colombia: parte dos.

before i say anything more, i just want to state that colombia is magnificent. it really is. also, my annoying, uncontrollable nose twitch and wipe habit was probably extremely misleading in the land of snow.

after santa marta, i headed to the large and beautiful city of medellin, which may sound familiar since it is the birthplace of the medellin cartel (the huge cocaine trade run by the infamous pablo escobar). someone even told me the entire metro system and likely most of the beautiful building there were funded entirely on drug money. kindof funny, if it´s true. anyway, it´s set in the middle of big beautiful mountains and the downtown has big beautiful old buildings and the rest is a big beautiful checkerboard of terra cotta brick homes, rolling along the mountainslopes. i quite liked it, for some indeterminable reason. unfortunately i found the people of medellin even harder to understand than the coast of colombia, and i often wondered if they were even speaking spanish, since i could understand nothing at times. it´s actually obscene how much the vocabulary changes from central america. a little horrific, if you ask me.

the woman of colombia are supposed to be unanimously gorgeous, and i did not find them especially good-looking until i got to medellin. they´re pretty pretty. this was confirmed by the funny brit with whom i wondered to the teleferico. and then those gorgeous girls made fun of his leg hair and my nose ring. hm.

the metro made me feel like i was in toronto or something and i got all nostalgic. strange thing to make someone feel nostalgic, no? i can´t begin to describe how much i prefer metros or trams to buses. such a better form of transportation- the stops are clear, you´re generally not thrown around the way you are on a bus if you´re standing up, no traffic, smooth, super fast, clean and air-conditioned... just a better feeling.

anyway, i went to santa fe to antioquia (the strangest word to pronounce... took me a while to get it down), near the city, and wondered why anyone bothers to visit here. it was a cute little town, but nothing special about it at ALL, unless i missed something. anyway, i stumbled upon a vegetarian restaurant(VERY rare in colombia, and especially rare in a small town) while wandering , and had nice conversations with the workers and a lady that was eating there. they had to try to describe pumpkins and random fruits with no english name to me so that i could order (i.e. i didn´t know the spanish names). i ended up really talking to the lady sitting and found out she was a nutritionist and presently studying bioenergetics and she invited me to her house so that i could see it and take photos (i misinterpreted, she actually said she would show me photos, of places in colombia). i thought this was a little strange, but i was bored and thought it´d be pretty cool, and it´s always good to connect with ¨locals¨ (that´s such a cliche snobby traveller thing to say, but whatev), so i went. she had this adorable dog that kept jumping on me and a beautiful house and view from up top and then she showed me more photos (poorly photographed) than i would ever need to see of colombia, describing to me the places all along the way. it was really sweet. then she jumped up and told me she had a CD of photos, she thought. she stuck an unlabelled CD in and it began to play with only sound, and it sounded like a female breathing heavily... sexually. awkward. it was one of those moments where neither of you wants to admit what you´re watching, so you pretend it´s normal and act as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. then the image popped up and it was a girl masturbating to porn. we both were a little shocked, though i suppose expecting this. then we both just burst out laughing and she says that THIS must be the reason her husband told their son that this CD was ¨boring adult stuff¨. omigod, how funny is that? then it got even more ridiculous as a priest walked in, and her grandparents and her whole family and her dog pulls off the sheets, etc etc (yes that´s right, we kept watching... so strange!). it was all so SO random. santa fe ended with me discussing canada with an old man at a cafe while waiting for my bus. i bid him adieu as he shouted through the bus window that i MUST return! so although there was nothing to do in santa fe, i had a pretty good time in the end.

in medellin itself, i went to the art museums (one was enormous and full of awesome works like crazy jesus pop art), another hare krishna restaurant (twice... hare krishna´s are LOVIN colombia), wandered and wandered.
outside of one museum there was an array of botero sculptures, and one was a reclining nude, chubby as ever (all of botero´s works are really chubby people... you´ve probably seen his works and don´t even know it). a man and his very young son walked up beside it to take a photo and the dad grabs his son´s hand and slaps the woman´s behind, smiling to the camera. i wonder where latin men get it from? passed down through the generations, expressed subtly in reactions to botero nudes. botero´s male nudes have unfortunately proportioned gold manhoods, while the rest is a dull grey-black.
the campesino cheese in colombia is generally extraordinary- like solid ricotta. i was obsessed with it.
in medellin i also went paragliding as a so-called birthday present for myself (i would have done it if it weren´t near my birthday too), which was probably the highlight of my medellin experience. it was SO cool. not only were the people at the top so incredibly friendly and funny that i was sad to jump off the mountain and leave them (the air was too cold, so we couldn´t land at the top again afterwards- you need warm air to lift up), but the feeling was incredibe and the views were pretty great too! it was so ridiculously calming that i took a photo of my face in heavenly bliss- you´re just floating and there are no sounds except for the wind flapping the glider once in awhile and you´re moving in such fluid motions and... it´s just incredible. super tranquilo. i´d really recommend it to anyone. the scenery could have been better than a giant city, but whatev- there were mountains and a few waterfallls and it was good for a first time. it was funny because i woke up that morning to beautiful splendid sunshine, then got on the bus and it was a little cloudy, get to the top of the mountain and it´s fully cloudy and expecting rain, it sprinkles while i fly, which is the worst condition, and then it´s blistering sun when i touchdown. ohhhh well. it was still lovely. i saw birds flying with some independent gliders- that was cute.

in terms of nightlife, i felt super sick and tired so i was in bed between 7-8 for two or three nights, but i had one big night out with two brits, an american, and a new zealander- really fun crowd. hilariously, i saw the nutritionist with her family in the bar district! what a family night. we gorged on disgustingly sweet mojitos and piña coladas and long islands at a collection of bars with ¨3 for 1 deals¨ (so stupid, they have different prices for the drinks when they´re 3 for 1.. so that they only come to 2 for 1... but it´s effective- they got us into the bar and we all stayed anyway) and then hit the craziest club i´ve ever been to. we left too early for it to get too rowdy, but it was a cowboy theme, which no one warned us of previously, full of dancing midgets i felt sorry for, 5 other stages full of scantily clad men and women and salsa dancers and motionless breasts and when you walk in you´re covered in confetti and your photo is taken with randomly costumed characters, and then... and then there´s the bathroom. by far, my favourite part. for one, it´s also the backstage for the dancers. there´s a makeup artist at your disposal. there are candies. and the faucets are furry horse heads, while the basin is a long trough. i felt like i was in a different world.. it was so fun. you´ve got to give latin america credit- they work for that cover charge. i danced with one girl´s boyfriend and he pretended he was gay, limp-wristed and flamboyant and we had so much fun dancing. he made a real effort to include me, since i was kindof a fifth wheel for the dance ¨sequences¨, which was nice of him. we then hit another club and i got bored and left.

three hours from medellin (and yet i still made this a day trip) is a giant sugarloaf mountain named el peñol that has a PHENOMENAL 360 view of the surrounding simple islands, littered throughout the lake below. it was like looking down on millions of tiny mounds placed on a hazy mirror. it was so so very beautiful. all the way up and down the climb to the top i talked to nearly every person i passed. colombians are so extraordinarily friendly- i love it. at the top, a family asked if i wanted to take their picture, with me, with my camera. weird, but why not? our first photo was a ¨yay canada¨ thumbs up photo, the next was more serious. good times atop the rock. i then sat at the top alone and enjoyed the view. two men came up right when i was leaving and i asked him if they wanted me to take their photo since i was going down right then. they said they´d appreciate that. on the way down the mountain i told a spanish (when i say spanish i generally mean from spain, by the way) lady that i liked her bag, and we talked for awhile. although i only understood about 30% of her incredibly fast, lispy spanish, she had a lovely smile and was really sweet, so i just kept pretending i understood her. at the bottom on the hill, i waited for the bus, and about 15 minutes later, a car pulled up containing the photo men from up top and the older lady with the nice bag, asking me if i wanted a ride! awesome. they drove me halfway, which saved me some nice money that i offered for gas, and saved a lot of time too (buses stop a lot and are slower anyway). how lovely.

next, i was off to bogota, the capital. during the long night bus there, there were many stops for bathroom and food. at one stop, while i was standing out in front of the bus, a man told me that travelling colombia was dangerous, which is, from my experience and those that i have spoken to, completely false. (it is no more dangerous than any other country in the world, unless maybe you´re into drug smuggling.) i told him that no, that´s just what everyone thinks (which is actually a beautiful blessing because it keeps the turistas away), and he agreed. so really, even the country´s people are propogating the same lie, and then denying it! colombia´s bad name can be attributed to this dogmatic assumption and propogation of lies. anyway, i was lying across two seats for the bus ride and at points it was bumpy so head to handle contact meant i woke up with a bruised ear. awkward place to bruise. in bogota, i was there for the worst days- sunday, an uneventful holiday monday, and a boring tuesday. i really shouldn´t have come, but live n learn.

the first day i wandered a lot and in an artisan market i met leandro, who wanted me to fill out a questionaire. we walked some and he bought me a delicious mandarin and then he then led me to the funicular up mount serrat (though he left me there because it´s expensive). i was supposed to maybe call him later to go dancing, but my deadly fear of fones guaranteed that i had a lonely and uneventful evening. the view from serrat was quite spectacular- the clouds left pattern across the city below, mountains in the distance.. quite nice. at my hostel, there was a tv room before the courtyard, so everyone went to the tv instead of chiling in the courtyard, which ensured we were all miigghhttyy anti-social. i really did not like it. the only good thing that came of it was me watching city of god, which is an incredibly well-done movie, watch it! the night ended with me eating a cheese sandwich in a wine shop (the only place open with veg food at all) getting hit on by two old professors practising their english. they were amusing. i bought a bottlá wine and since my birthday was that next day, i thought i´d get an early start. only intending to drink one glass, i ended up downing the entire bottle of sour wine, save one glass for a girl in the tv room, and falling asleep, sad, 5 minutes before 12. at least i slept well.

on my birthday, hip hip horray, i decided to go to the salt cathedral. the universe sent me some company in the form of a 58-year old brazilian man named luis. we met on the bus because he heard me ask the bus man directions to the cathedral and he was going too. he was a REALLY fascinating guy- lived all over the world, speaks like 8 languages, had lots of fun stories and interesting conversation. i really enjoyed his company a lot. i was a little depressed so i mentioned it was my birthday and he got all excited and gave me a huge hug and planted a big kiss on my cheek while yelling happy birthday in portugese! it almost made me cry- i was fragile, i didn´t want to talk about it.. i don´t know why i brought it up. he treated me to a lunch (after we search for about half an hour for any place serving anything other than chicken) and we wandered to the beautiful plaza that looks like a sand dune (for some reason, the tan brick rounds up smoothly around every palm tree, so it´s like a skateboard park, or, as mentioned, sand dunes). we then walked up the hill to the cathedral, which was not at ALL what either of us were expecting. i was thinking a big beautiful white cathedral. this place was underground, thus reeking of sulfur, sculpted from old salt mines, dark (both in lighting and rock- salt is black after oxidized, or something like that) and eerily lit so that the cathedral ironically resembled something more like a vampire´s lair than a house of God. it was fascinating and for once i paid attention to a tour and it was much more interesting than had we just walked in and had a look. if water hit the cathedral, everything could eventually disintegrate. crazy.
luis was a wonderful and welcome distraction for the day, but then i spent my birthday eve drinking one beer alone in the courtyard and just got really sad. it was a pretty low time for me- a mid-trip crisis, i think. no good. had ANYTHING been open i would have gone out, but there was absolutely nothing to be had that holiday monday. i thank everyone for the birthday messages- they almost made me cry because i was still fragile heh. them and luis made my day!

i should have gone to salento the night before, but i had high hopes for my birthday so i chose NOT to spend my birthday eve on a night bus. so this next day was an intentional waste. the bogota comtemporary art museum is pretty awful. found a nice toothbrush. the really nice falafel place made my day.

salento took my breath away. it was so calm, so incredibly beautiful and quaint and i´ve never really been anywhere like it. salento is in the zona cafetera, full of coffee plantations that litter the surrounding hilltains (i don´t know, it´s not a mountain, it´s more than a hill... i´m using this neologism from now on), giving it the patchwork look and texturizing the entire area (love texture). warm greetings from the people who guided me, local by local, to the plantation house. since i arrived on the night bus, i was out the door again at around 10 to hike the cocora valley with a group of folk from the hostel. we stopped first at this house with crazy views and my GOD was it stunning. then off to the valley, which was absolutely MAGNIFICENT. it´s full of wax palms, colombia´s tall, skinny elegant and pretty quirky national plant- all separated by bright lime green fields and the odd spotting of cow and horse. so gorgeous. the boys took horses up the mountain and i climbed it with aarti, who gave up an hour into the hike. it was hilaaariously muddy. i just gave in and got dirty. i had stitched the front of my shoes up that morn because they were completely falling apart after the ciudad perdida trek, but within seconds upon hitting the mud suction i had ripped tham apart again. the holes in my heels arranged lovely wet-mud entry to my white socks. for some reason i made it up just slightly after them, where i was greeted with amazing hot chocolate and a brick of delicious cheese (chocolate and cheese is common here) by a chatty local woman. i walked up another hour or so, but there was absolutely no view through the thick fog unfortunately, so i turned back. farmers were minding their fields when i regressed and they told me i should walk in their fields instead of in the mud. i asked how i was supposed to do this and they lifted the barbed wire an inch for me, so now it was a good six inches off the ground... i evaluated the situation and laughed and told them i´d prefer the mud.
that eve we played tejo- a game involving concrete pucks and gun powder, and then we played yanniv, an incredibly famous card game with israeli travellers (and thus now all travellers.. though shithead still reigns king amongst those in transit). by the end we had about ten people int he game and it was a lot of fun. thw two brits, tim and jamie, are such nice, genuine, accepting guys- i was impressed by them.

next day i went to the plantations with three others. it was a beautiful walk there and we had a really good time. the old man who gave us the tour of the traditional plantation was super sweet- constantly asking if we understood the spanish and giving us mandarins and surpisingly juicy oranges and passionfruit (if you just suck it up instead of biting the seeds, it´s only sweet and not sour! who knew?). i was taking a photo of the old man in the drying area for the beans and i was trying to avoid having the swissman in it, and hamil noted ¨yea, get that white person out of the photo,¨ which made me laugh- it´s ssoooo true. anyway, i learned that no strain of bean makes it stronger, only changes the flavour, that you can use two different strains of beans in one coffee because they have the same taste, and that freshly ground coffee is surprisingly good! i don´t even drink coffee and i really enjoyed it. team switzerland and i headed back while the other two went to a new coffee farm. we tried to get lost, but it didn´t work. we had a relaxing time chatting about energies and travel and life by the river, then talked to a local artist in this random town along the way.

that night i was convinced to go to cali the next day, the birthplace of salsa, because it was a weekend and i wanted one good colombian rumba before i left. i went with the aforementioned tim and jamie, and tom, another brit. tin and i had really deep conversation on the ride there- we talked about shel´s theory about serial monogamy (only stay with someone until you´re no longer happy, then move on to the next, which i see the merits of, but there´s something to be said for working things out and overcoming obstacles together) and how i feel ashamed to have to be drunk to have fun in most bars/clubs (he told me that´s normal because that area is designed for people under an influence- they always seem really lame when you´re not in that mind state. like a playground for kids- it´s not designed for parents, it´s designed for children... that made me feel better). we were both torn on the subject. anyway, i loved my room in cali for some reason, and we went to a zoo that they assured me was all wild and safari-like instead of zoo-y (i dislike zoos). they lied. i enjoyed the fish (there´s a turtle with a head like a rock! looks like a dinosaur- sooo crazy-looking) and the birds, until the birds started squawking like death and i felt bad again. i saw an anaconda trying to escape by biting through the wire (eek). a frighteningly wide-eyed hilarious llama. jamie is crazy and tried to catch the catfish in the outdoor pond. he also changed his voice while talking to random folk and he maintains this alteration the extent of their conversation. in the taxi to the zoo i was CRYING it was so hilarious. he put on a husky super-creeper voice and carried it through the ENTIRE ride. i can´t tell you how funny it was. as smart as we were, every single one of us forgot where the hostel was located and failed to have business cards, so we got dropped off at a mall and asked around for awhile before finding our way home.
that night i saw more salsa bars than i´ve ever seen in my life. sixth avenue is just FULL of them- it´s almost impossible to go to any other type of bar. the night went by incredibly fast and by the time 2 hit and the bars were closing, we hadn´t even danced! a night is rarely a night out without dancing, and ESPECIALLY in cali! so... i decided i had to stay another noche heh.

this decision was strengthened when, chatting with a german in the kitchen the next morn, dave from guatemala showed up! i was so happy to see him and decided i´d for sure stay another night. strangely, we were staying at a place called iguana, and where we met in guatemala was the lost iguana! weeeiirrrdd.
my day was a waste, but that night we rounded up a huge fun crew and the night was almost filled with dancing! yay. unfortunately, i can´t dance salsa, so it was a lot of me just dancing how i want to really good music, while salsa queens are likely scoffing at me behind my back. i danced one slow, lame starters salsa which i was nevertheless really proud of! we tried to find a hip hop club and failed miserably. the night was fille with free popcorn and beer in giant tubes with faucets.

went to san cipriano the next day with dave and four others. i just needed to waste a day so i could take the night bus, and there´s NOTHING to do in cali. so i followed them to s.c., which is really strange. its draw is that it´s a colony of black people in the jungle. that´s it. ah, and you take a motorbike with planks attached to it down the railway in order to arrive at their village. that was a little thrilling, but that was the extent of it. the river we swam in was clear and cold, so that was kinda nice. there was a small waterfall. we got kinda scammed for a lot of money and argued with them a lot which really soured the end of the trip, but oh well. wasted my day, anyway. on the bus ride back, i rediscovered my love for leaning out windows and waving wildly at strangers. i received nearly unanimously friendly responses, including ¨out-of-their-mind enthused to be interacting with humans¨ hermits. made me smile.

off to popoyan that night. casa el descanso reminded me of grandma and grandpa´s place- so cozy and covered in crafts and fabric and all things homemade. felt so homely. we couldn´t find the light to our room and we wandered around for about twenty minutes, inside and out, looking for the switch. there was a craft of little homes on the wall and dave said ¨i can´t believe i´m trying this¨ and started moving each house hoping that one would prove to be a secret hidden switch. it was hysterical. we felt so idiotic, but felt less so when we discovered it BEHIND THE BED. who puts a light switch behind a bed?! i guess it makes more sense, so you can turn off the light before bed without rising, but... shuddup. when dave was in his bed, he told me before we turned off the switch ¨sometimes i do this¨ and swished his feet back and forth, without continuing his sentence. i laughed like mad and then he continued ¨you know i´m asleep when i stop.¨ it may not sound like it because it´s possibly all in his tone and composure but he´s one of the funniest people i´ve ever met.

next morn we split because he wanted to be off to san agustin quickly and i wanted to look around popoyan a little. there was nothing to see except white buildings, i soon found out, and caught a collectivo to the bus terminal. dave´s bus hadn´t even left yet so we were on the same bus anyway. hooray. unfortunately, i sat at the back with him which was an extremely bad BAD idea because this ride was terribly rough and the only ones affeected were the four seats in the last row. it was so bad that i cracked my head two or three times off the top and had to hold on for dear life for the entire 6 hours, my feet constantly flew into the air and slammed down each time, and innumerable times involuntary ¨hmph¨ noises were squeezed from my chest as the bumps caught me on the exhale, (the act of which was performed 3/6 hours, clearly), and the wind was forced from my throat. we were higher than the other seats too so we couldn´t even enjoy the view. it was kindof hellish and after awhile time didn´t exist and you couldn´t take anything seriously or you might request a stop and jump off the next cliff. i´ve been on a LOT of buses and this has been the second worst ever, only failing to beat my 18 hour 190km northern laos mud trip because it lasted 1/3 the time, though the ride was far worse. the people in the seats in front of us were actually sleeping. i was so jealous.

we checked in at el jardin in san agustin, which is full of birds squawking ridiculous in these enormous cages in the lobby. i stared at them blankly and slowly, bluntly stated in awe ¨but that is SO bad for business¨, which dave found mighty amusing. the next day dave took a chiva (big open-air bus-like thing) tour while i took a free self-guided tour of the countryside. san agustin is known for archaelogical ruins, but i found the countryside to be much more fascinating, as usual. there was one spot where you need to walk down this cliff almost and there´s this absolutely spectacular breath-taking view below. it even made the hell-ride all worth it (that says a lot!). it was shocked, i couldn´t stop gasping and telling the man i saw on the way how incredibly beautiful it was. below was rolling, but steep hilltains and a huge canyon to your right with many layers of mountain legs adding interest, a raging river at your feet, multiple waterfalls to the left, skinny and nuzzled all cozy in the the lush, steep hillsides- they almost looked manmade they were so perfect. so, so lovely. that was the bext part of the walk, but nearly everywhere i walked to for five hours was gorgeous and amazing- it was probably the best walk i have had my entire trip (like, not a trek, but walk).
there were few signs to direct you, as usual, so i inevitably got lost a few times. at one point i asked a man leading a horse carting tons of bamboo if he knew where the next site was located. he started tying up his horse and i told him it was not necessary for him to lead me, i just needed a general direction. he said he knew that, knelt down, and lifted the barbed wire an inch for me (it must be a colombian thing). this time there was enough room for me to sneak under, so i did so and he pointed me randomly across the field. what a nice guy. i didn´t think i´d find it with the random point of the finger, but i did, and i ate my gigantic avocado (they don´t have hass avocadoes here- they´re huge and more watery, less creamy) on the hilltaintop.

that eve, dave and i convened with dave 2 and had a grand time. dave 2 is the only white guy that has EVER agreed with a local who said i was pretty. i never realized it until then. whenever i´m with travellers and a local and the local comments on my looks, the travellers always brush it off, which isn´t particularly nice. i must say, i do commend the latinos on their bluntness- it´s so different and more honest than the western way, though annoying at times. i saw mike from the panama-colombian sailing ride and i joined him and four local guys while they played bongos and guitars and drank beer in the park. they were really nice and open, i enjoyed it.

next day we were off to pasto. dave played his ukulele at the bus terminals and on the bus and it was really nice. there were two narcotic checks on the journey and after one, there was white powder scattered on the floor of the bus... which made us laugh, and wonder. the hilltains from mocoa to pasto were stunning and incredibly dense. it made me wonder who was the first to decide ¨we´ll just build a road *flutter hand over map* all through here- sides of cliffs, through the dense green- PERFECT.¨ furthermore, the first to stand in the thick of it all, surrounded on all sides, at every angle, by foliage, and remark to their dearest ¨now this is where we should settle down!,¨ moving their arms to indicate the spot, therefore moving all branches with them and unintentionally gnawing on leaves that sneak between their lips while speaking, spitting verde. crazy peoples.

in pasto, dave left for ecuador while i wanted to spend a day there. the next day i was running out of colombian pesos and didn´t want to take out more, so i tried to exchange ten american dollars since that was all i would need. the bank thought i was ridiculous and doing all the paperwork for ten dollars, they wanted my original passport, which i did not bring with me. bah! but then i got a bus to the volcano and i asked a man if it was safe to climb, since the danger levels changes all the time. he told me i should talk to the policia. i walked up and he told me it was safe, but i shouldn´t go alone (but he didn´t give me a reason why). i told him i was goign to go and he told me to wait, and he´d give me a ride up. i knew there was a police spot up the volcano, so i figured they were going anyway, and i gladly accepted the ride because that meant i could be back in time to go to the lake and then leave colombia in time so that i wouldn´t need more money. the two officers were really sweet and kept stopping the van when they saw me trying to take a photo. it was touching. at the top i found out that had driven the entire way just for me! in total they wasted about 1.5-2 hours with me! how sweet. oh, colombia *sigh*. the views were phenomenal, but i couldn´t go to the top of the volcano because it was level 3. i got a free tour of the park thing though because the police gave a ranger a ride up, mid-way. good times.
back in the town, i saw a photo of the lake i wanted to go to and decided that that trip was unnecessary and i left pasto and headed for ecuador! due to a misunderstanding with the taxi guy (he just blatantly ignored the fact that i said i was going to santuario de las lajas, and not the border), i ended up in ecuador. oh well. the ecuador-colombia border is so loose it is no wonder to me how colombia can export 80% of the world´s cocaine.

so in conclusion, colombia: the country i said, in more ignorant times, i would never travel alone to... : check!
colombia was just what i needed at the time in every way, including not feeling so much like a tourist for 5 weeks. what a lovely time.
ciao, mis amores : ) i wish that all is well.

so now it´s time for random additions:

- it´s so interesting how, in learning a new language, you can understand how others speak too... for example, in spanish they don´t say ¨do¨s like we do. the verb ¨to do¨ exists, but they don´t say, for example, ¨do you dance?¨- they would always just say ¨you dance?¨. that´s a bad example, but anyway, this would explain why they might leave this out when speaking basic english. also, the conditional, ¨polite¨ way of saying things (would, could, should), isn´t really used often in the spanish down here, so this may explain why a spanish person could appear blunt and rude when speaking english, if they´re not used to using the conditional sense. i don´t know if that makes sense... but i think it´s really interesting.
- i knew this before but now it´s even more clear: i NEED windows- without them my mood darkens, i can´t wake, light just makes me so happy.
- i will NOT miss colombian beans. bland, thick, potato-like- bllaaahh.
- on a night bus, a film by columbia pictures came up and i freaked out, flipping wildly through my dictionary for the spelling of colombia, thinking i had been misspelling it this whole time.
- i´m starting to forget english words and prefer using many spanish words in place of their english counterpart. especially ¨bridge¨ for some reason. i always resort to puente.

on the way to colombia, and beyond: part one

the "sailing" (there was not much wind 90% of the time, so we were generally running on the motor) from portobelo, panama to cartagena, colombia (a ridiculously common route for crossing the colombia-panama border) was a big mix of oxymorons- fun and boring, beautiful and less so, the captain started out a huge bastard but ended up being a giant sweetheart, you love the others on board but you cannot stand them later on, sailing feels fantastic and... well, you´re later found vomiting off starboard.

the first day was straight sailing for 14 hours. long, long day. but really gorgeous, and the stars at night were phenomenally clear. there was a huge argument over vegetarianism that i had had too many times before and wanted desperately to avoid (neither side listens or is going to change their ways and everyone just ends up pissed and angry because it is not a healthy argument, it is just stubborn and stagnant fighting), so i fled to the front and joined sara (she was also trying to avoid it, and we instead talked about how stupid the arguing was) under the blanket of stars. just lovely.

we arrived at around 9 the night before, so it was pitch black, save the light from the moon. so the next morning we unexpectedly awoke to paradise. i always thought tiny deserted islands were like... a scam. i had never seen one, so i assumed they did not exist. (idiot). but the archipelago of san blas off the coast of panama, where we stayed for two days, was just that! a million tiny little deserted islands- a slim lot of sand and nothing but palm trees- super small. it was so neat! i would swim over to them from where the boat was anchored and feel like i had found my own little paradise. i was the ONLY one on the island. neat feeling. when i would walk along the beach all the shells, in a wave of motion, would simultaneously tip over as all the crabs curled inside for protection. we had perfect weather in the daytime, so the bright blue sky strongly contrasted with white sand and bright green palms and clear teal water. gorgeous, and so (seemingly) untouched.

we went snorkelling with the captain and it was nothing compared to thailand or honduras, or even northern panama... but we were in a spot with a heavy current hitting rocks, so it was really fun to just lazily sumbit to the waves and watch the fish all work with the current- flopping back and forth, but seeing each ebb and flow as a new opportunity for coral-munching. you could say they really define go-with-the-flow.. hardy har har. we saw a shark, and when david did not know i was watching him, he hid behind mike which made me laugh really hard.. underwater, again... thus filling my mask with water. back in the mini-boat to go back to the sailboat, we chased a giant black stingray around- i had never seen one so large so that was amazing. also, back at the sailboat, david was peeing off the side of the boat and saw the largest shark i have ever seen- probably about 13ish feet... that was crazy.

cliff, sara and i went and visited one of the islands with the kuna indigenous people on it. it was really awkward, making this trip to see them and walking along their little island trying to strike conversation. fortunately, four naked children who wanted their picture taken with their dog made a pleasant segue into speech. their grandmother came up to me and gave me the once-over, then told me she really liked my clothes! i told her i loved her clothes (i really really do). the kuna ladies fascinate me to no end- they have short, blunt haircuts, dress in bright colours with amazing fabrics, covered in an armor of homemade bead creations. not only that but, especially in the city, they have a look of fierce power and strength about them. their customs have lasted the test of time and the kuna have not given in to money or power in releasing their land (the islands) to either panama or rich hotel corporations. i was so proud of them. the men dress and act normal... they did not really fascinate me in the least. sara decided she wanted a bracelet, and although i did not really want one, one of the ladies started putting it on me anyway. my wrist is much fatter than the average kuna, so it did not fit properly and she lady had to bite off beads (it still did not make a pattern after that) and since my wrist was suspended right in front of her... she would spit the remains into my hand. mmm.
that night, we celebrated the captain´s 49th with a surprise party on a deserted island. wudda life.

after the two days in san blas islands, we were off for 38 hours of straight sailing. when we were far from any land mass, being surrounded by blue blue blue was a little humbling (we are so small)... and a little more boring.
cliff looked about 35. i asked him about his life because he was really quiet and ended up hearing he was 51. ironically, before he told me this, he really reminded me of the 40-year old virgin. so he looks younger than he is, he has the dimpled perma-smile, the awkwardness, the very hairy chest, the politeness, and the laugh. he IS steve carrell. he lost his virginity before 40 though because he has a 19-year-old daughter.
the two peace corps workers on board were cleaning the underside of the boat for fun and maja flushed the toilet... into lane´s face. we were hysterical.
i felt absolutely fine until day 4 when i was staring at my feet rhythmically and entrancingly dipping into the dark blue with every dip of the vessel into the deep waves... and then i felt sick. i lied down, felt sicker. i went to the back of the boat, and that did it... i scrambled to the side to be out of sight and was sick and sick and sick. i was not the only one- half our ship was out of commission.
at one point, the winds were ridiculous and our sail was up and we were tipping at LEAST 45 degrees. i was silently terrified we were going to tip and die. even the captain said this was an unusual amount of wind, which did not make me feel better.

finally reaching colombia, it took a while to not feel the rocking of the sea in our legs. it was kindof intimidating to be on land again, having to not be so lazy and plan where i want to go and what i want to do and having to be confronted with more then the same ten people for five days. that meant it took me three days to get out of cartagena, which really merits no more than a one day stay.
on the night we arrived, we went searching for food and everything was closed, but there was street food (I MISSED IT SO!) and a convenience store. the guy at the convenience store broke my large bill that the street vendors could not, then he gave me a free banana and blew me a kiss... everytime i passed his store. he later told maja when we entered the store that he was crazy about me. it was so funny. and hey, i got a banana out of it. later when i was brushing my teeth, i stepped on the bed (i do not know why) and a board fell out and it collapsed in the middle. i felt like i was in some cheesy cartoon where they fall or get knocked on the head by something large and they just stand still, blink once as the dust settles, without making a sound. this happened again as i got up the next morning, sitting this time. the board clapping the ceramic floor was terribly loud- i don´t know how my roommates did not wake.

the walled city of cartagena is really gorgeous- i had not seen a colonial city in a long time, so it was nice to revel in its safety and beauty and colours and simplicity of life. you enter the walled city and you feel like you have entered the alternate cartagena universe. sara, maja and i wandered and they went into the exact shops i would never have touched and had a cup of coffee that was just hot milk with a hint of cafe (they were very disappointed because a cup of coffee was the only reason they came to colombia. seriously). went to the art museum that had some reeeaally interesting stuff, including the "wingchair" (that is my name for it, because it is a chair... with wings...) and some crazy never-ending sex bodies. that eve we celebrated simon´s birthday with a cake, rum, and a big night out. unfortunately tuesday´s night life is awfully nonexistent, so after going to a variety of different bars, they settled on one, but i was bored, so i talked to nice sandwich and candy vendors instead. i ended up looking for the other group with the candy vendor, going to the bathroom in a really expensive restaurant, and then dancing with him in the streets to a mariachi-like band. really random, i loved it.

uneventful next day full of journal-hunting and vegetarian food, but the day after i planned on going to the mud volcano. i awoke early just go to, packed my bag so that i could return and go straight to santa marta, put clean clothes on a semi-dirty body because i did not have time for the shower... and then the hostel worker tells me there is no trip to the MUD volcano because it is RAINING. i was so disappointed. especially because it was so illogical. i sat and talked to one of my roommates who had not come back that night. she was still up, watching spanish simpsons and reeking of booze. i wondered why it was 8:30am and she was still wide awake when, ten minutes into the "conversation" that consisted of solely her speaking and consistently shrieking that things were ccrrraaazzzyyyy with gnarled fingers and squeezed-shut eyes... and that is when i realized how naive i was- you are in colombia, my dear shayla- your friend is wired on cocaine. she confirmed this minutes afterwards by remarking on multiple trips to the "stall", and then blatantly, how good this shit was in comparison to last time. quite entertaining, short-term, i let her ramble on until the hostel owner then asked me if i still wanted to go to the volcano. hell yea. i ran through the rain to the overly A/Ced bus and froze my ass off as we took double the time to get out of cartagena due to the ridiculous flood. when you have sewers, you never really think about where the rain goes. i mean, you would know, if asked, that it goes down the sewer, but i never thought of life without sewers. in my head, it was kindof thoughtlessly assuming the water just streamed into oblivion wherever you were, magically making its way out of our streets. but again, naive little shayla learns her lesson in the streets of colombia, where there are, more often than not, no sewers.

the mud volcano was soooo neat! we arrived at what appeared to be a giant wet mound of clay. we took off our clothes and ascended the sketchy wet-clay steps in bathing suits. at the top, you jump into the ten by ten mud oblivion, and are shocked by the sensation- everyone struggles a little to adjust by awkwardly doggie-paddling with a look of fear. it felt like swimming in a zero-gravity ice cream shake. it would be impossible to drown in this muddy mess because there is this strange force pushing you up. this makes it ideal for children, but unfortunately they are all freaked out by the feeling so they cannot stop crying. you can lie on the top of this semisolid as if it were a bed, yet easily turn to standing, as well. it was also neat because the mud is so thick that it does not just drip all off, so everyone is covered in a thin layer of grey, thus appearing as dynamic sculptures. the muscular men looked especially sculptur...ous. there were also massages by random men. then you descend and slip your way to the lagoon, where a plethora of old women are available to strip you naked, clean your clothes and body, and send you on your way. what a crazy experience. our skin felt soooo soft afterwards. i loved it. i got on a bus to santa marta when we got back and of course, this bus was even colder and now my hair was soaking from the lagoon and my clothes soaked in rain. buses must know when you need air con and when it is the last of your earthly requests... and then do the opposite so as to displeasure you to the max.

the highlight of my day in santa marta was speaking to three little girls on the bus. one sat beside me. then kept looking at me. then i asked her about where i was going. then we talked and then her two other friends came up and sat with us. colombian spanish is absolutely impossible to me. i am finding it really REALLY hard to understand it- they speak incredibly fast and use what seems like an entirely different vocabulary from central america and mexico. i am kinda pissed because i feel like i am trying to learn a whole new language, after all that. so i understood about twenty percent of what these girls were saying, but when i did not understand, they would all go teacher on me and speak to me like i was a retard. i did not mind, it actually made me laugh really hard on the inside, and it was touching as they said their "for example"s and spoke all slow using their hands a lot. they seemed so much more mature than they looked. i was proud of them. they told me i was the first english person they had ever talked to. they made my day. which helped me overlook the 2.5 hour bank break in the middle of the day, and the "aid" american VISA supplied by telling me the bank that would accept VISA was on "carretera". carretera means road. thanks for the help, sweetheart. i ended the night building the man across the road´s crush on me by buying 3 five cent chocolates.

the next day, equally slow as i simply waited for my trek to the lost city, was spent bartering for colombian market sandals. the man told me that he would sell me one pair for a discounted price because i was ¨just so pretty¨, a common line used to either pick up chicks or sweeten us up for the sell. he told me the FIXED price for another pair, the ones i wanted, and i asked for a discount because i was ¨just so pretty¨. "no, that is the price". "but so pprreetttyyy!" he laughed and i got him down fifty cents.
my night was devoted to finding a vegetarian restaurant. after a long, long hunt i found "hare krishna", the only restaurant in the city that even sold any food lacking animales at all, according to the guy down the street. the lady at the door told me there was no food, then told me to wait and ran off. while i waited a man in the male version of an indian sari appeared before me and asked me if i liked yoga and farms in the colombian countryside. as i spoke with him, the lady returned and told me she could make me some soup and rice. deal. the man sat with me through my supper, which ended up being huge and accompanied by blinking, singing christmas lights because apparently it was the indian christmas right then (CHRISTmas in india? no comprendo), and he offered to include me in the night´s ceremony. he told me the four parts of hare krishna...ism was no drugs or alcohol, no sex without marriage, no coffee, and vegetarianism. i figured, well hell, two out of four ain´t half bad (in fact, it is exactly half bad), so i joined the ceremony, especially because i was bored and remember being in a room at the veg food fair with people chanting hare krishna and it was incredibly powerful. so i watched them sing with their bongos and triangles, declining every offer to read from the book or do some crazy cleansing with candles, but still really enjoyed watching it. the people there were so calm and peaceful, pure and radiating kindness. what an incredibly random thing to come across in a small city of colombia. and we all know how i love random. alas, i did not join the clan. finished the night off talking to a 30-year old who had been travelling since he was 16. he was very interesting. he said he could never go back or talk to old friends now, with all he knows and has seen, insinuating with his tone that it was an extremely irregular life he was alluding to (no doubt, half your life lived on the road). he did not elaborate and for some reason i felt compelled not to ask. he told me that everyone in latin america knows how to make a business, because they have to. ironically, the streets flooded again that night and two little boys set up planks across three milk cartons spanning the streets so that people could cross without getting their knees wet. they charged for this service. how smart. i crossed once, but when i went to return i gasped in horror. the bridge was gone! the guy from whom i bought three chocolates the night before offered to carry across, as he slipped on his massive rubber boots. he was about five feet tall, but he did it, with me hanging off his back, laughing til i cried. i should remark now, before i forget, that this was not the last of his love. he also gave me five cents off a bag of chips, accompanied by a sly wink. later on he began to just let me off without paying if i did not have the correct change, telling me to pay whenever i can. someone has a cruuu-ush.

FINALLY i was off to ciudad perdida, the lost city, the next day. but not without a hitch. normally, late stuff would not reeeaaallly bother me, but i got about 3 hours of awful sleep the night prior, and i was up and ready to go for the jeep arrival and we ended up leaving about three and a half hours later. i was bitter, especially because this meant ten minutes into the trek being drenched by torrential downpour, which would have been avoided had we left on time. but no matter! we were greeted at the trailhead from a group coming back down. one man was about 60, proudly riding a mule, wearing only a towel on his bottom (where are his ppaannttss!?), absolutely covered in awful bug bites and scars and bloody bandages, missing toenails. it was an awful, awful sight. i sat my bag down and later realized the log on which i placed it was the one used to axe the large portions of carcass into smaller bits. the boys got a laugh out of this- they said it would only happen to a vegetarian because that´s the only person it would bother. i was grossed out.

the 6-day trek to ciudad perdida probably could have been done in four, but that´s okay. the trek was not hard itself, but the mud was just ridiculous. even after you stop battling it and just plop into the pools of mud without trying to avoid it, it´s STILL annoying. every step you must work again the mud suction while trying not to slip down the hill. i always loathe mud treks, but all things considered, for some reason i didn´t mind this as much as i would have expected. some girl at my last stop told me she heard there was quicksand on the trek and i was so excited and terrified since that is one of my biggest fears. i would suspiciously eye every plot of moist greyish sand... until i realized i was a gullible idiot- why would they have a path with quicksand? but up until then i was really excited to see quicksand, if not scared for my life. i even considered looking up ¨getting out of quicksand¨ techniques on the internet before we left. that would have been serious indiana jones. everyday it rained at around 1-2pm, but after getting soaked in both a river and downpour ten minutes into the first day... no one really minded for the rest of the 6 days. we were all moist, smelly, and disgusting, and we came to beautiful terms with this. the scenery on the trek was phenomenal, and we had a really great and hilarious group. i was eaten alive by these small bugs without a name (or a repellent). i have never been so itchy in my LIFE. seriously. hellish- i would wake up EVERY night for about 1.5 hours and itch itch itch while trying to use mental imagery and techniques to stop thinking about it... this guaranteed i never got a good sleep. tom was also a vegetarian and whenever we would be in ¨the lead¨, we would obnoxiously yell out ¨veggie power!¨, high five, and remark on the pros of a vegetarian diet. we must have been really annoying.

eber was the cook and the... well, the ¨bitch¨, if you will. the poor guy had to carry everything, lead the pack, cook, clean, and he gets paid less than our short, chubby guide, omar, who did almost nothing but walk at the back of the group and hit on me... hard. eber was quiet, dignified, unaffected, honest, and skinny as a rail- but pure muscle. omar was loud, hilarious, silly, and had a giant gut the boys made fun of constantly. they were complete opposites, the only thing they had in common were their lovely smiles and that they both made me feel special- eber would shyly grab my hands and call me amiga and would make sure i got food before all the boys went wild, while omar would hilariously hit on me constantly, hugging me and making me laugh. they were nice guys. i just had a lot more respect for eber. he fascinated me. both of them would always help me while i was descending or off a precipice and at first it pissed me off, because i felt like they thought i was the incapable little girl when i was doing just fine without them, but then eoin said they were probably just trying to be gentlemen and i was torn between allowing them to be the gentlemen they yearned to be, and representing women as strong individuals. i ended up giving in and since it was oftentimes harder to do what i was doing with them grabbing my hand, i saw it as more of a challenge instead heh.

anyway, we also saw cocaine being made in the jungle. the man was skkeettchy and looked like he was almost undoubtedly using his own product. he looked at me and licked his chops and i thought i was going to be sick. his ¨lab¨ in the middle of the jungle was a table and a cement patch in which to stomp on the coca leaves- no walls, nothing. it was actually a really gorgeous work environment! i think if people saw what went into cocaine, they mmiigghhhttt think twice about it. sulfuric acid, caustic soda, gasoline, cement powder, carbon, acetone, the dirt of his shoes are just a few of the ingredients i remember. also what was sketchy was how completely unexact his measurements were- if one part is supposed to neutralize another, i doubt with his measurements that that would happen to a great degree. though i must say, his final product WAS clear before adding the other powder. one kilo of coke takes one thousand kilos of coca leaves... crazy. we asked him about people getting killed in the name of cocaine and he just muttered that you have to get used to it. all these people get killed and ruin their lives so that (they can make a load of money and) give the richer a good night out. it made me a little sad.

we found out mid-trek that the company actually PAYS the guerillas to leave us alone. 35000 pesos per person. on one hand, we´re pissed that they get that money from us... on the other, i think we all felt a little safer knowing the guerillas are paid to stay back. kindof funny situation. there was a pool table at a house in the middle of the jungle.

the day up to ciudad perdida and the next day down is pretty hardcore if for no other reason than because you´re struggling through raging rivers up to the small of your back. on the VERY last river we had to cross, as we all rounded the corner to view it, every person let out a ¨you´ve GOT to be kidding me¨... the river was narrow, but obscenely strong. it had been raining for about two hours prior and it was unbelievable the difference two hours of water makes in a narrow river. so eber got halfway across, in front of a rock, and beckoned for me to come. i turned and gave travis a look of ¨errr i don´t know about this¨. he asked me why we couldn´t stay at the place on this side of the river,. i yelled at eber the same question and he started to come back, muttering and shaking his head. on the way back though, his big rubber boots slipped and he grabbed onto the rock. it was then i had a newfound respect for the men wanting to help me- it is just human nature, to want to help even if you know you aren´t helping. so as the current began to take him, i leaned over and tried pulling up his arm, which actually probably made it worst, and the current took him for good, with the 50lbs of food and mosquito nets in the bag atop him.

i was TERRIFIED. i just started yelling ¨o god, o god, o god¨ as we all ditched our packs and ran into the forest, hoping to find him in the water. i tried to not think about it, but as i discovered later, we ALL thought he was dead. i was on the verge of tears. i saw it happen, did nothing, and probably made it worst in trying to help. the heavy rain made it all the more dramatic.

about 15 minutes later, someone spotted him way back at the beginning of the waterfall, clutching a rock with one hand, the food bag with the other, with the tremendous force of the river passing him- he had ¨only¨ dropped about 25 feet, thank goodness. i held my breath the entire time they pulled him up via rope- the guy even tied the food on before himself!! they untied the food and let it take off in the river, and tied him up. he was without any sort of bottoms by this point. when they got him up, i silently cried a little with relief.

he was in shock and hypothermic so we put all our clothes on him, and sleeping bags and warmed up water and put bottles around him while david made the ultimate sacrifice and got down to his boxers and layed beside him. it was all very intense.

two hours later, eber, whom i consider the definition of ¨wudda guy¨, got up.. then walked down the stairs and sat with us... then an hour later, was cooking us dinner with a broken finger. he is probably the toughest person i have ever met- no complaints, no sitting and whining, even embarrassed if anything! i think it´s also cultural, perhaps a little machismo- suck it up and move on. it was impressive. he didn´t work the sympathy and pity of the crowd at ALL. later on, i slipped in some mud and got my clean sandals and socks a little dirty. i let out a quiet ¨ewww¨ and looked up to see eber limping by me in silence. i shut my mouth. later, poor eber got a scorpion bite and about an hour later sat on a bench as it collapsed. jesus cristo.

the lost city was really really gorgeous. there are no buildings, but numerous platforms, all overlooking the misty jungle. it was magical, stunning. i can´t imagine being the first person to find it.

the boys deprived me of the pleasure of the bus game, so we played apples and oranges instead, where you vote one (either apples or oranges) off the planet, and replace it with something else, while discussing the ridiculous reasons WHY it is being voted off, or the pros and cons of each. the boys smoked up at the beginning, so by the end of the game, sex could not be voted off, while the sun, nature, gravity, woman (how they´re having that sex then, i don´t know...), sports and love all got voted off. i laughed so hard- it was utter hilarity. we tried to get eoin, the irishman, to say things about lucky charms and top of the morning to you, but he refused. ¨never in HISTORY has an irish said that.¨ he then told us, in his thick irish accent, that in ireland, on st.patrick´s day, they don´t dye their beer green, or wear green clothes, they just DRINK. ¨you wake up and you start drinkin because there´s no use in doin anything else¨, and his tone became somber and his eyes went into his sad alternate universe, ¨because y´kknnoo it´s gonna be rainin.¨ there was a moment of silence before we all became HYSTERICAL at the poor irishman´s weather report.

some spots on the trek were so humid that our cameras fogged up and we could only take fotos of hazy ghost worlds. unfortunately, one of those days was when the indigenous people of the area didn´t care if we took fotos, so i was pissed that i couldn´t! these people were fascinating- the first time i saw them i was really taken aback. they are like the raw indigenous peoples you see in the movies. wearing burlap sack-like clothes, all bearing long black hair (which means nothing differentiates the sexes, and we often mistook men for women)- SO untouched by modern society, except the strange alien trekkers that pass by once a week.

so a great trek all in all! good people, vistas, exercise. lovely time.

we went back to santa marta and i cleaned myself up. i sat on my bed in my pink room in my underwear between the force of the fan and the wall, and i blew bubbles. to my surprise, the remarkably strong winds did not push the bubbles to their untimely death on the wall opposite, but circulated the bubbles around the room like planets in sporadic orbit. i´ve never seen bubbles so alive. it was endlessly entertaining.

aaannndd the next morning i was off to parque tayrona. i met a guy on the bus who worked there and he took me to the cheapest place- finca (farm) don pedro, in the middle of the jungle as opposed to on the beach. el cabo, the beach an hour´s walk away, was GORGEOUS! in terms of landscape, it was one of the nicest beaches i have ever seen- the huge soft-edged rocks made me feel like i was in a playground full of gigantic (rock-shaped) bouncy balls. i don´t know why. but it was a fun feeling. on my first walk to the beach i crossed paths with an enormous two metre black and yellow snake. i froze, and watched it slowly slither across, and then up a tree. i surprised myself by not running away... but it was actually kindof calming.. in a terrifying way. it was cool to see something so large, likely dangerous and exotic in the wild finally. at the beach i asked a guy with a snorkel if there was much to see in the water. he told me all the stuff and asked me if i wanted to see it. i told him it was okay- i didn´t have a snorkel. he lifted one out of the water. well, why not? then he started giving me signals he´d use. is this a class?! do i need money, because i don´t have any? he did want money, i later found out this was in fact his job, while i was thinking he was a normal guy, but lucky me, i got the awful tour for free. the water was full of sediment, there were barely any fish, and he kept making excuses to touch me that i didn´t like at all. oh well, i tried.

next day i hiked to pueblito (little town) with some random french-translator colombian guy. he was 40 years old, and realized, as he verbalized it, that he could be my father.. and yet STILL told me i was beautiful and he likes me and wants to kiss me. SO WEIRD. WHY?! and before i said any of this, i had no feeling whatsoever that he felt this way. in fact, that´s why i felt comfortable with him- i didn´t feel like he was going to hit on me. goddamn latin men. the hike was good exercise and the forest was nice, but the views were unremarkable and pueblito was a lame version of ciudad perdida. i ditched colombiano on the way out and fled to the beach. he also tried to help me on the hike, but i declined, especially after his comments- he told me it was incredibly rare for colombian women to be independent.

that eve rafael, the guy that manages the people that stay at the farm, and i decided to celebrate our joint birthday. his was the first, mine was the 12th, we were somewhere in between- why not? mixing whiskey with my anti-malarial medication i took for ciudad perdida was NOT smart and i ended up having a horrifyingly realistic dream that we were being invaded by guerillas and i was lurking in the forest, scared to death. i woke up still thinking this had happened. nope, all that had happened was me holding the faucet to the outdoor showers and crying for no reason heh. nevertheless there were really nice people there the night before and we were all friendly and the next morn they all said hi to me cheerfully and were terribly nice and knew my name.. to the point that i thought it was conspiratorial! but that´s colombia: ridiculously nice people all over the place. it´s the first time i´ve agreed with someone´s statement about the niceness factor of a country´s people. they are really phenomenal.

the guys working the farm were incredible too- i felt really good here, really comfortable. almost too comfortable- it got to the point that i felt bad asking for dinner. i talked to them all day long and they were very patient with my spanish and would always make fun of me in fast spanish so i wouldn´t understand them. it was just a really, really good time. i stayed four days because of colombian holidays. when i left, one of the brothers told me, in slow english, ¨come back... and know... that there is... a little piece of heaven.. waiting for you... at finca don pedro¨ with a smile. it was so cute!

back in santa marta i realized how nice it was to have a place where people kindof knew you! the hostel people remembered me as this was my third visit, the deaf laundry lady, the people at the restaurant where i always ask for a special vegetarian order, the guy who has a crush on me across the street, the man who always yells at me when i´m walking and then runs over and kisses my hand. it felt homely!
and then i left.
as always.

now, for random additions:
- i definied mexico and india as having strong culture and i was fought as to what exactly that means. how can one culture be stronger than another? a culture is that culture whatever it is- there is no strength in being itself. he made a good point. at the time i couldn´t explain it, but i have thought about it a lot. i THINK you could say a culture is strong if its sense of tradition is present, and from an outsiders view, there is how distant it is from their own culture. also, how uniform it is- i believe this would be an indication of strength. any thoughts?
- in asia, i couldn´t have cared less if i smelled, how i acted, what i wore, etc... but i have found that here i care a little more. i believe this is because asian culture is SO drastically different from our own, and so far removed that i felt like i was in an alternate universe... where nothing western mattered anymore. central and south america so far is not nearly as different from western culture and so i don´t feel removed, therefore, unfortunately, i still care about normal things at times.
- i love how hot chocolate is a staple in countries that produce it, like guatemala and colombia. it makes me so happy- a dream come true.
- ¨why is that man yelling?¨ i asked.
¨he has demons and his body that need to come out, at every corner.¨ the lady answered in complete sincerity. s´a different world.
- i was soooo excited for november first, day of the dead, and i happened to be in one of the only latin countries that doesn´t celebrate it. i WILL see a day of the dead.. if it kills me. heh get it?
- i spent halloween in the colombian jundle begging my short fat colombian tour guide for chocolate and lollipops.
- no one says ¨mi amor¨ the way a spanish person says ¨mi amor¨. so fluid. i love it.
- i didn´t realize how few latino women sport short hair until i saw a woman with a short cut and was a little shocked myself.
- with enough sugar and milk, i think almost every fruit can taste the same, from tree tomatoes (a citrus! who would´ve thought?) to passionfruit to lulo (whatever it is.. i like it.. it in fact may be the colombian word for passionfruit.. which explains why it tastes the same).
- a lot of vendors thinks that if you say no to a product, they can actually get you to buy it by giving you a blank stare and pushing the object slowly further into your face. the only way to get them to go away is by giving the little ¨you´re invading my space¨ facial twitch, or the quick brow furrow.
- i think i´ve unconsciously developed an unspoken scale of sorts to determine whether my day was satisfying and well-wasted. there´s if i have met people, and then the degree to which i like them, the quality of conversation, if they taught me something really valuable or anything at all, if we connected. then there are activities- seeing one cool thing may be better than seeing a bunch of stupid things, how much i care about it gives more or less points. there´s nature- sometimes the hours spent in it matter, sometimes it just matters how spectaular it was, bearing a spectrum of possibilities. exercise for one hour is okay, but over three hours is much more in the points department. the exoticism or excitement of something also contributes. then there´s random other stuff, like to-do lists getting finished (shopping for a toothbrush, sending postcards or emails) adds to the satisfaction of a day. then it all comes down to sheer quantity- how much of each did i rack up today? and, without mentioning any number, i get the feeling.. it rises... and then it relates back to the scale... and i am either satisfied with my day... or i am not. or somewhere in between.
- i miss all the normal stuff- friends, family, food... and now i can add to it the crunching of autumn leaves, the turning to autumn colours, and pumpkins. *sigh*

adios!