I didn´t know what to do. As nice as Medellin is, I was getting itchy feet. I´d been there twice and seen much of the city. Now I wanted to see more of the countryside. So what was holding me up?
According to CNN Worldwide News, Colombia was in a virtual state of calamity due to flooding. The only thing was, I had been there for two weeks and I hadn´t seen any. Oh, it rained every night, sometimes down pouring for hours. In Medellin and farther south in Manizales and Armenia and Cali -- through the coffee country, where I had been traveling -- torrents of brown water were spilling off the hillsides; landslides, lots of them on the roads; fields of standing water, lots of them, too. But no floods.
As sometimes happens, the dilemma was solved for me -- by an influx of biology students from Bogota, of all things. They had booked up the entire Palm Tree Hostel, my home away from home in Medellin, for a conference. Myself and about six others were politely shown the door.
It was one of those spontaneous moments: I went to the Terminal del Norte and cruised the ticket windows, which seem go on and on and on, there´s so many bus companies here. Finally I got to one offering a bus leaving in twenty minutes for Santa Fe de Antioguia...which was supposed to be a nice place to visit, an old-style Colonial town up in the mountains. I stepped up to the counter and dug for some pesos.
The ride in there was a bit of a calamity though, I will admit. The road clung to the side of mountains and curved like a writhing snake. This was bad enough, but to make it worse it was almost obliterated by landslides every few kilometers or so. What should have been one-and-a- half hours in dragged on for three-plus.
For some reason anymore I can´t take much of the curvy-ques, the switch backs, that is. They give me terrible headaches and make me sick in the stomach. The trip in to Santa Fe de A. was baaaack and forth, baaaack and forth almost all the way and left me groaning with my face buried in my hands. But it was worth it -- the scenery, the glimpses of life of the mountain folk here were memorable.
Some of the Harley motorcycle riders have a bumper sticker: ride hard, you can rest after you die. I rode hard into Santa Fe de A. and kept in mind all the nauseating while the second rule of traveling -- GET THERE.
After getting there, of course, I had to collect myself and put forth with rule number three -- EXECUTE. Get out and do things, that is. As best as possible, partake of the local life, try to talk with the locals (in español, of course) and so on. I´ll go into this more in another post, Jim´s rules of traveling. But for now back to Santa Fe de Antioguia.
The town itself is almost 500 years old and was the first capital of Colombia. As such, it was built by the Spanish and fairly reeks of character with interesting fountains, courtyards, handicrafts and so on. Compared to the modern style and chicness of Medellin, Santa Fe is sturdy compesinos clomping about in rubber barn boots. It´s clumps of horse manure here and there, smooshed into cobblestones laid centuries ago. It´s residents who are a little leery of los turistas, especially white ones. Annoying motor scooters are blatting around, but mainly it moves at a slower pace, the pace of rural Colombia.
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| Landslide, a big one, almost choking off the route |
The ride in there was a bit of a calamity though, I will admit. The road clung to the side of mountains and curved like a writhing snake. This was bad enough, but to make it worse it was almost obliterated by landslides every few kilometers or so. What should have been one-and-a- half hours in dragged on for three-plus.
For some reason anymore I can´t take much of the curvy-ques, the switch backs, that is. They give me terrible headaches and make me sick in the stomach. The trip in to Santa Fe de A. was baaaack and forth, baaaack and forth almost all the way and left me groaning with my face buried in my hands. But it was worth it -- the scenery, the glimpses of life of the mountain folk here were memorable.
Some of the Harley motorcycle riders have a bumper sticker: ride hard, you can rest after you die. I rode hard into Santa Fe de A. and kept in mind all the nauseating while the second rule of traveling -- GET THERE.
After getting there, of course, I had to collect myself and put forth with rule number three -- EXECUTE. Get out and do things, that is. As best as possible, partake of the local life, try to talk with the locals (in español, of course) and so on. I´ll go into this more in another post, Jim´s rules of traveling. But for now back to Santa Fe de Antioguia.
The town itself is almost 500 years old and was the first capital of Colombia. As such, it was built by the Spanish and fairly reeks of character with interesting fountains, courtyards, handicrafts and so on. Compared to the modern style and chicness of Medellin, Santa Fe is sturdy compesinos clomping about in rubber barn boots. It´s clumps of horse manure here and there, smooshed into cobblestones laid centuries ago. It´s residents who are a little leery of los turistas, especially white ones. Annoying motor scooters are blatting around, but mainly it moves at a slower pace, the pace of rural Colombia.
The lobby of Hotel Caseron -- a veritable museum
People ask me, what do you do in these places anyhow? I tell them that there are generally "tourist activities" available -- paragliding, rafting trips, horseback rides up canyons and of course the scenery. There´s usually scenery. And these are all nice in there own way. But too often I´ve gone chasing off after the sights and missed the best part of a place, or certainly one of the best parts.
Anymore I've come to look around the neighborhood first; to look at the people, how they dress, how they eat, how they move even. Sometimes a place will have such an aura of quaintness, a character, that the very buildings themselves will seem to give it off. And this is certainly the case with Santa Fe de A.
I sat in the shade at the square, nursing a Coke and taking it all in -- the comings and goings of the people and the vehicles, the dogs lying in the shade, the breezes rustling the leaves. I became a type of snoop even; inspecting building blocks, peering around corners into people's back yards. Soaking up the local culture? Yea, alright, we´ll go with that, to make it sound good.
I sat in the shade at the square, nursing a Coke and taking it all in -- the comings and goings of the people and the vehicles, the dogs lying in the shade, the breezes rustling the leaves. I became a type of snoop even; inspecting building blocks, peering around corners into people's back yards. Soaking up the local culture? Yea, alright, we´ll go with that, to make it sound good.
However, all of this was cut short for me by a weather report. The forecast of heavy rains the next few days snapped me out of the idyll and I decided that I´d better catch a ride back out to Medellin while I could. Unfortunately I didn´t get to explore the surrounding countryside, but sometimes that´s the way it goes.
Eventually the rainy season will end though, and the roads will be repaired, in good Colombia time and all that. Whenever that happens to occur, I expect that Santa Fe de A. will still be there, pretty much unchanged.
TTwo shots of the Sweet Home Hostel, where I stayed
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