The city formerly known as MCOTW

It's never been a better time to visit Medellin. In the city of eternal spring it's 25C all year round. The people are considered to be some of the warmest and most gracious in Colombia, which is impressive by their standards. Its metro system is efficient, the eating options are diverse and it has developed as a hub for modern architecture. Even murder is at an all time low.

Hostel RAM. Terrible name but great setup. In our favorite conspiracy as to how it operates with such low turnover of guests, we are the beneficiaries of an elaborate laundering scheme.

A city desperate to shrug off it's former reputation - in the 90s it was the murder capital of the world - it has apparently transformed since ridding itself of Pablo Escobar almost 20 years ago and we like it immediately. Because as far as first impressions go Medellin strikes an emphatic home run. The weather is hot, the hostel has a pool and it sublets the fronting section of the house to a burger bar. It has undeniably good burgers (Ferg, Tolano get in line) and Nic sees the danger immediately; we will not be eating every meal here, she clearly states.

 Huge claim

But completely justified. Mexican burger, 'rustic' fries and Heinz ketchup. Perfectly seasoned pattie and fresh everything else. Slurped down with free refills! Big win.

Which is fine by me because we've done some research and there's a glut of great places to eat. We'd made lots of plans for our time here because in the month building up to Christmas we'd planned to spend over a week in Medellin. This gets cut back to 4 days after a last minute change of heart in Salento and so a few things get squeezed off the list. But one thing we couldn't miss were the famous Christmas lights. Mostly because there's hardly a horiztonal surface in the city without something luminous draped across it, they are everywhere. With Escobar's millions gone from the economy who knows who's footing the power bill.

Maximising your busking revenue - cars 3 blocks back can see these clowns

Orchideorama in the botanical gardens

The Christmas lights and decorations hung across the city culminate in a several kilometer long stretch of fluorescence along the Rio Medellin. In the evening the locals crowd the river bank and stalls line up along the length of the river selling all sorts of fried foods. We escape the throngs to the higher ground of a highway overpass. The sight is intriguing. There's no doubt the lights are something to behold in a sort of low-tech Las Vegas homage type way, but it's difficult to find the Christmas theme amongst it all. It's as if someone searching in the farthest recesses of the council storage cupboard drew out a string of bulbs depicting a cycloptic, javelin throwing, unicyclist and confused it for a fourth wise man. We catch a cab home and it's all I can manage not to have a nightcap of burger.

 Even if the love between these two fatties could set them free of their bronzed confines, the impracticalities of the romance are plain to see

Artwork by Botero

Possibly the coolest feature of any metro system in the world, Medellin's train system is linked to a gondola that daisy chains between stations on the valley slopes. Ill-conceived Christchurch gondola this is not - it's a legitimate mode of transport for people living in the hillside suburbs that can be ridden on the same cheap metro ticket. The final station, several hundred meters above the base of the valley and nearly 10km from the base station deposits you in a national park which feels far removed from the city. And all in a 15 minute gondola ride. Not a bad alternative to weekday gridlock in a city of 2.3 million.

View back from gondola station. The green strip running across the page at the bottom of the valley is alongside the Rio Medellin.

I'd hoped to write a little bit more about what we did and how much we liked it etc. But it's just gone 11pm, I'm tired and we've got a couple of days of transit ahead of us so I need to get something posted now. Medellin is great and you should go there. Goodnight.

xN&G

Salento, Colombia

Valle de Cocora, Colombia

It's just passing midnight when the bus into Colombia is pulled over and armed soldiers scramble on board. Our efforts to avoid night travel in Cauca province, notorious for guerrilla activity, have been spoiled by slow progress on waterlogged roads. The frightening account we heard from a traveller held at gunpoint on this route looks like it might play out in front of us. Having spent the previous night sleepless with worry Nic's kittens have been had. 

It takes a few frantic moments before we realise that these are the guns of the police, not the guerillas. I get escorted off the bus with the rest of the men on board and get frisked while sniffer dogs inspect the baggage compartment. The women aren't given the same treatment and when Nic's heart rate has recovered she ventures a question to the guy in charge. It's met tersely and brings about an unwanted interrogation about why we're in Colombia. 

Picking the coffee berry

The benefit of being out-of-date with the blog is that we can look back now and mark this as the only time we felt uneasy throughout Colombia. The perception of safety may not always be well-founded but it certainly feels a safe country. There's barely a corner without a policeman posted on it, if that's any measure. And the people are outwardly happy to have tourists in their country. It might not hold water statistically, but in our 3 week study of Colombia it seems possible that living here are 46 million people with nothing but happiness and goodwill for each other. 

Our first fleeting stop is to Cali, the supposed home of Colombia's most beautiful women. Like many of the other big cities in South America we choose to skip through and stealing a few hours sleep in a noisy dorm we head out to Salento the next morning. (But in the two blocks we walked for breakfast Cali's reputation appears justified).

Salento has easily installed itself near the top of our South American highlight reel. We arrive with the intention of spending a couple of nights before heading to Medellin for Christmas but after over a week we still don't want to leave. This is no small part due to the coffee at Jesus Martin cafe. Finally in a continent renowned for the making stuff we get a decent cup. Actually far better than decent. 

Doors of Salento

We also get the chance to produce some coffee of our own. Meeting up with Pedro, a local farmer who grows coffee, we have lunch with his family at their house followed by a tour of the coffee plantation. The farm is not as orderly as you might imagine; the trees are grown wild amongst thickets of other native stuff. It's the kind of model organic operators in other parts of the world try hard to contrive. Pedro then took us through the production process, picking, defleshing, drying, dehusking, roasting, grinding. The end result is us drinking delicious fresh coffee out of white china at the top of the Colombian countryside. It all felt very out-of-context but then this is the beating heart of coffee. It's all my coffee experiences up to this point that have been out of place!

Salento itself is a small, colorful village, surrounded by the green hills of Colombia's coffee growing region. Cowboys in ponchos and wide brim hats roam the streets. As it was Christmas time and approaching the town's anniversary day the central plaza was dotted with marquees for drinking and celebrating. The locals offer warm greetings to each other (and us) in the streets and sometimes stop for welcoming handshakes. The community feel is unlike any other place we've visited.

Local milk tankers

Hummingbird sanctuary, Valle de Cocora

Salento taxis

Twenty minutes away in the back of a jeep is the Valle de Cocora. With cows grazing on the green hillside it could be Waikato except for the spindly wax palms sticking up through the clouds. We make our way around a short loop track through the valley. It's a few days before Christmas and when we stop for a moment after passing beneath the clouds, I spare a thought for those battling it out in the final rounds of Christmas shopping. 

Bolivian hammer pants get one final outing. RIP.

When we decide to stay for Christmas we ask about a private room. They move us into this private wing. Amazing.

Our hostel, which is more like a farm retreat, puts on a huge Christmas dinner. Nearly all the people we meet in the first few days of arriving in the house have made the same decision as us - it's too nice to leave - and it's a full house for a huge meal. In the evening we head down into the town centre where the streets are busy and the celebrations continue into the night.

Christmas morning

Condensed milk with espresso, Jesus Martin cafe

Christmas day banquet

Nothing more traditional than Kenyan chapati bread for Christmas

Later in the evening

xN&G

Baños, Otavalo & making money from thieves

It's New Years day in Cartagena, Colombia and I find myself in the familiar position of trying to write suffering from a heavy bout of imaginative constipation. Less familiar is that it's the Caribbean, it's hot, humid and every pore in my body seems determined to redress the imbalance of liquid consumed last night. Maybe an improbable day to eek out another overdue account of our travels but our shady hostel courtyard is the only refuge from the heat. And it's also an effort to start the new year as I mean to go on - by writing more regularly. It's a weak resolution but then the resolution concept doesn't hold up well to travel. What would we change in year where for 6 months we've done more or less exactly as we pleased each day? (Get a job, spend less, do something with your life, I can hear the bitter, envious and maybe our parents say).

Staring down death

Safe in the knowledge that Ecuador is a world-leader in zip-line standards and conformance

Maybe one thing we could resolve to do is spend less time on the road. From Ayampe on Ecuador's coast it's a day and a half of travel to Banos, tipping our total bus travel over 250 hours. The trip is longer than it needs to be because we accept an offer from an Ecuadorian tour guide returning to Quito. It's not the most direct route for us but it's a free passage and good company. The depressing aspect of an otherwise enjoyable ride through the interior of the country is the pace we make. A sign as we're setting off reads Quito, 343km. I speculate it'll take little under 4 hours. We arrive in Quito at 11pm, 9 hours later. 

The night is spent at our new friend's brother's house in suburban Quito. He evicts his young daughter from her room to free up a bed, puts on a big spread for breakfast and offers to drop us off to the bus terminal the next morning. We accept on all fronts, forgetting that Quito is a long, skinny city stretched out in valley and it takes an hour to arrive at the terminal. Muchas gracias at high frequency is all we can manage to say to let him know how grateful we are. It underlines our thoughts that Ecuadorians seem a welcoming bunch and it's especially noticeable after the mixed attitudes we received in Peru.

We did not take this picture

I'd read about this friendly nature in my last minute research on Ecuador. What I also found was the picture above making headlines on news websites (this one taken from National Geographic, more great shots here). With only a few weeks to spend in the country we'd been weighing up several popular destinations but this made the decision straightforward. We want to see lava. 

Unfortunately the volcano of Tungurahua has settled down by the time we arrive in Banos and my hope of arriving to something resembling Mordor is dashed. We settle for green valleys and waterfalls and a wonderful lodge run by an Australasian couple. It doesn't take long to validate the view held widely amongst traveller's we meet - that you could squeeze all of NZ's population into a biggish room - because as it turns out the owner is the ex-girlfriend of my sister's best friend's husband (get it?). 

Tungurahua at quieter times

When the volcano isn't exploding, Banos is also a popular place for action sports and thermal pools. We're happy to relax for the most part but we spend a day coasting the main road down the valley on mountain bikes. Along the way there are several cable cars spanning the valley and they'll creak and rattle you across to take in the view for only a few dollars. We opt for the gravity assisted option: an 1100m zip-line to the valley floor. The thrill of flying out over the cliff is heightened by not really understanding any of the pre-flight brief in spanish. Or knowing that the frayed harness, rickety pulley system or the plywood launch platform might fail at any moment. Great fun!

Rose Cottage, Otavalo

From Banos we make the journey north towards Otavalo. Nic has carefully scheduled our dates to align with the famous Saturday market. We're in the streets by 7am Saturday morning to witness the madness. It's like the A&P show but stripped of order and pens. Pigs, chickens, cows & goats mingle in a muddy lot amongst the Otavaleños jostling for trade. Toddlers left holding the leads of angry bulls are dragged about. Old women in their indigenous dress traipse through the mud with baby bundles strapped to their backs. On the streets things are slightly less chaotic but it's standing room only in most parts and it covers several blocks in each direction. It's an unimaginable array of handicrafts and apparel, and not hard to see why it earned the reputation as South America's grandest market.

Nic's alpaca jumper

Later in the morning when things have calmed down

But in Otavalo's markets we also get pick-pocketed. It brings our tally of missing items to 3: my pocket knife in Argentina, some cash taken from our hotel in La Paz and now this. It happens in a busy laneway after Nic and I get separated in the throng. It's like tinned sardines anyway, but when she catches up she's in a fluster about a particularly close encounter. The light-bulb turns on when she spots her handbag is open.

Nic ended up buying a yard of rope from this lady to appease her anger at being photographed

As a lesson on vigilance it couldn't have been gentler. The wallet was worth little and there was no more than a few dollars inside. If it was a lucky dip then the thief certainly drew the lemon because alongside the wallet was our phone and camera. And the sweetener on the episode is that my credit card, which was also in the wallet, has a 'stolen card protection' benefit which provides a $200 payout for the inconvenience. Our first income in 6 months and we celebrate with a meal out.

We hope everyone had happy Christmas and NY holidays! We board a yacht to Panama tomorrow so out of contact for a week. Tales from Colombia to follow.

xN&G