South America Archives - Page 2 of 4

Peru South America

Bullfight

The previous day in Lima we had bought some tickets to the bullfight from a ticket counter at a supermarket. Lima’s bullfighting season runs from late October to early November, so the opportunity presented itself and this was something i had wanted to do for a long time. Admittedly, I think the idea of killing animals for sport or entertainment is morally indefensible, but i still wanted to see it, once. (I don’t eat animals either but i still love the butchery sections of markets. I can’t explain it. I just find it gruesome and fascinating.)

We walked out of the historic centre and across a highway and waterway into an area that is notably absent from the maps of Lima in all of my travel books. Across the way on a hill the slums of Lima are visible, with ramshackle houses seemingly piled on top of one another.

The area is distinctly poor, with buildings crumbling, chaotic traffic, the strong smell of urine, and dusty streets lined with lively but shabby buildings. I loved it. The area was busy with everyone gathering before the fight. Spanish music played loudly, some recorded and some live; men gathered to drink beer and smoke, and women grilled meat on the streets, making impromptu eateries out of a cart and plastic chairs. Most people wore fancy, wide-brimmed white hats, which was about the only spiffy thing in site. (Being the only obvious foreigners in site, i didn’t feel right taking pictures of the people, but i took this picture of a side street.)

We entered the bull ring: the Plaza Del Acho. It is the oldest bullring in the Americas, dating from 1766, and the second oldest in the world. The place was crammed full of spectators enjoying the pre-fight ambiance. Grilled meats, live bands, wine, beer & pico vendors – even a cigar vendor! It was very exciting.

People eagerly waited for the matadors and other “performers” to make appearances before the event. Finally it started. The arena holds 13,000 people was nearly full and we all sat on wooden benches.

The events opened with a traditional Peruvian dance done to a live brass band which played on and off throughout the fight.

Then the crowd cheered as the matadors entered the ring.

There were six bulls that afternoon. Each fight (it hardly seems like the right word but i haven’t a better one) follows the same formula. A bull is released. A half a dozen lesser matadors with fuchsia and yellow capes taunt the bull around the ring; getting it to run through their capes and around them. When the bull gets too close, they run and jump behind protective wooden barricades.

Then to trumpets the picadores enter the ring on horseback. They stab the bull with long spears between its shoulders. This causes the bull to bleed and get understandably pissed off. The bull then charges into the horse, often lifting it up and sometimes toppling the rider. This was exciting. The horses wear armour to prevent them from being disemboweled.

Then the matador appears, at first without his red cape. He begins by taunting the bull and stabbing it with six colourful, barbed instruments, which go into and hang down from the bull’s shoulders.

By now the bull is bloody, angry, and tired. The matador then arms himself with a sword and red cape and begins the dance wherein the bull charges, the matador waves his through the cape, the crowd shouts “olé”, and the matador struts cockily while the bull composes himself. This continues for a while during which time, a few times, the matadors are flipped, knocked down and nearly trampled, or in one case, gored in the leg. The always kept fighting, however (the matadors are pretty impressive. They must get laid constantly.) This was all kind of beautiful and very exciting when something went wrong. Make no mistake, i was rooting for the bull.

Then the matador stabs the bull with his sword, through the shoulders, into the chest, hilt deep. The bull bleeds from his wound and blood pours from his mouth. The bull staggers while the sub-matadors taunt the bull with their capes until it falls down (this is the worst part, in my opinion), at which point someone slits the bull’s throat. The body is dragged from the ring by horses to the sound of cheers. The matador struts around while people throw roses and hats.

It’s pretty cruel and awful, but also very interesting. I am definitely glad i went, though i don’t know if i would again. I loved the cultural experience, and the pageantry, the music, and costumes – i also loved that you could smoke cigars, which i did throughout the event. The torture and killing gives me pause.

Reflecting on all we had seen, we left and went back to Miraflores for a vegetarian dinner and sleep. A very full day indeed.
d

Peru South America

Miraflores to Market

Day two in Lima started with breakfast at the hostal El Patio. Bread and olive spread, coffee, fresh juice and fruit. We started with a walk down to the sea. Lima sits along cliffs overlooking the ocean and on the cliffs is a wonderful pathway that meanders through parks, all with lovely views of the water and surfers catching waves.

Along the way Limeños were out for Sunday jogs and dog walks with some people working out with outdoor gym equipment that was set up along the way. We walked down to Larcomar, which is a very South Florida feeling outdoor mall, which also had some nice cafes with great views of the ocean, where we had a coffee.

We walked back to the hotel and then caught a taxi back to central Lima. We arrived at the Plaza where a marching band on horseback played triumphant music in front of the palace with other mounted men in full regalia waited on a side street for some sort of procession to start. We didn’t wait long enough to figure out what was going on but it was pleasant to take in the sights for a while.

We were on a mission to go to the central market for lunch. The central market is an enclosed, three story structure with vendors selling meat, produce, various other food items, and housewares. The meat sections were busy with various animals being butchered for sale, and the produce sections were colorful stalls selling familiar and exotic items. I love both equally. I dragged Betty-Lou through aisles of dead chickens, cow stomachs, and pigs feet before we bought some fruits (plums, pitaya, & granadilla) and had a fresh strawberry juice at a counter.

We had lunch at one of the counters next to the fish vendors where all the locals were eating (mind you, i didn’t see anyone aside from locals in the place). Betty Lou had some kind of mystery meat dish and i managed to wrangle a salad and some rice and beans. Eating vegetarian in South America always requires some extra explanation.

After lunch we walked through Lima’s small and crowded Chinatown before heading to our main destination for the day: the bullfight.

To be continued…

Peru South America

Arriving in Peru

Lima!

We arrived mid-morning to a bustling airport and busy traffic as we made the drive in a taxi to Miraflores, the area in Lima in which we are staying. Miraflores being a slightly upscale area (by which i mean not slummy) centred around a pleasant city park (Kennedy Park) and extending down to the sea. Our accommodations – the Hostal El Patio – are delightful. Simple but comfortable rooms around a colorful and charming patio.

Miraflores is a pretty long walk through some not so interesting areas to the centro historico, so we have been taking taxis to that area. On day one, after settling in, we taxied to the Plaza San Martin, and then commenced walking around central Lima. Many large, stately buildings in classical styles with the unmistakable south american colors (yellow, mostly). The area around the Plaza de Armas is particularly lovely.

We walked the streets, checking out churches and side streets and stopping to photograph the guards at the national palace. The streets were busy with traffic and pedestrians and people selling random toys, candy, and other odds and ends. We walked over to the Monasterio de San Francisco, still a working monastery, but with a beautiful church and grounds to tour. Underneath the buildings are catacombs, filled with bones and crypts. (No photos allowed.) Though they were neither as labyrinthine or bone-filled as those in Paris, i still dug them. In certain areas we were directly below the cathedral and small vents above us let through light and the sound of the mass carrying on.

After that we headed back to Miraflores and to Kennedy Park where we looked at some art on display and marveled at the number of cats. Kennedy Park is an unofficial cat sanctuary. The place is filled with cats – beautiful, healthy looking cats roaming free, napping, sitting in trees….

We had dinner on a pedestrian street just off the square after which I went for walk and smoked a cigar before bed.

Some initial observations. Lima is certainly a lot fancier than Quito or Bogota. By comparison, it is clean and feels far safer and less dodgy. Very few children begging (unlike Quito) and there are not soldiers and armed guards on every corner (unlike Bogota). Very little graffiti. No packs of tough looking stray dogs. It’s very nice and i have enjoyed looking around, but i would rank it as somewhat less interesting than those other cities (since i prefer my cities on the dodgy and dangerous side).

Very little English is spoken, but thankfully my Spanish (what little i know) has come a long way. (Thanks to Duolingo & Sesame Street.) Betty Lou knows only two phrases – “i am a woman” and “with cheese” a but she says them beautifully.

The weather is perfect; a bit cool in the mornings and evenings, and warm in the afternoon.

Smoking? Well, it seems that Lima has gone the way of much of Europe and North America: no smoking indoors or on restaurant patios. (Although as i write this i am on the patio of a cafe, so there is some flexibility.)

And that was day one in Lima. We did also get some tickets to a bullfight, but that deserves its own post.

Colombia South America

Colombian Fruit

I don’t think i’ve ever been anywhere with as much fruit – both in terms of availability and variety – as Colombia. Fruit is for sale everywhere: on every corner, on the beach, in supermarkets and convenience stores and markets, and on the side of the road. And the variety is staggering. All of the usual fruits are well represented: mangos, papayas, tiny bananas, oranges, grapes, watermelon, etc. But what was really incredible was the amount of fruits that i had never seen or heard of before. Here are some of the stand outs:

Cherimoya

The Cherimoya is an intimidating looking fruit, native to the Andes. Apparently outside of South America it is also known as a Custard Apple or a Sherbet Fruit. It’s large – a bit larger than a big grapefruit – and its green and dimpled, with a lizardy-texture. But slice it open and it is soft and creamy white and tastes like an mixture of pineapple and banana and mango. You can eat it with a spoon if it is properly ripe and it is delicious.

Tuna

The Tuna looked like a cactus and after returning home i realized that “tuna” is the Spanish word for cactus pear or cactus fig. It is the size of a pear and is spiny, but in the supermarkets the spines are removed. I’m not sure if the one i had was ripe enough when i had it because i understand it is supposed to be able to be spooned out, but mine was quite firm. I didn’t find it overly flavorful and it is filled with small, edible seeds that gives it a weird texture. I didn’t really care for this one, but i would definitely give it another try. (It does appear in jams however, which were delicious.)

Lulo

Lulo looks like an orange tomato in size and texture; the inside of it is green and very tart. It is a bit sweeter than a lemon and has a different taste. They are for sale everywhere and seems to be used mostly in juices and jams. The juice is sweetened a bit, but is still tart and is served with chunks of the fruit inside. The juice was quite good, but with all the fruit chunks i found it easier to eat with a spoon. Apparently it is native to the Andes and is also called “little orange”.

Granadilla

Granadillas – a member of the passion fruit family – i had eaten before; i tried my first one in Ecuador and now get them from time to time at the supermarket in Vancouver, but in Colombia they were everywhere and were extremely cheap. They are yellow, perfectly round, about the size of a small orange and have a little stem. You crack open the hard shell and inside is a grey, gelatinous sack of edible black seeds and delicious goo. It does not look appetizing, but it is delicious with a passion fruity flavor.

Tomate de Arbol

Known in English as the tamarillo, in Colombia i saw the Tomate de Arbol for sale in markets and by street vendors who served them sliced up in cups with honey drizzled on top. It is about the size of a roma tomato, but with a firmer flesh and is purple/burgundy in color. It wasn’t overly flavorful and the flesh is firm – mine was almost like a slightly under cooked potato. I’d try it again, but wasn’t taken with it the first time around.

Pitaya

Pitayas look like slightly smaller, yellow dragon fruit. And that’s basically what they are. I found it to be slightly sweeter and less watery than a usual, red dragon fruit. Very tasty. I also had some Pitaya flavored yogurt, which was very nice.

Mangosteen

I had heard of the mangosteen but had never had one. I was under the impression that they only grew in South East Asia, but i was mistaken, as they are also grown in Colombia. I had heard really good things about Mangosteens, so i was very excited to try them. I bought a small bag from a market in Bogota and ate the whole thing in a sitting. They are small, about the size of a golf ball, and have a hard, purple shell. Crack open the shell and there is a fragrant aroma and soft, white cloves inside that taste like – heaven. It’s hard to describe. It is sweet and very flavorful, with a floral, creamy, taste that is like nothing I’ve ever had before. Perfection.

Curuba

When i bought the Curuba (also spelled Ceruba), i really didn’t know what to expect. It was yellow and the size and shape of a mini cucumber, but it was soft, like an over ripe banana. When i cut it open, i was not expecting what i found. The inside is like a Granadilla – gelatinous goo with seeds – but it is yellow/pink in color. (Apparently in English it is called the banana passionfruit.) I scooped out the insides with a spoon and found that unlike the sweet Granadilla, it is tart. I found it pleasantly tart, more grapefruity than lemony. Very good.

Mango Azucar

There are so many types of mangos in Colombia and they are all fantastic, but this one stood out as being quite different. The Mango Azucar (sugar mango) is small, about the size of an apricot, and is very sweet and less fibrous than most other mangos. They still have a large pit inside, so you have to eat a lot of these tiny mangos to get your fill, but they are delicious.

Guanabana

I saw these for sale in the markets and for sale on the street. They are difficult to miss. The Guanabana is huge, about a foot tall, and is dark green and covered in spikes. It sort of looks like the offspring of a lizard and a pine cone. Cut it open though and it is white and juicy and filled with large, hard, black seeds. I bought a cup of it from a street vendor. They basically scoop out some juice and some soft flesh and serve it in cups with a spoon. You can drink some of the milky juice and slurp up the soft flesh from around the seeds. It is awesome. It tastes like a mix of strawberry and pineapple and coconut and kiwi. Sort of. It is really very good. It is native to the tropical parts of South America but is grown in tropical areas around the world and has different names everywhere. Apparently in English is is called “soursop”, which is a horrible name for something so amazing.

Colombia South America Venezuela

Wrapping things up in Colombia & Venezuela

On my final night in Cartagena I went out for dinner and then to a La Casa del Habano cigar shop/bar in Gethsemani. It was fairly quiet when I arrived but I had a decent chat with the Manager who showed me bundles of tobacco to be rolled into Colombian cigars.

The smoking situation is Cartagena has been better than in Bogota. You still can’t technically smoke inside, but with the weather being so beautifully tropical, there is no shortage of patios to smoke on; plus, you can smoke in cigar shops and there are at least three in the old city. There are lots of “Cuban” cigars being sold on the streets here and they are all fakes. There are real Cubans for sale in the shops, but they are very expensive – as much as in Canada.

Here’s a few more Cartagena pictures from my final day:

The next morning i flew back to Bogota and sent many hours walking around, doing a bit of shopping and finally killing time in doors when it got too cold and wet to be comfortable outside. That night i flew to Caracas.

I had a nine hour layover in Caracas, which would have been great had it been during the day, but we arrived at about 12:30 am. I thought initially i might stay at the airport and sleep on a row of chairs, but i realized that i probably needed some sleep if i was to be at all functional when i returned home and went right to work – plus, the airport in the middle of the night feels pretty sketchy. Not the sort of place i would feel comfortable sleeping in public. This is also what i determined reading accounts by other people who had been in the same situation. Indeed, the whole area around the neighborhood seems pretty dodgy at night.

Earlier in the day i did some hotel research and discovered that there are only two hotels near the airport and they are both very expensive. There are other hotels in downtown caracas of course, but they are quite far from the airport and transportation is expensive. Anyway, I was too tired to look for creative or alternative options so i got a room at a fancyish business hotel about 10 minutes from the airport. I took some colorful Venezuelan Bolivars out of the ATM and the next thing i knew i was in a tinted-windowed SUV being driven to the hotel. (the taxi ride: also expensive)

I checked in and had a restful, but brief sleep. The next morning i saw that the hotel was right on the Caribbean and had lovely pools and patios. So i ate a an overpriced breakfast taking in the view before taking another taxi back to the airport. From what i saw of the neighborhood on the drive back; it looked poor and unremarkable, but had lots of colorful Chavez graffiti and beautiful mountains. That was my brief foray into Venezuela.

Colombia South America

Mercado Bazurto

This morning, after breakfast i hailed a taxi to Mercado Bazurto – a large market well outside Cartagena’s centro historico where locals sell all manner of food and household items and operate shops and eateries. It is not a common tourist destination i am told and it has a reputation for being very dangerous. I don’t know how well deserved that reputation is, but to be on the safe side, i left my bag at the hotel and took just enough cash to get there and back, plus a bit extra, and my camera (and a few cigarillos).

The taxi driver dropped me off at the most chaotic, labyrinthine, dirty market i have ever been to. There were roads for vehicles, unpaved and soggy with mud and bits of rotting vegetable matter and scraps of fish and meat, all of which the birds and dogs were fighting over. Other than the main roads were dark passageways, covered mostly by tarps and lined with ramshackle wooden stalls. Everywhere people were descaling and gutting freshly caught fish, cutting up various animal carcasses, and selling all manner of fruits and vegetables. Cars and colorful buses, taxis, and donkeys pulling little carts made their way loudly through the streets with no sense of order. The shops played loud salsa music or less frequently, rap. Men walked around selling juice, cafe tinto, and lemonade, or pushed carts selling arepas, buns, and other items. The whole place smelled like garbage, wood smoke, fish, and rotting flesh and plant matter. Not surprisingly, i loved it. It was a complete sensory overload. I enjoyed wandering, though i avoided the darkest alleyways.

I attracted a lot of attention. People wanted to sell me things, but mostly they just wanted to say hello. I wanted so badly to take pictures of the market and the people and buildings which were crumbly but painted with bright colors and pictures of fruit and chickens, but i did not take a single photo. I felt very conspicuous and it seemed like it might have been rude to walk around and take photos, so i just walked, and smiled and said buenos dias. I did sit down at one stall where a woman was making cold drinks and had an orange and milk smoothie while watching people cooking up meat in a big pot over a fire next to a small shack that operated a single person hair salon.

It was a terrific place to visit; i’m so glad i went and did not allow the fear-mongers to convince me to stay away. It did not feel at all unsafe, but i certainly felt like it was best to stay to the busy areas. I walked out of the market, past lots of roadside eateries (basically, small wood stoves with a few tables and plastic chairs), and then through a fairly nice (and mercifully air conditioned) mall before catching a taxi back to the old town.

Today is my last day here as i fly back to Bogota tomorrow. I shall spend the rest of the day, walking and enjoying the beautiful weather before returning to the cold and misty Andes.

Colombia South America

Cock Fight

Yesterday morning, before it got too hot, i went for a walk around the walls of the old city. The walls are fairly high and thick and hold numerous cannons, pointed out at sea. The walk is quite pleasant and offers great views into the streets below.

After my walk i hung out at the hostel in the hammock for a bit and ran some errands and had dinner with an Australian girl and then i headed to one of the squares where i was meeting someone who had promised to take me to a cock fight.

This all started the day i arrived when i met this guy, a local, and we were chatting about what i was going to see and i asked him if her knew where i could see a cock fight. (I had originally wanted to see a bull fight but they only happen in January and February.) The man said, you have no idea who you are talking to–i have 48 chickens for fighting. And so he said to meet his at 6:00 on Friday and we would go.

On the face of it, this seemed like an exercise in poor judgment on my part. I was going to go to a dodgy part of town with a guy i just met to see a cock fight. My instincts said do it, but be cautious. So i met the guy and his two cousins at 6:00 on Friday. I was happy to find out that a young couple from Australia (a girl and a boy) would be joining us. (The Australian cuople told me they had been mugged at knifepoint the day before at 5:00 right in front of their hostel in the touristy neighborhood, but they said they only gave the guy about $5 and he went away.) We hopped in a taxi and went about 15 minutes out of town to a much, much poorer neighborhood.

Before we went to the arena, we went to the patio of this bodega on the corner and had beers (well, i had water) and chatted and took in the people watching. Although it was not an area i would go on my own, i really enjoyed it. Loud salsa music was playing and people were out walking and shouting at each other jovially and dogs were playing in the street. The whole area was really run down and dusty, but it had a friendly feel.

At about 8:00 or so we went to the arena. It is an arena dedicated to cock fighting and in one of many in Cartagena. It seats people in the round on three levels (the admission fees vary depending on what area you sit in). Just outside the arena is an open area with a bar and placed where they keep the chickens on fight day, where they prepare them, etc.

the spikes are applies to the chicken legs

So people have chickens and they have their chicken trainers bring them to the arena. The chickens have their feathers clipped in particular ways and underneath and on the legs the feathers are removed. The chickens are weighed in a special scale to see what weight class they belong in, and then the spikes are attached. A cut is made in the back of the chicken´s leg and a metal thing is inserted and it is bandaged to the leg, then into the metal thing a spike is screwed in – a spike about 2 inches long. Then the lower part of the chicken’s leg is wrapped, kind of like how boxers wrap their hands.

While all this is going on, men are standing around drinking beer, smoking, chatting, and checking out the chickens who are to fight.

The fight began and we took our places. The two chickens are brought into the ring and the betting begins. Some of the betting is organized and some of it is just guys betting with the guy next to him. The whole process is really chaotic with everyone shouting names and numbers all at once and waving money around. The minimum bet is 20,000 pesos (about $10 or $12 dollars), but bets go into the thousands i am told.

The fight starts and the chickens start pecking at each other and flapping and the crowd goes crazy yelling. Above the ring hangs a clock, counting down from 15 minutes and a sign with each chicken’s name and stats (wins, losses, weights, village of origin). Also in the ring are two judges. If one chicken takes the other down for a period of time, that chicken is the winner. If 15 minutes goes by with no big wins, then it is a draw. Judging by the reaction, the crowd doesn’t like draws. Most of the fights lasted about 10 or 12 minutes and ended with one chicken dead or nearly dead. The quickest fight lasted about 5 seconds.

the winning chicken and the dead chicken

I found it all quite fascinating and i enjoyed yelling at the chickens: Come on Chino, don’t be a pussy, take that motherfucker chicken down! Or sometimes, if i was rooting for chicken number 2 (when both chickens had the same name, which happens more often than you would think), i would yell: Numero dos es numero uno! The fighting was interesting, but the best thing was just the experience of being there and knowing it was something not a lot of people get to see. Also, i liked that you could sit in the arena, watching the fight and smoking cigars. That was pretty cool.

We definitely stood out, the Australians and I. We were the only gringos there and the Australian girl and i were the only girls, aside from the one selling the beer. We hung out there for a couple of hours and then took a taxi back to the centro historico. After being dropped off i went to the Casa del Habano and had a cigar and mojito with the manager while watching Romancing the Stone on the tv. The manager says it is his favorite movie.

Over all, it was an awesome experience. A definite first for me – and maybe a first for them, as i am not sure how many cigar smoking, tattooed, pale, blonde vegetarians they get at the cockfight.

Colombia South America

Playa Blanca

Cartagena is on the Caribbean, so it is not surprising that it is surrounded by beautiful beaches. The ones right here in Caragena are fine, but the farther out you go, the more pristine and beautiful they become. About an hour away by speed boat is a beach called Playa Blanca: a stretch of powdery white sand along turquoise sea with palm trees and various places renting hammocks and grass huts for the night. I am not much of a beach person, but this sounded quite idyllic, so i decided to go.

There are 3 ways to get to Playa Blanca: take a tour (which involves also going to an aquaraium and has less than favorable reviews and costs about $50,000 pesos or more), take a 3 hour bus ride and then convince someone to take you to the beach the last half an hour by motorbike, or convince someone to take you in a private boat.

I was not going to spend hours on a bus and did not relish the idea of a tour, so i opted for the private boat. I went just outside of the old city to the market at about 7:30am and found where the boats were. They were smallish, fiberglass boats with wooden benches and were sort of rectangular in shape. They were docked next to where men were repairing fishing nets and gutting the freshly caught fish. I found a man with a boat and asked if he was going to Playa Blanca. He was not going there, but just past it, and would drop me off for 20,000 pesos (about $10-$12 dollars). This sounded good. I hopped on the boat and waited. The deal is, you have to wait for them to fill up their boats before they leave. i waited nearly 2 hours but i did not mind, as men came by selling coffee and bananas and i really enjoyed watching the fishermen and the activities as the boats were loaded with supplies. Our boat was filled with water jugs, flowers, crates of pineapples, bags of plantains and coconuts, and other less exciting items and about 10 other people got on board. Then we left.

The boat sped along, leaping off of the waves. I have never been on a boat that fast and it was very exciting. We passed by green areas of trees, the new city of Cartagena with its modern high rises, and past tiny shacks along the water, where people were clearly living in great poverty. After about an hour we arrived in Playa Blanca.

I was the only one getting off there, so i hopped off the boat and waded to the beach (there is no dock area). The boat began to pull away and then came back with the captain yelling at me that i had not paid him. I argued with him, as best i could, that i had paid in Cartagena, but after some time, i realized that i may have paid the wrong man (ie not the captain). I saw others paying in Cartagena, but perhaps they paid the correct person, or maybe they were just ripping me off, but i finally gave in and paid 20,000 pesos, again.

Obviously, this is only about $10, so it was not the money that bothered me, but my pride was injured and i was a bit embarrassed as it looked like i was trying to get away without paying, which was not the case. Anyway, as the boat pulled away and i was left on this desolate beach, i regretted coming, did not want to be there, and realized…how was i going to get back?

I had assumed that there would be a dock with boats and that it would be easy to arrange for return transport, but once the boats drop of their passengers, they leave. The beach did have one end which was clearly more touristy, as there were lots of people (but still only grass huts and hammocks), but the end i was at was fairly deserted. I sat down on a chair feeling kind of upset and pannicky. There is no road, no boats, no electricity, no telephones (no motor cars)…i was already planning to live there forever Gilligan’s Island style, when some women wandered by and sat with me. They had been at the busy end of the beach selling massages. They tried to chat with me, but the language barrier made it mostly impossible, however they could see i was unhappy. They called over a man who operated the hammock, hut, and kitchen establishment at which i found myself. (El Paraisio de Mama Ruth – i highly recommend them for sleeping & eating.)

This man did speak fairly good English and i explained my situation. He expressed regret for my being ripped off and said he would arrange for a boat to take me back at 3:00 (it was now 11:30) for 10,000 pesos. He fixed me up with a hammock, and some lunch of salad, rice, and plantains (he brought out a platter of freshly caught fish for me to select from, but i explained the vegetarian thing). I felt immediately more at ease.

And so i hung out there for more than 3 hours. i ate lunch, smoked two cigars, lay on the beach, sat in a chair looking out at the sea. Occasionally people walked by selling jewelry, shells, or coconut drinks, but other than that, it was completely quiet. Nothing but wind and waves, and a few men who emerged from the sea holding long, bright silvery fish they had caught with their hands. I have to say that i relaxed very quickly and found it quite peaceful.

At about 3:00 though I got anxious. My English speaking friend was no where to be seen and there were no boats on the horizon. I figured I was going to have to spend the night, when a boat came around the corner, loaded with people and with a man sitting on the bow, waving his arms. It was the guy! I waded out to the boat, thanked him for his help, and we sped off back to Cartagena.

The day, over all, was a great experience but i must admit to being particularly happy when i set foot back on land in Cartagena, tired, sweaty, and salty.

I spent the evening walking around, grabbed a bit of dinner and found a another cigar shop where i sat with the manager and his friend and smoked and chatted for an hour of so. (This time I learned all about prostitution in Cartagena.) I had planned to go to a salsa club, but was nodding off by 10:00, so i just went to bed.

That was my Thursday. I can’t wait to see what will happen today.
d

Colombia South America

Cartagena Squares after Dark

My hostel here in Cartagena is very good, in the sense that there is a good group of people here. The common areas are very comfortable and there are small pools (one with fish) and some hammocks. Yesterday late in the afternoon, i came back to rest and hang out for a bit before going out for dinner. I had a pleasant time chatting and listening to everyone’s travel stories.

After that i went out and had dinner at an outdoor pizzeria on a busy square situated beneath a cathedral. It was the perfect spot for my first dinner. The square was filled with tourists and locals and wandering musicians. The only minor downside, is that every 5 minutes someone came up wanting to sell me something: jewelry, paintings, (fake) Cuban cigars, etc. Eventually they left me alone, but it took awhile for them to figure out i was not a buyer. But it was delightful to sit there and smoke and eat dinner and watch everything unfold.

After dinner i walked back to the Gethsemani neighborhood and to the Plaza de la Trinidad. Earlier in the day it had been a small, deserted square at the base of a yellow church, but now it was filled with food vendors, young people, and loud salsa music. I hung out for a bit before five people got up on the steps of the church and began doing a dance. The square then filled with people following along and dancing in unison. It was amazing. I was tempted to join in, but did not. I don’t know how long this lasts or how often it occurs, but it was really cool.

After that i went back to the hostel and had tea with a couple of traveling girls.

Today, i have no plans, so i shall see how the day unfolds.

Colombia South America

A Man and his Donkey

Yesterday afternoon in Cartagena, i felt like taking a break from my walking, so i sat down at an outdoor cafe to have a cigar and coffee. A guy that had stopped me on the street to sell me jewelry earlier wandered over and i said he could sit down. (At this point he understood that i would not be a customer.) His English was very good and we chatted for about an hour about various things.

The conversation started off normally enough: he told me about his 4 children, his job, his enduring love of the Toronto Blue Jays, etc. Then he told me a story about how when he was 16 he left the farm he lived on and came to Cartagena for the summer to work renting jet skis to tourists and it was while doing this at 16 that he had sex with a 35 year old woman visiting from Boston. I asked him if it had been his ‘first time’ and he hesitated and then told me that it was his first time with a woman but that in the area he is from (rural farmland), boys and young men always have their first sexual experiences with donkeys.

Now, this only surprised me in part. I knew this was a ‘thing’ in rural Colombia as i had recently heard on a podcast about a documentary that had recently been made about this practice; what surprised me was that he was so open about it. He even called over another guy from his area who confirmed this without being prompted. He was quite happy to talk about it and answer any questions i had – and i had lots. How many? How often? Why? How? Do you have favorites? Do you get kicked? What do the women think about this? etc. I won’t go into detail about his answers, except to say that, according to this guy, it is a normal thing in certain areas, and while donkeys and young horses are fine, mules are preferred due to their…virginity. Seriously.

It was a very interesting conversation, but one that i will not detail any further, lest i begin attracting the wrong sort of traffic to my blog.

Wandering North

Tag: South America

Bullfight

Miraflores to Market

Arriving in Peru

Colombian Fruit

Wrapping things up in Colombia & Venezuela

Mercado Bazurto

Cock Fight

Playa Blanca

Cartagena Squares after Dark

A Man and his Donkey