"Thankyou for visiting Colombia!"

A pattern has emerged while we've been in Colombia and I like it. It seems everywhere we go we meet a particularly friendly or memorable person who makes the trip that little bit more enjoyable. It's nice to connect the places we visit to the people we meet.

In Salento, there was obviously Omar and his generous hospitality. But there was also Alex. Alex was Cali born but had worked as a tour guide for many years in the Cocora Valley. We met him when he hitched a ride in our jeep on the way to the Valley. He was another typical Colombian: extraordinarily friendly. The whole way he talked passionately about Salento and Colombia and introduced us to unique words in Colombian Spanish. At the end of the ride he insisted on meeting us that evening so he could show us around town, so we made loose plans to meet him outside a restaurant, thinking he'd probably have better things to do than give a couple of tourists a free tour on a Saturday night. I'd clearly misjudged Alex, who arrived ten minutes early, eager to take us all to a local haunt for a game of Tejo. This is a serious and competitive sport in Colombia, rarely played without beer in hand. The 'field' is a clay-filled box, probably a little less than a meter squared. In the centre is a small metal ring inside of which are carefully placed triangular paper packets which are filled with gun powder. The object of the game? To create an explosion by throwing a weight (usually 2kg or more) at the ring. It's a very blokey game, and the distances they throw from are very impressive, sometimes over 20m. I teamed up with Julian, Bec with Alex, and we played a few rounds. Not surprisingly, Julian and I had the disadvantage on the Tejo experience front and we failed dismally at winning one round. Not to worry, Alex later took us dancing at a tiny hole-in-the-wall bar, again filled with locals, and taught us some salsa and merengue moves. This was more my style.

A googled pic of the Tejo 'field'

After Salento we spent a night in Villa de Leyva, a small colonial town that we'd heard was a not-to-be-missed. Unfortunately it rained, or threatened rain, for most of the time we were there, so we didn't get a lot of exploring in. We did, however, enjoy a delicious meal at a place called 'Antique', a charming little restaurant with antique furnishings (surprise, surprise) and an in-house Spanish-guitar player. Apart from the meal - a scrumptious pork steak with a fresh mango chutney which I'm going to insist that my wonderful cook of a father recreate for me on my return home - the memorable person on this occasion was the intoxicated Colombian who kept insisting on taking to the microphone. My personal favourite was his slurred rendition of 'Girl from Ipanema'. Eventually the waiter discreetly switched the mic off, not that our friend had the slightest idea.

A moment of clear skies in Villa de Leyva

Next was San Gil and our appointed 'admin day', and then it was time to head for the coast, Taganga the next port of call. The reviews on Taganga are varying. Some describe it as a sleepy little fishing village boasting an unspoiled coastline. Others say it's an overcrowded tourist hub. Bec and I were part of the latter group. While the town is somewhat pretty, the beach is packed with sun burnt westerners, the water littered with rubbish. Even a walk along to the next beach, the apparently less-crowded 'Playa Grande', saw the same thing. For us, it wasn't anything to write home about. We did however enjoy a few stunning sunsets while staying at the 'Casablanca' hostel, which was right on the beach.

The view from our hostel room in Taganga

Taganga at sunset - at least there's something good about this place!

And who was the notable personality in Taganga? There were a couple, but one particularly stuck out. It was while we were wandering the streets, backpack laden and sweltering in the intense Caribbean Sea heat that we first encountered 'the t-shirt guy'. He was sitting at a cafe eating breakfast when he waved his arms, yelling at us: "Thank you for visiting Colombia!" It wasn't the only time he'd say this to us during our stay. You can't miss this guy around Tagana with his long locks, round glasses and bright Colombia t-shirt, Colombia wrist bands and Colombia belts - Colombia everything! Just before we left Taganga for our Lost City trek he joined our table as we waited for our breakfast at a cafe. He enthusiastically described the meaning behind the Colombian flag: yellow for the country's richness, its gold and land; blue for its abundant water supply; and red for the passion of its people. He then proceeded to explain the significance of frogs in the Lost City...

Finally, there was the Tayrona National Park. Most guide books will give you the tip off about its pristine beaches and, of course, we had to see its three main ones for ourselves: Arrecifes, La Piscina and El Cabo. And it was that day we discovered that chivalry is still alive and well in Colombia. It appeared first with our misfortune on the public bus we boarded from Santa Marta to Tayrona. The bus driver had decided to ventilate the bus by leaving the door wide open. Unfortunately for us in the seat adjoining the door, when we hit one of the many bumps in the road our food supply that was sitting at our feet went flying...out the door and onto the road! Back home, our precious supply of marshmallows and raisins would have been long gone, but not here. We watched amazed as the bus conductor ordered the driver to pull to the side of the road, jumped in front of the oncoming traffic and retrieved our goods. Crisis averted! Then there were the the two 16-ish year old guys we disembarked the bus with. Not only did they offer to escort us on the shuttle to the park's entrance, but they waited for us to tie our shoes before trailing us the whole 40 minute walk to Arrecifes, jumping ahead at one point to lend a hand at a tricky bit in the path. The funny part was, they didn't say a word the whole time! So, although terribly shy, their manners earned them a big tick. I'm sure their Mums would be proud.

As for the Park itself, the photos below do the talking. This place makes Taganga's beach look like a murky, urine-filled children's swimming pool! Once at Arrecifes (where you can't swim because the currents are too strong), we walked through dense forest all the way to El Cabo, where we elected to hire a tent for the night. I've mentioned before that camping and I don't mix, and the flooding of our tent (and my mattress) during the thunder storm that night only confirmed this. If I ever went again I'd take the hammock option. But it only took a swim in those crystal clear waters to erase it from my mind. I'll probably never be a camper, but I'm sure appreciating the outdoors.

El Cabo beach

One of the stunning beaches in Tayrona National Park

Crazy about trees...I mean, palms

I wouldn't say I'm an outdoorsey person, and I'm certainly not the camping type. I appreciate natural beauty: waterfalls, mountains, bushland etc, but usually after an hour or so I'm ready to move on. Over these last six months things have changed. I've been inundated with and spoiled by nature and have certainly taken the Australian Blue Mountains up a notch. The Amazon, the Iguazu Falls - there's so many natural gems in South America that have that amazing factor. For me, one of these places was not far from a quaint little farm high above the Colombian town of Salento.

Salento

Salento is in the 'Zona Cafeteria' and is one of a number of regions that produces delicious Colombian coffee. We blew into Salento with plans to spend one night, two at most, and to take a tour of a coffee plantation before heading north to the coast. Well it only took my lending a camera cable to a fellow traveller for our plans to change. While uploading her photos, Katherine told us about her plans for the following day. She was being picked up at 6.30am for an overnight stay at the 'Eagle's Nest', a dairy farm an hour out of town owned by Salento-native Don Omar. Dairy farm? I found myself thinking, what happened to all the coffee bean talk? There wasn't too much arm twisting before we decided that we too would check out the Eagle's Nest.

So the following morning, sleepy eyed, we waited for the sound of Omar's jeep with Katherine and Julian, a Swiss guy who was also subjected to Katherine's convincing. Once arrived and happy to see two extra faces, Omar turned the jeep around to pick up some extra food in town before driving us for a bumpy hour up above the clouds to his little piece of paradise 3000m above sea level. With a handful of country friends back home, I've seen some pretty impressive properties but this one was nothing short of amazing. Overlooking endless luscious green valleys, clouds reshaping themselves below us, we were treated to a cup of coffee while sitting in the living room that had corner to corner windows, taking in the spectacular panoramic views of the Pereira and Armenia regions, which were even more impressive that night when twinkling under a thunderless lightening show.

The 24 hour itinerary was set, the feature attraction a visit to the wax palms that grow in one of the valleys. The wax palm is Colombia's 'national tree'. According to Omar, however, whoever mustered up this title didn't put much thought into it considering the palms are very rare, growing only in a few areas and in altitudes of between 2,500 and 2,800m. On top of this, Omar rightly pointed out that they're not even trees, they're palms! I was already awestruck by the property and didn't think a few palms could be nearly as impressive. How wrong I was.

After a hearty breakfast of eggs and arapas - kind of like unleavened bread patties made from corn, a favourite in Colombia - we headed back below the clouds for about an hour, stopping here and there to take photos or let cows pass on the road. We must have reached the right altitude level as, without warning from Omar, we turned a corner and the engine stopped at a small soccer field. There, we were suddenly hit with the phenomenon: not one, but hundreds of palms, sporadically scaling the valley in forest-like clumps. The most remarkable thing about them was their height, the tallest ones, according to Omar, reaching up to 80m. I've never seen anything like it and with no one around, only the sound of the palm fronds in the wind, it was nothing short of magical. My descriptions really don't do it justice but for me, it was almost reminiscent of Enid Blyton's 'The Magic Faraway Tree' - another world - except, of course, without the Angry Pixie, Dame Washalot and Saucepan Man etc. I never thought I could be so captivated by a bunch of trees, I mean, palms. We spent a good two hours marvelling, wandering under and around them, marvelling some more, and going crazy with the photo taking. I could have stayed there all afternoon, it was so peaceful and beautiful.

Colombia's highest soccer field

First glimpse

Omar standing next to a palm, these things are enormous!

A small 'forest' of palms

Other patches of palm forests

But Omar had other activities on the agenda. The rest of the afternoon was about exploring the farm. After lunch and a short siesta, we went for a walk around his property, hiking up hills in search of tree-dwelling sloths and discovering his strange breed of midget cow (the one I met was called 'Omar' and was about 1/3 of the size of a cow the same age!) One of Omar's farm hands, German, also introduced us to the game of Tejo, a traditional Colombian sport which I'll get into later, but we didn't play for long because a mesmerising sunset stole our attention. To top it all off, included in the Eagle's Nest experience was a cow-milking session early the next morning, we were on a dairy farm after all. What was less enticing was the expectation that we actually drink the milk straight from the cow! We weren't milking into a metal bucket but into a plastic cup, which was luckily filled with chocolate Nesquick. My good manners saw me drink the whole thing, a big smile on my face and lots of 'mmmmm's.

A sunset high above the clouds

Not sure I got the hang of this milking thing

Unpasturised milk, yuuuuuum!

It was a breathtaking 24 hours but, soon after chugging my unpasturised milk, it was time for Omar to take us back through the clouds, back to civilisation. After visiting this well kept secret it seemed pointless going to the Cocora Valley, the place the tourists flock to see the palms. Here they stand solo, a few metres apart and there are far fewer. Not ones to miss out, however, once back in Salento we hopped in a jeep bound for Cocora. Palms? Tick. Beautiful? Tick. Eagle's Nest impressive factor? Not so much, but we enjoyed the walk through the green valley, the hike up 'La Montagne' (which was good practice for our upcoming Lost City trek), and we compared our surrounds to those in 'Jurassic Park'.

The less impressive, but very beautiful, Cocora Valley

With plans to leave that evening on an overnight bus to Bogota and tired from two consecutive early mornings, a siesta was tempting once we'd returned from the Cocora Valley. The coffee region had surprised us, we'd got much more than the coffee we'd bargained for. Oh that's right, coffee! We'd completely neglected the whole reason for visiting the region. Conveniently, the hostel we were at also ran a coffee 'finca' (farm), so instead of a siesta we followed the hostel's owner around the farm and learnt a thing or two about coffee beans, their harvesting and the roasting process and of course had the obligatory coffee tasting at the end. Coffee region? Tick.

The view from the 'Don Eduardo' Finca

Interesting times in Colombia

It's election weekend in Colombia. Back home there'd be people hosting election parties (any excuse in Australia), and pubs and bars sporting big screen TVs, crowded with patrons watching the ebb and flow of the results with anticipation. Here, there's an alcohol ban. It's been in place since 6pm Friday and wont be lifted until 6am Monday. Civilians are also banned from carrying weapons until June 2, but seeing as I'm not the knife or gun wielding type, that one shouldn't affect me. As one might imagine, an alcohol ban on a Saturday night is a bit of a drag in the backpacker world, but you'll be pleased to know that in light of this, we're surviving. We're currently in a hostel in Cartagena watching 'Gladiator' with some other disheartened souls, ditching the planned green chicken mango curry cooking session for watermelon and marshmallows, it's way to humid for curry. I have to admit, it's quite nice having a weekend in after our latest mission, a five day trek to and from the Lost City, and it's yet another opportunity to redress my worsening blog neglect.

If the last few weeks have been anything to go by, this weekend is going to be interesting. It's hard to avoid the election excitement here and in my very nonexpert, I've-only-been-here-for-one-month opinion, it's set to be a cracker. There's a handful of candidates but there are two clear front runners: the right-wing Juan Manuel Santos and the 'Green' Antanas Mockus.

Again in very layperson terms, Santos is playing the security card, vowing to 'keep Colombia safe', very much the same stance as the present government. He was the former defense minister under the current, and very popular, President Uribe and directed a number of military raids which helped push guerrilla groups out of the countryside and into the jungle. This has not only made the country markedly safer, but has also improved its infamous reputation for drugs and kidnapping internationally. Interestingly, however, the Uribe government is in some serious hot water over the alleged military executions of innocent village people, who were supposedly 'recruited' to the military before being killed so their bodies could be falsely presented as dead guerillas.

On the other side is Mockus, the university professor turned politician and former mayor of Bogota. His line is all about education, government transparency and change. He has overwhelming support from the younger-generation but things are a bit sketchy for him with the country's rural population who've for years been subject to the terror caused by guerrilla groups in such regions. For them, security is obviously a priority. According to some, Mockus' weak point, and perhaps subsequent downfall, may even be the lack of campaigning in these regions where many people live without electricity and, hence, television. To them, the name 'Mockus' would mean nothing!

In any event it's a fascinating time in Colombia and, although I wont of course be voting, I'm sure to be sitting in a pub somewhere, gripping my orange juice with the suspense of it all.

Bad blogger!

Believe it or not, it's been three weeks since our visit to the Amazon and we've covered a lot of ground in the meantime. In fact, we've moved countries, we're now in Colombia! For us, constant moving around subsequently leads to blog neglect. I'm trying my best to rectify the situation with a report of the last few weeks, not only to keep Mum happy, but for my own records when I get home.

I'm writing from San Gil, an adventure/eco-tourist town in central Colombia. We arrived here after a bus ride that was more like a roller coaster. I'm serious. The only difference was that there were no seat belts (added bonus), it lasted four hours and every now and then we passed soldiers armed with heavy-duty shotguns. But I wont harp on about buses again, even though this one was yet another gem. Having been wifi-less for some time now, we're skipping the abseiling and rafting opportunities in San Gil and opting for an 'admin day', to catch up on emails/blogs etc, before we hop on an overnight bus to the Caribbean coast. I have to say, it's a welcome break!

After our Amazon trip it was back to Quito, a city I've already mentioned as not having warmed to. So, not surprisingly, after tasting the Quito nightlife with some of our Amazon tour friends, we 'had to get the heck out of the area' (per 'Dimitri' on youtube) and head north-west for an overnight visit to Mindo, another adventure town similar to Banos. With plans for canopying - which entails zip-lining through rainforest canopies in a harness - we booked into the gorgeous Hotel Bambu which overlooks a nearby cloud forest. Unfortunately, the crumby Ecuadorian weather was not surprisingly uncooperative and canopying was not an option in the rain, so we spent a lazy morning waiting for the bus back to Quito as we were due to fly out the following evening. That night I was, however, compensated for Mindo's disappointments with a delicious (and enormous) seafood paella at Quito restaurant that lived up to its name: Paella de Valenciana.

The view of the cloud forest from our hostel, Mindo

The next day was spent killing time. Again the weather did not agree we us but, determined to spend the day outdoors, we spent $8 to sit on the covered Teleferico cable car which took us over 4km high and boasted 'sweeping views' of Quito. The car went about 1km an hour and all we saw were clouds. Thanks again Quito! One upside to the day was getting a seat on a very crowded city bus. I was impressed by how polite one local was when she tapped me on the shoulder as she got out of her seat. Thinking she was exiting at the next stop, I soon realised she thought I was pregnant, as I hadn't removed the bag I'd stuffed in my jacket to keep dry from the rain. Feeling slightly guilty, I couldn't bring myself to admit that in fact I wasn't an up-the-duff backpacker, so I spent the remainder of the trip sitting practically under her, with a maternal hand on my belly. Perhaps a strategy for naughty school kids back home who don't stand up for adults?

Me, with child (and our friend Anna).

Fiiiinally it was time to head to the country we'd heard so much about, Colombia. For some reason, my travel agent had booked a puzzling route for our reaching Colombia's capital: Quito - Lima - Bogota. Yes, that makes sense. Just for fun, why not fly south to Peru before heading north, crossing Ecuador again, to get to Colombia when there are direct flights between Quito and Bogota? To make matters worse, our landing time in Bogota was scheduled for 3.30am. So we knew we were in for a long evening and, when the whole plane simultaneously cheered when we hit the tarmac safely in Lima (is this not a normal event?), I was unusually apprehensive about the next flight. We did, however, arrive in Bogota and finally hit the pillow at 5am. This was neither in the hostel or neighbourhood where we'd booked which, according to our very friendly cab driver, was in an area that was 'no seguro' (not safe). By the third hostel we were in luck, this one found by our driver who had been getting in and out of the cab in the pouring rain to ask if there were vacancies. Our first experience of Colombian warmth.

I'm not going to lie, neither Bec or I are huge fans of big cities in South America. They're usually much more dangerous and far less appealing than the typically beautiful country towns. There's often a lot of cheesy tourist traps that can suck you in, such as the Teleferico in Quito - no more cable cars for me! So, when in big cities, I have to admit you might find us in the odd shopping mall here and there, or a movie cinema, luxuries you miss from home. This sometimes does have its benefits. In Bogota we went to see a film called 'Millenium' (based on the novel 'The girl with the Dragon Tattoo'), which was advertised as having Spanish subtitles. Almost always these movies are in English, but this one was in Swedish, so it turned out to be great Spanish practice. I was surprised how much I understood. Our trip to the mall also scored me a much needed new pair of non-imitation Nikes for our upcoming trek of the Lost City, something you don't usually find in the countryside.

 Some 'big-city' security in Bogota.

Our Bogota explorations did, however, go further than the Zona Rosa mall. We enjoyed an 'Almuerzo' (set lunch) at a local haunt, and ate an unidentifed piece of meat - who eats wins is back! We ventured to the gorgeous 'Plaza Bolivar' and enjoyed a spot of people watching and dodging of sky-bombing pigeons. We took an interesting tour of the National Police Museum which is also the office of the Bogota Police Major. There were plenty of acne faced teenagers who were just starting their careers as policeman, conducting tours and proudly showing us the variety of artillery used by the Colombian police over the years. Their hospitality even extended to an offer to taste Colombian coffee, which is fantastic by the way. The big finale was a trip to the Museum's basement, which is dedicated to the hunt and execution by the police of Pablo Escobar, Colombian's infamous Drug Lord. The room is fit with some gruesome photos of the dead Escobar, along with some of his accomplices, and also houses a plank of wood with the remnants of blood stains from the final shot to Escobar's head: nice. What's more, the place was swarming with school children. Not exactly the most uplifting or G-rated location for a school excursion! We ended the day with a visit to the oldest chocolate shop in Bogota, and an art museum boasting some big names like Picasso and Cezanne, quite cultural of us really. Finally, I was able to catch up with a friend of a friend from university who's living in Bogota working for the UN. She took us out in the Zona Rosa and then back to her house where we met some of her Colombian friends and chatted a lot about the country's interesting history. It's always nice to hear a local perspective.

 Bec in the Police Museum.

Bogota was also our base for a day trip to Zipaquira, a small town around 45 minutes away and well known for its Salt Cathedral. The catch is, the Cathedral is built in a salt mine and is 200m underground! After a 15m walk uphill through a park swarming with families for Mother's Day, we reached the Cathedral's entrance. We were taken on the underground tour, past fourteen small chapels representing the Stations of the Cross and on to the huge Cathedral itself. The whole place is architectually amazing and was well worth the visit.


I also had a pang of homesickness in Bogota, as it was while I was there that two of my good friends from home were married in Byron Bay. While I tried to be there in spirit by toasting them with a glass of champas, it was hard knowing that some of my best friends were all congregated in the one place while I was across the other side of the world. Photos have starting circulating on facebook and it was the most beautiful wedding, congratulations Belly and Clare!


It only took a rainy Monday for us to decided to move north-west to Medellin, another big Colombian city. The main reason for our choosing Medellin was so Bec could welcome 25 years in a place where there was good nightlife and somewhere we could celebrate in style. The celebrating in style part came off well, but unfortunately the nightlife part fell well short of our expectations. Being 'foodies' (we're both lovers of good food and wine), I took Bec to a trendy restaurant/bar called 'Herbario'. The place was like any you'd find in Sydney, complete with a jazz band on the second floor. We spoiled ourselves with goat's cheese, proscuitto, prawns, steak and copious amounts of wine, finished off with a creme brulee with mango coulis (I even had the waiter put a birthday candle on Bec's dessert, to her utter mortification). A little boozed and ready for a party, we headed to Medellin's stylish Poblado region, to find all the bars closing within the hour. Apparently the clubs and bars only take off on weekends, so it didn't help Bec's birthday falling on a Wednesday. So the night ended with vodka and oranges at our hostel, chatting to Jorge, the hostel night employee, about his university calculus homework...interesting. Not to worry, there was still the following day, Bec's actual birthday.

 Bec and her birthday dinner.

After a little sleep in and an impressive lunch at a Thai restaurant, it was time for the birthday present: a three hour pampering session at a local Spa (and a one hour massage for me - the birthday girl can't have all the fun). When booking, I was offered the 'Mother's Day Special', which included a free blow-dry, so all Bec knew when she got to the Spa was that if there were any quesitons about her children, they were at the hotel for the day. Massaged, facialed, parafined and blow-dried, Bec emerged from the Spa a little older, probably not much wiser, but a new woman. With plans for an early departure to the Colombian coffee region the following morning, we had a quick bite at a Mexican restaurant, and headed back to the hostel. You can't reach the big quarter of a centuary without a birthday cake so, as my last surprise, we gobbled down cake in our dorm room while chatting away to our American room mates until the early hours. Who needs bars when you have chocolate cake?

Amazon Jungle Fever

The Amazon jungle is a hot topic on this continent, and understandably so. It covers five and a half million square kilometers, spans over nine countries (one of which is Ecuador) and is home to 25% of the world's animal species. Now that's impressive! We'd been umming and ahhing about whether or not to visit the enticing green mass as we knew it would be a sure cash-drainer. It seemed, however, that curiosity would out do stinginess on this occasion, and we booked a four day, three night tour to see out our last week in Ecuador.

As seems to be a reoccurring trend, our trip didn't get off to the best start. Our tour meeting point was at a hotel in Lago Agrio, a small town in north-eastern Ecuador (also a past target of the FARC guerilla group, information I may have failed to mention to my parents). The plan was to spend the day travelling eight-hours by bus - thus lessening our chances of highway robbery, just an added bonus in these parts - and spend the night in a hostel in Lago Agrio. As it would turn out, however, the 'safest' option, according to our travel agent, would be to take the 11pm night bus which arrived at 6am. This meant yet another day in Quito, a city we have not warmed to at all. Nevertheless, like good little travellers we found ways to amuse ourselves, which included a ride on the impressive 24c Quito trolley bus out to the Equator line...when in Ecuador, I guess. We took the classic cheesy 'Equator' snaps, but failed to actually visit the real Equator, a few hundred metres away. So we earned a big 'F' for accomplishing that tourist attraction. Needless to say, the visit did kill time before what would be a very uncomfortable bus ride.

On the phony Equator line

As I've quite clearly stressed in other posts, bus rides in South America are events in themselves, and not always positive ones. This was one of the less favourable ones. Eight hours on a windowless bus in unbearable heat inhaling recycled air left us sporting dark circles and colds when we reached the deserted Lago Agrio. This jungle thing had better be worth it, I was grumpily thinking to myself. Well that 'jungle thing' turned out to be the highlight of our time in Ecuador.

Our bad morning made a turn-around when we met our tour group: Marieke and Enno, a Dutch couple enjoying a three week work holiday; Dom and Julie, fresh from finishing uni in the UK; and the gregarious Katie, living and working as a teacher in Guayaquil, originally from New York State. Completing the group was our tour guide Washington (named after big George of course), an entertaining Amazonian native who, after 12 years, had worked his way up to tour guide status after learning English from tourists. So it was in good company that we meandered two hours down the Cuyabeno River in a motorised canoe, stopping a number of times to witness squirrel monkeys make suicide missions, leaping the width of the river from one tree to another (some of the less-experienced ending up in the water). By afternoon, we'd practically forgotten the effects of our sleepless night after reaching the secluded lodge we'd call home for the next three nights. Fit with an open-air bathroom overlooking the jungle, moonlight showering to the sounds of the jungle was sure going to be a first.

The next three days were packed with activities, with a couple siestas curled up in a hammock thrown into the mix. After an hour of settling in, we set off to a large lagoon where we swam under the setting sun, out of the way of the piranhas and alligators which, according to Washington, prefer to hang out in the reeds. Before watching the sun set we went pink-dolphin spotting, but unfortunately only saw a couple of shy grey ones.

The next day we woke at 8am and, after a hearty breakfast, explored the rainforest. This consisted of negotiating 'jungle bridges' (logs submerged in mud) and learning about the various flora and fauna, including particular ants nests which locals raid for angry ants, a remedy for lazy working dogs - I guess you'd be more attentive when covered in biting ants! The walk lost its magic, however, when the heavens opened and we saw more rain in half an hour than we have all year, it was seriously pelting down. It didn't help that our boat's engine suffered mechanical issues on the way home, which left us floating aimlessly down steam. 'Well girls, this is jungle living', was Washington's response when he saw what must have been our very unamused faces. Jungle living it was, and embrace it we did. There were no complaints.

By the afternoon, the clouds had cleared and the sun peeped through, perfect whether for...piranha fishing! That's right, where else can you do this but in the Amazon jungle? I've never been into fishing, but this is fishing of a different kind and it's possible I may have missed my calling. There's an art to piranha fishing, which incorporates raw meat as bait and a piece of fishing line tied to a stick. There's none of this fancy rod stuff. In short, you thrash your stick around on the water, near to the shore (presumably to imitate the last seconds of some poor animal's life), and then you let the line go as deep as you can, the biggest hang out in the deeper parts. When you get a bite - and you'll feel it - with a quick flick of the wrist you jerk the stick upwards and back into the boat, hopefully with piranha attached. Let me just say though, piranhas are scary little buggers. If it's not the normal squirm factor involved when a live fish is flopping around a dry boat, it's the audible snapping of their razor sharp teeth that accompanies this, which resulted in many squeals (and apparently a near Bec-overboard incident). I was quite chuffed as, being the first to snare one that day, my prize that night was a 750ml beer from Washington.

Me with my piranha.

With day two being so eventful, I didn't think day three could match it, not on the action side of things. Why? We were scheduled to watch the making of yucca bread, made from a root vegetable, by an indigenous community, followed by a trip to the local Shaman. It was interesting listening to the Shaman talk through his medicinal plants, one of which was a hallucinogenic vine, and to volunteer as the subject of a good-health ritual (although that night my cold got worse...), but it sure wasn't piranha fishing. Things got a bit more exciting when we set out on a night walk through the rainforest. If I wasn't squirming in the boat the day before, I was now. Not quite an aracnophobic, but close too it, seeing a tarantula crawling up my fellow travellers' faces was, while amazing from where I stood about three metres away, slightly nauseating. I definitely preferred the frogs.

So after a little nocturnal excitement, we returned to the lodge, thinking the events of the evening were over. Who was I kidding? How can you take a city girl, put her in the jungle, and not have a bit of drama? Our gumboots were covered in mud from the night walk and, so that we didn't trudge it through the lodge, we dipped our boots into the river. While the others went to where the tide had risen over the end of the wharf, I followed Washington, who was leaning on a chair and crouching to get his boots into the water. Mistake number one. Mistake number two was to lean on the same chair which, unbeknown to me, was not attached to the wharf. You can probably guess what happened next, both me and the chair went into the drink, me head first! 'Piranhas, piranhas, piranhas', was all that was going through my mind as I spluttered to the surface, then, 'alligators, alligators, alligators' (both shore-dwelling). Other than being a tad shocked I came out relatively unscathed, apart from having a few unidentified pine needle-like objects lodged in my hand from some water plant. It wasn't until I was having a beer at the dinner table later that Washington told me it was the electric eels that had concerned him, and that one had killed a Mexican boy who went swimming some years ago. So that's why he'd yanked me out of the water so fast! Certainly one for the memory books.

So I've written a bit of an essay here, but the Amazon is totally worthy of it, we had such a memorable and unique four days. The photos don't nearly do it justice but I'll post some anyway. Katie took some of these with her fab camera.

A glimpse of the view from our jungle bathroom.

Rain in the rainforest, appropriate.

Washington heading up the boat.

Another gorgeous sunset.

A 300+ year old Ceiba tree, amazing!

It must have been pretty interesting...

And some video clips:

Piranha

A brave squirrel monkey taking the plunge.