Monkeys and Mountain Lodges (Colombia - Part 2)
The monkey first got my attention by pelting a fruit pit at me - a compilation of tidbits from adventures in Colombia.
Tayrona National Park
The best way to traverse Tayrona is back to front - 3 days, 2 nights. Ask the bus to drop you off at the Calabazo entrance, which is essentially a dirt enclave off the side of the road. It's about an hour walk to the park border, or for the equivalent of $6, you can enlist a local youth to give you a boost on the back of his Yamaha scooter. Isn't it ironic how many times you put your life in the hands of strangers on the road, yet at home won't answer a doorbell?
After 3 hours on foot through jungle, Playa Brava comes into view - a secluded and spartan Garden of Eden. Once per day you have one hour to get all your business done with the external world. After that the Starlink is turned off until the next day. Here the mountains meet the sea, but the current kills.
The next day I made my way through the jungle towards Arrecifes, lost in my own thoughts.
The monkey first got my attention by pelting it's half eaten fruit at me. It missed my head, but barely.
More rustling in the trees. I am far outnumbered by the Capuchin monkeys.
Tiny, curious, and troublemakers, that day they were developing their general theory of gravity - dropping branches one by one and examining the effect.
Making my way back towards civilization, the strange but comfortable howls of the monkeys and bird songs were replaced with people noise on the series of beaches.
Beautiful beaches, but deadly. Literally - it's so notorious for drownings, that there is a sign.
Coffee on a Ledge
A few days before this trip, in a bout of insomnia I read a blogger rave about this one amazing stay in Minca - naturally I had to see it for myself.
The lodge offered transfer door to door for 150k pesos. As if! I haggled my way to a taxi for 70k. #Winning.
The blogger mentioned the mountain road was terrifying, but it really felt like any other mountain road. Well paved, smooth, a bit curvy.
That is until the taxi abruptly stops. The driver tells me this is as far as he can take me, and points down a bumpy dirt road. I get out reluctantly and he drives away.
No cell service. I check my GPS but Google maps isn't even showing this road. It's doing that thing where it just expects you to teleport there.
One would think I travel with one of those giant backpacks that defines the quintessential backpacker experience. One would be wrong.
My trusty Travel Pro suitcase is not just my longest relationship, but is arguably better traveled and hardier than 99% of the world's population. It's been on all continents and all kinds of terrain. We had a rough patch when it almost kamikazed onto the train tracks in Scotland, but we got through it once I apologized for being inattentive.
So I set out on foot, rolling my suitcase on the dirt road, carrying it over the mud pits, all the time coaxing it to not lose a wheel on me.
After about a mile and half I got to the coffee farm, and the road stops. I distinctly remember the listing saying something about a farm, so at least I'm on the right track.
I consult the GPS. I'm still not close. Possibly it's time to ask for directions
For reasons unknown, a couple of police officers were hanging out at the coffee farm. One look at me and they guessed my destination. Asked if I needed a ride.
Yes. Please.
A young lad on a motorcycle appeared, probably not older than 20. 15k pesos (~$5) to get to the lodge.
We strap my suitcase to the back. He puts my backpack on his front. My beloved passport is in my fanny pack, so worst case I can just jump and make a break for it. And so I climb on the motorcycle, sandwiched between my suitcase and a stranger.
Some ten minutes later, all of which I was confused between my feelings of being glad to not be walking and being deeply uncomfortable with the twists and turns of the road, we arrive at Casa Masaya.
The best coffee with a view I've ever had.
Bogota in Graffiti
They say if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. So here's a few pictures of street art in Bogota.
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