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The port city of Cartagena is located on Colombia’s Caribbean coast.  With it’s 16th-century plazas, cobblestone streets and colorful colonial buildings, Cartagena is reputed to be one of the most romantic cities in the world.  I’d fallen in love with the idea of this city as a child.  All it took was one viewing of Romancing the Stone and I was starstruck.  If only I could have know that twenty years later, I would be lucky enough to be spending my first anniversary in this magical city with my extraordinary husband.

Then the triple-threat struck, leaving no hopes for romance in its wake.

Threat number one: The Heat.  One of the things that I have always loved and appreciated about Ryan is that he is a furnace.  He is very handy to have in a mountain lodge on a cold winter’s night.  But get him into a hot and humid climate and he burns up like a match.  Even hand-holding was more than he could handle.

Threat number two: The Rag!  Ladies, need I say more?

Threat number three: THE FLU!!!  Determined to make our very first anniversary a magical night–despite our unfortunate circumstances–we planned to have a five-course dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in the city, followed by a carriage ride.

To get to the restaurant, we had to take a cab about twenty minutes to Old Town, the historical heart of Cartegena.  It is surrounded by a thick wall that was built to defend it from pirates and is arguably the most beautiful area in the city.

Unfortunately, by the time we got there, I wasn’t feeling so good.  I spent a lot of time in the bathroom and by the end of the night, I had only been able to try two of the five courses.  As I have a truly great love of food, you can imagine how much this killed me.  It was the nicest meal we’d had all year and I couldn’t even eat it.

By the next day Ryan wasn’t feeling so great either.   After that, we mostly stayed indoors in our tiny apartment.  We enjoyed the air conditioning and got a lot of rest.

Luckily, in the last few days of our stay, we finally felt improved enough to wander back outside.  We–and I especially–enjoyed a luxurious beach day under an umbrella.  We swam in the warmest waters I have ever swam in and got an enormous and delectable plate of fresh fruit.    All and all, not too bad of a deal and although it may not have been the adventure I’d had in mind, it was definitely an adventure.

Some of you may have noticed that I’ve been slacking on my weekly blog posts.  While it’s true that I’ve gotten completely wrapped up in my novel, that is not the main reason I haven’t posted since Ryan and I left Medellin, Colombia.  The real reason I haven’t posted anything new is because ever since Ryan and I embarked on our jungle hike, I haven’t really known what to say about the experience other than this: I survived.

Don’t get me wrong, the scenery was absolutely beautiful.  I noticed this once in a while as I was huffing it up and down for hours on end.  The problem was that, due to the extreme pace of the trek combined with my natural tendency to stumble and fall–and add a pack that was likely far too heavy and the hot and humid jungle climate–I didn’t get many opportunities to look up and take it all in.  Thank goodness Ryan was in charge of taking pictures.

First, a little bit about Ciudad Perdida.  Although The Lost City (Ciudad Perdida) is a relatively new discovery (1972), it dates back to around 800 AD.  This ancient city (now an archaeological sight) was once the home of up to 8,000 Tairona (a local tribe) and is thought to have been abandoned during the Spanish Conquest.   Today, The Lost City consists of terraces, plazas, and tiled roads all carved into the mountainside.  The only way of reaching the city is by climbing 1,200 stone steps through dense jungle.  Not an especially easy feat, and that’s after you’ve already been hiking for two days.

As far as I know, you can only reach The Lost City by joining a tour group.  Whether or not this is in fact the case, Ryan and I signed up with a local tour company to take a six-day hike into Colombia’s Sierra Nevada mountain range to check out the ruins of this ancient city.  As one can only expect when embarking on such an adventure, many unexpected things happened once we went into the jungle, the most important being that we came out five days later, instead of six.  Given the location and circumstances, I know my mother was just grateful we came out at all.

Here are some of the things that might have gone wrong and the reasons my experience did not turn out to be an absolute delight.  The first, unfortunately, was a wardrobe malfunction.  Being that my hiking boots were long broken in and had treated me well on my hike to Machu Picchu, I blame the hot and humid jungle climate for the blisters that erupted along my ankles and the bottoms and sides of my feet.  This happened on the second day of the six-day hike which was poor timing, to say the least.

I say six-day hike because Ryan and I signed up for six days.  We are not as young as we once were and are not as light and in-shape as we probably should have been.  That isn’t to say we didn’t try to prepare.  Only a month before, I was running fifteen miles a week and doing yoga 3-4 days a week.  We even did some hill sprinting for a week or two until we had back-to-back waves of company and ate more food than is advisable for any person of any size to consume.  So yes, we tried to prepare but for the most part, we failed.

With all of that being said, I’m still going to blame the system, lame as that may sound.  It is my opinion that we never had a chance.  Instead of completing the hike in six-days–which is what we had packed for–we walked to The Lost City and back in 4.2 days and thoroughly got our asses handed to us by fit Australians, young Americans, stinky Germans and a French smoker.  Yes, the only thing that may have been hurt worse than my feet was my pride.

Our group consisted of twelve people and of these twelve people, Ryan and I were the only ones who had signed up for a six-day stroll.  Four of them had time constraints and thus had signed up for the four-day option.  The other six signed up for the five-day option.  But when we all found out that the only difference in the duration of the trip was ONLY the number of days and not the pace, everyone opted for the four-day option.  Everyone that is, except for Ryan and I.

To add insult to injury, our guide was cavorting with the cook (I don’t know where they found the energy to sneak off to the river) and was therefore sporadically in and out of the picture.  Often in his absence (and for most of the first two days), his twelve-year-old son led the group and I kid you not, there were times when I literally had to jog to keep up.  My hips were killing me, my swollen ankles were unrecognizable and my seeping blisters were bleeding.  Hell no!!!

This is probably a good time for me to say the following to put potential trekkers minds at ease.  Although Ryan had done a lot of research and we had signed on with one of the most reputable tour companies, we are pretty sure that our strange experience was not the norm.  There were other groups with different tour companies that signed up for five and six-days who actually got more of the kind of experience that we had been hoping for.  But c’est la vie.

Here is the itinerary we followed:

Day 1: EVERYONE

Entire group (comprised of 4, 5, and 6 day participants) was hauled from Santa Marta and reached the trail-head for lunch.  We left after lunch for a solid afternoon of primarily up-hill hiking (about a 4-hour day).  Reached Camp 1.

Note: Ryan and I got left behind somewhere in hour 2.  In all that time, I’m pretty sure the group took two breaks.  As this number of breaks was in no way sufficient for us (especially me), we declared our position at the very back of the group without fail and usually trailed about thirty minutes behind everyone else.

Day 2: EVERYONE

The longest day, around eight-hours of hiking.  Camp 2 was located about an hour from The Lost City.

Day 3: EVERYONE

Walked to and explored The Lost City as a group, returned to Camp 2 for lunch, began return trip home. Stayed in Camp 3 (located between Camps 1 and 2).

Note: This was about the time I began to notice that the same sauce (while yummy) was used in every dish except the fried fish.  By no means was this a big deal, but was something worth mentioning.

Day 4: EVERYONE

Left Camp 3 and reached Camp 1 around 9 am for a snack.  This was what I consider our 0.2 day because from here, our group finally split.  While five and six-day hikers (Ryan and I) stayed in Camp 1 all day long, the rest of the group continued on to the trail-head, had a latish-lunch and was hauled back to Santa Marta.  This was a very long morning for four-day hikers as this last leg is somewhat of a bear.  Our guide took the rest of the group to the trail-head and then came back for us later that day.  Sort of embarrassing but I was not going to make it.

Note: Ryan and I spent the remainder of the day playing cards and swimming in the nearby river pools where we were joined by a mysterious yellow and red snake.  No more swimming for me.

Day 5: ONLY Ryan and myself

Returned to the trail-head ahead of guide and cook (we almost got lost) and had lunch.  (Six-day hikers would simply have stayed in Camp 1 another day but I was through with my jungle experience and so we opted for the five-days instead and came out a day early.)

To this crazy and nonsensical schedule I say this: What the hell!  I wanted a nice luxurious pace and a little time to take in some scenery as we merrily trekked along.  But nooooo.  So I gritted my teeth and scrambled along behind as fast as my swollen ankles would allow.  Ryan was a very good sport.

But enough Debbie Downer.  There were also some very positive aspects of the experience worth mentioning.  Besides the scenery–beautiful at a glimpse–I quite enjoyed the other people in our group.  Although they marched us into the ground by day, (they miraculously managed to maintain that furious pace whenever Trail Boss was MIA and Junior had given up the lead) they played cards with me by night.  Anyone who knows me at all knows my genuine love for card games.  This was a definite plus.

In addition, I have to say kudos on the facilities which were far superior to the ones available for our Inca Trail trek to Machu Picchu.  There was a sublime moment every time I finally drug myself into another camp-sight to spot the showers waiting for me off in the distance right next to the neat row of real toilets.  Who knew that a cold shower could feel so nice or that a cold, seatless ceramic toilet could be worth celebrating?

Without a doubt, my favorite aspect was the sleeping arrangements.  Although we were in the middle of the jungle, for those four nights we got to enjoy real bunk-beds, made up with a sheet and a blanket that could serve as a pillow.  Each top and bottom unit was covered by a mosquito net.  The mattresses were so soft I sagged right into the middle and dreamed I wasn’t lost in the jungle (on more than one occasion–and with no guide in sight–I actually wondered if I was).  I slept so soundly I forgot about swimming with snakes, or swollen ankles and feet covered in blisters.  I slept like I was dead.  I slept so hard, yet every morning I was almost too tired to wake up and start it all over again.  Almost.

While Ryan and I were still in Medellín, and while we still had David, we all took an exotic fruit tour which enabled us to try sixteen different types of exotic fruits from the local market.  We all found it to be very fascinating.

While on our tour, we learned that the most common use of fruit in Colombia (and in many South American countries) is to make juice.  There are many fruits that are not especially sweet, but once they are drained and A LOT of sugar has been added, they make excellent juice.  Colombians have a big sweet tooth so the sweeter, the better.  Below are several examples of these fairly tart fruits before they are made into juice.

The alicita chontaduro fruit (peach-palm) is apparently an aphrodisiac.  There was a good amount already prepared in a large tub for us to try and the texture and flavor reminded me of a mixture of sweet potato (or squash) and roasted chestnut.  It was especially tasty with a little bit of salt and honey.

This fruit, the borojo was also an aphrodisiac.  Most notable to me, aside from its appearance was its strong sweet and earthy odor.  The fruits are collected and immediately fit into these bags because as they ripen, they completely lose their form.  The borojo fruit is most often used as a sweetener to make juice, jam, wine and desserts.  While we only tried it in juice, it had a mild sweet and earthy sort of flavor, just the way it smells.

We were able to try four different types of passion fruit.  All have relatively slimy insides and remind me of alien babies.  You just suck the mess of seeds down oyster style.  Unless I close my eyes and slurp, I don’t get very far.  The gulupa was my favorite as it seemed to be the sweetest.

This little guy had to be cracked open with a hammer.  Once we had access to the pod-like fruit inside, we found a sweet floury past surrounding each seed which is supposed to be very high in energy.  It is one of the richest vegetable foods known because of its high concentration of starches and proteins.  It took a while to suck all the matter from around each seed and the texture was so strange that while the flavor was sweet and pleasant enough, I felt like I was eating saw dust which clung to the roof of my mouth.

Apparently, the guayaba (guava) is one of the most nutritious fruits a person can eat.  The saying should go “A guava a day keeps the doctor away.”  Colombians eat every part of the guava, including the peel.  On the tour however, we skipped the peel because we could not wash the fruit before consumption.

Because this guy was so massive and David, Ryan and I were the only people on our tour, we didn’t get to try him.  Bummer.  But I must say he looks especially prickly along with his portliness.  Everyone who knows me knows how crazy I am about blow fish, so there’s that.  As far as I’m concerned, he gets points on presentation alone, just for showing up.  And who couldn’t love a name as cool as soursop?!

I hate to admit that I don’t remember anything about these two except that the second one is not generally on the tour because it can not often be found in the market.  Our guide was so excited when she found it that she added it on.  But there was no card and I don’t remember what it is called.  The gentleman that ran the stand offered the fruit to us to try for free since he was happy to be included on the tour.  This was yet another example of how nice and friendly Colombians can be.

The coolest thing about the uchuva (cape gooseberry) was the peeling process.  As they were one of the most inexpensive fruits at the market, we were allowed as many as we wanted.  I only took two because the flavor was pretty tart and zingy as gooseberries tend to be.

The only things I remember about the feijoa (guavasteen or pineapple guava) was that the white fleshy fruit contained a lot of seeds and had an especially nice topical aroma.  I think the flavor was surprisingly subtle for the initially promising fragrance.

My favorite was the pitahaya (dragon fruit) which was sweet and especially refreshing.  Again, I ingested the black and crunchy seeds oyster style.  Unfortunately for me, this one is also a natural laxative so I was only allowed one.  Sad!

The most interesting fruit to me (or at least the one which was the most fun to eat) was called a mamoncillo (Spanish lime).  About the size of a very small lime, you have to first bite through the skin which is surprisingly thin.  Once you do this, the whole fruit snaps apart and a slimy ball with a large pit pops out.  You eat this fruit by chewing on the little bits of flesh around the rubbery pit.  It was sweet but mostly a lot of fun.

After about two hours, we finished the tour with a freshly made corn arepa de choclo and a refreshing juice.  Not a bad way to spend a beautiful morning in Colombia.

It’s really kind of nice traveling in a country that is happy to have you there.  This is certainly the case with Medellín.  Although Medellín was literally one of the most dangerous cities in the world not so long ago, this is certainly not the case today.  But no matter how much it has changed, Medellín still does not see a lot of travelers.  This is hard for a country that is desperately trying to overcome their past and move on to a bright new future.  Therefore the travelers who are brave enough to venture forth and find that there is no longer anything to be afraid of are greeted most graciously with smiles and enthusiastic shouts of “Do you like Colombia?” in rough English.  We are part of an early wave of tourism that Medellín has not seen for a long time and we symbolize the dawning of a new day for Colombia. 

All of this was explained to Ryan, our friend David and I when we signed up for a four hour walking tour of the city.  This was the first time we had ventured downtown which is often recommended that tourists avoid.  But our guide Hernan explained that a lot of these areas are essential for understanding the history of Medellín and are currently more misunderstood than dangerous.  One of the things I found to be most interesting was that Antioquians (and more specifically to Medellín, the paisas) are an especially proud people and are determined to show the rest of the world that there is more to their city than its violent drug history.  In fact, they are so determined that even our guide would not say Pablo Escobar’s name on most parts of the tour.  Hernan said that this was because he didn’t want locals (who are especially curious) to think he was giving us a tour on Pablo Escobar as this is very much frowned upon.

While downtown was not as nice as the areas we have been staying (Laureles and Poblado), it was certainly worth seeing.  The world famous Colombian artist, Fernando Botero has donated many large bronze sculptures to the city and they are spread out through the downtown areas especially.  The most arresting part of the tour for me was the final location when we stopped at a large plaza where concerts are often held.  There were two Botero sculptures of birds standing side by side although one had been badly damaged in a bombing incident years before.  Our guide explained that after the first sculpture was damaged, Botero donated a second sister sculpture and insisted that the first be left as a reminder.  Side by side, the two sculptures represent the past and the future of Colombia.

The last weekend Ryan and I spent in São Paulo was one of the most memorable to date.  Our good friends and hosts, Erica and Guilaramie took us into the heart of the São Paulo samba scene.  In general, I found the Brazilian caipirinha’s to be a little stout and so I drank water and enjoyed the lively music, watching the more experienced dancers take command of the dance floor.

One of my favorite things about Lapa 40° was that they employ a half dozen young men whose one and only job it seemed was to dance.  With single women.  With married women.  With each other.  And dance they did.

When I finally felt that fabulous upbeat music come alive inside of me and felt ready to try it out for myself, I worked my way over to one of the young men wearing a black “Dancer” t-shirt and asked him for a dance.  This dance was the Forro and vaguely reminded me of a country swing dance with a very sensual Latin vibe.  It was so much fun and I fared fairly well, if I may say so myself.  I only stepped on him a few times…

Every so often, they would lead a group dance that anyone could easily follow and Erica and I ran out in front of the stage and participated enthusiastically in every one of them.  Although I did not feel confident enough to brave the samba out on the floor with the pros, I truly enjoyed watching it.  There is nothing quite like the samba.

Since we were visiting friends in São Paulo, Ryan and I decided to take a quick trip up to Rio de Janeiro during the week while our hosts were working and continuing their regular schedules.  The plane tickets were extremely reasonable.  The forty-five minute flight cost $93 for the two of us on the way down and $85 dollars for the two of us on the way back!

 

Once we got to Rio, we were greeted but gorgeous beaches as expected.  Rather unexpected however, was the rainy weather which lingered until our last day in Rio.  We had packed very light for the quick and unexpected adventure and we found that it’s harder to entertain ourselves without our computers and rain gear.  In addition, without our hosts, we struggled a little more with the Portuguese language barrier.

All of this did not stop us from visiting Jardim Botânico (Botanical Garden), which turned out to be the absolute perfect thing to do in the rain.  We spent most of our day there, ducking in and out of beautiful gazebos.  Among many other delights, they had a gorgeous orchid collection.

We also discovered an amazing little deli-style restaurant called Delírio Tropical that had an incredible (and ever changing) variety of delicious freshly made salads and plenty of home-made dessert!  We liked the restaurant so much (the price especially) that we ate most of our meals there.  With a piece of cake and entirely new menu every day, we couldn’t go wrong.

On one of the rainy nights we also wandered into a movie.  The Avengers II had just opened and happened to be in English with Portuguese subtitles.  We sat in wet clothes enjoying international popcorn and soda.  I must say that in my humble opinion, Chris Hemsworth is hot on every continent.

On our last day in Rio, the weather miraculously cleared and we were able to check some of the more touristy things off of our list.  This included visiting Cristo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer), spending some time at the beach, and watching a beautiful sunset.  Even in less than ideal weather, Rio de Janeiro was a sight to behold.

About two hours drive from São Paulo lies the lovely and quiet beach town of Juquehy (Juqueí).  It was to this magical paradise that our generous hosts decided to take us for their four day holiday.  Juquehy was our first experience with Brazilian beaches and let me tell you, I didn’t know sand could be so soft and white!

My good friend Erica and her family rent a condo just about two blocks from the beach.  It was perfect with a little patio and an area for barbecue.  When we weren’t basking by the beach, Erica’s fiance Guilherme was wowing us with his mean grilling skills.

In addition to the amazingly juicy meat, there was always plenty of Açaí, which is sort of like a frozen blended berry snack with fresh bananas and granola.  Don’t forget the coconut water, which we sipped with straws straight from the coconut.  It was pretty neat to watch them hack the tops off with their machetes.

To sum up Juquehy: wonderful friends, beautiful sunsets, soft and fluffy sand and plenty of good food…yep, definitely my version of paradise.

Ryan and I have visited some beautiful places on our travels through South America, but it seems to me that everything seemed to be especially beautiful in Brazil.  After my Brazilian Beauty Intervention, this was even the case with me.  It had been six months since I had done anything with myself and then miraculously, on one fine Saturday afternoon, I found myself in São Paulo, Brazil in the company of one of my closest and most exotic friends, Erica Nunes.

Erica is from São Paulo and had come to Wyoming via an exchange program our senior year of high school.  She had stayed with my husband’s family.  It was because of Erica that I had met my future husband and his wonderful family so I already felt like I owed her the world.  It had been thirteen years since we’d seen each other and I was still racking up dept as the two of us sat surrounded by friendly Brazilian Beauty Professionals giving us the works.

I was splayed out like a starfish.  One technician was tackling my abominable toes which had recently returned from the beach, while another was shaping up my nails.  From behind, my hair was taking on an entirely new shape.  It was absolutely wonderful and it was long overdue.  Across from me, my beautiful friend smiled and let the nice ladies know what color I wanted my nails painted and explained to the hair stylist how I was hoping to have my hair styled.  Portuguese truly is a beautiful language, I realized, especially when spoken by such beautiful people.

Also overdue was that horrible ritual woman endlessly endure known as waxing (or plucking).  When I was polished and trimmed, the technicians next turned their attention to hair removal.  I know what you are probably thinking right now so I’m going to tell you that I did not opt for the traditional Brazilian bikini wax.  I’ve had my share of bikini waxes and they hurt and after all, I was on vacation.  So no thank you!   But my face did deserve a little attention and I could easily endure this slight discomfort and so I was led into a back room where an entirely new technician took out…a string.  I felt particular interest when I discovered that the string was going to be used to remove the fuzzy blond hair from my upper lip.  My curiosity grew as she wound the string around her fingers and came at me.

It was an odd sensation and I must admit that I struggled slightly to puff my lip up in just the right fashion, but after a few rounds of roll plucking, my upper lip was as smooth as silk.  My eyebrows were tweezed with deft perfection and then I was done, newly trimmed, polished and plucked (to my hearts desire) and looking my Brazilian best.  Thank you Brazil.  Thank you.

Although San Carlos de Bariloche is the largest city in the Argentine Lake District (population 108,205), it didn’t feel all that big.  Bariloche is located just off the shores of Lago Nahuel Huapi Lake and is surrounded by lofty mountain peaks from all directions.  Besides being in Argentina’s Patagonia, Bariloche is know for it’s Swiss alpine architecture and its chocolate.  Unfortunately Ryan and I weren’t in the best of health during our time there and did not fully get to experience the outdoors or the chocolate.  But this did not stop me from falling in love with the fresh, crisp mountain air, the excellent food, and the astonishing views that we did get to see.

Just twenty minutes out of the city is the Campanario Hill Viewpiont.  The trip to the top of Cerro Campanario (Bell Tower Hill) which can be accomplished either by chairlift or by foot, was especially rewarding for the million dollar view it afforded.  Lake Lago Nahuel Huapi branching out below was well worth the 30-45 minute hike and just may have been the most lovely view I’ve ever seen (sorry Wyoming).

Besides the numerous outdoor activities in Bariloche, the food was excellent.  I ate possibly the best ribeye steak (bife de chorizo) I’ve had in my life at Alto El Fuego (sorry Daddy).  The meal began with a dish of Provoleta, plenty of freshly baked bread, and chimichurri sauce.  The steak was juicy and tender and accompanied by a side of mashed potatoes.  I couldn’t have been much happier or more full by the end of the evening.

I was sad to leave Bariloche after only 18 days, especially once my health had improved and I felt more like exploring, but our time in this magical place had abruptly come to an end.  All that remained of Barlichoe as we braved the twenty hour bus ride back to Mendoza were the pictures of the view and the savory flavor of steak still lingering in my memory.

Picture this.  The city of Mendoza, Argentina (population 115,000) is lined with leafy trees and deep concrete ditches.  Because of this, one would never know they were in the dessert.  In addition to all the trees and flowers, there is the downpour.  Although Mendoza’s average annual rainfall is only 8.8 inches, it rained a total of three days and two nights in the 42 days we were there.  Not bad for a girl who loves rain.

The air in Mendoza smells of savory barbecue.  A grilled meat plate (Parrilla) is what you’ll likely order at many of the local restaurants.  Argentina is known for its excellent quality of beef and for it’s Yerba Mate tea, which Ryan has grown to appreciate.    Everywhere you look, people are carrying around little wooden cups filled with loose tea leaves.  They drink the tea through a slotted spoon, which deters most of the stems and leaves.  They also have a thermos and simply add new hot water to the cup.  They drink this all day long and take it with them wherever they go.

 Those who don’t drink tea, drink wine.  Mendoza is one of the few places in the world that produces Malbec wine and is surrounded by orchards.  Argentina has the largest Malbec acreage in the world and Mendoza accounts for nearly two-thirds of Argentina’s entire wine production.  Here, vineyards are planted at some of the highest altitudes in the world with the average site located 2600-3600 feet above sea level.  While Malbec may be the most important planting in the Mendoza Province, also important are Cabernet Sauvignon, Tempranillo and Chardonnay.

During our stay in Mendoza, our group did two different wine tours.  We went by both tandem bike and bus to explore these orchards and test the product.  Although the more official tours provided at wineries such as Trapiche, Bodega Navarro Correas and Bodega Luigi Bosca were packed with interesting information, the tandem bikes were a lot of fun, once we got the hang of things.  At all locations, Ryan, Justin and Kristy were responsible for finishing off my wine as I’ve never been a big fan (gasp, I know, what a waste).  However, I must say that although the excellent Malbec wine of Argentine still hasn’t won me over, I came to appreciate the complexities of a good red wine for the first time in my life.  In truth, it could be the first step to making me into an avid wine lover…some day.  Time, I feel, may be the next ingredient.