I’ve spent a lot of the free time in my life traveling — through Europe, Australia, Egypt, India, the Caribbean, etc. — but South America always stuck out as one glaring to-do flag that just never was crossed off the list. And now, after 4.5 months through Peru, Argentina, Uruguay, Chile and Colombia, I can’t believe our time in this continent is over. (For now! I’ll be back to conquer giant Brazil some day soon.)
We’ve seen such awe-inspiring lanscapes and done some pretty gutsy things (i.e. zip-lining on six consecutive cables in Peru, cliff-diving in Argentina). We ate a lot, A LOT of food (mostly steak and dulce de leche). We made friends who made strong, sometimes life-changing impressions on us, even though we may never see them again. (By the way, it’s really hard to keep perspective that what you’re doing is cool and interesting when you constantly meet other travelers who are doing even cooler and more interesting things.)
But I also learned a lot about my personality, as well as Eaman’s and how we travel together. It’s not easy to be together 24/7, but aside from the minor flare-ups, I’m proud to say we make it work. Our relationship gets stronger every day, and perhaps that’s because we’ve gone through so much — from grueling hikes and nights out until 7 a.m. to language barriers and food poisioning.
Zarate, Argentina. Look at how short Eaman’s hair was!!
But we also have some regrets.
I’m pretty impressed with how well I can understand even the fastest of Spanish speakers now, but my conversational skills are stagnant. I wish I had taken tango or salsa lessons, though that was more of a money issue. I wish I had volunteered. And wish I Couchsurfed in at least one place. Laziness accounts for the last two, and it’s unfortunate that only when something is ending that you realize just how lazy you’ve been.
But if anything, our time in South America was a good introduction to long-term travel, and we’ll keep the things we learned in mind as we move on to Asia later this year.
Before Thailand, Vietnam and the rest, though, we’re going to Hawaii — first for my cousin’s wedding, then, hopefully, to stay for a few months with an apartment, a job and a bit of stability. I’d be lying if I said we weren’t both in need of a break from backpacking. It can be exhausting. After a while, seeing yet another cathedral, another mountain or some other land mark — it all just blends into one. We met a few backpackers who voiced similar opinions. One Aussie girl, who was on month eight of her almost-ending travels said that she should’ve stopped at month six because she was too burnt out.
We don’t want to end up like that, which is why living in an apartment in
Buenos Aires was so important and why living in Hawaii (again, hopefully!) will be the change of pace and lifestyle refresher we need.
But that isn’t the end of my dissertation on South America. In lieu of a superlative list — I find it way too hard to compare countries, as they’re all so different — I wanted to give you a rundown of South America by the numbers because everything — even 24-hour bus rides — sound fun in retrospect.
Number of hostels: 19
Largest number of roommates in one hostel room: 9
Number of “rustic” accommodations: 3 (one in the Peruvian jungle had a shower that was hooked up to the electric wires for heat, so we’d constantly get shocked when touching the faucets)
Number of long-distance bus rides: 7
Number of inter-South America flights: 7
Number of times in Bogota’s airport (for layovers or landings): 3 (Archana) and 4 (Eaman)
Number of plazas visited named Plaza de Armas: 4
Number of nationalities met: 24 (mostly Germans)
Number of hikes/treks: 9
Number of personal belongings lost between the two of us: 7
Number of local dances learned: 4
Number of puppy friends made: 9
Number of Oklahoma University football games Eaman watched via the Internet: 3 a.k.a. fewer than he would’ve liked
Number of new songs purchased on iTunes after hearing them in South America: 11
Number of times we ate at El Turko, a shawarma cafe, in Arequipa, Peru: 9
Number of days in hospital: 1
Number of cute, pinchable babies: Lost count after day 2 in Peru
After a whirlwind trip through Bogota and Cartagena, we arrived in Medellin, our last city of Colombia — and South America — a few days ago. We were so excited to check out the city that just 15 years ago was dominated by drug wars and the infamous Pablo Escobar, and has since had a miraculous turnaround. (If you haven’t seen ESPN’s 30 for 30 film The Two Escobars, do yourself a favor and watch it now. It’s incredible.)
But then we got sick.
We’re not sure where the food poisoning came from, but we have a sneaking suspicion it was from Don Salami, where we both got the same plate of chicken, chorizo (I barely ate mine), rice, salad and plantains. Sure, it could’ve been one of the meals we had beachside in Cartagena, but that lunch in Medellin was the first time Eaman and I had eaten the same thing in a while. I’d post a picture of the meal, but I’d probably gag. But how fitting that we got sick at the very start of our time in South America and again at the very end? I suppose twice in 4.5 months ain’t half bad.
We only had 2.5 days in Medellin to begin with, so needless to say, we couldn’t do much. No Escobar walking tour (we couldn’t walk without needing to sit down every 10 minutes), no visit to Dulce Jesus Mio, a crazy nightclub, where bartenders dress up in Disney and Marvel Comics costumes, which I had read about here and no watching Super Bowl at one of the cool bars near Parque Lleras (a hip bar area sort of like Meatpacking in NYC). I didn’t care about that last one as much anyway.
Most of our time was spent writhing in our hostel beds — thank god it was just us in our four-person hostel room — or watching The Simpsons on DVD. Not that I’m complaining; it’s been a long time since I’ve seen those great episodes of seasons 5 and 6.
But when we recovered and had one day to see the city, we saw just how much the city is trying to spin its image. The center, where much of the conflict occurred in the past, is now dominated by plazas, parks and sculptures. Don’t get me wrong; it’s still an insanely busy downtown that’s not 100% safe at night, but its efforts to create beautiful public spaces is very inspiring.
Much of the center is filled with artwork by Fernando Botero Angulo, a Medellin-raised sculpture artist whose works can be seen all over Colombia. He’s famous for images of men, women and animals in exaggerated volumes.
Plaza Botero:
Music video being shot in the plaza:
Medellin is set in a valley and the surrounding mountains and mist are gorgeous. It creates spring-like temperatures nearly every day:
Cool tree in Plaza Bolivar:
Police presence everywhere:
Interesting story behind this Botero sculpture, called “Bird of Peace”: The piece on the left was damaged by a guerilla bomb in 1996. Botero requested that it remain as a symbol of the futility of violence. A new one was built right next to it:
Wearing my sombrero earrings!
The best thing we did in Medellin was ride the Metrocable. It’s a funicular-like train that connects Medellin’s center to the poorer, less developed pueblos higher up the mountain. The ride is part of the city’s impressive overland train system, so you can ride the train, then hop on the metrocable for a round trip. It’s a great way to see life outside the main strip.
On our last night in the city, we went out for dessert at the popular chain Crepes y Waffles with an Argentine couple from our hostel. (We wished we could’ve had a crazier goodbye, but after getting sick, we wanted to take it easy.):
And so marks the end of our time in South America. Rather unceremoniously thanks to the food poisoning. But I do feel badly that we had to short-shrift Colombia; we both knew there was so much more to see — like Santa Marta, Tyrona, Guatape, Cali and Barranquilla, which is funnily enough home to three crossover Colombian stars (Nina Garcia, Shakira and Sofia Vergara.)
But some brief observations:
- Colombia can lay claim to the most beautiful women in South America (though we didn’t go to Brazil). The women are stunning, and all are built with Vergara’s proportions. Not fair.
- I’m assuming this is due in part to our too-short time in the country, but both Eaman and I didn’t feel what everyone had told us re: Colombia having the nicest people who will bend over backwards for you. I don’t mean to upset any Colombians, but we found them nice, but not overly so. Now Peruvians, they were the sweetest in our experience.
- That said, Colombians seem to be the proudest of their homeland. People constantly told us about how much there is to see in their country. They want to prove the press wrong, and I respect them for that.
I really can’t believe how quickly our time in South America has flew by. Memories of landing in Lima are still so fresh in my mind. It’s a little scary to think how quickly a year will go! But I’m getting ahead of myself. We’re not out of Spanish-speaking territory yet; we’re off to Panama next!
Read about our adventures in Bogota, Colombia here.
Read about our adventures in Cartagena, Colombia here.
Colombia gets a lot of love from backpackers, but no city within the newly minted go-to destination gets as much love as Cartagena. A small coastal town with a culture all its own — a vibrant mix of Afro-Caribbean-Spanish — Cartagena is called the jewel of the Colombian coast in my Footprints guidebook, and after spending five days there, we can understand why.
I mean, seriously, have you ever seen such beautiful colors paint a city? I couldn’t get enough of it.
The set-up of the city is also something interesting to note. Its center is surrounded by a wall — thereby giving it the name “the walled city” — a tactic used by the Spanish to protect their artillery back in the 1500s.
We didn’t do much sight-seeing beyond walking around the city and inspecting the wall, but we made up for it big time by sampling the local cuisine. The best way to do so is by ordering the set lunch menus, which run at an economical $5-7. It usually includes meat (often fish because it’s on the coast), rice (sometimes the local speciality of arroz con coco, or coconut rice), mashed and fried plantains called patacon and salad.
Oh, and don’t even get me started on the tropical fruit. In drinks or on their own, the fruit was spectacular. We made it our mission to try as much as we could.
Lulo, best served in drinks:
Limonada with coconut:
The street vendors told us the get their fruits, not at a special market, but at the grocery store, so that’s where we went:
Maracuya (spiky yellow), grandilla (looks like an orange) and hijo (in Eaman’s hands):
Breakdown of the grandilla. First, a weird, sponge cake-like inside:
Tangy, crunchy seeds to be scooped out and eaten:
When we weren’t stuffing our faces with local cuisine, we were hanging out at our hostel, El Viajero, probably the most “party hostel” we’ve had so far. The set-up was great, with a long common patio for everyone to chat, drink and, in the case of the night we got in, learn champeta (a super, um, sensual local dance) and salsa from the bartender girl.
Hostel party excursion to nearby hostel, Medialuna. We hung out on the hostel’s balcony, but this was the scene below. Very New Orleans:
Live band, playing Colombian fare at the hostel party:
Back at 3:30am, Eaman found a guitar and a fellow backpacker decided to read Game of Thrones:
Oh, and beyond all those other goodies, Cartagena was HOT. You may remember me complaining about how chilly Bogota was. Well, it was humid and in the 90s every day. I never, ever take cold showers — even in NYC’s muggy July and August temps — but they only offered cold showers at the hostel. And you know what? I loved it. That’s how hot it was.
The temperature also made it all the more perfect for a two-day trip to Playa Blanca, a picture-postcard beach on the island of Baru, just an hour boat ride from Cartagena. It’s a bit of a cluster**** trying to get there because, of all the places that people hassle you to buy stuff in Cartagena — and there are a lot — it’s the worst at the port leaving for Playa Blanca. It’s actually worse than the bazaars of Cairo, if you can believe it.
But once you get to the island and once the boats leave for the day around 4 p.m., you have this beautiful place set on the Carribbean to yourself:
We slept overnight in hammocks for $3, swam in what may have been the warmest water I’ve ever felt at a beach and bonded with a new group of friends — three Brazilians, two Swiss and one Argentinian from our hostel who came to the playa on the same day. It’s funny because at the last two hostels we’ve stayed it, I felt misplaced and had difficulty connecting with people. But on the beach, we became a little clan who did everything together — whether we were dancing on the beach or arguing with the restaurant that took two hours to bring out our order. It’s interesting how friendships shape so quickly when you’re isolated.
It was usually deserted, but this was pick-up time for everyone to go back to Cartagena, hence the masses:
It was particularly unclear the day we went to snorkel, but we did see some fish and picked up seashells:
Playing with my camera’s functions:
Coconut water and leftover coconut to be eaten:
It was heaven — except for the raging sand flies, who were in full force the day and night we were there. We would’ve definitely stayed another night if it weren’t for our flight to Medellin because despite the number of people that go there, it still felt special and serene.
For an even better look at Cartagena, I highly recommend watching part one of Anthony Bourdain’s trip to Colombia for his Travel Channel series No Reservations. (Note: We wanted to go to the ceviche place he visits in the episode, but we had heard it’s gotten expensive and touristy since it aired.)
Read about our adventures in Bogota, Colombia here.
Unlike some backpacker trips, ours has been characterized by a lot of slow movement and deciding things on the fly. Not the case for Colombia. Our trip to the country only worked out once we realized we had a two-week gap in our travels before heading to Hawaii, so with that short time, we’ve had flights set, no more than two to five days in each of three cities and a lot of moving around. I haven’t had much time to sit down and blog, so bear with me and my delays.
We are now in Medellin but our trip to Colombia began just over a week ago in the capital city of Bogota. Of all the huge metropolitan cities we’ve visited in South America, including Lima, Buenos Aires and Santiago, Bogota was the one that most caught our attention, the one that offered something more than being just like any big city.
As we noticed from the architecture, landscape and even the way people dressed, Bogota is an interesting, albeit sometimes jarring, mix of modern and colonial.
For example:
And:
A better example would be comparing the colonial architecture to the massive and modern glass buildings we saw on the route from the airport to our hostel in the La Candelaria neighborhood. Unfortunately no pictures of that since I had just landed from Chile after an exhausting day of travel.
Anyway, the best way to soak in the energy of the city was by walking–anywhere and everywhere. Bogota reminded us a lot of Lima, in the way it seems to be more comfortable in its own cultural skin than, say, somewhere like Buenos Aires, which is more a mix of Europe and the U.S. It also smelled exactly like Cusco, Peru. Strange, I know, but I think it has something to do with mountain climates.
Here’s what we saw:
Loved loved loved obleas–two thin wafers with a layer of dulce de leche (called arequipe in Colombia), jam or cream in between. New Yorkers can try a very good version at Caracas in the East Village:
On Sundays, the city opens a main street for seven hours of walking and cycling:
We both fell in love with the area around Universidad de los Andes. Such a cool area with restaurants overflowing with students during lunchtime. We stopped for some fresh juice at Mora Mora, which reminded me of The Max from Saved By The Bell:
Eeeeveryone has beagles:
A visit to the gold museum, which everyone and their mommas recommended. Yeah, I don’t know about that. What I do know is: It’s official: Eaman and I are not museum people:
I’ve barely bought any souvenirs, but I was really excited by these sombrero-shaped earrings. Colorful and kitschy, no?:
Young Bogotans protesting last week’s bull fight, which, by the way, a guy at our hostel happily attended:
This is them, stopping to protest at a McDonald’s, and we just so happened to be there so Eaman could have a Big Mac. Whoops!
But it seemed like a half-protest, half-parade as people would burst into dance at any given moment–like this old man did:
We also climbed Monserrate — a peak in Bogota that offers a crazy view of the entire city, and what seemed like all of Colombia. We weren’t that enthusiastic about it at first — remember, we had just spent 1.5 months in Patagonia, surrounded by the most beautiful mountains in the world — but after a whole lot walking around the city, we wanted to do something different. Totally worth it.
South Americans are reaaally fascinated by The Simpsons, and look what we found at a gift shop atop the mountain?
Not pictured: Eaman celebrating Australia Day with some Aussies the night before I flew in and our excursion to the suburban club Andrés Carne de Res on a hostel party bus. (To be clear, the party bus looked more like an airport shuttle.) The club is one big restaurant slash bar filled with rich Bogotans. To me, it looked like a bunch of belligerent 20-year-olds using mommy and daddy’s credit cards. It was an interesting place and very different from a regular bar, but it also sort of felt like Disney World with all the empty space and bright decor. Oh, and cocktails were $20 — on average. Personally, I would’ve prefered a salsa club or some such. But it’s supposed to be one of the best clubs in Bogota, so I guess I checked that box.
And I’d be remiss to talk about Colombia and not mention safety. The country has been plagued by tons of negative press, stemming from drug wars and the rule — so to speak — of mafia leader Pablo Escobar. To be honest, Bogota didn’t feel any more or less safe than pick-pocketing capital Buenos Aires. Like any country in South America, you walk in groups, hold onto your purse and never walk around with wads of cash. The only difference we noticed is that in Bogota, it’s recommended to call a taxi to pick you up from wherever you are rather than hailing one on the street. Other than that, it’s really all the same stuff.
And Colombians want you to know that, too. Check out this ad at the Bogota airport:
But I must say, the one thing I didn’t like about Bogota was the weather. After being in balmy South America for four months, I have basically zero tolerance for cold. My blood has thinned, I tell ya! True, it was sunny and even hot sometimes during the day, but it was also schizophrenic with patches of intense sunlight followed by cold gloom. And don’t even get me started on the nights. I really don’t like wearing a fleece jacket to bed.
My pet peeve aside, Bogota did prove Colombia’s charm to us, and the coastal beach town of Cartagena? They proved it ten-fold. But that’s saved for the next post!
Because our time is free flowing and cost efficiency is key, our first flight out included a nine-hour layover in Bogota, Colombia. Unfortunately, it was from 9pm to 6am, which meant all we could really do was sleep–on cold wooden benches. It was less painful than it sounds, but at 3:30am, when we couldn’t toss and turn any longer and I was hungry from the measly airplane meaI, I grabbed an egg McMuffin at McDonalds and split a cheese croissant with Eaman. (“Solomento huevos” and “solomento queso” apparently meant nothing; both came with meat, which we just picked out.)
With food finally in my stomach, we moved on to security at about 4am, and that was when I started feeling sick.
Eaman and I have a running joke about how sensitive I am…to anything. So when my stomach started hurting at the Xray machines, I didn’t want to fuss. I figured it was my usual general discomfort due, this time, to lack of sleep and new surroundings. But pretty soon, the pain was unbearable. I went from feeling ice cold to sweating bullets and that was also when the dizziness hit me.
The next thing I knew, I was beginning to faint. Luckily, Eaman was behind me and caught me before I fell. I probably blacked out for two seconds, but the airport workers brought me a chair and called the airport doctor, who after asking some questions, deduced that I had probably suffered a bout of altitude sickness, common in those parts, especially for someone coming from Flatlands, USA.
True, I had already started feeling better once I was in the chair–it must’ve just been a sudden shock to my system. But lesson learned: Don’t dismiss even the smallest of physical pains.
But anyway, moving on to less serious matters!
We arrived in Lima wednesday morning, bleary-eyed but very much in the mood to explore, so we wandered around Miraflores, a safe neighborhood known for its restaurants and shopping.
Breakfast at the hostel on our first morning:
Instantly, we felt comfortable, thanks in part to our familiarity with busy city life and our dark skin (we can totally pass for locals), but more to the people of Lima, known as Limenos, who are an incredibly pleasant bunch. Always smilng without an ounce of stress masking their faces, they have lovely to be around. Not only do they seem happy and content with life, but they’ve also been helpful when we have questions and generous when we speak our haphazard Spanish.
The other, less welcome, aspect of Lima was the weather. We had been so sure that everywhere on our itinerary would be warm, but Lima’s winter is, we read up on later, May through November…and we basically only packed tees and shorts.
Thanks to a tip from one of our roommates in our eight-person dorm, we supplemented our wardrobe with relatively cheap sweatshirts at La 5uinta, a less glossy version of TJ Maxx. The roommate, Brandee from San Francisco, is just rounding out a year of travel, so talking to her was like seeing into the future with all her fascinating tips and stories. Also in our room was her friend Natalie, a Brit archaeology student who we saw for a total of five minutes in 24 hours and two friends from the Faroe Islands, which I had never even heard of but is located northwest of Scotland.
After a day of settling in (and napping), we explored the heart of central Lima. Though famous for its Spanish colonial architecture, we had much more of a blast wandering through Chinatown–yes, they have one–and the more off-the-beaten path streets. Again, total score that we look like locals. It was there that we had our first dose of street food–cooked, of course! We were hooked and had to keep turning away from the vendors to not get tempted.
Old Lima:
Cute kid near Plaza des Armas, a UNESCO World Heritage Site
Police are EVERYWHERE in Lima. Here, one during the changing of the guard at a government building:
First street food for Eaman! Chicken empanada:
First street food for me! Plate of hard-boiled eggs, potatoes and steamed Peruvian corn:
Cute kid eating pineapple:
We could eat chocolate churros with cappucinos every day:
Tomorrow we head to Cusco, the city for all things Machu Picchu and outdoor activities…and tourists. But with nearly a week before our trek, we plan to find the hidden gems and indulge in the markets and nature.
Plus, Brandee and Natalie, who’ll be there at he same time, are trying to set up a meeting with a shaman for some spiritual cleansing and we’ve already told them we want in on that.