Around and about Bogota and Central Colombia

We take our lives in our hands with a roadie, east of Bogota, Colombia

Recently reclaimed FARC country is everything you could hope for from ex-guerilla territory!

The town in its centre is called La Macarena, and is gateway to a striking and unique river system (the reason we went and well worth a quick Google search - Caño Cristales). Communications equipment installed by the CIA bristles spikedly about the tiny township. Heavily armed soldiers stroll about in small groups, or lurk in the bush. They keep themselves busy guarding assorted buildings, or sheltering in roadside huts built of bullet-stopping sandbags. Despite each and every soldier being fully loaded with intense killing equipment, they are surprisingly friendly and offer cheery "buenos dias's" as you pass, and happily provide toothy smiles for tourist photographs.

The 'roads' in this part of the country are little more than conjoined potholes dug into blood-red mud. Vehicular travel is painfully slow and leaves one feeling seriously, bone-rattlingly shaken - but not stirred. The nearest town is over 6 hours away. Only some of the roads are on official maps of the region. Those made by FARC (to move cocaine paste) are not considered legitimate, and ergo do not exist. As seems to be the way with pretty much everything in this country, the people's relationship with both the soldiers and FARC is complicated.

Less than 3000 people moved to this place during the 1960's to escape 'the Colombian conflict' - a battle between myriad communist guerilla groups, paramilitary organisations, crime syndicates and the government. The settlers thought the area was safe, due to its remoteness and the great difficultly required to reach it. FARC however, saw opportunity and arrived shortly thereafter, bearing tools of the cocaine trade. Farmers switched product, and for a few years, reaped significant monetary benefits. It is only recently that the area was reclaimed by the government. Soldiers immediately destroyed the coca fields, along with farmer's abilities to repay their debts to FARC. Tragically, repayments sometimes took the form of farmer's sons, taken to fight on behalf of the guerillas.

The conflict is ongoing and continues to take a toll on the population. Casualties currently total 220,000+ people, with 5-6 million displaced. A number of the locals have missing or very damaged legs - as is the case in many of the Colombian towns we have visited. We are told it is probably due to landmines. It is decidedly unclear who is wearing the black hat in this western.

Due to the fledgling tourist trade, Macarena has quickly doubled in size, but is still riddled with potholes and horses continue to graze down the middle of the street. The food choices available, perhaps unsurprisingly, are extremely limited.

Colombians appear to not eat vegetables. Outside of cities, there is nothing but fries, assorted meats and 'hamburguesas' - and every single thing is cooked to death. I am not exaggerating here. Even eggs are scrambled until they appear as dry and lifeless grey mounds on the plate. Our bodies are in open revolt at the crap food we must force in. In desperation we googled 'best poke bowl near me' just to watch the search-engine writhe.

After Macerena, we collected a rental car from Bogota and headed out into the country side. Driving consists of 2.5 hours downhill, and several times that up-hill, often in first gear whilst trapped behind a large truck. We have gone from 268m to 3690m in a single up-hill, only to find crazy Colombians in lycra, peddling like mad over the crest! Keep in mind that Mt Cook is 3724m. Sometimes, the road actually corkscrews to get the height required. Trucks galore litter the side of the road, having blown their turbos. The stream of traffic is equally dense in both directions, and things turn to custard at every hair-pin bend, as two large semi-trailers cannot both fit around corners! Motor cyclists take crazy risks, which is made all the more foreboding by the vultures that continuously circle above. Entire villages make their livelihoods by washing the trucks, while they perch precariously on the sides of the roads. Police regularly pull over random vehicles and take them apart.

We have passed dozens of half completed mega-projects enroute - hotels, bridges, tunnels etc. Each is apparently started by a particular politician, who pockets a percentage of the development and building costs. Once s/he is voted out, their replacement has no cause to continue the work, but rather starts a new project, in order to pocket their share!

As we drive, we listen to the gentle voice of Google Maps as it authoritatively slaughters the Spanish language.

The countryside is spectacular, and we took time out to walk a 15km loop through some dramatic scenery*. Towering wax palm trees grow to 60m in this area, and the forest is home to dozens of humming bird varieties, tapir, condor, spectacled bear, raccoons, assorted mustilids, deer, puma, and the most stunning striped and spotted giant rodents I have ever heard of (Dinomys branickii for the geeks). Sadly, it is difficult to actually spy any living thing in Colombian forests, as anywhere there are people, there are guns. And there is nothing the hombres like better than to shoot creatures.

We are now in Bogota for the final couple of days of our trip. Our rental car was searched with mirrors for bombs before the return was accepted. It has been an amazing, varied and expansive six weeks. We shall almost miss the sound of dogs howling throughout the night, and the church bells that chime at every hour - in one town they were consistently 7 minutes late. Eh, mañana...

Things we are looking forward to: a washing machine, fluffy towels, and taking hot showers for granted.

As well as seeing you all soon

xx

*I'd just like to point out how casually I dropped that in, when in fact we were at some ridiculous altitude with its very thin air, and a substantial portion was straight uphill. We are furkin heroes for surviving that!