Cartagena

The city of Cartagena, where I flew to celebrate both my 22nd birthday and start of the Brazil World Cup, is in the Northern tip of Colombia, and is everything you’d imagine of a city that is both Caribbean and South American in flavor. White beaches, mostly Afro-Caribbean populated, and with year round temperatures that average 31 degrees and 75% humidity, the city was the perfect place to end my stay in South America.

A bit of Carta-techture. Get it? ūüėÄ

The whole reason I went to Colombia, elongating my trip by a month, was based on the recommendations of other travellers, and the reason I went to Carta was because a volunteer I had met in Cusco, an Aussie called Jade, was working there. I figured there was going to be sun, friends and it’d be a good place to party it up on my birthday, so I booked a ticket from Medellin (plane- darling I gave up using buses in Peru. So primitive) a couple of days before my birthday and set off for my final stop.

The days preceding it, and the start of the World Cup, were spent mostly finding the best bar to watch it and various items in preparation, such as an England shirt for me and 2 other English people I was with (vital importance) and some face paints. Those two English people were a couple, Nick and Eve from London (if you’re from London and travelling together that’s enough), and every morning Nick would wake up to ‘Football’s Coming Home’ by Frank Skinner and David Baddiel (Euro 96′ version). We’re talking serious supporter here. Eve secretly informed me that she was relieved she didn’t have to keep discussing football with him 24/7.

After much searching and asking around, we found a pretty good bar with air-con, lots of people (and a few Brazilians) and a big screen to watch the opening match of the World Cup in. The search for an England shirt was a lot harder however. We met one guy, who happened to speak perfect English as he used to be a dope dealer in New Orleans, called Josephus, who took us around pretty much every shirt seller in Cartagena Old Town, each one promising so much but delivering so little. Eventually Nick settled for a red one from 2013 for about 10 quid. He wasn’t happy, but as the Rolling Stones said, you can’t always get what you wa-unt.

The next day was my 22nd birthday. Hooray. In the morning we beached it up. I thought putting on factor 30 sunscreen on my arms and face would be enough, but I ended up looking like a bit of a lobster. A sexy lobster mind. I have a picture that I sent my brother that’s far too compromising to put on here, but shows much of the extent of the burn. We then had a huuuge sandwich of avocado, tuna, mayo, salad, and tomato and watched the epic Spain Netherlands game, where the Netherlands put 5 past the World Champions. After this was the Australia Chile game, and as Jade was on shift, we decided to stay at the hostel, and felt her paid as the Aussies fought bravely but fell to the impressive Chilean organisation and lost 3-1. Then came some prinking (pre-drinking) of some tasty rum and coke (o cola) while we waited for another friend from Cusco, a Belgian named Pierre (top guy) and some of his friends to arrive from Medellin. Out in the outdoors seating area of the hostel I was then given a birthday cupcake, completely unexpected, and sung happy birthday to. Maybe you don’t care about this but it’s the little things that make stuff like this, and even now, a week later, I’m still smiling while I remember it.

Great sandwich. This is the stuff you come to this blog for.

The night out consisted of a trip to a salsa bar, where I was offered coke (caine) by a dwarf, we saw some pretty unconvincing transvestites and split off. Most of the Belgians went off with another group, so we went into town to look for a club. After passing some dodgy looking places, we went into a completely empty place on the promise of some cheap drinks. There epicness ensued, as the lack of people meant we could control the playlist, meaning not only did a lot of old favourites get played, but so did Football’s Coming Home!!! 5 of us were English, and we belted it out at the top of our voices, while the others just sat back and laughed. As this was happening, various other drunk English people came in and joined in, so the club filled up for the 3 minute duration of the song. But what a 3 minutes.

The three Cusque√Īan amigos, reunited.

“It’s coming home, it’s coming home, it’s coming!!!”

The next day, exhausted and hungover, we all dragged ourselves out of bed to be ready for the Colombia game that would begin at 11am. In the course of the evening I had been informed that there would be public televisions, so Nick and I did a reccie to go and find them. After being misdirected by 10 different people, including policemen (this is common in South America), we eventually found the perfect place, so ran back to get the others. At 11am, in front of a 40″ plasma, Colombia’s World Cup kicked off for about 300 people and 10 gringos. They won their first match against Greece 3-0, with each goal being celebrated wildly by all the supporters. Our¬†group¬†had newscasters and cameramen filming us, and at one point I was told to repeat the phrase ‘Viva Colombia’ about 5 times into a microphone. The atmosphere there was something else.

Vamos Colombia! Selfie had to be done.

For Nick, however, it was all build up to the big event, the England game at 5pm. After an afternoon’s rest, we and around 50 other England fans, and 1 Italian woman, crowded into a nearby bar with the best television in Cartagena, and an ITV feed! We were completely pumped, and when Raheem Sterling hit the side netting 3 minutes in the whole place erupted, beer in the air, chairs flying backwards, hugging and screaming, until someone pointed out that he’d missed, when everyone calmly sat back down pretending they hadn’t just kissed the person next to them. We did get an opportunity to celebrate, when Daniel Sturridge struck an equalizer, but the delirium couldn’t last, and we left completely deflated.

The disappointment in my eyes still cuts me to my core

Regardless, despite England’s defeat, I had an amazing time in Cartagena with some amazing people, and I will never forget it. The next day I was up early to board a plane to Miami, prepared for whatever cavity search they had in store for me for coming from Colombia.

 

Goodbye South America, Gracias por todo. it’s been fun. Pura Vida x

Medellín

The reason I never took my flight on the 23rd May from Buenos Aires was because I wanted to go to Colombia. It was a place so many travelers had recommended, yet one very few sites or guides when I was researching for the trip and advised going to. I had wanted to spend about 2 weeks there, travelling up from Cali to Cartagena with a friend from the volunteering in Cusco, yet when my passport was stolen, I missed the Cali flight, and found I would have to spend some time sorting out a Visa for the United States. When I researched this, I found that to get finger and eye scans, I would have to be in Medellin, and to have the actual (3 minute) ‘interview’ I would have to be in Bogota. I could have done the whole process in Lima, and at points when travelling between Medellin and Bogota and back again I wondered why I hadn’t done this, but I was so desperate to leave Peru and get to Colombia that I thought it would be worth it. I therefore booked a flight to Medellin, said my goodbyes to my friends in Lima, and headed for the most dangerous city in the world (circa 1990s).

I won’t go into the details of getting my visa, but it was a hassle to say the least, costing money in flights, fees and hostels. By the time I finished it all up in Bogota I was pretty mentally exhausted, so felt I needed a break back in Medellin. Bogota is a great city, and is really interesting (I recommend the bike tour), but was endlessly grey and cloudy when I was there, so I thought I would head to the warmth and sun of Medellin.

Murals in Bogota. I like to think it represents the ways you can confront dark times. Either you can wallow in the misery, or accept and embrace it for what it is.

Mural for Jaime Garzón, comedian, satirist, lawyer and peace activist murdered by paramilitaries in 1999. It shocked the country.

Medellin used to be known to the outside world as the stronghold of the infamous druglord Pablo Escobar, where murders would happen daily, and corruption was rife. Today however, modern, vibrant, youthful and most importantly safe.

It is also known as the city of the eternal spring, due its endless pleasant warm weather, hot but not humid. It is one of two places in South America I could consider living in (Buenos Aires being the second). The first hostel I stayed in was actually a meditation hostel (Hostel Secret Buddha- 100% on Tripadvisor for a reason) high in the hills above the city, something I didn’t realize when I booked it. It turned out this was exactly what I needed, as it got my head right after all the previous stress and anguish, and the previous months of travelling, and got me ready for my final week.

After this I went down to a bit more of a party hostel in the El Poblado district of the city, effectively where around 10 hostels are situated, full of gringos, as well as some fancy restaurants, bars and clubs. I’d really recommend staying here. I went to Happy Buddha hostel, but there’s also a place called Casa Kiwi, and I’m sure many others. I had a great dorm in this hostel, with people I really hit it off with who had arrived at the same time as me, and so my positive experience at the hostel was probably due to this. Indeed that night, when we were messing about with other people in the common area, one girl asked me and the German guy from my room how many months we’d been travelling together. Sometimes you just completely click with another person to the extent you could have known them for 20 years and wouldn’t get on better.

But yeah, back to Medellin. The first day I was at this hostel, I went paragliding, which was a really awesome flight over some of the city from a one of the mountains that overlooks it¬†(ask in your hostel. It cost about 35 pounds), and a lot more fun than the one in Lima. Before my afternoon activities, I managed to fit in a professional salsa lesson at Santo Baile Poblado, an excellent school that did an hour lesson for about $30. I did some basic steps and hip movements with a gorgeous Colombian woman, although I couldn’t look up as I was continually having to check my feet to keep time. So yeah, I did Colombia style salsa in Colombia! In the afternoon I took the city free walking tour, which was phenomenal. If there is one thing, just one, that you do in Medellin, do this. Pablo, the guy who takes each one (they’re about 4 hours, and there’s 2 a day) every day, is so passionate and knowledgeable about his city’s riveting and turmoil filled past that it’s impossible not to leave without the same passion for the city and it’s people. You see it with completely new eyes, and get an understanding about what its residents have been through over the past 20 years.

One of the best things about Medellin is its metro. Quite easily the best in South America (although doesn’t have much competition), it was built at the height of the violence in the city in 1995, and has therefore become a symbol of its past and future. Ultra modern, it rivals that of the best in the world, with both Spanish and English announcements, spacious carriages and regular service, and even little messages like ‘Smiling is good for the soul. We encourage you to smile. A smile is good for the metropolitan’, although that was a bit weird. It also never gets vandalized,¬†because of its reverence among the¬†paisas, or people of Medellin. You will never get mugged, will never see graffiti or broken windows, and won’t hear ‘youths’ playing loud music or shouting. There is a silent respect of the progress the city has taken since the metro was opened. It is almost like a reverse of the same symbolism as in the film Batman Begins, where the film starts with a young Bruce Wayne’s father explaining how the opening of the Gotham’s metro has made it a better place, and with his death, it, and the city, descend into darkness. A more recent addition to it are the cable cars, which run up the north of the city, and are treated the same by the residents. While we tourists all have our cameras out and are checking out the birds eye view you have over the people below, the paisas are listening to music, reading books or newspapers, and thinking about the day ahead.

The people of Medellin are known to be rather full of themselves, shall we say (there is a similar, if less incendiary, divide between Bogota and Medellin as Madrid to Barcelona). This sculpture shows the rise of the city’s wealth through gold mining.

A view over the city while paragliding

The Secret Buddha meditation hostel

Colombia is still mourning the death of Gabriel Garcia Marques, or ‘Gabo’, one of the great authors of the Spanish language.

Another thing Pablo explained to us on the Tour was why the paisas¬†are so friendly to tourists. It is because they remember what the country was 10 years ago. How people used to live in fear, how 30 people used to die a day in Medellin, how there were 3 battling factions plus the drug trade all competing for power. Tourists aren’t merely gringos with cameras, they are symbols that things are starting to change, that the country is beginning to get back on its feet again after so much misery. That stamp on our passports is the most important one you can have, for Colombians, because it means you are contributing to this change, and are spreading the word that Colombia is safe to visit again. Pablo explained that if Colombians are happy, after all that, then we who haven’t had all this trauma can be too. It is so strange walking around Medellin, seeing laughing, happy people going about their day-to-day lives and knowing that many of these people have lost family and friends in the struggles over power and drugs, through bombs and bullets, and have seen their country and city at their lowest points.

This is why I am supporting the Colombian national team at the World Cup. The players in this team have never been to a World Cup before, and all of them grew up among¬†the country’s dark times, but they play with such attacking verve, team spirit and passion that it’s hard not to get caught up in their optimism. They play with the same hope that their country is riding on at the moment, in the knowledge that while this is only the beginning, they’re in the right road to success.

The Colombian team do a traditional jig after star player James Rodriguez (centre) headed them into the lead against Ivory Coast. They won that match 2-1 in front of a stadium packed with Colombianos.

http://espn.go.com/video/clip?id=11108004 – US

http://www.bbc.com/sport/0/football/27930177 – UK

Colombia’s next match is June 24th against Japan. Now England have been knocked out, please give your support to them.