Bike About South America with Stuart and Anita

Ahhhh... We were rolling again. It was such pure pleasure to be free, with some fresh air in the face and some wind on our backs. It was simply gold to say goodbye to the bus and say hello to the Colombian countryside.

That said, the weather was very grey and drab as we climbed out of the university town Tunja. The 300m climb from 2800m was a bit of a puff guster after arriving from sea level the day before but the pitch was forgiving and once over the top we were going to be rewarded with a nearly 1000m drop. The views and weather improved as we rolled over the other side and began our delicious descent to Villa de Leyva.

Villa de Leyva is a favourite tourist destination for Bogotanos. Though less than 200km from Bogota, the town has been frozen in time. Cobble stone streets, whitewashed walls, old Haciendas and their courtyards converted to restaurants and hotels all made for a picture perfect stop for a few nights.

Unfortunately despite some great meals and happy aimless wandering, Villa de Leyva will always be a little tarnished for us. Anita woke on our departure date with a terribly stiff neck. The cobble stones and slippery cycling shoes didn't help the situation so after getting to the edge of town and the start of the bitumen we stopped. Any determined further forward progress was useless so we checked into the hotel across the street.

Hospederia Santa Clara was run by a "Cindy Moussa" twin (an ex-work colleague from Vodafone) with similar features and an identical laugh. I loved her immediately as she discounted the room, organised a physiotherapist for Anita, brought us up a coffee and intermingled a genuine laugh at every pause in the conversation.    

Dora the physiotherapist was actually very good at her job but unfortunately she was also very good at thieving. Before I left the hotel room to allow Anita some privacy, I paused momentarily considering to close the bureau. I did not as an illustration of undeserved trust. About an hour after Dora had left I went to get my prescription sunglasses from the case before we went out and discovered them missing. We immediately recognised the theft but spent 20 minutes going through our bags to be certain. In reality we hadn't unpacked much so it was soon clear and there was no doubt: we had been robbed.

We asked Diana to call Dora. Dora returned but she completely denied any knowledge. I begged her to just return the prescription glasses explaining that they were of no use to her. There was a glimmer of realisation but she continued to deny. We called the police but he said she had nothing on her so there was no proof. Just our word against hers.

We stubbornly accepted the reality. Dora asked us if we still wanted her to return the following morning via the policeman. We chortled out a laugh and said we would prefer to never see her again in our lives.

By sunset we had some semblance of a Police report. It had taken three attempts to get the final result. It wasn't going to get any better so fingers crossed NRMA do the right thing by us.

We rolled out the next morning but Anita wasn't really any better and at the half way point Anita pulled the pin and jumped into a collective taxi. She left with 3 others and her bike. It was the only time we have travelled separately in more than 10 months. It was strange to be chasing her up a 400m pitch hoping she wouldn't have any hassles in the next town of Chiquinquira.

I survived the hill and the pack of about 7 or 8 dogs that "bark" attacked me. I had antagonized one irritating little bugger but his barking drew out a couple of big monsters that had me a bit nervous. I kept trying to draw them left into the oncoming traffic but only two cars came along. I held my pace and I finally drew out of their protection zone and I was allowed to proceed alone.

At the top was a lovely plateau and making it a fast roll into Chiquinquira. Green grass, cows, trees, friendly smiles and waves greeted me but what really spurned me on was the dark rain clouds closing in. I managed to just make it and find a happy Anita in our agreed hotel with the help of some very friendly townsfolk.

Anita was glowing about the town. She too had been helped by the taxi man, her fellow passengers, people on the street and in the hotel. It was astonishing simply for the quantity of helpful people. They were everywhere. Almost like a spooky twilight zone friendliness except not spooky just genuine nice people. They got our vote for the FRIENDLIEST town in South America award.

Chiquinquira is supposedly famous all over the Catholic world for its painting of the Virgen Mary - Senora de Rosaria. A rich woman back in the 1500's bought the painting. She loved it despite it being water stained and colour faded. She prayed before it every day until the miracle happened and it was magically restored before her eyes.

At first sight we were VERY dubious. The painting looked VERY fresh. Very fresh indeed. Anita had another massage and we had an early night. As we checked out the next morning we saw a poster of the famous painting and it was different! We had seen a copy..... the wrong painting. We headed back and in the center of the altar was a similar but far more authentic and quite beautiful looking painting. I am still not sure I believe in the miracle but definitely less of a dis-believer! :-)

We rolled out of town feeling light as though our new Guardian Angel the Senora del Rosaria was guiding our way to a great cycling touring day. We knew we were on a winner when we randomly stopped in front of a school and 20 deliriously excited school kids aged from 6-9 ran up to the fence calling "CYCLISTAS!!". It was all quite amusing as we asked them questions and they chorused back their answers.  The name of their professora, their ages, where they all lived and so on. Their teacher soon arrived to investigate the commotion. She introduced all of them one by one and then asked out of all the countries we cycled in which was our favourite. We immediately answered "Colombia!!" and their hilarious response was to start clapping in unison. We couldn't help but laugh. Absolutely gorgeous.

We rode away feeling full of cycle touring gold. Our grins carried us all the way to a strawberry patch and lunch. Two fresh off the vine bowls and lunch later we could no longer grin as our bellys were too full! OMG. Delicious. At 50c per bowl it was pure will power that got us away from there.

When we rolled into Ubate we were not so impressed. The day was grey and raining. We checked out 3 different hotels that ranged from slumpy single beds to full/no room to sleazy. We had seen a promising sign on our way in. We didn't give up hope and our patient pursuit paid off. Pretty expensive at ~$40 for the room but the swimming pool and breakfast pulled us in.

Soon we were paddling about the pool and I was showing off to the 5 young fellows. A Stuart Kane version of the Individual Medley: Butterfly, Freestyle, Breaststroke and Backstroke. Anita took it easy so as not to wreck her neck.

I was soon chatting to Andres, Frank, Jairo, Elmer and Andres and it wasn't long before they asked me to give them swimming lessons! Hilarious. I have never given a swimming lesson in my life. Between Anita and I we cooked up some drills and after nearly 2 hours we wore them out. Not sure that they were swimming any better by the end but we all had a stack of fun.

A great meal with a great sunset closed a Golden day on the road. We slept on a firm bed in a quiet, dark room as though were in heaven.

The next day we rode to Zipaquira. A Golden day it was not. A narrow two lane road with some of the worst driving we have seen anywhere. The Truckers were horrendous. I don't ever remember seeing so many trucks passing on double lines and blind corners. More than once we saw cars and vans having to swerve into the ditch to avoid a head on collision with the semi-trailer truck bearing down on them in their lane! It became very scary and at one point a truck passed us so closely that I had to stop and catch my breath and slow my heart rate before getting out there again.

We rolled into Zipaquira feeling frazzled but anxiety turned quickly to relief as the Lonely Planet recommendation was perfect. Cheap, clean, cheerful and close to La Catedral de Sal - The Cathedral of Salt.

We didn't have high expectations for La Catedral de Sal so when we arrived and were taken down the tunnel of the retired Salt Mine we were rather entralled. The old tunnel mining system had been converted into 12 chapels with each marking the steps of Jesus and the crucifixion. Some of the chapels were very beautiful but the statues, baptism altar and the main Cathedral were astounding. Beautifully lit, the arches and colonades made for an incredible and contemporary setting. You might almost become a Catholic just for the honour of attending a church service there... :-)

The entry included a tour guide in English and an animated 3D movie on the history of the area and the mine. I was intrigued to learn that the Conquistador Jimenez was diverted from his journey to find the source of the River Magdelena by some interesting Salt Cakes that were being transported by the local indigenous. He hooked left and climbed up onto the mighty plateau and found Zipaquira and later founded nearby (Santa Fe de) Bogota. Yet another example of history being serendipitously guided (at least from a Spanish perspective!).

The salt deposit was formed a few hundred million years ago when an inland sea dried up and then was folded under by the compaction of the Andes squeezing and squashing it up to ~2500m and then pushing it under a mountain at ~2800m.

The next morning we rode towards Bogota and after about 10km we met up with Juan Pablo Torres. We had met Juan Pablo in Peru between the towns of Huaraz and Caraz. We only spent about 20 minutes chatting with him and giving him some tips for the road ahead but possibly my delirious excitement of meeting another cycle touring "brother" out on the road left an impact. Juan showed us the relatively quiet way into Bogota through some lovely back lanes and to his house where we were going to be based for our week in Bogota.

At first we were a little taken a back at the generosity being shown by Juan and his mother Helena. Before we knew what was really going on, we were given our own room with a massive king sized bed, offered a shower (and accepted), and fed a delicious lunch. It didn't take long before we caught up on news of Juan's trip, his future plans, his work and his family. It didn't take long before Helena had adopted us as her own children giving us a kiss and a hug at every greeting or goodbye.

Indeed by the time 6 days had passed we felt part of the Torres family. Anita loved spending some time in a real kitchen. We loved talking to Juan about the sociology, politics and economics of Colombia. Juan's command of English was excellent and as a Political Science major he was keenly interested and understood the reality of Colombia. And as the election for Congress and nominations for the Presidencial election (May 2010) were held during our stay it made the conversations all the more topical and interesting.

Juan took us cycling through Bogota, out for lunch with his friend Roberto (and Roberto's girl friend and friend: Edith and Connie), to visit his cycling hero's shop Miguel Samaca, to the Zona Rosa for beers before the dry spell hit (no alcohol for 50 hours during the election time), out for dinner with his father Hernando and another evening out with Julia.

After 6 days in Bogota we hadn't really done many touristy things but we had caught the TransMilenio and commuted like locals, lived in the suburbs, ridden around on our bikes and slept in the house of real live Colombians.

Bogota at 8 million people is not without its problems. You would be foolish to let your guard down prett much anywhere. We didn't visit the rougher suburbs to the south but the north is chock full of medium density housing blocks. It is well connected by public transport and bicycle lanes. Similar to Quito it has its own version of the Ciclo Paseo and every Sunday (except election day) there are some 100+km of roads closed to traffic to allow safe cycling. (indeed Quito might have picked the idea from Bogota). From what we learned there are many impressive international music and theatre festivals each year. We saw for ourselves the very impressive Museo del Oro - Museum of Gold - with artefacts gathered from archeological digs all over Colombia.

We really were quite sad to say goodbye. We have met many people here in South America but we found a new true brother here in Bogota. I am quite sure we will see Juan again somewhere. Maybe in Colombia or maybe on a new shared adventure somewhere else. And I do hope we get to eat again from Helena's kitchen: our tastebuds are gagging for the chance but our waistlines are relieved of the temptation that is now more distant.

Colombia is a place typical of South America: from the vast wealth to the starving children, to the highly literate to the destitute and desperate. While Juan disagreed and felt Peru was more poor and desperate I think Anita and both felt that we saw more desperate people in Colombia. The desperate boys who begged for our food scraps on our plate in Santa Marta, the dark eyes of the hungry in Barranquilla, the anxiety generated by the "crack head" female invading our personal space near Miguel Smaca's bike shop were in stark contrast to the ambience of Cafe del Mar in Cartegena or the carnival atmosphere on a sunny Sunday in Salento or the cacaphony of revellers in Zona Rosa, Bogota in anticipation of the Seco Ley (Dry Law) and "no mas alcohol por 50 horas".

Colombia is not the terrifying landscape that creates its infamous reputation: the land of drug lords, the leftist FARC and assassinations of own goal soccer players. It is a land of beautiful people proud of their beautiful landscapes and regions. It is a country made from highly disparate regions that somehow manage to remind themselves that they are also part of Colombia.

It is the land of 100 years of Solitude (by Gabriel Garcia Marquez) and after reading it you can see the quirky country through his eyes. The Red liberals fighting the Blue conservatives and only finding peace by shutting out their common enemy - the left and creating a rod for their own backs that lasts until today.

The outgoing President Uribe has given the people some measure of peace in the last 8 years but the power of cocaine still fuels this underdeveloped economy and where there is easy money there is nasty politics and nasty business.

The country is as safe to travel as Peru or Ecuador but there is a reason you see all those troops on every highway and bi-way of Colombia. There is a reason the troops gave everyone a thumbs up on election day. There is a reason why union leaders go missing in Colombia. There is a reason why the FARC is dying but is not yet dead.  There is a reason why Colombians live in the cities, the mountains and on the Caribbean coast and 2/3 of the country is essentially empty.  There is a reason why Colombians are so friendly. It takes time to learn the reasons but with time comes understanding and appreciation of a complex culture that is still finding its place in the world. Its potential to be one of the great nations is staggering.

I only make one recommendation potential visitors to Colombia. Go now while the rest of the world is still too afraid.

The Colombian tourist brochure has adopted the slogan: "The only risk is that you will want to stay" rings true. We wished we could have stayed and tasted some more but Cuba beckoned and we accepted her call...