Vancouver-Antigua

Headed on a trip to a couple small towns outside Barillas, Guatemala to learn about the people and stoves they cook on. Seeing them in action will give me a good sense of the design requirements and note any possible improvements in the next iteration. I’ve been volunteering for Burn Design Lab on Vashon Island in Washington, where they take lessons learned from an NSF grant-funded superstove and translate that into region specific stove models for Central America and West Africa.

I started the trip by train to Vancouver, BC, where I met with my high school buddy Adam Huggins, his partner Ilana, and fifty of his friends celebrating the release of his new podcast Future Ecologies. Adam takes food sustainability and social justice to a whole different level, with a specialization in food forests. This podcast will explore topics stemming from that. Check it out!
https://www.futureecologies.net/

I made my (tight) connection in Mexico City, breezing through the new immigration control computers for most North American passport holders, I think. And no more schlepping checked bags off the carousel and back on to a conveyor down the hall—they go direct now. Way to go MEX!

Arrived in Guatemala City, found my group and driver, and we drove headfirst into a 3.5 hour rush hour drive through stop and go traffic to get to Antigua, which is normally an hour away. Stopped at Pollo Campero, a Guatemalan institution with many locations in the US to get a much needed rest from the traffic and plate of deliciously seasoned fried chicken.

Plenty of time to ponder transportation infrastructure, and how as a tourist each mode of transportation has benefits and drawbacks. Bicycling is a great pace but can be super unpleasant in traffic such as this—we only saw one brave soul weaving through the lanes. Motorcycles are similarly limited by load capacity and spartan safety features. Cars enable luggage but hinder by being stuck in traffic and needing to be parked—a taller order than in the US. In each case the travel style is dictated by the vehicle of choice, and none stand apart as a clear advantage. I’m trying to figure out the transportation type and therefore logistics for the next undetermined vacation.

Cocora Valley

WE get a relatively early start at 8:30 in the morning in the town square as we head up in an open-air jeep with room 8 plus 4 more hanging off the back. The 40 minute ride to the Cocora valley is a slow, relaxing drive through patches of sun.

At the jeep station, I have a breakfast of scrumptious panino on homemade baguette. The cafe owner considerately wraps half for lunch while I devour the other half with garlic sauce and gusto.

We begin our hike up the idyllic valley surrounded by steep walls of jungle and dotted with the 30m (~100ft) tall wax palms, which are the national tree. We enter a first and head uphill by a burbling stream. We cross it multiple times on rickety suspension bridges that only allow one person at a time.

Local Cocora resident

Alex braving the sparse footing

The Cocora Valley, which is adjacent to Parque Nacional los Nevados, is well administered and cared for. Hardly any trash or graffiti, or side trails.

Up the hill for a while, we arrive at the hummingbird (colibri) sanctuary. I had expected an enclosed greenhouse full of birds, and was surprised to find the creatures flitting about in open air, free to come and go. What's more, they freely dine at feeders just inches away from phone and camera-wielding visitors.

I almost had macro on for these incredibly patient subjects.

We enjoy our hot chocolate and salty cheese--both freebies with sanctuary entrance fee. We watch a long-snouted mammal also scarfing the home-made cheese on the corner of the balcony where we all sat.

A brilliant green hummingbird with a long tail hanging two body-lengths below it captured everyone's attention, though my favorites were the smart-looking black and white Incan hummingbirds.

We left the sanctuary to walk up the fork of the trail marked 'La Montaña'--the mountain--with our trail buddies, which were a mix of French, German, Austrian, Swiss, Dutch, and Colombian.

The trail quickly grew steep and switchbacking before leveling off at a house built t the end of a gradually descending dirt road. We rested here with a bunch of others, surveying the clouds passing through the mountains.

The view at the top of our climb

We followed the road back towards the keep station, stopping by groves of the famous wax palms. These enormous trees are usually 30-40m tall, but the record height is 65m. In the park they are surrounded by grazing cattle, which many of the locals look down on--those bovines trample the earth around each tree and chomp any new palms trying to shoot up. In 40 years they say the valley won't have any more palms in it.

Wax palms

Caballos y palmas

We walk back the final leg of the trail along a steep ridgeline shortcut. We wait for a large contingent of Colombian high schoolers to be taken back in the 6 waiting jeeps. That means another 50 minutes or so until the jeeps return, so Alex and I grab a tinto and wait.

The jeeps are all very old Willys type, made in Colombia, and lovingly maintained and decorated tastefully with chrome accents. They have extended back areas like pickup trucks, which allows for the longitudinal bench seating on either side to swallow 8 passengers.

As we ride back into town on the back of the Jeep, Alex and I chat with a Colombian man, about 18 years old, and a German, about 20. The Colombian asked about the feasibility of work visas in the US. We shrugged and encouraged him to apply.

Dinner was trout and chicken with mashed potatoes, beans, salad, fried plantain, and fritter, with a light chicken soup as a starter, washed down with lemonade-sugarcane juice.,

I sat in the beautiful old corner cafe with a beer as I caught up with my journal. Locals sipped coffee from the beautiful antique espresso machine. Alex bought earrings.

In the evening we headed over to Beta Town, a new looking event space that had a quiet foreign couple playing Tejo in the corner. Alex and I knew we had to give this game a try.

This (literally) explosive game is Colombia's national pastime, and it feels like beer pong and shuffleboard comibined. Steel pucks are thrown about 20m at a slanted clay tray. At the center of the tray is a 5" steel ring with three triangular gunpowder-laden envelopes spaced evenly around the rim. Points are earned when the puck sticks in the clay or detonates the packets. Lots of fun, and Alex beats me after a heated game.

Tejo target

Sunset on the main square in Salento

Salento (transit day)

This morning we check out of Black Sheep after a very nice stay. We take a taxi to Terminal Sur where our ticket pre-purchase has paid off: We both get to enjoy breakfasts in the large terminal before our departure.

Paisa breakfast: steak, rice and beans, and fresh cheese on a tortilla.

Alex and the under hyped yet ubiquitous salpicon. Some of the best fruit salad on earth.

Unfortunately no night buses exist, so we endured the winding (but smooth) mountain roads awake. Scenery was beautiful: we gazed across verdant valleys and sugarcane fields. Many parts of the road are single-lane due to rockfall or resurfacing operations. We watched Inferno (zzz) and Deepwater Horizon (good) on the in-seat video systems (on a bus!).

We arrived in sleepy, beautiful Salento and check in at the British-Colombian owned Plantation House. Our wooden-floored room has an old school rock hard mattress and plenty of dogs outside to pet.

Dinner was super-filling Bandeja Paisa country plate (even though we're out of Antioquia, don't judge!) and Patacon con Hogao--a huge fried plantain chip with tomato chutney, which was delicious. After dinner we headed to La Mojiteria where Cuban music and memorabilia abound. Alex had a mojito with Havana Club rum, while I try the 3 Cordilleras La Negra sweet stout. This is by far the best Colombian microbrewery, whose Mestiza American pale ale is also delicious. We tried Parces, a Colombian rum, which had displays at every table flaunting its gold medal wins at the 2015 SF spirits competition. Wow, it did not disappoint. 

We sip final mojito as we listen to fantastic live guitar music in the tiny bar space.

We pass out on the firm mattresses back home, getting ready for our Cocora Valley trip the next day.

Medellín (Tour day)

Today we signed ourselves up for a pair of ambitious walking tours around the city--fortunately the merciful 75˚F high for the day meant that we wouldn't get too roasted in the sun.

We started off at the Poblado metro station to meet our guide, Camilo of Real City tours. They were recommended to us multiple times by many different parties. After a metro ride to downtown, we checked out the administrative buildings in the city center. The place is abuzz with employees headed to work and students commuting.

An enormous brutalist statue documents the history of Paisas in the middle of the administrative area.

We learn that the Paisas (Natives of the department/state of Antioquia) are fiercely proud of their heritage, and often consider themselves Paisa first, Colombian second.

Casmilo explains artfully a basic history of Colombia, from Columbus to the Industrial Revolution. He also carefully addresses our curiosities about "the famous criminal" or "Voldemort", as he calls Pablo Escobar. He doesn't want to say his name, since locals who don't understand English may be given the wrong impression of the tour that it's simply pandering to gawkers at dark chapter in a nation's history. Similarly, he explains that cocaine is seen as a blight one society, and that it destroys the environment as well as peoples lives. The cartels are nearly universally despised.

Milo then takes us through the busy city streets, showing how they have been reclaimed from crime and violence by 'democratic architecture'. Libraries and public squares have been built over old crime dens.

Square of Light, with illuminated poles at night. This used to be a slum.

We also learned that hookers often advertised on the streets near churches in a curious symbiosis fueled by Catholic guilt.

We walked past many beautiful bronze Botero sculptures, with chunky features.

Alex and a Botero pooch

We finished nearly 4 hours later near two identical Boetero sculptures of a bird, with one blown open by a bomb. The destroyed sculpture was kept as a stark reminder of the city's recent and bloody past, while its re-cast replacement serves as a portent for new peace and prosperity for the city and its inhabitants.

Camilo implores us to share this story with friends and family to help increase Colombia's tourism. It deserves it. This country is amazingly friendly, affordable, and extremely beautiful. Not to mention quite safe.

After completing this tour, we make our way via metro to San Javier station on the west side of the city via Metro for our tour of Comuna Trece (Community 13). This was an extremely violent neighborhood 20 years ago, but has since recovered and flourished with help from the city.

Now the place is home to a beautiful display of graffiti by local artist. They're celebrating hope and colorful barrio life. Ice-cream sellers operate storefronts out fo their homes. Break dancers perform for visitors, and kids ride bicycles up and down the gracefully inclined ramps that line the hillside through the tight houses on the hill. Escalators assist in mobility up and down.

After the tour, Alex and I catch one of the metrocable cars to fly over some of Medellín's outskirts. These project have integrated poor neighborhoods into the city fabric to everyone's benefit.

These scenes are a far cry from the violent neighborhood that 20 years ago prevented resident's employment if they disclosed where they lived.

In the evening after the tour, Alex and I meet Kim, Casey, Geri, and my other EWB buddy, Devin. Devin's currently living in Medellín developing his own apps. Geri invited us to a Colombian craft beer festival at Mercado Del Rio. The place is a super nice food court of restaurants from around the world, assembled as an after-work meeting spot for employees of nearby Bancolombia.

Devin, me, Alex, Casey, and Kim at the Colombian craft beer festival

Some of the beers, especially those from Kashmir brewing were inventive and delicious--they had various kinds infused with coffee and other flavors. Another brewer had a delicious corn beer that almost tasted like whiskey.

Dinner was paella and three different kinds of ceviche. I was in heaven. We finished off the night with Hive and beers at the hotel.

Medellín

Side note: We finally figured out how Paisas (as Medellín's residents call themselves) pronounce their regional capital: there's a subtle 'j' before the 'll' so it sounds like 'Medejin', as opposed to the Mexican pronunciation, 'Medeyin', or the Argentinian, 'Mededjín'.

We arrived around 10AM well-rested after our overnight bus ride,. and alex has since warmed up to the comfortable, air-conditioned, reclining seats, even though the trans-national highways are little more than 2-lane roads winding through mountain scenery.

The large Terminal Norté had free wifi courtesy of the city, so we could coordinate onward travel plans, as well as meeting up with my friends Kim & Casey from Engineers Without Borders USA and Alex's friend Geri from their study abroad.

We rode in the immaculate, popular metro south to Poblado, where our hostel and onward bus station (Terminal Sur) were. After walking over some busy streets to get our bus tickets to Salento and Bogotá, we returned to relax at our new hostel in a quiet neighborhood, Black Sheep.

I fall instantly in love with cities, especially if they have a  nice metro. And especially if it's as nice as Medellín's.

We next went over to Pit Stop Hostel, where Kim & Casey had managed to find a parking spot for their car, Jaime. We walked downtown in the evening air to an outdoor bar beside a park to meet with Geri. It was fantastic to connect with old friends in a new part of the world.

All together, we went over to OSEA, a chic foodie restaurant in Poblado. Everyone's dish was delicious and delicately prepared, and accompanied by paired cocktails. One of us ordered an octopus  and pork chorizo--a sausage made of two of the smarter animals. Sad and delectable.

Kim, Casey, Alex, and I continued on to Bogotá Brewing Company's Medellín taproom for some local draft beer. Alex's aguardiente (sugar cane liquor flavored with anise) was good, and Kim's pale ale was good. Others were quite watery and underwhelming. Strike BBC off the list.

We headed back to our respective hostels to pass out after the long day of travel we had accomplished yesterday.

Parque Nacional Tayrona

We awoke in our hammocks to calls from arepa vendors. Alex had those while I enjoyed a huge chocolate bread loaf and meager coffee.

Each of these dangerous beaches has claimed 100-200 folks.

We hiked along sweltering beaches with dangerous undertow (closed to swimmers, lifeguards patrolling) before arriving at La Piscina (the pool), which is a relaxing beach with decent surf. The water was perfect, and full of couples and groups of friends, both local and foreign, all under the age of 35ish. Mica flakes danced in the cerulean waves as we swam.

La Piscina, much safer for great swimming.

We then threw on our shoes to hike the 20 minutes to the twin bays of Cabo San Juan de la Guia.

These were much more popular with foreigners and locals alike. The beach was challenging to navigate with all the bodies tanning in the sun. Palm trees everywhere too. Really nice. And surprising that so many people (as well as restaurant food and beers) have made the trek out here. Maybe boats had some help getting everyone out?

We went to the gazebo on the outcrop between the two bays for some great pictures and some perspective on the scene.

Woah. Cabo San Juan

From the Cabo we hike through a short patch of jungle before getting to another sunny, dangerous undertow beach. Having seen or swam all the beaches on this side of the park, we head back to our backpacks in Arrecifes. We develop burns on the sun blasted walk back.

On our hike out of the park that evening, we saw a small deer/large rodent creature a bit smaller than a capybara and with nearly black fur.

Another mile later we encountered a pair of monkeys crashing through the foliage above. We barely saw them, but they were hiding and equally curious of us.

We passed over a number of leaf cutter ant highways during our time in the park. We noticed that they stopped working during the heat of midday. The ants had long ago cleared their paths of leaves, plants, and debris, making it look like a miniaturized human footpath.

Ant Highways

We arrived at the park entrance at El Zaino after a quick collectivo ride down the hill. Joe and Jessica, our friend couple from Arrecifes, had recommended MarSol buses for our return trip to Santa Marta, where we planned to overnight before taking a flight to Medellin the next morning.

Unfortunately we found that the extra 10,000 pesos per person that we paid didn't take us directly to a  hotel in the city center, and instead we got dropped off at the Centro Commercial- the mall, instead of the centro of the city.

Checking flights from the Juan Valdez coffee at the mall revealed that timing and prices for tomorrows flights were not ideal, so we high tailed it in a taxi to the bus station instead. We booked an overnight bus to Medellin. Alex was not enthused at first about a 16 hour bus ride but it was a fraction of the cost of a flight, and it actually got us there quicker than staying overnight and flying the next day. Air conditioning and super reclining seats made it much more comfortable than she had initially feared.

Santa Marta (Transit Day)

Today, we head from Cartagena to Tayrona National Park, east of us along the Caribbean coastline.

First is an hourlong busied which we catch from outside the city walls--it feels like we do 3 large loops out and back around different directions from the city before getting to our bus terminal destination. Maybe theres a better bus to take but this was the one in the guidebook and the only one we saw marked 'Terminal'.

As we arrive at the bus station, a man collecting cardboard asks us where we are going before immediately darting across the busy terminal to stop a departing Santa Marta-bound bus for us. We chase after him, hop on, and pay a reasonable price. Maybe this includes his kickback. We learn afterwards that bus tickets are one of the flexible value items of Colombia. No matter; we're happy to get on the right track to where we are going so quickly.

We relax for four hours, watching terrible US movies dubbed into Spanish (eg Gods of Egypt). We arrive at the Santa Marta bus terminal, a couple kilometers from the city center, around 3:30PM. The park closes at 5:30PM and the information desk informs us that we may be too late to get there tonight. We head out on a bus for Palomino, planning on hopping off at the park entrance at El Zaino.

As we de-bus at El Zaino, an excited cab driver rolls down his window and enthusiastically motions for us to run towards the park gates before they close. We make it through the ticket counter with 10 minutes to spare--much better than our LAX transfer.

We take a small collectivo to Cañaveral before an hour-long hike through forests, beaches, and boulder fields. We pass leaf cutter ants doing a final late-day shift hauling foliage back to their nests.

Leaf cutter ants

Skip the pricy Eco-habs, they said.

We pull into the state-run resort at Arrecifes and pay 30,000 pesos (~$11) each for hammocks in a large horse-shoe shaped palm-thatched gazebo dorm.

The bugs are not bad at all but each hammock still includes a nice mosquito net. The sound of birds, crickets, and the crashing waves lulls us to sleep.