Colombia was to be the last country of my trip around the world, and either because I was nearing the end of my adventure, or I simply couldn't satisfy my curiosity about the place, its people, and culture, I decided to see what it would take to live abroad.  Throughout the previous 13 months of travel through 19 other countries and kingdoms on 4 continents, I was always wondering whether there was a city which would inspire and motivate me to take on the challenge of working abroad.  It feels good to have found such a place.

Despite the concerns about FARC, kidnappings, and crime, I felt safer in Bogota and Medellin than Cape Town and Johannesburg.  While the traditional Colombian food is artery-clogging to the core, the nightlife is awesome (in this gringo's opinion).  The people on a whole are amongst the most friendly and curious I have met on my trip.  The women can inspire a guy to want to learn Spanish.  And with the snow-capped Andes, jungles, undeveloped beaches, and smaller towns and villages yet to explore, there is enough to keep me busy or coming back again and again.

Highlights -

• Not getting ripped off on the taxi ride from the airport to Laura's apartment in Bogota
• Couchsurfing with Laura and her roommate
• The Botero and Gold Museums
• The cable car ride up Montserrat
• My Friday night out in Bogota's Zona Rosa
• The short and scenic flight to Medellin
• Visiting the city's new aquarium, Parque Explora, and botanical gardens
• Watching the sun set from atop Pueblito Paisa
• Botero Plaza and the Antiquities Museum
• Getting around Medellin on the metro line (and taking the western cable car for great views of the city)
• Free dance performance at Teatro Lido
• Meeting and partying with Medellin's couchsurfing group
• Tracking down a restaurant where Anthony Bourdain ate on No Reservations last year
• Being recognized by 2 Americans who had read this blog before leaving on their own year long trip!
• Dance lessons with the local girls
• Visiting Pablo Escobar's grave (I know, it is an odd highlight)
• Attending Carnaval in Barranquilla
• An impromptu sidetrip to Cartagena
• Drinking a caipirinhia on the beach
• Launching MedellinLiving.com

Lowlights -

• Having my computer's AC adapter ($40), my French corkscrew ($50), some burned music, and USB cables stolen from my bag in a hostel

Eating -

Meat, chicken, beans, avocado, traditional soup, Aguila cerveza, Aguardiente, rum, tinto (coffee), lots of sushi.

# of Days Couchsurfing -

6

Average Cost Per Day -

$44

1:10 pm

Sitting aboard my Avianca flight to Medellin via Bogota.  Tired.  Very.  Melancholy.  Only internet access at airport was wireless and of course my laptop battery is dead, the AC Adapter stolen.  Maybe I try to sleep now.  Long travel day but better than the 13-hour bus ride.

On the ride to Barranquilla, I sat next to Cesar, a 32-year old, engaged dentist.  He offered to drive me to the airport via his house for a change of clothes.  I met his mom and sister.  It was a nice surprise.  At airport check-in, the woman smiled and complimented my blue eyes.  I told her she made my day.

2:24 pm

I'm off the plane, but we never left the ground.  First, a 40-minute delay due to busy air traffic, then disembarked due to a storm in Bogota.  The girl next to me spoke English so it was nice to pass the time with her.  It also took my mind off some things.

My concern now is getting to Medellin at a reasonable hour to sleep so I can dedicate the following day to my writing assignment.  I wish my laptop adapter hadn't been stole!  My mp3 player is almost dead too.

Later

When I got back on the plane, the beautiful Gisella sat next to me as the other girl wanted to be with her mom who was nervous about flying.  Gisella is from Bogota, but has been living in Rome for 8 years, having just recently left her job as a travel agent to spend some time in Colombia.  We talked most of the flight.  She runs a side business dealing pre-Colombian jewelry and uncut emeralds.

The wait for a connection in Bogota was short despite our late arrival.  The flight to Medellin was even shorter.  I was excited to be back.  The shuttle bus ride from the airport to the city center took one hour due to some traffic as a church service let out.  I then got a taxi back to Casa Kiwi Hostel, used the internet for a few hours and got some much needed sleep.

Continue reading about my experiences in Colombia at Medellin Living.

 

As the sun began to set in Cartagena, we walked around the old city center again.  The idea was to follow the path of a walking tour, but we ended up just wandering around, and eventually waiting for Julian and his sister to get matching ear piercings.  We returned to the hotel and regrouped for a night out on the town.

 

My understanding before arrival was the nightlife in Cartagena revolved around prostitutes, and given my distaste for such environments at the bars and clubs in Thailand, I wasn´t expecting much.  Our timing was off too, as we were all at Carnaval for the weekend, leaving us in Cartagena on typically quiet Monday and Tuesday nights.

We began with a short walk from the hostel to a local bar which was playing vallanato music.  After we got the first round of beers, I commented that sitting in the bar felt exactly like I imagined it would.  I also imagine sitting in a Cuban bar would feel the same.  Fans spinning on the ceiling, Caribbean breeze blowing through the open doors, Spanish music playing from the (digital) jukebox.

After a few drinks, we made our way to the old, walled section of the city.  We never managed to make it to the places listed in the 2006 Lonely Planet.  Instead, we walked into the first club we came across.  The music was far too loud, and it was practically empty.  We walked up a few flights of stairs to the rooftop bar which had a beautiful view toward the sea, however the bar wasn´t open up there (though they would´ve done it for us) and there was no music.  Since people wanted to dance, we returned to the main floor.

 

I wish I could say I had a good time, but I didn't.  Instead, I left ahead of everyone else, at about 2am.  Along the way, I bought a tinto (small black coffee) from a vendor walking around.  There are always guys on the streets selling coffee from big thermuses, regardless of the hour.

Back at the hostel, I didn´t get much sleep.  My intention was to wake up at 6am to catch an early bus back to Barranquilla so I could still make my flight back to Medellin.

Monday morning, I made the impromptu decision to leave Carnaval in Barranquilla for Cartagena. Since my plan was to return to Medellin in a few days, I didn´t know if I would make it back to the coast. I said goodbye to the Irish guys/gals who were heading for the same city later in the day, and took the two hour bus west along the coast with the Dutch, French, and Peruvian contingent.

Upon arrival, we checked into a hostel and walked the short distance to the Caribbean waters as the sun was slowly starting to set. We got our first views of the developed beachfront which is somewhat reminiscent of Miami.

Then, we headed into the historic, beautiful, and romantic old city center which is enclosed within a wall. Tourists were everywhere, which reminded me of why I appreciated Medellin. On average, the shops and restaurants were notably more expensive than what I had encountered in Bogota and Medellin too.

We eventually came upon a pizza and pasta restaurant where we sat down for dinner. Fans circulated the air overhead. Cartagena was living up to it´s billing, and it was clear why so many tourists visit. I should probably note that Cartagena is a big city, and while the walled part of the city where all the tourists visit is safe, the rest of the city suffers from poverty and crime to a much greater degree. This reality is not lost on me, but at the same time, like all tourists, I´m there to enjoy the nice part of town.

After dinner, with everyone tired from the weekend, we picked up some rum and Coca-Cola and enjoyed a few drinks back at the hotel.

The general plan for Sunday was to sleep late, and return to the same spot where we watched the parade the first day. Unfortunately, with our now giant group, it took forever to get moving. I was tired, but I figured once I was outside again, in the mix, my energy level would rise.

Trying to find the same block where we were the day before turned out to be a big pain in the butt. A group of us headed out with two taxis toward an address which turned out to be far away from our intended destination. At least we found we weren´t missing much in terms of atmosphere at other points along the parade route, but walking around the backstreets of Barranquilla while everyone else seemed to be enjoying the second parade was a downer.

It took us over two hours and three taxi rides, but we eventually regrouped with some of the others at the same spot as the day before. The crowd was thinner, as it was later in the afternoon, but the atmosphere was still great. I met two Peruvian girls, Karin and Janib (pronounced ¨har-eef¨) that were staying at the other popular budget hotel besides Olimpico. My group alliances began to change from hanging out with the Irish and Aussies to a Dutch brother (Julian)/sister(?), two French guys (Ben, ?), and Karin and Janib.

We all hung out by the parade for an hour or two, and made plans to regroup in the evening after washing up. A Colombian guy had been selling drinks to the others before I had arrived, and he apparently offered to help show us around in the evening. Random. Karin doubted his intentions, while everyone else seemed to believe he was simply trying to help us have a good time.

In the early evening, we headed out on foot toward a park where there had been a party during the day, but it had long since ended. Instead, we found ourselves walking through lots of trash left behind by the revelers. I was growing tired of the walking with no particular destination in mind, except the instincts of our Colombian guide.  It was reminiscent of the frustration I felt earlier in the day.

And then it happened. Walking up some random street, we came upon a Colombian home blasting music and dancing in the street. It was a site I´d already seen all over Barranquilla since arrival. Crashing such a random party was exactly what I was looking for. We could´ve gone to a disco or bar in any city, but to hang out with some friendly, welcoming Colombians outside their home was a unique experience. And they welcomed us immediately. We danced, we had a few drinks, we got hit with shaving cream and talcum powder again. It was perfect.

I enjoyed the party, atmosphere, and Colombian hospitality for a few hours before sharing a taxi back to the hotel with Karin and Jarib.

A group of us headed north in taxis to see the parade on Saturday afternoon.

I bought a traditional woven hat, paying too much because I didn´t shop around and didn´t want to hold off due to the intense midday sun.

Our groups splintered, but we mostly found each other after an hour or two, along with some new people. It was very crowded.

We found a great spot in the shade of a building to spend a few hours spraying each other with foam and drinking beers, rum, and Aguardiente.

Carnaval was really a family affair - little kids were everywhere, along with moms, dads, and older folks.

It was difficult to see the parade except for the people on floats because I´m short and a lot of people arrived early to get a good spot.

Jason, one of the Aussies, had his wallet stolen when we walked through a control gate to get to the parade route.

He lost $50 cash, and to add insult to injury, had a few more people (including little kids) try to rifle through his pocket the rest of the afternoon.

Needless to say, it angered him. I was glad to have switched to my board shorts right before leaving, so my camera and cash were secured in a difficult to access velcro pocket.

And despite my desire to get some photos this first day, when I held up my camera, I was often told by a Colombian to put it away because I was making myself a target.

I didn´t move too far from our pack of Aussie-European-Americans, however, I would´ve liked to have met more Colombians in the crowd.

Actually, an architecture student named Marcia started talking to me in English at one point.

She invited us to a party she was hosting at her apartment on Monday, so I got the details with the full intention of checking it out.

After the parade, it took some walking and patience to get a taxi.

Even when I got one, it seemed to have trouble finding the hotel despite the exact address printed on the business card.

Back at the hotel, I showered, ate a really bad pizza for dinner, and regrouped with the others.

We took taxis to an area recommended by the hotel staff.

It was a city block with bars on both sides, loud music playing, and everyone hanging out on the patios and sidewalks.

People continued to spray each other with foam, and slap talcum powder on one another (regardless of whether you knew the person).

Most people reacted well, but I did my best to avoid the messiness at that point. And I left my camera at home so I wouldn´t have to worry about it.

As much fun as others appeared to be having, I was longing for a more authentic experience.

I wanted to take a taxi and find one of the bars we´d seen before with just a handful of Colombians hanging out, dancing, and enjoying themselves.

Eventually, the area where we were hanging out was filled with couchsurfers, gringos, and what felt like every backpacker in the city.

I was too timid to leave the herd though and didn´t have any luck recruiting an adventurous soul to join me.

I became bored with the lack of circulation and eventually decided to take a taxi back to the hotel and call it a night.

The Irish girls and guys joined me.

Stepping out of the cool bus Friday morning, I was immediately greeted with the heat and humidity of the Caribbean coast.

The sun was shining and there was not a cloud in the sky.

Lonely Planet and the few travel blog entries I´d read about Barranquilla, describe it as something of a big urban port city lacking the flash of Medellin or Cali, and the beaches and old city of Cartagena.

In particular, the city center where budget hotels are located is dodgy at night.

Two weeks earlier, I was excited to have a confirmed couchsurf. At least I thought it was confirmed.

A few days before leaving Medellin, I began to call and write the guy but didn´t hear back.

Already committed to attending Carnaval for the weekend, I decided to stick with the plan.

Upon arrival in the city, with still no word from my potential host, I used the internet at the bus station to plead with a few other couchsurfers who initially declined my requests (because they were already hosting other people).

I had at least one positive response offering some floor space. I felt a little better.

I then called Hotel Olimpico, which I first learned of in a guy's travel blog from the previous year.

It was also listed on the Wiki Travel site for Barranquilla.

Thankfully, they had a private room available, though I would be paying the higher than normal rate of $20 per night.

I immediately took a cab and got the room.

After a shower, some rest, and TV, I took a walk around the neighborhood which was bustling with street vendors selling Carnaval-related goods like the traditional woven hats, colorful (and brash) t-shirts, cheap sunglasses, and specially-formulated shaving cream among other things.

The mood in the street was positively upbeat. Carnaval is the city's claim to fame, and its annual chance to showcase itself to the rest of Colombia and Latin America.

In the evening, I met a group of four Irish travelers who had arrived from Taganga, a small fishing village a few hours east along the coast which I had initially planned to visit after my (now canceled) flight to Santa Marta.

Dave and Jen were dating, and Jen and Matt were siblings.

I was the 5th wheel, but they immediately welcomed me into their group.

We had a few beers in the hotel´s recreation/dining room and took a cab to the northern part of the city in search of dinner and fun.

After scouting an area recommended by the hotel staff, we settled on a Lebanese restaurant for dinner.

Next, we crossed the street to a popular bar and had a few beers on the terrace.

It was an early night, but a good warm-up for the main event which kicked off the next day with a big parade.

On a sunny Wednesday afternoon, I took the metro to the northern bus station in Medellin and with a little hand gesturing and patience, managed to buy an overnight bus ticket to Barranquilla, a large city on the Caribbean coast which plays host to Colombia´s biggest annual Carnaval celebration.  The one way ticket cost was about $40.  Countless other travelers passing through the hostel had already confirmed for me that the long range buses were safe and comfortable.  I booked a return flight on Avianca thanks to a promotional fare of just $53 (about half price).

The bus terminal seemed fine by day, but when I returned Thursday night, it had a more ominous and crowded feel (as bus terminals anywhere in the world often do).  I kept my bags close, and after a thirty minute wait, boarded my 9pm bus to Barranquilla.  The seats were amongst the most comfortable of my entire trip.  The air-conditioning revved up and froze me to a degree reminiscent of my overnight bus in Laos, however I was prepared with long pants and a hooded sweatshirt.

The start of the 13-hour ride was nauseating as we wound up the curving mountain rodes out of the valley.  It was dark, and raining, so visibility was limited to within the bus.  A DVD of currently popular Spanish music videos began to play at an agreeable level.  I managed to get a few hours of sleep during the journey.

I tried to leave Medellin. I booked a flight to Santa Marta on the coast, but knowing it was fully refundable, canceled it the day before departure. After more than 14 months of travel through 20 countries, I finally felt as though I´d seen enough of the world. Another beach, another village, another mountain, another hostel, another hike, another friend I make and lose within days. At some point, the law of diminishing returns goes into effect.

Colombia, with its rich culture and friendly people, has inspired me to want to stay put, learn a new language for the first time, and try my hand at teaching English in order to earn a living abroad. At the same time, a few searches on Google revealed little in the way of English language blogs or websites about Medellin. And you know what that means...

Introducing Medellin Living!

A few weeks ago, I bought and began to develop MedellinLiving.com. I would like to invite everyone to take a look, and subscribe today (in the upper right corner)!

Developing this new website motivates me to get out of bed in the morning. The design is still very basic, but I am already posting daily updates about what it is like for a foreigner to live and look for work in Medellin, Colombia. Along the way, I hope it will offer unique insight into the city and culture and become a valued resource amongst backpackers and future travelers, regardless of whether they are just passing through, looking to study abroad, learn Spanish, or earn a living teaching English.

What Next For Go Backpacking?

As for this blog, the future's so bright, I gotta where shades! In the days and weeks ahead, I intend to share my experience leaving Medellin for a brief adventure along the coast in Barranquilla during Carnaval, and an impromptu stop in beautiful Cartagena. Then, I will share some final thoughts on Colombia, and write as if I am returning to the United States. Posts will surely take on the sentimental tone of a trip concluded, minus the reverse culture shock.

Over the coming months, I have plenty of people to thank, advice to share, and probably a few interesting stories still left to tell. Expect flashbacks to some of the more exciting and popular posts of the past. And any future travels in or around Colombia will be shared here too.

In addition, I will be upgrading to the most recent version of WordPress, the free internet publishing software used to create this blog. A new look to coincide with the new focus may also be in store.  Please excuse any dust while I work on renovations.

Aren't You Out Of Money Yet?

After living the good life for so long, I am low on funds, so my plans are solely contingent upon finding work and a steady income before the end of March.  Luckily for Americans in Colombia, the Peso has dropped about 30% against the dollar in the past year.  If I end up back in the USA sooner rather than later, I fully intend to continue both blogs. If you want to see whether I can carve out an expat niche abroad, subscribe to Medellin Living by RSS feed or E-mail, and wish me luck!

I met Luisa from Couchsurfing on a Friday night outside the Industriales metro station. The plan was to go dancing but I didn´t know where. She assured me it would be fun. To my surprise, she was with two friends, including Catalina (black shirt) the birthday girl. They were all wearing silly hats and carrying balloons.

We went to the Kukaramakara Club, arriving early while the place was still empty. Much of the lower floor was already reserved, so we took a table upstairs in a corner with a good view of the club. As typically occurs in Colombian bars and clubs, a bottle or two of liquor is ordered for the table, usually rum or aguardiente (a black anise flavored liquor wildly popular down here, and relatively cheap).

In the beginning, we were able to talk, however as the live band hit the stage, it was more about just having a good time. The music switched between multiple genres regularly. One song salsa, the next meringue, then reggaeton, vallanato, tropical pop, and so on. Each genre had its own dance steps or style, and I got tips from all of Luisa's friends with regard to dancing to each.

As for the salsa lessons I took back in Washington, DC...well they were all but irrelevant. The people dancing in the club looked nothing like what we did in a dance studio. In fact, my prior salsa experience seems downright mechanical by comparison. The level of skill shown by Luisa and some of her friends was jaw dropping. She tried to make me feel a little better by saying that they grow up dancing, and it simply requires practice. At the same time, I felt completely at ease. In the USA, good dancers seem to be looking for attention, while in Colombia, almost everyone is a good dancer, and they are clearly just out to have some fun. As a gringo, I know there are no expectations, and it makes it a lot easier for me to have a good time on the dance floor!

I had to visit. Pablo Escobar's influence on Medellin, Colombia, and the world of drug-trafficking was too infamous. I took the metro to Itagui, and then asked a taxi to take me to his grave at the Cemetario Jardins Montesacro. Along the way, he told me his Dad use to work for Escobar, and he made a lot of money.  I am sure it is not an uncommon story.

The taxi driver walked me the short distance to Pablo Escobar's grave. He is buried alongside his parents and a few children in a well-maintained site. It was another beautiful Medellin day, and the views from and around the cemetery were idyllic. It felt strange to be taking the time to visit the grave of a man who was responsible for so much violence and death.

In 1989, Forbes listed him as the 7th richest man in the world. He was something of a Robin Hood in Medellin, investing heavily in housing construction to win the support of the poor population. I am in dire need of an English book about his life (Killing Pablo, for example), as I have yet to find any in Colombia.

While I easily found the location of his grave online, finding the address where he was shot down on the roof of a safe house is proving a little more difficult. At least one hotel runs Escobar tours which take you to a number of relevant locations around Medellin such as the jail he built for himself. Outside Medellin, there is a former residence to visit as well.

In the past few years, Hollywood has taken keen interest in Escobar's life. Two films are in the works, Killing Pablo directed by Joe Carnahan (scheduled for release in 2009), and Escobar directed by Oliver Stone. And for all those Entourage fans out there, be sure to check out the mock website for Vincent Chase's depiction of Pablo Escobar in the movie Medellin.

The day after the Couchsurfing party, I met Martin from Germany, at the Universidad metro station. While I was waiting for him, I took in the view of the city from the vantage point of the elevated platform. Gorgeous!

We then met up with Luisa, one of the students at the large University of Antioquia. Medellin is home to at least 30 universities, and therefore has a large student population. We walked to the apartment she shares near campus with 6 of her girlfriends. The purpose of our visit was to learn a few new dance moves.

Since none of them spoke English, and Martin speaks good Spanish, it was a good opportunity for me to practice my own foreign language skills. And of course words aren't required for salsa dancing. They played a variety of music for us, including salsa, meringue, and reggaeton. These musical genres, and more such as vallanato, tropical pop, and reggae, are played everywhere in Medellin, and Colombia from what I have experienced. Taxis, buses, stores, little food stands, homes, bars, restaurants. It is no wonder the people grow up with rhythm and dancing in their blood.

After a few hours with the girls, I headed to a sports bar called Time Out in Parque Lleras where I found a bunch of guys from the hostel watching the SuperBowl. Based on the score, arriving at the end of the third quarter meant I hadn't missed much. In fact, Arizona seemed to stage their comeback just as I began to watch. Of course we know how that game ended.

_____________

A Note to Readers: Clearly I am a few weeks behind on my blog posts, especially after the silence of the last week. Stick with me as my journey has taken an unexpected turn and I hope to catch you all up on it soon!

I took a taxi to Teatro Lido and found Jesusa at the back of the 2-block line.

She was with a German couple - Ann and Amu. Only Ann stuck with us for the free dance performance this Friday night.

Jesusa had referred to it as ballet, so I had contemplated skipping it altogether, but I am glad I went.

It wasn't what I expected at all. A seven-person band played music for a great dance troupe dressed in beautiful costumes.

The performance kept kept the 1,100 person capacity crowd entertained for an hour. I couldn´t believe it was free.

Between my time in Bogota and Medellin, it has become clear that the Colombian government, or at least the regional ones, are strong believers in offering everyone access to the arts.

After the show, I went with Ann by bus to the University of Antioquia, where we met up with Amu, Martin, another German studying abroad, and a group of Colombian students.

We walked through a crowd of students hanging out between two of the three large apartment buildings where many of them lived, to a corner which featured a popular bar and some small shops selling beer.

It is legal to drink outside in Colombia, as far as I can tell, so it was quite a scene.

At first it was a little intimidating to be amongst such a big crowd, but the longer I stayed there, talking with Martin, Ann, and Amu, while doing my best to remember any shred of Spanish, the more comfortable I felt.

It was college kids doing what they do anywhere in the world on a Friday night.

One of the students, Natalia, and I tried to talk via Martin who took on the role as translator.

She invited us out dancing, and Martin and I suggested Sunday afternoon over Saturday night, as we both planned to attend a Couchsurfing going away party.

Part of the allure of Medellin, and Colombia, is the music, and I´ve been exposed to a whole new world of music including salsa, meringue, and reggaeton to name a few.

It blares out of open air bars and restaurants during the nights, and from small shops during the day.

It surrounds you, and I find it infectious. No wonder everyone loves to dance down here!

Medellin is very proud of its metro system, and unlike any other I´ve used, it features cable cars which extend off the train lines to reach up mountains to the poorer neighborhoods in the city. Based on the current exchange rate, the metro costs about 60 cents (US) per trip, including the metro cable if it is used. In fact, if I didn´t get off the cable car at the terminus for photos, I could´ve made a complete round trip from the train stop closest to my hostel for just 60 cents!

The ride offered a safe and sound way to view the poorer districts of the city which climb up the mountainsides. The higher and farther we went, the steeper the staircases and streets became.  Based on some internet reading, I was riding over a part of the city where Pablo Escobar use to recruit his assassins.

In a sign of just how undeveloped the tourism industry remains in this country, you won´t find a restaurant at the cable car terminus, nor even a souvenir stand. It is used for transportation only, though I imagine it won´t be long before an industrious Colombian decides to take advantage of the tourists riding the system for the scenic views of the city.

Andres, the Argentinian, and I continued to walk around the Universidad metro after visiting the aquarium. We spent a little time in the wide open, concrete Park of Wishes, which sits adjacent the city´s planetarium.  Kids were playing in the fountains and a large sand pit surrounded by shaded park benches.  During the weekends, such parks are clearly a popular place for families and kids.

We then managed to take a backwards way up Cerro Nutibara, a natural hill turned park, rising up from the middle of the valley and city. It offers 360-degree views of Medellin, and we just happened to time it so that the sun was setting over the western mountains, and the lights of the city were turning on. There is a well manicured grassy area for lounging around, and a mock Antioquian rural village called Pueblito Paisa. It includes a little church, chemist, and barber shop, among souvenir shops and a few restaurants.

I was hungry, and bought an arepa before I knew it was a staple of the Colombian diet. Street vendors sell them in all sorts of ways. The version I bought was two thin tortillas with cheese in the middle, and sweet condensed milk (I think) drizzled on top. Light and tasty, I took the opportunity to pose for a photo with the pueblito behind me.

Music was playing, and there were mostly Colombians atop the hill. Andres and I took the time for a drink before heading back down to the city, where I opted to buy us a cab back to the hostel. Unlike Bogota, the taxi meters in Medellin reflect exactly what you pay. The cost is low by western standards, with most short trips costing about $2. A trip from one side of the city to the other might run $5. The cabs are all yellow, and easily identifiable, though the drivers usually don´t speak English. As in China, it helps to carry a piece of paper with the address of your destination to avoid confusion.

The next morning, I had coffee and a cheese pastry at one of the cafes just below the hostel. I bought a map and was asking reception about sightseeing suggestions when Andres, a very tall Argentinian from Buenos Aires, on break from his medical residency, asked me where I was going for the day.

Since I was in a new town, I decided the companionship of this imposing man was a good thing, and we started talking on the 15-minute walk downhill to the Poblado metro station. The view across the valley was beautiful, and in stark contrast to the dreary Bogota weather, the strong sun was beaming down on us.

The Medellin Metro (and the only one in Colombia) is fast, clean, and cheap (about 70 cents per trip). It runs above ground, giving commuters constant views of the beautiful surroundings. There were security people at each stop, and on many of the cars. It felt safe.

We got off at the Universidad metro stop and headed for the Botanical Gardens first, as the line for the aquarium was long. At the time, we didn't know it was just opened about two months earlier, and was thus a popular draw for the locals, especially on a Sunday afternoon.

The Botanical Gardens were not as huge as some of the others I've visited in cities like Christchurch, New Zealand, however it was still a nice place to escape the traffic. We ran across kids practicing their gymnastics moves for cheerleading, and some type of Gandhi-Buddhist inspired peace gathering.

After lunch in the park, we stood in the 30-minute queue to access the city´s new pride and joy, what is considered to be one of the best aquariums in Latin America. By western standards, it was quite small, and my desire to seek sharks at some point was never met. I think I even missed which tanks held the Amazonian piranhas.

After exiting the aquarium, Andre was eager to play around in the Parque Explora, a giant adjacent plaza of interactive experiences tied to theories behind science and technology. While the descriptions of each activity were in Spanish, most of them reminded me of physics experiments from high school. Andre´s excitement was infectious, and I soon found myself having just as much fun as the future Argentinian orthopedist!

I managed one and a half hours of quality sleep after my night out in the Zona Rosa, leaving me incredibly hungover for the flight to Medellin. While the air time is only 25 minutes (as opposed to around 11 hours by bus), I still had to get to the airport, check in, pass security, etc. Getting from the hostel to the Avianca gate went smoothly, and I found myself waiting around with an hour and a half to kill.

There was some notable turbulence on the flight, but it was made up for by the views below of beautiful green mountains, rivers, and a giant cascading waterfall. And then I was in Medellin (or at least the major airport outside the city!).

I took the scenic airport shuttle bus to the city center. The airport is about 1,000 meters higher in elevation than the city which lies in a valley. The result of this geography was one of the most amazing bus rides I've ever taken from an airport to a city. The land seemed lush and tropical as we winded our way down the mountains and into the valley.

The city center was bustling on the wonderful, warm, sunny Saturday. It felt kinetic. I immediately caught a cab to Casa Kiwi Hostel, an American owned hostel in the upscale El Poblado district of the city, and just a few blocks from Medellin's Zona Rosa. It was a bit rough around the edges, and was undergoing massive renovations to improve rooms, and install a bar and pool, however it was full of people and I was still exhausted.

Everyone went out that Saturday night but me and a few others. I was self-conscious about it, but I simply didn't have the energy.

Juliana's parents were coming for a visit, so Laura and Herman dropped me off at Hostel Fatima in the central La Candeleria district of the city I visited the first day.

I was surprised to have found the several hostels I called before them to be fully booked.

I settled in around mid-morning while my bunkmate Steven (Australia) was still asleep.

I made solid use of the free and fast broadband internet access located within the inner courtyard. Later, when Steven awoke, we got to talking, went out for lunch, played chess, and generally got along well.

He had previously met a guy named Todd (California), who he planned to go out with in the evening.

I had plans to attend a birthday party of Laura's friend, but they never materialized. Lacking a cell phone has only been a problem when it comes to coordinating social activities.

Todd arrived at the hostel while Dominic (England), on the older side of the backpacker spectrum like me, enjoyed a drink in the hostel bar.

We started in La Candelaria by going to a bar and getting some pizza.

Both places were packed with young people, predominantly students, enjoying the start of their Friday night.

Next, we hopped in a taxi and rode north to Zona Rosa, a district densely populated with bars and clubs.

We met up with one of Todd's lady friends, her sister, and a few Colombian guys at a bar.

I believe it was here that Nasser (Florida) joined the crew and another older American guy who lived and worked in Colombia.

We had a few beers and shots of Aguardiente, Colombia's favorite anise-flavored liquor, before heading off in search of a club.

This turned into an unnecessarily long ordeal-the kind of situation which results from too many people trying to agree on a consensus.

We eventually entered a bar with a dance floor and some lounge-like seating. It was packed but not overcrowded, and I liked the vibe.

The male consensus was that every woman in the place was beautiful! 

As is typical in Colombian bars and restaurants, bottle service is standard, so we got a few small whiskey bottles (I think). 

Unfortunately for me, the Colombian company we arrived with didn't speak much English, but it didn't matter too much once we were dancing.

The bar closed down at 3 am, and we meandered into the street where typical end-of-the-night nonsense and chatter occurs.

One Colombian guy started screaming ¨Billy Corgan¨ in my direction, taking my photo.

Dominic, Steven, and I shared a taxi back to the hostel, where I faced a flight to Medellin the next day.

On my last day with Laura, we took a cab to the more upscale, commercial district of northern Bogotá which included the Zona Rosa (red district). The term is used to describe a central area of nightlife, an important aspect of Colombia's major cities! There were plenty of pretty buildings for me to photo, though one, in particular, with blue doors was my favorite.

Taxis have meters, but the numbers correspond to a rate chart instead of signifying the cost of the ride.

Bogotá features A LOT of graffiti, which is unfortunate. Political statements are sprayed on any surface. Subjects include Colombia's President Uribe, America, and general artwork.

Laura lived in Il Campin, along the main north-south highway, and across the street from the city's futbol (soccer) stadium.

Laura said the burgers at a particular restaurant were all made of worm meat, so I had to eat there when we came to a popular park around lunchtime. The sole sunny day of my stay in the city necessitated a cold Mojito.  The burger in no way looked or tasted like worm meat!

Laura and Herman took me out to breakfast early at a small, unassuming restaurant in central Bogota. I had a large, delicious chicken tamale while they ordered a hardcore soup with meat on the bone and potatoes. Back at the apartment, I spent a few hours uploading photos and working on the blog.

In the evening, Laura dropped me off at her Colombian friend Angela's house, where 5 expats reside. It was the weekly poker night and I bought into the friendly game of Texas Hold'em. There were 10 players, and I went out in the middle, about two and a half hours into the night. I managed to win one big hand, but it wasn't enough to make up for my complete lack of skill at the game.

Still, it gave me a chance to spend some time with native English speakers, mostly American, and find out what they were doing in Colombia. The majority were English teachers, while Ryan (wearing the Steelers beanie) had originally arrived in the country as a journalist for FIFA. Grant, the dealer and landlord of the house, was working on research involving organic animal feed.

Laura called just as I was about to bet my remaining chips, with a poor hand no less. I told her I'd be ready to leave in a minute, promptly lost the hand, and heard the doorbell ring no more than thirty seconds later.

We picked up Herman's friend Abraham who lived in the neighborhood, and drove up to a viewpoint overlooking Bogotá along the side of a mountain. It was a beautiful sight, I thought, and no less so than Barcelona. This was a regular spot for locals (10-20 of whom were also up there with us), but not the kind of place you'd typically find as a backpacker, which is why I appreciated it so much. We talked for awhile on the chilly precipice while Latin music played from someone's stereo, and a few people danced, before returning to the apartment.

I spent the morning watching CNN's coverage of Barack Obama's presidential inauguration. Laura had to pick up a kitten in the afternoon, a late birthday gift from her friend, so I was accompanied by her roommate, Juliana.

I knew setting out from the apartment that the potential for good views from atop the mountain were limited, but I didn't want to have the attraction hanging over my head each day. We took a taxi to the cable car, and rode it to the top of the 3,030-meter peak. The best views were on the way up, before we rose into the clouds.

A surprisingly nice church sits atop the mountain, as does a gauntlet of souvenir stalls selling predominantly religious items. I bought a cup of a warm, local mixed drink to help make the most of the visit.

The other attraction unique to Bogota on the day's agenda was the Museo Del Oro (Gold Museum). We walked there in the pouring rain after coming down from the mountain. Juliana went over to her university while I toured the museum, ooh'ing and ahh'ing at the massive display of gold jewelery, masks, and ceremonial items. The descriptions were all in English as well as Spanish, and I found the museum deserved more than the 45 minutes I gave it.

The rain dampening the day, we took a taxi back to the apartment where Laura was already coddling the kitty. It was another low key night, playing with the cat and watching TV. In the evening, I met Laura's boyfriend, Herman, who was returning from a long vacation.

On this third night, my body finally adjusted to the new time zone, and I got a good night's sleep.

Laura greeted me at the door, welcomed me into her spacious apartment, and introduced me to Juliana, her roommate. They had known each other from childhood, having both grown up in Cali. Tired from the long travel day, my body still operating on Spanish time, I kept it low key the first night by chatting, using their wonderful wi-fi internet access, and watching The Simpsons in Spanish.

My first night at Laura's was comfortable, but I didn't get much sleep. I awoke around 2am local time (8am Madrid time), and only slept intermittently thereafter. It was some of the worst jetlag I'd experienced on my trip. Juliana left for her first day of the new semester at university. She's majoring in architecture, while Laura started out with art and has since moved to international law. Her classes begin the following week, so she would have time to show me around.

We headed out mid-morning. I wanted to try the Trans-Millenia bus, the city's alternative to building a metro. It was crowded, a little more costly than the normal buses, but fast. Our first stop was the Juan Valdez cafe in La Candelaria district. The JV cafes are Colombia's version of Starbucks, which has yet to open shop in Colombia, though Laura said it was a possibility for the future (less for the coffee, more because it was symbolic of American culture). Needless to say, the coffee was good.

We then wandered through several interconnected museums...all free. What a concept! I had fun trying to improve my Spanish by using visual cues in the paintings to translate the titles. Laura helped when I got stuck. Between art galleries, and Spanish-dubbed episodes of The Simpsons, there's hope for me yet! I really enjoyed the Fernando Botero collection. As Colombia's most famous artist, he donated not only his own work but part of his private collection which was extensive, including works by Picasso, Degas, Dali, and Monet. We walked through the Mint museum too, seeing two jewel-encrusted, golden sculptures (housed in their own vault room) and plenty of coins.

Laura's friend Laura met up with us back at the cafe and we walked to the Plaza de Bolivar. It was filled with pigeons, and uncharacteristically I was told, a band playing live music. I had already shared with Laura my focus on food, and she made sure to steer us into a restaurant offering the typical regional cuisine. I liked the background music. I chose the traditional soup with tender shredded chicken, potatoes, onions, and cream. It arrived with a side of avocado and rice, the perfect accompaniment. The serving sizes were huge, an neither the Laura's, nor I, could finish half of what was given to us.

After lunch, we walked around another part of the city where the bullfighting stadium was located, but the rain was putting a damper on our walk so we returned to Laura's apartment via the regular bus, which was more comfortable than the Trans-Millenia, but far slower.  The night was spent the same as the first, watching TV and hanging out.  Again, I found myself awake at 2am from the jetlag, too tired to get up and not tired enough to fully fall asleep again.

Concerns on my mind during the Madrid metro ride to the airport:

• my abdominal cramps, am I in for a repeat of the unpleasant Geneva to Bordeaux travel day?
• my lack of a ticket out of Colombia, would Iberia let me board the flight from Spain....would Colombian officials let me into their country?
• would I be able to easily withdraw money against my credit card at the Bogota airport?
• should I move to New York City and live with my friend, or stay in the Washington, DC area?
• if NYC, what if I don't find a job due to the recession and use up the last of my savings?
• how will I move my stuff?

I arrived at the airport, which was huge, but fairly new and well signed. The toilets have too many urinals and not enough stalls. I hate auto-flushing toilets (the urinals are OK). The pharmacy doesn't dispense antibiotics without a prescription, unlike in France. I took two Immodium and hoped for the best. Ate a Serrano cured ham and cheese sandwich. Bought water and snacks. Still have 20 Euro left. Took airport train to satellite terminal, hustled to Gate U55, waited 15 minutes. Boarded flight, seat 11A over middle of the left wing. Seats are a bit small/cramped, my most comfortable flights are behind me (Air Tahiti, Thai Airways, Air Qatar). The man sitting next to me is big enough to require a seat belt extension, which also means he's big enough to noticeably encroach on my limited space. I am guessing he is as uncomfortable, if not more so, than me. We're taxing to the gate, running about 15 minutes late. 9hr 45min flight time, the last long haul of my journey.

We touched down in Bogota without issue. I almost didn't want the flight to end. There is an intangible quality to being in transit, especially when making such a big leap to a new continent and country. I was trying to savor the excitement and anticipation that comes just before landing, especially since my next long flight would be back to the United States.

The uncomfortable cramps which accompanied me the whole flight continued after I disembarked. I made a strategic decision to go through immigration before using the restroom so I could take advantage of my seat near the front of the plane. I was nervous about my lack of onward tickets ever since the South Africa debacle, but when it was my turn, everything went fine, I received a 60-day Visa, and I breathed a sigh of relief, before seeking out the restroom, collecting my backpack, and passing through customs.

I changed $20 and 20 Euro into Colombian Pesos, and used a great service which estimates your taxi fare to ensure you are not ripped off. You simply give a guy the destination address, and he hands you a small ticket with the estimated fare which you then show the taxi driver. It was about a ten minute ride to Laura's apartment, which featured a locked door and a private security guard in the lobby. The guard called up to her and I received the green light to take the little elevator to my first Colombian couchsurf.