Impressions of Colombia

People

We’ve found the very largest percentage of people to be very friendly:  The lady at the restaurant high up the mountain road where we went to get away from the valley heat and ended up spending the night.  The people in Medellin yelling with delight “Where are you from?” from their car while both of us were going down the freeway,  The men asking many questions at the semi-trailer parking lot where we spent several nights, Karolina and her father, and others.

Another time I was in line at a Super Wal-Mart type store in Medellin.  Bagging items was one of the most beautiful girls I’d seen (in a country of absolutely stunning dark-haired beauties).  I tried not to stare, and we actually caught each other’s eye two or three times.  As I drew nearer, she smiled and told me in Spanish that I had beautiful (blue) eyes.  And my thoughts were that she was beautiful!

While on the subject of women, many young women here are truly gorgeous. And most have fabulous figures, shown off, of course, by the tightest pants imaginable. (Common with all latinas.)  But no matter, ALL women wear very tight pants regardless of their figure.  I feel pretty darn frumpy here in my loose pants! 

A lovely girl and her sister or daughter.

Here is another encounter that shows extreme kindness.

Last week, we thought we were meeting with our shipping agent in Cartagena on Monday, and we had many miles to cover from Honda.  Then two things happened.  First, we learned it was Saturday, not Sunday, and second,  Monday was a holiday.  So suddenly, we had come up with two extra days.

With that extra time, the next event played out beautifully:  We were parked by the side of the road in a small town, having just finished our morning coffee.  We were just ready to turn the key in the pickup, and a neatly dressed man left his late model car on the opposite shoulder and walked across the road to us and introduced himself:  Omar.

Not unusually, he was interested in the camper, asking several questions.  Then he wanted to introduce us to his wife, Carmen.  We all laughed as he threw a couple of pebbles across the busy road to get his wife’s attention in his car.  We gave them both a tour of the camper, then he said that he would like to invite us to his home that day.  Given our extra time, we said yes to the surprise invitation.

We followed him several miles on the main highway, then 4-5 miles on a side road to a small town.  They had a small modest concrete home on a side street of town.  Two abuelas (grandmas) and their two preschool age sons lived there as well.  Visiting, were lovely twin girls, age 11.

Omar and the twins.

Mike and Carmen

Omar and Carmen's sons

They asked what we would like to drink.  Mike and I have become addicted to “limonada” which is a fabulous limeade.  So I asked for either water or limonada.  Carmen laughed, walked out the open back door, reached up and plucked several limes off the tree overhanging the doorway!

Omar is a heavy equipment operator at a coal mine about 20 miles away.  His boss is American and he is quite interested in knowing English words for everything. He was very entertaining and funny.  We engaged the 11-year old girls too, as they seem to enjoy listening.

Soon Carmen served us a wonderful chicken-cilantro soup, with a leg in the bowl, along with a separate plate of rice. Omar and Carmen had to return the girls to their parents and left with them.  We visited with one grandmother, but the sweet other lady was so soft-spoken we couldn’t make out a thing she said. 

Mike and I took a walk and when we returned I was so terribly hot that I jumped in our shower.  When I came out, Omar and Carmen were back, visiting with curious neighbors in the street behind our camper which itself was a curiosity.  More and more people arrived, laughing and chatting.  I gave numerous tours, and at one time counted 17 people standing around in the street talking. By this time, the little boys were calling me “abuela”.

We camped in front of their home for the night and left at seven the next morning.  A great experience, as is always the case with this type of exchange.

Other Foreign Travelers

We saw only one other RV while we were here, and that was the French couple in Cartagena who told us they were not allowed to stay overnight in the parking lot.

They came back for a few minutes and we learned a bit more.  Her husband lost his wallet or had it lifted right after we talked with them the first time.  They never found it.

Also, we learned they came from Panama in November when the ferry began running again.  Now they want to return to Panama, and the ferry again, is no longer running.  It lasted one month.  So they will have to ship in a container — they have a small Toyota pickup with pop-up camper, small enough to fit in a container.

Because of both their and our limited Spanish, we didn’t learn why  they are returning to Panama so quickly,  I did understand they had had some trouble with the police around Old Town Cartegana.  How much of the rest of the country they visited, I don’t know.  

Scenery

Much of the countryside is absolutely stunning.  We regret, of course, that we never made it to two areas we really wanted to visit, NW of Bogata around San Gil, and the coffee area south of Manizales.  But the country we did see, especially on the roads from the Magdelana Valley to Medellin, then south to Manizales and back across to Honda were fabulous.  Wonderful rugged country covered with lush tropical vegetation, so unknown in the bare rocks of our Rocky Mountains at home.

The Magdelana Valley, itself, extends FOREVER, and most is filled with cattle ranches and small, pretty normal, rural towns and some mid-sized cities. 

A vendor SITTING at a speed bump

I had an interesting encounter in one of these cities.  I was in the driver’s seat of the pickup waiting as Mike found a hardware store.  Two cops on a motorcycle came along, asking question and the head honcho then asked for “documentos”.  

He actually studied those things for literally a full five-ten minutes, standing in front of the pickup.  In the meantime, I was chatting with his partner.  FINALLY, he wandered back to my window and handed me my papers.  That was the only time I was a bit nervous.  Maybe if Mike had been around he might has hassled us because he kept asking about “su esposo?”.

An active mud volcan "Fortuna" we stopped at.

The "mud" people.  Tourists go down in the mud pit then wash off down at the lake.
The mud used to be to the top of the wood framework.  Now, because so many have dipped
in the mud and carried some out with each person, the level has fallen!

This cute girl's boyfriend said he had no desire to go in the mud.
He was watching from the top with an amused look on his face.

Food. 

Mostly not great.  I thought our best meal was the one at the tiny rural restaurant where we spent the night:  good beef soup, grilled thin sliced pork, yucca, red beans and rice and plantain.  We were served “platacones” a couple of other times, supposedly made from plantain which I love.  However, platacones are just plain flavorless. They appear to be breaded ground plantain. . .or something. 

Empanadas here are excellent — unless they are filled with potatoes (two starchy items put together. Not my cup of tea).  All the chicken, pork and beef ones are good though.

The meal Mike remembers most was the simple grilled chicken kabobs with a tiny bit of the most amazing slaw I’m ever tasted.  This was in Honda.

Language 

Throughout most of the parts of the country we were in for the last month, we found our Spanish to be adequate.  As always, we have difficult understanding, but it was not impossible. Here in Cartagena — impossible!

Dinner last night was most interesting and not because of the food which was very good, flavorful grilled beef and chicken. The story:  We walked in, checked the menu and decided to stay. 

 A waiter came up and I told him, “Dos para cena, por favor.” (two for dinner please)  He shook his head; didn’t understand me. I tried again, “Dos para come” (two for eat)  Still didn’t understand.  I tried a couple of other things getting more agitated at which point Mike grabbed my hand and pulled me to a table.

A few minutes later the same waiter came around and asked what we wanted.  I told him, “Un menu,”  He didn’t understand.  Now I was getting really annoyed and tried a couple of other things.  Nothing. Mike finally hit the right word:  “Carta” (menu). 

I know the word carta for menu but haven’t used it in years.  And even if I was using the wrong word, don’t you think he’d just bring us menus just because he’s a waiter and we were patrons?!?! (Update:  At home in Colorado, numerous people have told us they thought he was just being a jerk, and knew perfectly well what I was saying. I've come to agree.)

The truth is, our Spanish is almost useless here in Cartagena.  I can’t understand even a word here and there, and often they can’t understand a thing I say.  Very frustrating.  Thank goodness it wasn’t that way in the rest of the country! I admit, though, that I stopped talking no more than necessary after Omar told me that Mike speaks better Spanish than I do.  After all my study, I am really disillusioned.

Colorful, artistic sign at entrance to Barranquilla

Logistics of RV Traveling  
There is always a shakedown period at the beginning of every extended trip, when you figure out exact placement of items, you figure out the money, how to get water and propane, and places to park for the night.  This time that shakedown just never ended.  

Mike said it wonderfully when he said to me, “You know, we just weren’t cut out to be overlanders, we’re more “adventurous snowbirds”.  We found we aren’t good at “sussing out” places without good guide books.  We learned we really like having a tow car that we can unhook and locate grocery or hardware stores without having to drive down narrow, crowded city streets, or to check out country roads.  Also, we don’t want to keep moving day after day.  We want time to explore and savor areas we deem interesting. At times we enjoy staying a couple of weeks in a place.

All in all, the bottom line is:  this just didn’t work for us.  An expensive lesson, to be sure, but — but that’s life.  After a short break, we’re ready to pick up the camper in Galveston and head out somewhere again.