Santa Marta - be careful what you wish for ..

...wishes come true.

A large part of the attraction of Colombia for me was that it is not overrun with tourists.  It was seriously dangerous in the 1980's and 1990's, and the word has been slow to get out - at least in America - that it is okay to go back to Colombia.  I was told that there was little tourist infrastructure and few people who spoke English, so you could see a "real" country.

It is all true.  But ...

From Medellin, I flew to Santa Marta, a Colombian beach resort on the Caribbean and the second oldest permanent settlement in the Western Hemisphere.  Billed as a lovely colonial city, it is a fairly poor crumbling colonial city.  It is also in the middle of a serious drought and there is no water in the city.  Fortunately, my apartment building had a swimming pool on the rooftop terrace and running water from 6 to 9 in the morning, 12 to 2 in the afternoon, and 6 to 11 in the evening.






Every day when I look at my phone, the weather forecast is the exact same - possibility of thunderstorms.  Totally unhelpful.  The weather has been so different every day.  It is always hot and humid, but most days there is a blazing sun and other days it is overcast.  On Monday, my Spanish class was not until 3 in the afternoon.  Earlier, there really was a thunderstorm.  The rain came down in buckets and there was no time gap between the lightning and thunder.  It was right on top of us.  I looked out the window and the streets had turned to rivers.  I had no idea how I would get to class.

 By 2 the rain had stopped and by 2:30, the streets were back to normal.  And, that was the only day it rained the whole week I was here, even though my phone weather forecast continued to call for thunderstorms daily.

The geography around Santa Marta is interesting and varied, so it is the jumping off point for several excursions.  Santa Marta is essentially a desert but the Sierra Nevadas de Santa Marta are just to the south and in places, the mountains come right to the Caribbean.  The villages in the Sierras are much cooler and greener, while the desert to the east is even drier.  If you continue as far as you can to the east, you come to Punta Gallinas, the place that is farthest north in South America.  It is supposed to be spectacular with salt flats, mountains, and beautiful beaches, but it proved too daunting to try to get there.  No roads, no water, no electricity.  Hmm...  Be careful what you wish for.  A little infrastructure would be nice.

So I signed up for a day trip to Minca, a reputedly quaint village in the Sierras with a spectacular waterfall followed by a visit to Taganga, the next beach over which is a scuba hub.  The agent told me that the bus would pick me up at my apartment at 8.  The night before, someone called and told me to meet at the marina at 7:30.  I insisted on being picked up at my apartment (although I do not insist well in Spanish).  At 6:30 AM someone else called and said something about the marina, which by the way, was only a few blocks from my apartment but I had no idea where exactly to go.  At 7:30 she called again and asked where I was and I told her I was at my apartment.  So I got picked up ... by a van full of Colombians on vacation with a guide who was very difficult to understand.

We drove to Minca and had breakfast before heading to Pozo Azul, the "waterfall."  It was about a twenty minute hike each way on rutted road, but you could cheat and take a mototaxi.  Pozo Azul looked like a stream running over rocks to me with nothing resembling the blue pool I had read about.  But the Colombians loved it.  Go figure.

Then we drove to Taganga where we had a lunch at a beach front restaurant.  When I noticed that they were washing the dishes in a bucket out back (remember, no running water), I passed on lunch even though it was cooked.  Fried, in fact, as most foods in Colombia are.

We took a boat to the beach that had snorkeling.  You had to swim pretty far out and the water didn't look all that great to me.  I've snorkeled in Hawaii and the Galapagos.  What was the chance that the Colombian hot spot would be impressive?  I bagged it and hung out on the beach.

In the end, I enjoyed the tour as I got to speak to several Colombians vacationers, most visiting for a long weekend from Bogota.  But their idea of a great excursion was not the same as mine.  This was their idea:  transportation in a van, breakfast, lunch, boat ride, and snorkeling gear - for something under $20.  Be careful what you wish for ...

Nonetheless, I decided to go to Parque Tayrona on my last day in Santa Marta.  It is a national park on the coast with several spectacular beaches.  No roads through it, so you have to hike two hours in and two hours out.  I had heard only good things from everyone about Parque Tayrona and I thought, it would be like going to Sacramento and skipping Yosemite which I think is about the most beautiful place on earth.  So I signed up for a tour.  They would pick me up at 7:30 at the marina.  Sounds familiar.  But this time the agent drew me a picture of exactly where to meet.  Okay, I'll do this.

Not half an hour later, the agent called back and told me to meet at the marina at 6:40.  Great.  But I got there at 6:40 and there was someone there who seemed to be in charge.  Some time after 7, another guy came over and took charge.  He started making phone calls - although I have no idea to whom.  I had the agent's cellular number, so he called and woke her which, of course, accomplished nothing.  And then at 7:15 an air conditioned tourist bus appeared.

When we got to the trailhead in Parque Tayrona, the guide told us where to go, and then brought up the rear.  It was kind of like hiking to Nevada Falls in Yosemite - one trail so you can't get lost.  After we all got to the first lookout point, the guide gave us more instructions and then he raced on ahead to catch the fast walkers.  First you will come to someone selling coconuts and you go straight, he said.  Then you will come to someone selling orange juice and you turn right.  Make sure you don't go left there.  Okay.

After about twenty minutes, there was a sign that said: 20% of the route.  Five minute later, another sign said: 40 % of the route.  Then there were no more signs.  The group had spread out so for long portions, it felt like I was alone in the jungle.  And it was a jungle.  Sure enough, I got to the people selling coconuts.  A man with a machete chopping them off the trees and a woman with a machete chopping them to eat.  A while late I came to a clearing and sure enough, a woman with a huge metal juicer squeezing fresh orange juice.  So I turned right.

We passed several beaches that were beautiful but too dangerous to swim in.  The we got to La Piscina (the swimming pool) and I thought, that was a short two hours.  Too short.  I kept walking and came to another sign.

It was a full two hour hike and it was worth it.  We really were swimming in a remote and beautiful Caribbean beach.  And if you want to stay overnight, you can rent a tent or a hammock.  They even had a restaurant and you could go to the bathroom or take a shower for only one thousand pesos (thirty six cents).

It turned out that there were alternatives to the two hour hike out.  You could ride a horse or take a boat back to ... Taganga.  I know where that is.  I took the boat ride and got to see the beach side of the park.  The mountains come right up to the sea here, so it was like riding along Big Sur.  Really beautiful.

So be careful what you wish for; wishes come true.  Unspoiled, nontouristy country?  Yes, but you have to hike hours to see any of it, if you can get there at all.  Living and touring like a Colombian?  Sure, but there is no water and the sights might not be as impressive as you expected.  Live in a place where no one speaks English?  You got it.  And it is very frustrating at times.

So I am taking a break from heat and humidity and I flew to Bogota, a large city of eight million high in the Andes.  When I got off the plane, my phone said that it was raining.  But my eyes saw blue skies and a perfect day.  Who writes the weather forecasts in Colombia?

Last week in Medellin

From two weeks ago ...

On Sunday I rented a bike and took part in Cyclovia along with thousands of Paisas.  My neighborhood is El Poblado and the main road through it is Avenida Poblado.  For Cyclovia, they shut down the southbound lanes to cars, and it is packed with bikers, runners, and just people walking.  I picked up my bike at Parque Poblado and decided to ride north first because I thought it only went a short distance in that direction.  But after I rode several miles, passing downtown, I turned around because I really wanted to ride south toward Envigado.

I stopped back in Parque Poblado where they set up a course and bring out push bikes for toddlers.  Where else can children learn how to ride in a city with so much traffic?

After my quick break, I took off from my upscale neighborhood of El Poblado toward the upscale suburb of Envigado.  Unlike the downtown portion of my ride which was pretty empty, it seems that every family in El Poblado and Envigado was out walking with their children and dogs.  This was not a course for fast riders which was just fine with me.  On upscale Avenida Poblado, I passed shopping malls, a McDonald's with a two story glass enclosed playground, and a small shopping center with an Office Depot (I thought they were out of business) and a Bo Concepts (I was tempted to go in and visit my couch).

It was a beautiful morning and I was really enjoying the ride when ... I felt a few drops.  The weather forecast in Medellin every day is for scattered showers, and every day it rains, but the rain usually passes in fifteen minutes.  So when it started really raining, I ducked into a storefront to wait it out.  But Cyclovia ends at 1 and I had to return my bike then.  By 12:40 the heavy rain was over so I headed back only to discover that there were cars on the road!  One of the workers told me that the course was closed.  But I thought it went till 1, I said.  Oh, in this section it closes at 12:30, he told me.  Great!

Now I had to ride with the horrible Medellin traffic on the rain slicked avenue.  Fortunately, I only had to go a mile or two before I got back to the part that was still closed to traffic for Cyclovia.  Whew.  But I had to hustle to get back by 1.  I was in going north in the southbound lane.  I wonder what happens, I thought, at 1.  Am I going to be in a head-on collision with cars?  I was motivated to keep moving fast, uphill and down.  And I made it back to Parque Poblado with two minutes to spare.

I have to say that Cyclovia is a massive undertaking.  There is someone at every single corner stopping the bikes when the light is green for the cross traffic.  I don't know if the people working there are volunteers for employees of the city agency that puts on Cyclovia, but they were everywhere on the course and they were all helpful and nice.  And my fears about a head on collision were completely unfounded.  Apparently they have done this once or twice before, and they had the reopening of the roads completely under control.

I found out this week that the part of El Poblado where I am staying is called Manila.  There are also neighborhoods of Medellin called Buenos Aires, El Salvador, Barcelona, and San Diego.  It is amazing how far around the world you can get without ever leaving Medellin.

It is usually nice in the mornings when I am in class, and then rains in the afternoons just when I get back to my apartment to drop off my computer.  If I am lucky, I can time it so that I eat when it is raining and then can walk around.  My last day in Medellin didn't work that way.  It was nice out while I had lunch and then started to rain.  I am ready to head to the Caribbean coast for some seriously hot weather.

Peaceful day in Medellin

I was able to take the graffiti tour to Comuna 13 today that I couldn't last week.  It turns out the the problems in the barrio were the result of three rival gangs fighting, and the police were trying to arrest the leaders.  On Tuesday, Juancito, the leader of one of the gangs turned himself in to the police.  Apparently that was the smart thing for him to do - the gang would have killed him because the heat was on - so he decided to take his chances in jail.

The message of the tour was that Comuna 13 is completely safe for residents and tourists.  The residents are still upset that in 2006, government troops and police "invaded" the barrio and killed or disappeared people indiscriminately.  Although Comuna 13 is known as a violent place, the residents blame the government for the violence.  Yes, there are still gangs fighting over territory for drugs and arms, but the residents feel that they can stay out of it.

On the positive side, the government has put in much needed infrastructure for transportation since Comuna 13 was built on a hillside with only narrow pathways between houses.  Now there are escalators so you don't always have to take the stairs, ramps for motorcycles, and wide walkways were people can congregate.

The purple sign says:  A good example of care is to pick up your pet's poop.  Kind of ridiculous since no dogs are on leashes here.  They wander loose on the same pathways that the people do, so there is dog poop everywhere.  But it is a nice sentiment.

View of downtown from Comuna 13

View of Comuna 13.  Bricks hold down roofs.

Besides graffiti, our tour included a break dancing demonstration that our guide took part in.  At the end of the tour, he took us to Casa Kolacho, the nonprofit which the guide is associated with and which includes a school.  Silly me.  I heard school and assumed books and academics.  Casa Kolacho has a recording studio that is free to musicians in the neighborhood, and the school teaches children the four elements of hip hop:  art, dancing, dj, and singing.  The message is to rise up through hip hop.  Interesting.

Before we left, we had to "tag" a blank wall with spray paint - another new experience for me.  My tag is in the middle of the bottom.  I was trying to write GRC, but it looks more like GRT or CRT.  Hey, it was my first try.

The guide's shirt says:  yes, here there is love.

When the tour ended, I took a quick trip up the mountain on the cable car.  Amazing that this is part of the public transportation system which costs about seventy cents a ride.

 After the tour, I returned to downtown which was alive with weekend shoppers and strollers.  I even found a crafts market in one of the squares.  Then I decided to walk the several miles, mostly uphill, back to my neighborhood.  I hadn't gone very far when the main street was blocked by a large demonstration of some kind.  I couldn't tell what it was, so I walked over to a smaller parallel street.  As I was walking, a motorcycle came racing down the narrow street going way too fast, but that is pretty normal here.  Then a lot of people came running down the street.  All at once, all of the people strolling ran into the closest shop.  I had no idea what was going on, but I ducked into a shop with them.  It turned out to be a store that sold yarn.  We were packed into the small shop, and then someone closed the metal shutter.  I asked what had happened, but no one knew.  We just stood there hiding out.  I asked what the demonstration was about and someone said it had to do with smoking which I took to mean pot.

After about ten minutes, they opened the metal shutter and we went back out into the street, but not a minute later, people came running fast again.  I was more concerned about being trampled than anything else.  This time I made it into an Exito, the local Target, so at least I could walk around the huge store and I could see out the glass windows.  It seemed like people were walking normally outside, but they kept us inside for another fifteen or twenty minutes.  Within a minute after I got back outside a few people started running again, but I just kept going and things calmed down immediately.

I could see people walking on the main street so, thinking that I was past the demonstration, I went back there.  It turns out that I had joined a parade of pot smokers; you could get high just being in the crowd.  The demonstration itself was completely relaxed, so I still have no idea why everyone ran inside, and no one could tell me.  The newspaper article just says that there was a demonstration and that at some point some people were writing on a bus.  No mention of violence or any other disturbance.  The demonstrators were chanting:  no to narcotraffic and yes to self-cultivation.

Well, that was an interesting day in Comuna 13 and downtown Medellin.

More touring in and around Medellin

I started language school on Monday but immediately had a day off as Tuesday was a holiday.  In most of the world, May 1 is Labor Day.  To make up for the holiday, we have classes for five hours a day instead of four.  That is a lot of class.

So on Tuesday I took an excursion to Guatape.  We stopped to walk around a small village before going on to the unusual rock that juts up outside the town of Guatape.



I walked up all 650 steps for the lovely view from the top.

After climbing down the rock, we proceeded to the colorful town of Guatape.  Once a dusty farm village, Guatape reinvented itself as a tourist destination by painting zocalos on the baseboards of the houses.  The zocalos are raised or three dimensional designs or symbols.  In addition, city law requires that everyone paid their house a bright color.  The result is a beautiful city to walk around, and the city succeeded in bringing in all of the tourists who go to climb the rock.

On Friday after class I went back downtown to visit the local museum.  I had already seen the outside sculptures of favorite son Fernando Botero, but the museum houses a large collection of his paintings and drawings as well.  Again, it is not just that Botero's people are Rubenesque, but everything is out of proportion.  In his still lifes, for example, bananas are bigger than pineapples.  You just can't help smiling or even laughing out loud when you look at Botero's works.







Outside the museum a troupe of mentally disabled adults - most appeared to have Down's syndrome - put on a short show.  The second photo shows a homeless woman watching the lead singer.

Coffee and transformations

How can you not visit a coffee farm when you are in Colombia?  It does not matter that I don't even drink coffee and I've already visited coffee farms in Kona and Central America.  When in Colombia ...  Besides, I heard that the countryside was beautiful.

So I took a tour to a small family owned coffee finca about an hour and a half drive southwest of Medellin.  There we learned the entire process from planting coffee trees to picking the red fruit to processing the beans.  After we were served an authentic Colombian lunch, we were taught how to judge the quality of coffee.  It is similar to wine tasting, complete with rinsing one's spoon between cups and spitting out the coffee so you can taste more.

The most interesting thing I learned about Colombian coffee is that the average Colombian does not know what good coffee is.  The best coffee is sold for export while Colombians are sold the coffee too low quality to sell.  In our taste test, Cup A scored only 10 on a scale of 100 and is the coffee sold to Colombians.  Cup B scored 85 and has won local competitions.

Today I was back walking around Medellin with another excellent young guide, Diometer.  Although the tour was named Barrio Transformation, Dio was not quite as optimistic about the transformation of Medellin as my previous guides were.  Dio insisted on telling us the official story and then the reality.

The barrio we explored is the somewhat oddly named Moravia, but it is clearly not Czech.  In Spanish the name vaguely means a place to live one's life, and apparently was a rest stop at the end of the line of the previous tram.  Rest stop?  Place to live?  It's a stretch.

Moravia used to be on the outskirts of Medellin and was created by two phenomena.  First, when Medellin had no trash service in the 1980's, Paisas used the lake that used to be in this area to dump garbage.  Second, the unrest in the countryside drove many farmers and rural people into the "safety" of the city.  But since they had no skills to earn a living in the city, they could not afford better housing.  So they settled on the mountain of garbage that had grown to over two hundred feet high, recycling whatever they could into building materials.



In the 2000's when Medellin was resurrecting itself, the government offered to give new apartments to the residents of the hill of garbage.  The residents accepted, moved to the new apartments, and lived happily ever after.  That is the official version.  But Dio told us that the reality is a little different.  Ninety percent of the residents did accept the new apartments but they are small and much farther north - on the current outskirts of the city.  The rest refused to move, either because they did not like the new apartments or because they were revolutionaries when they lived in the countryside and still don't trust the government.  So while the hill has been mostly transformed into a garden, hundreds of holdouts still live in shanties a few feet above the garbage dump.

Dio continued to walk us through the rest of Moravia, a bustling barrio that is not built on the garbage dump, always explaining the reality of life.  For example, every employee of a company has four percent of his salary deducted for medical care and the employer matches with another eight percent.  Those who are not employed receive free medical care.  What about those who are self employed or selling on the street?  Well, that's a problem.  Dio said that half the population does not pay into the system so it is collapsing on itself.  Those with private insurance get premium services and everyone else waits hours for service and is relegated to inferior rooms in the hospital.  Hmm... sounds familiar.

Employees also have four percent of their salaries withheld for retirement and another four percent for enforced savings that can only be used for purchasing or remodeling a house or paying for the university.  How is the money invested, I asked.  There's the rub, said Dio.  With widespread corruption in the government, the money is often just taken by public officials and Dio does not believe he will ever receive his retirement savings.  Hmmm.

Then Dio took us to a community center built with private funds that houses a music school and provides services to the children and families in the neighborhood.  We visited in the afternoon and many school children were there doing homework or just hanging out.  I may have found a place to volunteer.

Dio did not even bother with the reference to "he whose name cannot be spoken."  He assumed we had all read Harry Potter and just said, "I'll refer to him as Voldemort" without any segue.  We all followed.  He took us to a futbol pitch in the middle of Moravia and told us an interesting story.  At the height of the cartel violence, Voldemort (Pablo Escobar) went to a neighboring barrio disguised as a woman and invited the rival gang there to a futbol match.  The gang's leader agreed but only if the players were dressed as Escobar was that day.  So a famous game was played between two gangs with all of the players dressed as women.  The game was so popular that it is still played every year but the time and date are never announced.  These are gang members after all.  One day twenty men dressed as women show up at the field.  Word spreads through the barrio and everyone comes to watch.

We finished the tour at the hothouse on top of the hill.  Dio pointed out that a hothouse seems like an anomaly in this climate, but it is designed to collect rainwater and channel it back into misters over the plants.  Many of our roses on Valentine's Day come from Colombia.

I had already learned that there are still gangs in many of the barrios, and Dio told us that there was a something going on that day in Communa 13 where two gangs were fighting for control and the police were trying to get rid of both of them.  Interesting, since I had signed up for a graffiti tour of Communa 13 for the next day, a tour that was to show the transformation of that barrio.  So I was not completely surprised although I was disappointed the next day to learn that our scheduled tour was going to another neighborhood because Communa 13 was not safe.  I said I would be happy to wait till the next week to take the tour, but they said they didn't know if it would be safe in a week either.  So maybe Dio is right that the transformation of Medellin is far from complete.

The alternative tour was just okay but we did go to a part of the city that I had not yet seen.  I also had a chance to ride two more parts of the transportation system:  the tram (light rail) and then the cable car.  The latter is just like a ski lift with each gondola holding ten people.  It was a great way to get up the mountain but  I can't see that it is a very efficient way to move lots of people for commuting.

On my last day before classes start tomorrow, I spent the afternoon with an American expat, his Colombian wife, and their two sons age two and a half years and four months.  They took me to a crowded mall where we ate lunch in a crowded (Colombian) chain restaurant.  The mall and Communa 13 could not be more worlds apart.

Medellin Day Two

For weeks before I arrived in Medellin, the long-term weather forecast was the same every day:  thundershowers and rain.  But when I arrived, Medellin lived up to its nickname of the City of Eternal Spring.  The weather is perfect here - for me - although maybe a little to humid for most people.  It is 70 to 80 all day, mostly overcast, and seems to rain only at night and not for very long.  Perfect.  So when I realized I would not have to ride in the rain, I quickly booked a bike tour.

The company suggested a taxi to the start of the tour since the Metro would have involved a transfer and a long walk.  Taxis are cheap here and they told me it was a fifteen minute ride.  Hah!  From what I have seen already, traffic is terrible here in general, but we got stuck behind an accident so the fifteen minute ride took over an hour.  Fortunately, it turned out that I was the only one in the tour that day, and my guide, Moe, waited for me.  So off we went on my favorite kind of tour - just me with a young man younger than most of my children who was willing to go at my pace.  Even after starting forty five minutes late, the four hour bike tour took five hours.

Our first stop was the stadium where I had watched the futbol game last night.  It turns out that this is the premier sports complex for national caliber athletes in all sports.  I had noticed some gymnastics and volleyball last night, but they also have swimming pools, baseball, and a track and field stadium.  All of Colombia's serious athletes end up in this complex.

After an easy ride through the valley, Moe took me up our first hill to have a beautiful view of the city.  I had all my excuses ready - I haven't ridden much since the winter, the elevation here is over 6,000 feet, I didn't eat a good breakfast - so it was no surprise that I had to walk my bike most of the way up the hill.  And I was huffing and puffing from the walk.  But the view was worth it as I took my official Claremonster Riding in Medellin picture.

Moe was just as interesting and informative as Juan was yesterday.  Moe's father is Colombian and his mother Bolivian so he was born and raised in ... Boston.  Of course.  Solidly in the gig-economy millenial world (although he insisted he is too old to be a millenial) he has figured out a way to earn a living as a bike guide, augmenting his income with various contract work.  He has guided in Boston and Bolivia and now lives in Medellin with his wife and toddler son.  Stretching the four hour tour to five was not just because I am slow, but I was enjoying talking to Moe.

After riding down the hill, we rode to the other side of the Medellin River to the new science and technology area that Paisas are very proud of.  Next to the Innovation Center, complete with a high tech incubator, is an interactive science museum modeled after San Francisco's Exploratorium, a planetarium, and an aquarium.  Paisas are serious about creating safe, open spaces for families.



Next to that complex is the Botanical Gardens which is really the pride of Medellin.  Colombia is a huge country, larger than Germany, France, and Spain combined.  I had read before I came that it has more interior water (rivers and lakes) than the United States which I found incredible.  It also has ten percent of all of the plant species in the world, many of them on display in the Botanical Gardens.  The centerpiece of the gardens is the Orchideorama - a massive wooden structure designed to divert rainwater to the orchid displays, leaving the people dry, even when it is raining.





Moe explained to me that the city was investing in itself through a unique method.  Neighborhoods, and I think individual buildings, are assigned to a strata based on their socioeconomic class.  A municipal agency provides utilities - gas, electric, water, and TV/internet - to each building with different rates for each strata.  Thus strata 5 and 6, the wealthiest, essentially subsidize strata 1 and 2, the poorest.  In addition, the agency invests thirty percent of its revenues in developing new urban areas.  And if you live in strata 1 or 2, you can go to the science museums and other public places for free by showing your utility bill.  Also, there is free wi-fi in most of the city.

From the botanical garden Moe and I rode to the downtown area where we both had a unique experience.  Crossing a busy highway was an old man with no legs, no teeth, and only seven and a half fingers, riding in his wheelchair, and he asked Moe to give him a "tow."  I thought this was an every day experience for Moe, but he told me later that it had never happened before.  He was a bit nervous, and was trying so hard to keep the man steady.  Although there was lots of traffic of course, we were riding alone in the bus lane, so I had a good view.  I was really worried that the wheelchair was not designed for the speed we were riding and would keep going into an intersection when we stopped.  Although I am a cautious two hands on the handlebars rider, I could not resist pulling out my phone and taking a few pictures.  Moe was thrilled that I even got a short video but since I don't wear reading glasses when I ride, I have no idea how I did that.  I also have no idea if the video will work in this blog.

After a mile or so, the man thanked Moe profusely and left us.  Fortunately, he was holding on to Moe's book rack with the hand that had all five fingers.

At the beginning of the tour, Moe told me that we were to ride up two hills.  After four hours of flat riding, I thought he had decided to bag the last hill because I was such a slow rider, but no, he saved the best for last.  I rode (most of the way) up Nutibara Hill where there is a kitschy Paisa village reproduction and a great 360 degree view of the city.

We never stopped for lunch, so I really earned my dinner today.  After turning in my bike, I walked through the Laureles neighborhood and the sports complex to the Metro.  Rush hour on the Metro was not fun but taking a taxi in the horrible traffic did not sound like a great idea.  Back in El Poblado, my neighborhood, I ate in a good restaurant, and went back to my apartment.  No nightlife for me tonight.