sebanddee

Gallery: The jungle trek

sebanddee — Sat, 9 Aug 2008 09:09:00 GMT

Gallery: Cartagena

sebanddee — Mon, 4 Aug 2008 08:46:00 GMT

in 10 days

Seb´s Panamanian vaccination (a.k.a Mr & Mrs Rocky V)

sebanddee — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 09:38:00 GMT

Surely Dee´s Colombian vaccination gave immunity for the both of us from theft, robbery and muggings!? Well apparently not...

We arrived back in Panama City from Bocas a day before our flight back to Colombia and had time to kill. We had heard that there was a nice national park just out of town so we decided to head there for the day. The hostel where we stayed gave us directions for the local bus station which was apparently only twenty minutes walk away on safe streets. Dee wanted to take photos with her big SLR so she put that in her backpack along with a little digital camera and a spare lens. To boot, we couldn´t access the safe at the hostel, nor was a room available for us yet so we had no option but to carry our passports, credit cards, tickets etc as well...

We followed the directions given to us and arrived at the place which seemed to be where the bus station should have been; apart from the fact that the buses were missing! We asked a few people standing nearby where the bus station was and, in true Panamanian form, they were completely disinterested and unhelpful. So, we walked another block but then came to a main arterial road. We could see ahead that there was a dodgy looking neighbourhood so we tried to hail a cab. None would stop... We saw that there was a road which just skirted the dodgy looking area and which should get us back to where we came from so we walked ahead. Coming closer to the area, we could see two guys staring at us from across the road. Our instincts told us that there was something going on. We looked at each other and I said that we should walk in the middle of the road rather than on the foot path and Dee agreed. The hairs were standing up on the backs of our necks as we tried to reach the safer looking ground less than a hundred metres away. Then we heard running feet behind us; this was bad... Suddenly, I felt an arm tighten around my neck in something like a sleeper hold. Things happened so quickly that it is only in hindsight that Dee and I could sort of reconstruct what happened. Dee thought that she could see the guy hold an object against my side (a knife?). "Ey Amigo" the guy who had me around my neck said. I quickly pushed him off and saw a dark guy in his twenties, medium build, along with his friend now standing a few metres away. I looked towards Dee with the backpack on her shoulders: she puffed out her chest (true!!), looked at the guys and said "HEY, HEY, HEY, DON´T MESS WITH US!!" That´s my girl!! All the while, a middle-aged man was walking in the same direction as us no more than five metres away and he did nothing to come to our aid. I don´t have a clue why but the guys actually looked scared of us and started retreating... We hurriedly walked towards the safe area keeping a close watch behind us.

Panting, hearts racing and full of adrenaline we looked at each other wide-eyed. "How the hell did we get away with that!?" we asked each other. We have gone over the incident so many times since then and are still not sure. Luckily it was probably a combination of two disorganised assailants, us actually fighting back and making noise and the fact that we were so close to a safe area. More than anything though the most disappointing thing with the whole event was that a local saw what was happening to us and did nothing to help. Irregardless, hopefully that´s the end of vaccinations for the both of us...

Panama!? What the...!?

sebanddee — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 13:17:00 GMT

How Random. By now we were supposed to have left Colombia, visited the Galapagos and be strapping on our ski boots in Chile. Instead, we find ourselves on the Carribean coast of Panama after having been invited to sail from Cartagena to Colon by Derek who we randomly me a couple of weeks ago on a street in Cartagena! We arrived in the pouring rain to Colon which is aptly named as it must be very close to the asshole of the world. Colon is the Carribean entrance to the Panama canal which goes through lake Gatun and then exits at Panama City on the Pacific side. We moored at a marina some 20 miles from central Colon on land which used to belong to a big US military base until 1999 when they officially handed the canal back to Panama.

Panama itself has a really interesting modern history. It is central America's wealthiest country and, being a trade-hub, it is quite a multicultural place with notable amounts of people with Arabic, Jewish and Chinese descent. Panama was formed as recently as 1903 when it broke off from Colombia and was supported by the U.S largely because of its strategic and financial importance given the building of the canal. It had the usual central American history of several military dictators and coups; Manuel Noriega being the last and most infamous. He was originally closely supported by the US and was on the C.I.A payroll for opposing the communist Sandinistas in Nicaragua as well as being involved with the D.E.A in regards to drug enforcement issues. Unfortunately, he was also working directly with a number of drug cartels... On top of this, he refused to recognise his loss in a democratic election in 1989 and retained power by force. In response, the U.S took it upon themselves to invade Panama under Operation Just Cause and apprehended Noriega and instated the democratically elected leader, Guillermo Endara. Somewhere between 500 and 5000 lives were lost. From 1989 onwards the country has lived in relative peace and democracy and is very much booming financially at present.

We expected Panama to have a similar national psyche to Colombia (ie welcoming and super friendly) but nothing could be further from the truth. In complete contrast to the Colombians, in general we found the Panamanians to be quite gruff, very unhelpful and completely disinterested in you as a visitor to their country. It is a shame but when you get met with such an attitude, it is hard not to respond in a similar way. We spoke about it to a Jewish business man who we met on night and his take on it was that Panama is a country with very little cultural identity given that it was essentially created to facilitate trade and that its people have been manipulated and used by visiting traders notably the U.S (As well as directly meddling in their politics). His view was that this has created a group of people who are quite discontented, have little pride in their past and have a disregard for people who visit their country. Makes sense.

It is a real shame because the country has an amazing natural beauty. The San Blas Islands which we visited on the journey from Colombia must be the prettiest Islands I have ever seen. Nature is just on the footsteps of the major cities: just outside the marina near Colon, you could see monkeys in the trees and watch sloths trudge past.

We thought that we might as well explore a bit of Panama before heading back to Colombia so we said our farewells to Derek, Caroline and Joe (and to my tube of Flitz; I never knew polishing could be so fulfilling) and headed off. We essentially bypassed Colon apart from its bus station as it has a bad reputation of being a dangerous place; you pretty much can´t walk anywhere apart from the two main streets as a whitey. On the way through the marina we stopped and viewed the canal. It is an awesome site with each lock measuring 301ftx1001ft and the ships being specially constructed for the dimensions of 300x1000 just squeezing in. The ships tower over the surrounding jungle and are pulled into the lock by several trains, the lock is closed and filled, water is pumped in and the ship rises to the level of the next lock and the gates are opened. It took 34 years to build the canal and took the lives of almost 28,000 people (who mainly died of malaria and yellow fever). Today, it is the lifeline of the booming economy in Panama after being handed back by the U.S 9 years ago. 5% of world trade goes through this small stretch of water and major expansions have started.

After having left the Carribean coast side, we arrived on the other side of the country in Panama City on the Pacific Coast and checked into another cheap, dodgy hotel. It took us no more that a few hours to walk around the old town (which is pretty cool), see the commercial centre and realise that the city has little to offer. Having said that, it was Saturday night and it would be rude not to party! We emailed the guys from the Dragonera who promptly hired a car and then joined us for a night on the town. Unfortunately, Panamanians imfamous unhospitality extended to the club scene; few smiles and plenty of machismo... Again, it seemed that, just like in Cartagena, every pretty girl Joe spoke to was a Colombian hooker. Poor Joe.

We had a week or so left in Panama and decided to explore the northern island region of Bocas De Toro. After a bit of disagreement we settled on flying rather than going for the cheap option of bus for 10hrs so that we wouldaeeive for my brithday on the 22nd (wut my Jewish heritage I was of course the one who wanted to go on the bus!). Well, that flight was probably the scariest flight that either of us has ever been on... The plan was built 40yrs+ ago, twin prop and looked like it was going to snap off a wing at any time. Add to that an electrical storm and the fact that the plane couldn´t rise above it and you get the picture... We kissed the ground when we landed! A short boat ride away and we arrived at the place which Dee had organised for my 30th. Eclypse Del Mar had four beautiful bungalows built right over the water; paradise! You could dive straight off your balcony into the water and watch the fish swim by through the viewing window in the floor. We took a boat trip to visit a few other islands (nice but nothing compared to San Blas) but mainly just chilled out together. After a couple of perfect days we headed back to the main island of Isla Colon and back to Backpacker reality... Bocas Town on Isla Colon is a funky little place where the people remind you more of Jamaicans than Panamanians (they speak with a West Indian creole accent for some reason) and there are plenty of restaurants and shops painted in bright pastel colours built over the water. More relaxing, eating and generally lazing about was had here.

We caught the bus back to our favourite Panama city in preparation for our flight back to Colombia. Little did we know that we were about to get an even worse taste for the place...

Cartagena for a night or ten

sebanddee — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 11:58:00 GMT

From the backpacker hangout of Taganga we headed to Cartagena. It has been described as one of the most beautiful and vibrant cities in South America and I can understand why! It is an ecclectic mix of Caribbean, African and Spanish tastes and sounds. It was built almost 500 years ago as a main port to which the Spaniards brought their plundered treasures from the deep of the Americas to be shipped back to Europe. A series of forts protected it from the sea and the city was surrounded by high walls. Throughout history it was attacked by pirates, the French and the English. It was sacked a couple of times but most often withstood attacks including in the 18th century when 27,000 British troops were held out by 2000 Cartageneros lead by a one eyed, one legged, one armed commander named Blaz de Lego (true)!

After staying a night in the dodgiest, seediest street in the dodgiest, seediest part of town, we decided to move into the historical centre. There we found a clean and cheap hotel: even cheaper than the night before... Well, we soon learnt why when we saw couples coming in and paying for an hour or two and also noticed that the mattress was covered with vinyl! Yep, a love hotel. Nice. The whole situation normalised and we ended up staying for more than a few nights.

A few days before arriving in Cartagena, we had been day-dreaming about sailing and how, if possible, it would be cool to crew on a yacht during our travels. Cartagena seemed like a logical option so we typed up a notice; "Young Dr and Nurse available to crew, ocean experience (We didn't say sailing experience) and physically fit, fluent English and Swedish (they might think hot Swedish nurse- but they won't be completely wrong..), Basic Spanish and Japanese (did I mention Swahili?), Easy going". So, with notices in hand, we marched to the closest marina. "Es Privado", we were told by the guard holding a standard issue shotgun in hand. Bugger. We continued to the next marina and, along the way, I saw a young guy who was obviously a yachtie. We stopped him and asked him about where we should put our notices etc. He probably thought that we should put them were the sun don't shine but he humoured us and gave us some info in regards to this. It turned out that his name was Derek and he was the captain of a yacht that had just arrived. We kept chatting and he thought Dee was hot so he suggested we meet up with him and the rest of the crew for drinks later that night.

The place arranged for drinks was a bar perched up on the old fortification overlooking the town with a DJ booth situated in an old guard post and smells wofting from the open grill. Very cool! We waited for them to arrive, had dinner and waited some more but they never showed up; stood up!! That hasn't happened to me since 1986... (ie primary school). As we were about to leave, they came through the entrance and Derek introduced us to Caroline (Canadian), Joe (NZ), and Vivian (Bequian - a small Carribean island near St Vincent). We ordered a bottle of rum and the night set off from there. They told us that the boat they were crewing was a big yacht owned by a wealthy American who rarely used it... They turned out to be a really cool bunch and the night cracked on with more rum, salsa (interpretive white-man version apart from Viv's famous Bequia Wiggle) and a little more rum...

We awoke in out little love hotel the next morning a little worse for wear and decided to try to walk off our hangover by strolling through the old town. The old buildings, small squares and narrow streets are completely spectacular. That afternoon we went down to the marina, waved hi to the guard with his shotgun and strolled through to the dock this time. The guys welcomed us onto the yacht; an immaculate, very stylish wooden 74ft ketch with beautiful teak decks... Because our hangover wasn't bad enough from the night before, the partying began again... Dee had as a mission to set Joe up with one of the very pretty Colombian girls in the bar where we ended up. It became evident that 90% of the girls were hookers... what the!? Poor Joe. The night got crazier and crazier and, suffice to say, the sun was rising when we left the last place.

With out hangovers well and truly set in, we vowed not to party ever again.. for at least a few days. We spent much of the coming days with the guys from the yacht. It was just one of those sitauations where we all got along really well. We had BBQ's on their boat, went to a hot mud volcano where we drenched ourselves in the thick, chocolate-like liquid and had dinners around town. Good times!

The days just seemed to roll by and we kinda lost track of time. One evening we came back to our love hotel to be accosted by a big, burly latino guy who seemed to know a lot about us for someone who we had never met. We were polite, made ourselves scarce and went back to our room. About five minutes later we could hear him trying to line up a dorky American guy to be a drug-mule into the US! The whole love hotel concept was OK but big drug deals going on outside our room was a few too many stages from OK... The next morning I left Dee in bed and went out to find a place for us to spoil ourselves for a night or two (sometimes you get enough of grungy digs!). I came across an unbelievably nice little hotel in a 300 year old refurbished building which was straight out of Vogue Magazine. I told the owner that it was a suprise for my girlfriend and she gave me a good deal (It turns out that she misunderstood my very average Spanish and thought that we were getting engaged!). I went back to the hotel and lied to Dee that the Police were going through the hotel and it all looked really dodge and that I thought we should leave immediately. I've never seen Dee move so quickly! She thought that we were going to another crappy place so her eyes really lit up when she saw the new place. We spent a great couple of days there just chillin'. So good, in fact, that Derek and Caroline (who had recently hooked up) got wind of it and moved in too! The four of us has a fantastic lunch by the poolside on the roof. We were talking about out plans to move on in our travels heading south. Shortly thereafter, Derek suggested that we should join them on their next leg on the yacht bound for Panama... Dee and I looked at each other, struggled for words "Uhm, yeah, aah, Uhm, I mean, that would be fantastic..." Derek told us to think about it.. yep we had thought enough!

Within a day or two we were kneeling on the teak deck with Flitz (polish) in hand, polishing every last bit of stainless we could see in our new roles as pseudo-crew. We had to pinch ourselves to check that this had all happened...

Palomino

sebanddee — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 10:09:00 GMT

After six days in the jungle, soggy and underfed we decided to stay somewhere nice (as a change from the usual cold shower and hammock or even more luxurious vinyl-clad bed category of accommodation). A friend that we made in Bogotá had mentioned a place called Tuchi in Palomino, which is unknown by foreign tourists and more frequented by Colombian tourists. It’s a shoreline with coconut palms and old broken wooden canoes located on the Caribbean ocean.

To get there we took a typical brightly painted local bus which was full because of a Colombian public holiday. Seb and I sat at the back of the bus where we were entertained by a family of about eight women who were on their way to visit a family beach farm. Together we filled the entire back of the bus! One of the ladies pulled a bottle of Aguadiente (an aniseed liquor similar to ouzo but better!) from her bag and generously insisted that we have shots with them. These women warmly embraced our (I’m sure) charming Spang-lish encouraging more and more conversation until we realised that two hours on the bus had passed very quickly and we had arrived at Palomino.

In the main street we asked several shopkeepers for directions to the Tuchi Hotel, all of which had never heard of such a place. We had assumed (number one backpacker rule: never assume!) that we could get off the bus and jump in a taxi which would take us to the hotel. All the taxis in this area were motorbikes and couldn’t take a passenger with luggage. The bigger problem was that the motorbike taxi driver had also never heard of Tuchi Hotel!

We were then approached by a suspiciously well dressed Latino man in his late 50’s who offered to help us by taking us to his friends backpacker-hammock style place. Worried that his good gestures would lead us down the garden path so to speak, we declined and agreed to take a mud map from him and find the place ourselves. (Life rule number one; Trust no bastard!). In hindsight he was simply being generous and helpful much like many other Colombians we had already come across on our travels so far.

With 22 kilos each on our backs and 35 degree humid heat without a breath of wind we headed down ¨the garden path…¨ which after a few kilometres took us past a rubbish tip, and onto a deserted white sandy beach. Another few kilometres down a sandy beach we came across the Tuchi himself! The owner of the hotel that thankfully did exist is named Tuchi!

He made us feel very welcome and shared with us over the few days a collection of stories about his wife and children and how he came to develop the very unique and rustic two story bungalows.

I especially enjoyed the characteristic out door bathroom/shower. All of our meals were from a set menu and were prepared traditionally including fish and prawns and salad.

The bungalows were set back from the beach and in a loose semi circle form around a massive tree with strong branches. From the branches hung old black iron candelabras which provided just enough light at night to make underneath the tree a social chill out area. There was a large decked area with coloured bean bags for you to sip a cocktail while listening to Café del Mar. This was really really funky! We have some plans of our own to create this in our own back yard…When we have one…

Taganga

sebanddee — Tue, 8 Jul 2008 10:06:00 GMT

Taganga is a little old fishing village only 20 minutes from Colombia’s third largest Caribbean port, Santa Marta.

We found ourselves unwinding here before and after our jungle trek to the lost city. Taganga is one of those classic, cruisy backpacker destinations where a sandy bay provides shack style restaurants and unofficial looking cafes. We spent a few nights catching up with the crew from the trek. This entailed a little salsa dancing, plenty of beer and of course pizza.

During the day we swam in the ocean, witnessed Spain kick Germany’s ass in the Euro Cup and ate really yummy baguettes. Yes I know life can be tough…

Two or three days here was enough though, not only because there is only so much lazing around that Seb and I can actually enjoy but also because it is just a little too cliche and backpackeresque. It is one of those traveller hangouts that you could transplant into any other country and it would be just the same. In other words, it doesn´ t have a lot to do with the culture of the country within which it is found. As an example, there is a long history of Israeli backpackers who stay for long periods of time. So much so that they even have an Israeli restaurant and many of the menus and signs around the town are written in Hebrew... It was nice for a while but it was definitely time to move on after a few days.

Jungle Boogie

sebanddee — Wed, 2 Jul 2008 10:14:00 GMT

Jungle Boogie; A six day hike through the Colombian jungle in search of the Ciudad Perdida.

(The Lost City)

The Sierra Tours sale pitch described their guides as being very experienced, well equipped and the

most prestigious of all guided tours to the Ciudad Perdida. Sam, Kate (an English couple we have

befriended) Sebastian and I bargained the salesman from 480,000 pesos down to 400,000! What a

bargain! Well, we soon learnt why...

When we arrived at the meeting place where our journey would begin by vehicle for 2 hours, there

were 10 other people who had been sold the tour also! So now we were 14 people trekking together

for six days. Not quite what we had expected or what we were sold...

So we all begin to board a minivan and it becomes obvious that we weren't all going to fit.

Hadn't this company already thought of this? No... A taxi is hailed and 3 of the group, including

myself get into the taxi.

At this point it is already obvious that the company has squeezed as many people as possible onto

one tour with one guide to maximise return at the expense of comfort, quality and as we later learnt

, safety.

In the taxi were Jason and Ryan, Canadian guys who religiously believed in the motto 'hair of the

dog' and were persuading me to drink beers with them for breakfast on the way to the starting

point of the hike. Hilarious!

One hour later, We arrive at a military check point where we were greeted by very large Israeli

made automatic weapons. They were casually slung over the shoulder of every military guy in sight.

Our names were checked off a list and we were given the OK to enter the village. Here we boarded a

couple of very cool, old (1970's) Jeeps, which took us a further hour through a village; not quite

jungle yet. Halfway through this journey the driver noticed we had engine trouble, pulled over

and opened the bonnet of the Jeep. The most obvious choice of material to solve this engine problem

was, of course, an onion bag! People are so much more resourceful here! And within minutes we were

off and racing again. The boys had also passed me another beer at this point.

The temperature was mid thirties with extreme humidity. We walked only 3 hours to where we spent our

first night but it felt like a full day of heavy hiking due to the intense climate and steep, muddy

mountain slopes. The nearby waterfalls and beautiful swimming lagoons quenched our thirst for coolness.

The group dynamics developed quickly and we were happy to be a part of such an interestingly hilarious

and well balanced group of travellers. (see the portraits of each group member attached to our story).

Ryan and Jason wore perpetual smiles, and made light of the many sticky situations we encountered.

They often made off the wall comments or gave a really bizarre perspective of life,

bringing the whole group together with lots of loud from the belly laughing.

This may also have something to do with the fact that both boys enjoyed a joint at each rest stop,

using an old glow-in-the-dark Frisbee bought from a garage sale in Canada, to chop and roll their joints on!

The next few days were much the same, although the trekking varied between long periods of hot

steep, open-aired ascents and long periods of humid jungle covered descents. The jungle was lush

green and a nice place to zone out from the city. The days varied between 4 and 5 hours after day

one and were always rewarded with waterfalls to bathe in and a hammock to rest for the night.

We often came across military check points where the military were camping out,

controlling/monitoring large portions of land. One particular photo I’ll add here is where you

can see hectares of cleared land. It was explained that these (and there were many more of them)

are areas where the military have eradicated the farmers´ coca crops only one year ago.

We were told that the military presence is to deter the FARC and to ensure that the farmers

begin to grow new crops; coffee, maize, bananas, avocado etc. One farmer told us that, according

to him, many farmers actually prefer to grow alternative crops as the production of cocaine is very

involved and quiet a complex method. A method where in the end the farmers are not making the money

but the real drug lords who export tonnes of the finished product are.

I won't mention the food very much. The company skimped a little considering the number of people on

the trek, so it was a lot of beans, rice and egg. Pedro was the name of our cook, and is the son

of the man who our company paid to trek through areas of his land. Pedro is 22 years old and

incredibly keen to learn and practice English. He quickly became Seb's private English student and

they spent time together each evening by candle light conversing in basic Spanish and English. They

were both (Seb & Pedro) very adorable.

The water to drink was not supplied so we were drinking from jungle waterfalls (luckily Kate and Sam

had enough chlorine tablets to share with us). We were served cordial with meals and the water was

not treated. This is probably why 5 of the 14 people in our group had diarrhoea and vomiting

(of course, I was one of them; I thought Kenya would have given me immunity or something, damn!).

Day four was probably the most memorable of all. By now virtually everything in our packs

was drenched save a T-shirt or two wrapped in garbage bags. Eduardo (our guide) had

informed us that we needed to be hiking by 6am in order to manage to cross

the river on three separate occasions before the afternoon rain raised the water level making it

impossible to cross. In true "Hasta manana" style, they were still

preparing breakfast at 8am. This was always going to end badly...

The first time we approached to cross the river the group stood back waiting

for instructions on how we were going to tackle this with our backpacks etc. We noticed that the

porters had absolutely no idea what they were doing and that our bags were going to end up going

down the rapids never to be seen again. (please refer to photo of this crossing for true imagery

of the event). After standing back and politely watching the event taking place for over an hour

, a rope became loose and two backpacks owned by the Israeli couple (Janeef and Or) plunged

into the water and were quickly carried away by the rapids. Seb (of course, our hero…not)

and Pedro (truly heroic and good natured) ran after the packs catching up with the drenched

belongings about a few hundred metres downstream. The Israelis could not revive an ipod or digital

camera, but were actually very very calm about the whole situation (Yes, calm Israelis!)! At

this point every one in the group moved in close and completely took over the river crossing mission

from the guide and porters. All politeness became a gesture of the past. It’s needless to say that

the remainder of the luggage made it across the river beautifully,

and we were all beaming with the satisfaction of

great team work and accomplishment,for the while at least...

We hiked onwards coming eventually to a small Indian village

where Coca plants grew arond the houses and the men carried small

containers containing a powder made from Coca and another plant which

gave them energy (surprise) and quenched their hunger. You could see

that they weren´t overly keen to have us there which I can understand

si we moved on. By now the rain had just started to sprinkle and we

still had another two river crossings... Fortunately, the second river

crossing was easy and we hiked onwards in the streadily increasing

rain. We could see the river increasing in height in front of our eyes

as we walked along its jungle-clad bank.

By the time we got to the spot to do the final crossing the river had turned into a

torrent. Eduardo looked worried and shook his head; "No podemos cruizar" (we can´t

cross). He continued to explain that we had no choice but to sleep the night on the

side of the river since the river crossings behind us were now also too high to pass.

Hmmm, monsoonal rain, no shelter, minimal food, lots of mosquitos a muddy jungle twine

covered slope. Good combination. Eduardo and the porters started to machete down a

few small trees to make a shelter and we helped by cutting down palm fronds and vines

for the roof. Dee and a couple of the other girls started to tie the vines to the

wood and thatch the fronds onto it (have a look at the pics!). Janeef and I asked

the guides a little earlier whether there was anywhere else upstream where we could

cross and the answer was no so we all had accepted out fate for the next 12 hours or

so... About an hour into building our shelter though, Eduardo came crashing through

the jungle excitedly shouting that he had found a place for us to cross! It turned

out that it was only 20 metres from where we were standing. Oh yes, a team of

experienced guide and porters they weren´t indeed.

Our group easily crossed at the new spot, macheted our way through 200m or so of

jungle and then the 2000 hand-carved stone steps leading up to the Ciudad Perdida

stood in front of us. It was majestic to climb the little steps made for tiny

barefoot indians rather then size 12 gringo feet with thunder and lightning all

around. Soon the jungle cleared somewhat and we were surrounded by immuculate stone

walls with circular living areas where the Tayronas built their houses.

Completely saturated, we arrived at the long house and celebrated with the rum we

had lugged through the jungle. The mattresses had bed bugs and a less than

respectful Austrian girl decided to sleep under a crackling space blanket all night

waking us with her every move. Regardless, we were happy to be dry and sleeping

under a roof!

In the morning we got up and walked around the Ciudad Perdida. It was built by the

Tayrona people in around 700AD as the political, religious and trading centre of the

culture. By 1600 the Tayrona people were almost completely wiped out by the invading

Spanish conquistadores. The city disappared under jungle growth until 1973 when

tomb looters found the site. It was officially refound in 1975 and the first

tourist began to come in 1984.

Again, better organised guides in other groups made sure that they left early enough

to cross the river but we didn´t start hiking until it was late enough to get stuck

again... Thankfully the rain decided not to fall as heavily that day and we made

it back to the closest longhouse. The group had really bonded by this time

throughout our ordeal and it was nice to hike and chat. The last night was spent

lying in hammocks with the caretakers celebrating a daughter´s 14th brithday by

playing disastrous Bayenato music. Yep, that slit your wrists accordion genre that

the Colombians love which is always about guy-meets-girl-guy-is-cool-guy-has-to-

leave-girl-gets-upset played from five in the afternoon until we left the next

morning! We cruised the next day, had a final lunch where we had begun our trek six

days earlier and were then informed that one of the 4wd´s had broken down and

that we would have to travel the last hour and a half as half a group while the

other half waited thereby adding 3 hours to the time when we could have a warm

shower and dry, clean clothes. We were 14 angry people by then and the company

quickly realised that this wouldn´t be an option so they russled up a bunch of

guys to double half the group on motorbikes!

We got back to the beachside town of Taganga smelling like wet dogs, disappointed

with the level of organisation but happy with the experience and the people we had

come to know.

The friendly country

sebanddee — Tue, 1 Jul 2008 10:04:00 GMT

We have now been in Colombia for three weeks and the genuine friendliness and warmth of the place has enchanted us just as much as the poverty and violence has confronted us. We have been invited to house parties and to people´s houses in little villages, partied at the back of buses with the locals feeding us Aguardiente (aniseed flavoured spirit), been given lifts, had numerous offerings of assistance should we ever get in trouble while we are in the country and had fantastic conversations with people we have met along the way. More than anything though, is the real interest that people show in you here and the willingness to break down barriers that may exist. We have wondered how a country with six decades of gruesome civilwar and a merciless drug trade can maintain such warmth and friendliness. Maybe it is through this that they have maintained their humanity and sanity whilst tragedy is occuring all around them. In a conversation today, both Dee and I concluded that neither of us had ever travelled to a country where we felt so welcome and such warmth. It is quite ironic when you think about many of the preconceived ideas we had before we arrived.

Gallery: San Gil

sebanddee — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 04:17:00 GMT

White-water and sleepy villages

sebanddee — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 09:15:00 GMT

What a contrast from the chaos that is Bogota! When we arrived in San Gil, a town of about 40,000 some 6hrs (but only 250km!) from Bogota, the locals were enjoying the balmy evening by sitting in the town square, chatting away and drinking cerveza. Although it was a place of much violence in the 40s and 50s, it is a peaceful and relatively wealthy place now thanks to the rich farmlands in the surrounding valley. After three attempts at making it up the phenomenally steep hill leading to our hostel, our conked-out taxi finally puttered to the distination with that fantastic (sarc!) accordion music blaring so loud that it must have been the actual cause of the lack of horses under the bonnet. San Gil is becoming known as Colombia´s adventure sports capital. Dee already has one up on me in that she has rafted the biggest, most dangerous commercially rafted river in the world; the White Nile in Uganda. So, when the offer came up to join a group on a class 4 and 5 river, I had no choice but to accept...

With reggae-tone coming load from the stereo (music and latinos go hand-in-hand and it has gotta be load!!) our motley crue headed towards river, thankfully in company of most of the Colombian rafting team! After frantically trying to remember all the commands like ¨high side left, left forward-right back..¨ we headed towards certain destruction down the rapids. What a buzz!! You get thrown around like a cork in a wild ocean holding on for your life to your flimsy rubber raft...awesome!! To make it better, the pictures and video make it look far more scary than it was; I only had to change my undies once.

Apart from the adrenaline rush activities, there are also some really quaint little villages nearby. We visited one of these with a group of guys from the hostel. On one of the cobble-stoned streets amongst the pastel coloured houses we met two elderly men who we started talking to. They told us of another village one and a half hours walk away; they would show us the way and then we could visit one of their houses to see some artwork which one of the men´s wife had painted. Instantly our alarm bells rang; what was the catch? Regardless, we started walking with the eldest of the men who, at the tender age of 78, was tearing up the track at the helm. At each point that the road met the path the other man waited in his car to see that we were OK. We felt suspicious but continued and eventually arrived at a beautiful sleepy village called Guane. We were lead to one of the men´s houses who was evidently pretty wealthy judging by the size of the place and his possessions. We met his wife and daughter, had a drink, saw his wife´s artwork and spoke about Colombia. No catches, just genuinely friendly, hospitable and curious people. The daughter, who turned out to be a medical student, even offered to show us around a hospital in Medellin where she was studying! Neither Dee nor I don´t know if we have ever been to a friendlier country than this..

Dee's Colombian Vaccination

sebanddee — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 06:42:00 GMT

As i am not as avid a writer as Seb, my entries will be short, concise and to the point.

After a Spanish lesson in Bogota last week I received what the local Colombians describe as a "Colombian Vaccination". For those of you who are much like Sebastian and I (unsuspecting tourists) this is what happens....

While standing at a crowded set of traffic lights, waiting to cross the road, a man on my left spat a large lugie/spit which landed as perfectly as bird poo would on the left side of my neck. I raised my hand to my neck to feel what the wetness was. I looked down at my fingers which now had spit dripping from them. I thought to myself, this is really strange and VERY disgusting and alerted Seb to my findings. (I also share information with him that, "I'm suspicious that something is about to happen"). Next I feel a hand in the right side of my jacket pocket.

AH Ha! Just as I suspected, something was about to happen! Although all of this felt like super slow motion!!!!! I slapped the intruding hand and yelled an almighty "HEY!". As this all occurred Seb managed to get a sure view of the man and woman involved in my "vaccination" and managed to grab them while i was furiously washing the spit from my neck and fingers in a nearby bathroom.

He held the woman by her arm and somehow, in very broken Spanish said that he had seen what she was trying to do. He took her to the closest policeman, who called on several other policeman. All of a sudden we were surrounded by a large crowd of people, many of whom witnessed the event and were explaining in Spanish to the Police on our behalf. They were almost all local students from the nearby universities. The Policeman was very apologetic and explained that Colombia is a good country and not to leave because of this event.

The woman continued to deny the allegations and the Police took her in for further questioning. We walked away a little shaky with an immediate onset of decreased appetite! Adrenaline is amazing!

When we arrived back at the hostel and shared the story with the hostel owner Herman, (who is Colombian) he described this as being my Colombian vaccination!

DEE

Spanish lessons, Salsa and Bodyguards

sebanddee — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 13:34:00 GMT

We decided to get some basic Spanish before doing anything else so we phoned a number on an add for Spanish tutoring in the hostel which we are staying on the day we arrived. It turns out that Javier, the tutor, is moving to Byron Bay with his Aussie girlfriend in September! Small world... So, he has struggled through a week´s worth of 3-hour lessons with the two of us; poor bugger! Now we are armed with the basic rules of Spanish but unfortunately "year" and "arse" sound almost alike as does "egg" and "juice" so we have been insulting a few poor colombians and getting some interesting breakfasts...

It has been awesome to have met Javier who has really taken us under his wing. He is close to out age and it turns out that he used to be a bodyguard in his home country of Peru (including to the peruvian president), then got the shits with the state of affairs in the government and opened a small bar in Cuzco. He took us along to a houseparty on the weekend where the whole party ended up on the top story of an amazing colonial house and danced salsa late into the night... Dee must have a substantial amount of latino in her because, boy can she move (seb writing)!! Seb however, might need a little help before he is let out on the dance floor again...

First impressions of Bogota

sebanddee — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 13:27:00 GMT

In three words Bogota could be described as confronting but stimulating. Even our landing at the airport could be described as such; Clouds shrouded the peaks surrounding the city as the pilot (clarify, learner pilot:I was wondering what the big yellow ´L´ was for when we came aboard) did a crash dive for the runway as the latina next to us was praying to Mr J only to end with the whole plane applauding when we landed on mother earth again with a fairly substantial thud. Our near death experience continued when we left the airport with a taxi driver who was definitely convinced that Alain Prost learnt his skills on the roads of Bogota. They are absolutely mad on the streets here! From all the warnings we had heard before arriving, we were convinced that we were going to be mugged on the way to the hostel which is a real shame because in hindsight the cab driver was trying to give us a really warm Columbian welcome (I think 100km/hr in the rain, ducking and weaving through traffic means love). To tell the truth, people are super friendly here.

Bogota lies at 2600m above sea level and has a population of anywhere between 7 and 9 million (public data aint that fantastic here). On a map the city looks fabulously organised but on ground level it is a chaotic mess of streets, laneways, mad traffic and heavy smog. It is suprisingly cold with an average temp of 14C despite being so close to the equator. The inequality of Colombian society is confrontingly obvious when you arrive. There are an incredible amount of people living on the street who await very well-to-do Colombian business men leaving their offices to beg for a few pesos. In most Western countries, the vast majority of homeless people have ended up on the streets because of mental illness or drug habits but, in contrast, many of the people here are living rough because they are "Desplazados" (which means displaced person). It is estimated that there are 3.8 million displaced people out of a total population of 43 million within Columbias own borders. This is the second largest group of displaced people in the world second only to Sudan! These people have been forced from their homes due being caught in the middle of a complex and several decade old struggle between left-wing guerillas, right-wingparamilitaries, drug cartels and the army. It is a really sad and hopeless situation. As you would guess crime is a big problem here: you can´t move around on the streets freely at night but have to use taxis for safety, pickpockets are common and some areas are complete no-go zones. I happened to go for a jog the other day and ended up in a fairly dodgy Barrio (neighbourhood).. so I found out later.

This is not to say that the place is all doom and gloom. People are great and keen to get to know you, we have made a good mate in our Spanish teacher and there are plenty of good bars and Cafe´s. Despite its shortcomings, the city has a really nice feel with the main street being shut off on Fri and Sat night for a big street party and on Sundays for jogging and bike riding.

We´ve added a couple more short stories about our first week here in Bogota so check ´em out! Unfortunately, there are no photos yet because we have been too worried about having our cameras stolen to take them out on the town!!

Ham and Cheese Budget- Nooooot!

sebanddee — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 11:28:00 GMT

OK, what´s wrong with this: S.America backpacker budget + Euro pricetag...
Our backpacking really kicked in here. Well actually, our first taste was when we arrived in the UK on the way to Warsaw where a conductor informed Dee that it would cost her 35 quid to get from Heathrow to Gatwick. After almost collapsing, she regained her composure and quickly started to haggle with him!! I think that she got Hanoi and Heathrow confused!!

We arrived in Madrid and were greeted by a gaggle of happy hookers right outside our lodging. What a fabulous welcome back to backpacking after the relative luxury of Warsaw! The days were spent walking around Madrid, going to a few museums as well as heading out to Toledo, a small medieval citadel with small weaving cobblestoned streets and a really good feel. According to Dee the absolute highlight was attending a performance of interpretive dance where flamenco meets ballet. Now that was hours (or 2h13m to be exact) of fun.

After 5 breakfasts at 12€ for average coffee and ham&cheese toasties we jumped on the plane to Colombia...

Gallery: Bogota

sebanddee — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 04:00:00 GMT

First impressions

Gallery: Poland & Spain

sebanddee — Sun, 8 Jun 2008 23:04:00 GMT

Around the world in 36 hours...Warsaw here we are!

sebanddee — Sun, 8 Jun 2008 23:00:00 GMT

As you probably already know, the most direct route to Bogota, Columbia, from BrisVegas, Oz, is through Warsaw, Poland. Yep. For sure. It is an especially advisable route if you go via Singapore, for a four hour pit-stop, then take a comfortable 13 hour trip in cattle-class during which time an announcement goes out over the PA system (just after you have finally managed to get to sleep) that urgent medical assistance is required to attend a person who has intractible vomiting which turns out to be due to a combination from withdrawal of a heroin replacement drug and commencement of an anti-depressant. Fun. But, the fun then really begins when you arrive at Heathrow, London, feeling like a mangled sardine and smelling like one too and having five hours to change airports to Gatwick and then hopping on a flight to Warsaw, Poland.

= WRITE OFF SESSION No. 390.

If you follow our travels over the next few months you´ll become very accustomed to the term "write-off". This is what Dee & I do best. It is the ability to turn any activity which is seemingly a good idea, easily achievable and chilled-out into a chaotic and exhausting escapade which, nevertheless ends up with all and sundry still alive and smiling (the latter may take some months after the event) in the end but thinking "why the hell didn´t we spend an extra $200 and take the direct flight rather than playing ´round half the world in 36 hours".

So, getting back to it, we actually came to Warsaw for a good reason; the wedding of Jakob & Margit. Jakob´s (the Ratzes) and my family shared a house together in Goteborg, Sweden where I grew up until the age of 11. So, really, our families are as good as related. It was great to catch up with them all and for them to meet Dee. After a couple of, how should we put it..., "false starts" in the past, the Ratz brothers (of which there are three; Jakob, Martin and Benji) had unequivocally informed me that I was by no means allowed to bring another woman to Sweden without their prior approval. After five minutes of meeting Dee I recieved their approving nods so it now seems that Dee will not be summarily deported should we rock up to Sweden in the near future. On top of catching up with the Ratzes, Mum and Dad were there which was super since we have hardly seen them in the last year with us living on the West coast and them on the East.

The wedding was amazing; held in a fabulous restuarant in a park in central Warsaw which is usually frequented by more noble guests than ourselves. We got to know Margit, Jakob´s wife, during our stay; what a keeper!! I hope the two of you come visit us in Oz very soon ;-)!!

Warsaw itself was quite an experience. I was there 15 yrs ago when the transition from Communism had just occurred; the place has really transformed since then with BMW´s and Porsche´s on the streets, mobile phones everywhere and an obvious presence of the noveau riche. Communism is now a dirty word and those who opposed the regime are now heroes of the day.

What really struck me this time was how much suffering has been endured here in very recent history. The city was almost completely levelled by the Nazis in 1944 as punishment for the uprising of the people of the city against the occupying force. 250 000 people were killed in the space of only a couple of months. Within decades of the end of the war, the city was almost completely rebuilt albeit with Russian designed concrete montrosities (apart from the Old City which is a replica of the old). Add to this the near 3 million Jews who were murdered in Poland alone and you get the picture of a pretty dark history which took place around only 70 years ago. Being from a Jewish background myself it is a fair bit to absorb but it was a really rewarding experience to walk the streets and talk to mum and her friends who grew up in Warsaw after the war, were involved in political protests against the communist regime as young university students and then had to leave the country (to Sweden) to escape further persecution by the government in 1968. In this year, the government transported pro-government supporters to the site of the protests on the university site to crush the uprising. Much of the goverment´s line was that it was Jewish students who were against the state which raised much anti-semitic sentiment which was never far from the surface amongst much of the Polish population. Many of those protesters became leaders in the post-communist government in 1989; history does an 180 degree turn...

The next stop is Spain for a few days before heading off to Columbia. The next blog will be much more concise, promise... maybe....

Seb.

Karratha-Brizvegas-GC-Brizvegas-Singapore

sebanddee — Wed, 28 May 2008 00:32:00 GMT

Quick note to self; MUST ADD THIS TO WRITE OFF BOOK, VOL 2, Chapter 389...

I have packed my expensive (total value $5000) brand new digital SLR camera for our 3 mths backpacking in South America... And before even departing the airport from Brisbane, witness the camera bag fall from a hook on the toilet door whilst perched daintily upon the public throne.

Discovering with imaginary tears that the impact had infact cracked a very usless knob on my favourite zoom lens (the lens is still completely functional without this knob) and blown apart the circular polarising lense that was on the actual camera! agh!

We have since arrived at Singapore airport, with too much time to spare... Let the fun continue...

stay tuned for more exciting details to come....(hopefully not!)

Signing out,

Dee x

Gallery: leaving Karratha...

sebanddee — Thu, 22 May 2008 22:51:00 GMT

May 08