"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