Colombia 1997 – Locombia

Visited: April 1997

Duration of visit: 45 days

Estimated reading time: 20 minutes

• Cartagena – standing on the greatest fortress constructed by the Spaniards in the New World.
• Observing the world’s largest sea turtles – leatherback turtles – nestling in Acandí.
• Travelling with locals offered me a unique experience to understand Colombian culture.
• Some remote areas can be dangerous and impassable at night, but also extremely difficult to travel.
• Pre-Columbian remains in San Agustin and Tierradentro.

I had the opportunity to visit Colombia on various occasions as a backpacker for business and later with my family. In this article I describe my trips to Colombia in 1997: the world’s largest sea turtles in Acandí, Cartagena – one of South America’s oldest colonial cities, top Colombian treasures in Bogotá, pre-Columbian remains in San Agustin and Tierradentro, driving through the mountains towards Popayan.

More articles about my trips to Colombia are available here:

If I had paid attention to the news and listened to various omniscient advisors, I probably would have never discovered the other side of the country. Since Colombia was part of my 15-months American Big Tour, which started in New York City and ended 15 months later in Argentina. I couldn’t and didn’t want to avoid it.

In a few weeks of traveling around the country, I barely noticed the ingredients of Locombia. My experience with Colombia and its people was entirely different from what I had anticipated.

Colombia was once perceived as El Dorado, a concealed treasure sought by Spaniards in their quest for gold.

El Dorado is a legend generated from the ceremony of the Muisca people. The legend speaks of a kingdom or city, covered in gold and emeralds thanks to its rich mines of these materials.

Today El Dorado is reflected in the eyes of adventure-seeking travelers who have been discovering beautiful natural setting, well preserved colonial cities, hospitality of its inhabitants, historical archeological sites in the south, mysterious lost city of Ciudad Perdida and the vast Amazon rainforest.

Colombia is a very large country for European standards (its area is about the same as the area of France, Spain and Portugal combined), so traveling from one end to the other takes a lot of time. Colombian highways are ordinary two-lane roads with many unexpected surprises in the form of holes or even ramps that can suck in or spit out small vehicles. Driving on these roads can be very dangerous, even more at the expense of careless drivers.

When I was traveling from Cartagena to Bogota, I saw at least ten minor accidents on the road.

I arrived to Colombia by boat from Panama on the Caribbean side. There is no land connection in the form of a formal road between Panama and Colombia through the Darien rainforest yet, and it is unlikely to change in the near future. This area is one of the most savages in Colombia, beside the rainforest in the Amazon and some violent big cities.

While Darien and Amazon forests offer refuge to armed groups (FARC, ELN and M-19), big cities like Barranquilla, Medellin or Cali are known for numerous robberies, bombings and kidnappings.

I avoided almost all of these regions.

My first stop was a small village called Acandí. It is mentioned in all tourist guides as an uninteresting stopover on the Caribbean coast with a few restaurants and hotels for casual passers-by, with no road connection to the rest of the world. It will definitely remain in my memory as one of the most magnificent experiences on the trip, at least as far as natural beauty is concerned.

A significant number of leatherback turtles, recognized as the largest sea turtles globally, arrived at a beach located approximately 100 meters from the cottage where I was residing.

Over two hundred of them swim to the shore every year from February to August, after spending most of the year in Costa Rica and Mexico. The only purpose of their visit is to lay eggs in the warm sand at night.

During the night walk on the beach, I had the opportunity to observe one of them at work.

First, it digs a hole in which two types of eggs are laid – a large one from which the turtles will hatch and small ones that provide heat. Then it slowly starts to fill the pit with the help of fins and finally erases all traces. During the action, a turtle releases such sad voices (noises) that almost made me crying. I had the feeling that the turtle was overcoming a huge effort and tremendous pain during the process of laying eggs.

Acandí beach is considered to be the second most important nesting sites of the leatherback sea turtles in the world. Local communities consider the leatherback turtle a symbol and part of the region’s cultural, touristic and ecological heritage. Despite the fact that most of these turtles during the year live in the other sides of the ocean, they keep coming back to their birthplace when it comes to laying eggs.

At midday, our boat was ready to navigate from Capurganá to Turbo. The first two hours were comfortable and smooth: the rather calm sea with small waves forced us to be cautious, but relaxed. We stopped at villages to pick up and drop passengers, until eventually only six of us remained on board from the initial group of twenty.

The last two hours turned out into a nightmare. Rough sea showed its power. The water poured in the boat from all sides, seriously scaring all passengers. I was as wet as if I had jumped into the sea and swam. Voyagers in the back part of the vessel were affected even more. They tried to protect themselves with plastic foil, but it didn’t help. However, it wouldn’t even be such a problem if we were just wet. The sun hid behind the clouds, the temperatures dropped. I was chilled to the bone.

At around 5:00pm we reached Turbo, which is according to fellow travelers, one of the most dangerous cities in Colombia. It didn’t seem anything special to me.

I strolled through the city for a while, enjoyed a late dinner, and observed a group of boys playing soccer until late in the evening.

If Acandí is seldom visited by travelers, Cartagena is right the opposite: the city is a key highlight on the itineraries of nearly all travelers to Colombia, frequently being the exclusive location visited by cruise ships.

Cartagena is one of the first established Spanish cities in South America (in 1533).

Due to its location, it soon became the most important port from which Spanish galleys transported plundered wealth to Europe.

To safeguard the city from always annoying pirates, the Spaniards protected it with a few meters’ wide walls. On top of the hill, a large fortress offering a great overview of the whole of Cartagena area, was constructed.

San Felipe de Barajas Fortress – the largest fortress in the city took over 200 years and 245 tons of gold to be built.  No wonder why it is considered the greatest fortress constructed by the Spaniards in the New World. Today, the main attraction of the city is appraised as one of the seven wonders of Cartagena, a recognition that accredits it as one of the largest structures built in Colombian territory.

As the period of piracy eventually concluded, Cartagena has been besieged by a significant number of tourists. A variety of luxurious hotels, located directly on the Caribbean Sea, where the sun perpetually shines, attracts wealthy travelers from Europe, the USA, and Japan.

Backpackers can settle down in in the Old Town, which is much more accessible. Most of inexpensive hotels and guesthouses are located on Calle de la Media Luna. At night, streets in this area are completely empty. Only lost souls under influence of alcohol or drugs dare to walk around in the dark. You can be an easy prey of pickpockets, especially if you have a gringo look.

Walking through the old part of the city took me back to the colonial era. Beautifully restored colonial buildings huddle together; colorful wooden balconies flourish over the narrow streets. Numerous cafes, restaurants, bars and clubs are fighting for customers at night, while souvenir shops with Colombian products and tourist agents compete during the day.

Despite the fact that Cartagena is located on the Caribbean coast, its beaches are nothing special. Dirty water due to the proximity of its port were pushing swimmers far away.

When I walked outside of the touristic areas, I discovered the other side of Cartagena. The city has moved beyond the boundaries of its once-imposing walls, and it is now characterized by suburbs that feature significant areas of poverty.

The distance from Cartagena to Bogota is over 1,000 kilometers.

Considering the road status, traffic jams and checkpoints, the ride lasts even more time than under normal circumstances. I was planning to travel by bus before meeting a Colombian couple at the San Felipe Fortress, who invited me to join them in a car. Originating from Bogota, Olga and Juan Carlos are middle-class professionals taking their holiday in Cartagena.

The compact Chevrolet provided ample comfort in the back seat, allowing me to gain deeper insights into the life of a Colombian family. We were stopping at roadside traditional restaurants, slept in an improvised hotel, tasted delicious mangos, while kept practicing Spanish.

On Day 1, we came only halfway. The first stretch of the trip, on perfectly paved road didn’t last much time, as the road changed. After dinner in a simple restaurant along the road, we decided to stay overnight. The restaurant owner offered us a room on the second floor, but the heat didn’t let me sleep at all.

On Day 2, we started as early as 4:00am. It was still dark when I took shower; the lights were not working. At least the water was refreshing. During the travel I was not feeling well; constant curves and lack of sleep were the main reason. Juan Carlos suggested that I drive, yet I did not feel comfortable undertaking that responsibility in Colombia.

Many crashed vehicles on the side of the road were a proof of crazy drivers that I could face in any moment. Two accidents on Day 1 were an evidence of imprudent drivers that lose patience and forget about consequences before taking hazard decisions to overtake slower vehicles at any cost.

We arrived at Bogota in the late afternoon. Olga invited me to their home to meet the kids, rest and evaluate her cooking capability.

I was honored to stay for one night in a modest apartment, meet the neighbors, played with their son and enjoyed homemade, fresh arepas – grilled round corn patties, topped with butter, cheese and avocado.

Delicious!

Colombia’s capital, Bogota, with a population of more than seven million people (in 1997), is another major Latin American capital drowning in traffic chaos. It takes more than an hour to move 10 kilometers around the city center in rush hour traffic. It doesn’t matter if you are in a car or bus.

On the roads of Bogota, all possible and impossible means of transport invented by the inhabitants of our planet can be found; state-of-the-art cars, horse-drawn carriages, motorcycles, bicycles, antique buses, museum trucks … running into each other, overtaking, cursing and blowing the horn. The lack of underground metro is a noticeable handicap that cannot be leveraged by any other vehicle on the roads.

Nowhere else before had I noticed so many security guards, soldiers, or police as on the streets of Bogota. Many of them have a machine gun in their hands and just in case there is a gun and an indispensable baton as a backup in the holster.

Colombia is known for the largest number of police officers killed in the world (both in absolute and relative terms), so their complete combat armament is understandable.

In Bogotá, it appeared to me that the police were primarily occupied with the challenges arising from the ongoing strikes by ordinary citizens. At least every three days, a group of people find some reason to march through the streets, blocking the main intersections, causing chaos or despair. If they didn’t happen to find any good reason, the corrupt and spoiled government is always a decent excuse to protest.

I visited only one museum in Bogota and I can assure that the entrance fee is entirely worthwhile. With 30,000 exhibited gold objects from pre-colonial times, The Museum of Gold (Museo del Oro). represents the largest collection of this type in the world. A special room called El Dorado is dedicated to the legendary lake – Laguna de Guatavita.

Laguna de Guatavita was once an important place of worship for the Muisca indigenous people, where they donated gold objects and food to the highest deities.

During the ceremony the ruler himself was supposed to navigate towards the middle of the lake on a golden raft. He sprinkled gold dust all over his body and bathed in the lake. Despite the great efforts of the Spaniards, very little wealth was discovered. It is believed that most of sacrificed gold objects are still hidden at the bottom of the mystical lake.

I also visited the underground salt cathedral in the village of Zipaquirá, Salt Cathedral of Zipaquirá, which served as an underground salt mine in the past. When salt excavation stopped, large crosses, an altar and a central hall were carved into the walls. The mine was given the new name of the Cathedral.

According to the local guide, this Roman catholic church 200 meters under the surface is the largest underground cathedral in the world, but it is not yet fully completed. The Jewel of Modern Architecture is one of the most notable achievements of Colombian architecture.

Bogota is far from being a safe place. City authorities have been trying to do everything to make the capital of Colombia a more a more respectable and secure place. An important measure mandates that people are not allowed to bring any weapons, including machetes, knives, or other dangerous items, when passing through security checkpoints.

I was always carrying a Swiss Army knife with me until it was spotted in my backpack at an unexpected security check at the central bus station. If I hadn’t started yelling, screaming and making chaos out of it, I would have definitely stayed without my knife forever. The soldier, who initially wanted to take the knife away from me, became so embarrassed at the intervention of his boss that he even offered help, finding a bus for my trip to San Agustin.

Considering the multitude of stories highlighting the dangers of Medellin and Cali during my visit, I made the decision to avoid these cities for reasons of personal safety. I especially regret for not visiting Medellin, since I later found out from other travelers that it was not at all as awful as it was quoted in the news.

Apparently, security in Medellin had improved a lot since Pablo Escobar violent attacks in the early 1990s and his death in 1993. It has become a beautifully landscaped colonial town, known for stunning girls and as the fashion industry center of Colombia.

I proceeded from Bogota directly to the southwestern, where two small archeological sites, San Agustin and Tierradentro, are located.

San Agustin is one of the most important archeological sites on the American continent. The area was once inhabited by a mysterious civilization that left behind numerous statues, stone carved figures and underground tombs. According to archaeologists, they lived in the period from 6^th to 14^th century AD. The reason for their mysterious demise is still unknown.

So far, about 500 sculptures with animal and human images of very different sizes have been discovered. The tallest structure reaches a height of 7 meters. The whole area was without a doubt a ceremonial center where important people were buried.

The whole archeological park is very nicely arranged. The ISIC student card helped me reducing the entrance fee and extremely friendly locals assisted me with recommendations for food and accommodation.

It took me half a day drive from San Augustin to another important archaeological site in southern Colombia.

As the name of the town itself suggests (Tierradentro = underground), most of the remains were found in large underground tombs (hypogea), carved into the volcanic tuff.

The largest tombs remind of some kind of oval rooms with a diameter of approximately 10 meters, dating from 6^th to 10^th centuries. The walls are painted with geometric, anthropomorphic and zoomorphic patterns in red, black and white.

Some of the tombs are still perfectly preserved today. Concrete stairs lead from surface to the interior. Unfortunately, most of the tombs were looted before being discovered by archaeologists; from about 100 tombs discovered so far, only 7 are suitable for visiting.

The area of ​​San Agustin is not only known for the archaeological remains of mysterious civilizations, but also for cockfighting.

Pelea de gallos has a similar meaning to the locals as heavy weight boxing duel to the wealthy Americans. It contains everything you need for a good weekend party: two trained athletes, a noisy audience, excitement, joy, sadness, betting, drinking and cheering.

On Saturday night at 9:00pm, I squeezed with a group of locals in the trunk of a pick-up truck that didn’t offer any comfort during one-hour drive to the arena. We were tossed during the tumultuous ride from one end of the trunk to the other. Three roosters – first-class fighters – had much more comfort warming up in the safe shelter inside the cabin receiving a lot of tenderness, seasoned with soft kisses on their heads by the owner.

Upon arrival, roosters were first measured, checked and their age determined, before being locked in a cage, where they waited for their opponent in the appropriate category.

Duels take place continuously until the early hours of the morning. The rules are very simple:

• A fight lasts maximum 20 minutes.
• Roosters can use all body parts to attack, though mostly beaks and claws on their feet are employed.
• When a rooster fells and is no longer able to fight, the judge leaves it on the ground for a minute, before trying to put it on feet again. If the rooster does not stay on its feet in three attempts, the battle is lost.

A cockfight is much more cruel and violent than a boxing duel. The consequences are often loss of vision or a punctured head of the loser. Only a few roosters have more than ten fights behind them, before returning to their daily routine (retirement) heavily handicapped. Fundaments for a good fighter is, above all, excellent food and genes, as there is no special training.

Cockfighting is also a big business. Enviable sums of money are at stake considering the standard of living in Colombia. In one match, bets can go above 500.00US$ in a group of five to ten people. Usually the owners bet on their rooster and others against it.

Judges have the hardest job. They are constantly forced to push annoying, aggressive, rude and drunk spectators out of the ring. As time progresses, the effects of alcohol intensify, and more intruders jump into the ring.

At 5:00am in the morning, when all matches are over, most of the fans faint under the weight of alcohol and have difficulty finding their way home. In the meantime, they rest in roadside ditches until hangover terminates.

Roosters (especially losers) have really bad time at early hours in the morning as well. All tenderness from previous evening before the fight is gone. Instead of caressing, they receive kicks, and instead of kisses, they are blessed by juicy curses.

Obviously, cockfighting is a male thing. There were hardly any women among the spectators; the only exceptions being some local prostitutes.

It was 3:30pm when I stood at the curb of the main road to Popayan, waiting for a bus, which was scheduled to pass by within the following 30 minutes. It should be a scenic four-hours’ drive through the hilly landscape. The time passed quickly while talking with a school supervisor about the education system, its shortcomings and possible improvements.

At around 5:15pm, a man on a motorcycle drove by and announced that the bus had broken down.

“There will be no bus today!”

Fortunately, a cargo truck bound for Popayan drove by less than an hour later. I jumped on the trailer, where I joined a group of locals, mostly farmers. We started an interesting conversation.

Welcome to Colombia gringo!

Time passed quickly as we made our way uphill at a crawling speed. At the top of the slope, we stopped for dinner at an improvised roadside restaurant.

“It’s going to be cold, the night is approaching. Join us in the cabin!” the driver invited me to a more comfortable section.

I joined other three passengers, who already huddled next to him in a warm cabin. In the next hour, I learned all the possible swear words and vulgar language used in Colombia.

At 10:00pm, approximately 22 kilometers before Popayan, a loud bang was heard, causing the truck to come to a halt. At first, we thought, it was a flat tire; instead the front axle tore off.

We tried to fix it with improvised tools, but to no avail. At midnight we laid down among wooden crates, cardboard boxes and cartons of fruits. I covered myself with a sleeping bag and fell asleep.

An hour later, I was woken up by loud screams, illuminated by a strong light. A stranger was inviting me:

“Come to our truck gringo. We will take you to Popayan!”

The double cabin pickup truck was a true luxury. I even got a place inside the cabin, while patients were transported in the converted trunk. I realized it was an ambulance. Too good to be true!

I quickly realized that there was an issue, as our vehicle was secured to an unstable truck by a rope. Upon reaching the summit of the hill through being towed, the rope was detached. We then descended the hill in neutral gear until we came to a stop, at which point we had to wait for the truck to reattach the rope and pull us back up the hill.

We repeated the routine a dozen of times until the truck finally stopped. It broke down. We were stuck on the road again. I could see the lights of Popayan only kilometers away.

Fortunately, a taxi soon passed by and picked up some passengers, including myself, to transport us to the bus station in the city. Tired and hungry after a long adventure, I was glad to find a bed in a nearby guesthouse at 3:30 in the morning.

Before continuing my trip to Ecuador, I planned a stopover in the border town of Ipiales. The town itself is nothing special, but a neo-Gothic church in the village of Las Lajas, 7 kilometers outside of the town, is worth a visit.

The Sanctuary of Las Lajas was erected in honor of a virgin who appeared several times on a large rock at the bottom of the canyon.

It took over 3 years to build the church that reaches over 100 meters above the canyon floor. The cathedral is erected in a position that this rock represents its central altar. Even the church itself is something special, let alone its position at the bottom of the canyon, where it is halved by Guáitara River. A fairy-tale like-appeal that is truly magical.

According to popular belief, the Virgin Mary appeared to a woman and her deaf-mute daughter in 1754 at the same place where the church now stands. Numerous flowers, crosses and small memorial plaques of happiness express gratitude to the virgin for miracles that she created, filling pilgrims with hope and inspiration of faith.