no longer. Ever since the fall of Pablo Escobar in 1993, the city has been working hard to scrub away the blemishes that the drug cartel left here at the height of the cocaine trade. I came to Medellin to get a feel for a city with such a horrendous past that, even today, people from the States still frown from the bad taste in their mouths at the mere mention of Colombia. Here it is 2012 and, have no doubt, the city of Medellin has been reborn.


The people of Colombia's second largest city have been working feverishly to transform not just their image, but the fundamental roots of what makes Medellin a name you should know. Set in the mountains, a beautiful city rises out of an even more phenomenal landscape and the vibe here is no longer dominated by fear and terror, but by a proud hope that is nothing but deserved after what the people here have done to achieve their success.

You spend any amount of time in Medellin and you will quickly understand that it is a city quite unlike any other you’ve ever been in. You see a good amount of new, nice cars, which is of course common in many big cities. The women are very conscious of their bodies, and a large percentage are scientifically enhanced just as in places like Hollywood and South Beach. The difference is where all this money that is going to high rise apartments, fancy cars, and butt implants is actually coming from. Even though the power of the cartels has been greatly diminished over the last couple decades, there is still a huge amount of drug money that is fueling the lifestyles of these people.

It would be wrong of me to try and take anything away from the country’s leading textile operations that are found in Medellin, or from all the hard work the citizens of the city are doing to rebuild their reputation, because both are great things that are having a very positive impact on a once feared place. But, it would also be unrealistic and ignorant to say that the uncommonly good lives that many of the people in Medellin live is not due to money earned from the drug trade. Of course there is still a huge amount of poverty and the lower class struggles like much of the rest of South America, but you just don’t see the middle and upper classes living the way they do anywhere else down here.

While it was fascinating to observe, it was a blast to experience as well. While in Medellin, I got the opportunity to meet some pretty amazing people and rub a shoulder or two with the wild, extravagant people that live there. A couple of them in particular are a little difficult not to geek out over. So we end up meeting these guys who won at the Sundance Film Festival a couple years ago and they have done all these other amazing video projects as well. The best part is, they are super awesome guys and a ton of fun to hang out with.

On Saturday night, they tell us about this fancy sounding hotel rooftop party that they are planning on attending and ask if we want to go. Um, yes please! So I bust out my only pair of jeans that doesn’t have a hole, and dig out the lone button up shirt I brought along, and dang was I looking good. With a bold, yet classy amount of chest hair on display, we head out.

Strolling in like we own the place, the elevator shoots us up top where the doors open up to reveal a scene I thought only existed in movies. First of all, this place is straight up fancy. Lavish décor and tasteful lighting set the mood instantly. A swimming pool with glass sides begged to put on a show if the night got wild. The staff were impossible to miss as they were dressed the part in white tuxedoes. The view of the city was absolutely stunning as I gazed out upon the night from the highest vantage point around. But it was the clientele that blew me away the most.

While the dudes all looked like identical copies of each other with their very formal attire and slicked back hair, it was the ladies that cracked me up even more. I am willing to bet my favorite pair of underwear that there was not a 100% real woman there. Each female in attendance had gone under the knife at least once. There were fake racks galore and a good many of these ladies had also opted for the famous Colombian butt implant as well. No, not butt lift, butt implant. Yup, fake butts were on the loose everywhere your head turned. These women would have been quite attractive if they had just left themselves alone. But alas, some combination of social pressure, skewed views of beauty, and access to money led each and every one of them to alter their bodies in ways that are just unnatural. It might have been a little sad if all the Colombian Barbies strutting around didn’t strike me as hilarious first.

At one point it began to rain a bit. Can’t have all those fake boobs getting wet now can we? So the hotel just flipped a switch and this massive roof began rolling out over the top of the party. Five minutes later, the rain stopped and they got to show off their expensive toy again by retracting the roof and once again revealing the dark sky.

Pretty extravagant stuff, and while that’s not the world I want to live in, it was fun to at least get to take a little peak. While I leaned up against a wall, overlooking the city and enjoying my overpriced cucumber adorned beverage, it was just interesting to think about why the people of this city acted in a certain way and how much of it actually has to do with their past. While they have done well to shed their terrible image from years past, and bury it deep down, there are always pieces of history that never cease to shape people, communities, and entire countries.

I wish the people of Medellin only the best of luck as they continue their pursuit to reinvent themselves.

And now it's time to go to the beach. Lovsies!