Colombia’s wall of sound

Dear future me,

I find myself back in Chiquinquirá again, while this morning I was sure to leave this small colonial ciudad in Boyacá department behind. But on this trip, I keep circling back to the same places somehow. This time I was happily enjoying myself on this gorgeous ruta 60 to Puerto Boyacá, smiling all over the place because the views where stunning. Mountains with misty clouds surrounding me, although the big holes in the pavement kept my eyes mostly downwards. I guess the bumpy ride was an omen for what was to come. Over halfway the trip some road worker started to alarm me by saying ‘no via, no paso’. But I happily ignored it, still believing I would make it to my nice hotel with a swimming pool. No luck though, in the end another guy in a truck (filled with road repair dirt) convinced me that there was no road up ahead. It’s been raining a lot in Colombia lately; I know because I had some heavy downpours trying to swoop me out of the way. Roads turn into rivers and spontaneous waterfalls present themselves and compete who makes the most impressive sounds. So yes, I had to turn and ride back to Chiquinquirá. Replanning the next days, because more roads are closed and I have to make a big detour to arrive in Medellin on Sunday.

Three weeks on the road and I sort of get the idea of Colombia. Before I even came here, everybody who’s been to Colombia was ravishing about the beauty of the country. Well, I think they even understated the gem that this lovely país is. Moving from the impressive mountains in the middle region into the waterlands in the north, I had to adjust to a few things. From the cold fresh air, to the hot and humid ambience of the Caribbean. And from the quiet and rustic mountain folks with their ruanas (= woolen poncho’s) to the open-faced smiling people with their ghetto blasters. Providing me with a wall of Colombian sound every time I passed a place where locals gather around to drink a beer. Which is at every hundred meters and I could feel the bass going through my bones. It kept me awake in the blistering sun. The waterfalls out of my jacket reappeared again, while I was trying to get my motorcycle through a too small doorpost in Mompóx, finding the backstreet shortcuts in Cartagena or sizzling in the hot air on the coastal roads to Santa Marta and Riohacha. All this was worth the trip though. Hanging around in a hammock on a river boat to see the sunset on Rio Magdalena. Imagining being protected by the city walls of Cartagena from the raiding pirates (which remind me of the also lovely fortified city of Galle in Sri Lanka). Getting myself the best shower ever in the waterfalls of Minca or rejuvenating my face with a cacao mask.

And getting very close to the most northerly point of South America. But no, I didn’t make it all the way to Punta Gallinas. By the time I got to see more and more sand and variations of cactuses, I succumbed to the heat. Literally. I had to take myself back to the mountain areas for some cooler air, but I got as far as Aguachica. There I had to get this old body back to life and it took me a few days to feel better again. But if you are on your own, the only way to get better is to drag yourself through the heat to a drogueria. Fortunately, they got plenty of those here in Colombia and they even sell antibiotics from the counter. That is the easy part, the other part is that even though I look like I just have been runover by a truck, everybody wants to take a picture with me in it. Apparently, I am very famous over here in Colombia, because everybody looks at me if I’m walking on the street. They even use their horns to make me look around to notice them. And Colombians love their horns. Apart from getting my attention they also use it to say hi to a friend, warn someone if they are in their way, warn everybody else for invisible threats or else, to practice in case they need to warn everybody of something that is not there. Either way, they create another wall of sound that is hard on my ears, especially when I am feeling sick.

I do notice the difference between the high temperatured parts of Colombia and the cooler mountains. Entering the highlands again and visiting the marvelous village of Barichara, I replenished my energy to explore middle and western regions of Colombia. If I will ever get there………

See ya later,

Annemieke

(P.S. Photos and video’s will come soon)