The Last Andean City-in-a-Bowl

I have to say that Bogotá was a lot like Santiago, and thus, a decidedly lackluster tourist destination. Sorry. I'm sure it would be a great place to live, as was Santiago. But in terms of sights and general spectacularness, not so much. Of course, it had some tough acts to follow (see below), so maybe I was a bit biased. But the best part of Colombia is the Colombians. And in cities, Colombians become guarded and a bit rude. And they jack up the prices on the places they go and eat.

It did have several cool attractions though, including the madness that was the restuarant Andrés Carne de Res, and the Gold Museum, with amazing artifacts on display. Pictures to come.

And even though I didn't go to Medellín, I did go to the Museum of Fernando Botero's paintings. I will post some up soon.

I am now in Cartagena, and I will write more soon, but right now the stifling heat is killing my ability to do anything other than sit in a hammock and drink beer.

So, chau. I have a Club Colombia calling my name.

Coffee and Sugar

Let me leave all self-righteousness aside for a sec and just talk about how much admiration I have for the Colombian people. Colombia is a beautiful, dynamic country, with amazingly nice people and lots of possibilities. Its only problem is that like 30-40% of its territory is a no-man's land where guerrilla fighters and paramilitary groups battle over cocaine profits. That's, like, the only problem. And this ugliness doesn't really make it to the other 70% of the country.

The other thing is that the leaders of the different factions of Colombia's civil war all totally know each other and deal with each other on an everyday basis. They make deals, they dialogue. It's not like they're surprising each other with dastardly surprise terrorist attacks at every turn. Not at all.

In general, this is a gorgeous country, and I urge everyone (don't laugh) to give it a chance. It's gorgeous. I've had an awesome time so far, and not one single problem. I've visited San Agustín, one of the most important archaeological sites in the Americas (pictured left), which was amazing. For example.

Now I am in the coffee zone, outside of Armenia, where I am staying at a traditional finca, or coffee plantation. It's so great. They wait on me hand and foot (they'd better, it's mega-expensive) and are so nice. The owner of the finca took me around teh town of Armenia today. I also visited the Coffee Amusement Park today, which included coffee roller coasters and a field of different kinds of coffee. I also learned about the process of picking, peeling, drying, toasting, packing and exporting coffee. Fun AND educational. Which describes the entire country of Colombia, in a nutshell.

Raw Materials, Part II

So, here's the thing: my eyes continue to be opened here by how we consume things in North America and Europe with absolutely NO REGARD for the source or origin of those items. I wrote about this before, and I will repeat it again: if we really thought about what it took for our gold, our food, our coffee and our gas to get to our fingers, mouths and cars (respectively), we might reconsider our choices.

I make this statement from the perspective of Colombia, specifically the Department of Quindío, in the heart of this country's coffee-growing region. You know: "Made from the best stuff on earth"? Yeah, that. Well, guess what else comes from Colombia? Cocaine. And I was infuriated by an article I read in this past Sunday's New York Times, which practically glorified the use of cocaine, talking about how it was totally the cool new drug. The article was in the Styles section, even.

Now, I will acknowledge the fact that some people are addicts and have practically no control over their drug use. Addiction is a disease, etc., and that's a different thing. But most of the people quoted in that article seem to be occasional users. And they don't even seem like terrible people. So, I think that they might reconsider using cocaine a bit if they knew about the chain of violence, corruption, pain and death that it takes for that cocaine to get from Colombian fields to their prissy hipster Williamsburg noses. With every line, they are treating Latin America like their own personal backyard cocaine crop.

Why do you think there is so much cocaine in Colombia? It's not because the Colombians are bad people or whatever; it's because there is a huge demand for it, in our country. A demand that is growing fast, if you believe the Times. And the path it takes to the US is ridden with absolute terror.

Latin America has been referred to a number of times as the "back yard" of the United States, often in a very paternalistic manner. But I was thinking the other day that the term "backy ard" has another meaning, too. You know how in everyone's back yard there is always one area that's a little unsightly, a part where the tools and the clutter all pile up? Things that you need, but you don't know where to put? Or maybe the ugly piping for your pool or your air conditioner that you can't hide anywhere else?

Well, Latin America is a little like that for the US, unfortunately. Latin America is the place where we pile up our necessities, our clutter, our piping, the parts we can't put in any other place. That sucks as it is. And really, we are perpetuating that when we use products that are produced in an unjust fashion. Like cocaine. Sweatshop clothes would be the logical extension of this argument, but I'm not going to get into that onr. Gold is another one: many gold mines are manned by workers who are fully exploited. And, of course, coffee.

Don't get me wrong: gold items, coffee products and clothes are obviously not all bad, and many are made, refined and manufactured in a just way. And as for cocaine, who am I to condemn the vices of others? But I will say that we should think carefully and get informed about the origins of the products we consume, because we might think twice about our choices that way.

It's very easy to gloss over this when you're at Target (or wherever) and something is gleaming before you, begging to be bought. But remember that what you're buying didn't come from the Target factory: its origins likely lay in the raw materials that are extracted from Latin America and other poorer regions in the southern hemisphere, at a very low cost by a multinational company, which then sells it to you at a huge mark-up. So tell that to the devil on your shoulder telling you to buy more crap that you don't really need.

Felicidades

Colombia es el país más lindo que he visitado hasta ahora, pero también es el más desafiante. Desde el momento en el que llegué me he enfrentado con situaciones que alternan entre encuentros bonitos con gente muy amable y situaciones un poco complicadas, por decir lo menos.

Al cruzar el río que separa Tulcán, Ecuador con Ipiales, Colombia, me paró un oficial de la policía. Tuvimos una conversación muy interesante, porque aunque en la superficie parecía que me preguntaba de mis planes en el país y que me recomendaba lugares que visitar, el tipo logró preguntarme entremedio qué llevaba en mi mochila, si llevaba mucho dinero, cuánto, y de dónde había venido. No estaba seguro si quería una coima o qué, pero le seguí el rumbo de la conversación, muy tranquilo (pues no tenía nada que esconder tampoco). Pero al final, me dio la bienvenida a su país, y una hoja con su número de teléfono por si me pasaba algo y un mapa donde había dibujado una ruta con los lugares turísticos infaltables del país. Respiré, y seguí mi camino.

Me han contado de un fenómeno acá llamado "la pesca milagrosa," donde los FARC o los paramilitares paran buses que viajan dentro del país, y todos lso pasajeros se tienen que identificar y darles la plata que tengan. Y pobre de ti si piensan que pueden sacar más plata si te "pescan" a ti, o sea, si te secuestran. Así que ojalá no me "pesquen milagrosamente." Igual parece que ya no pasa tanto como antes.

De Ipiales fui en bus a la ciudad de Popayán, y a partir de ahí empecé a sentir el calor de la gente. Me quedé esa noche en una "casa turística," un hostal pero en un barrio residencial donde viven los dueños del hostal también. Fue súper lindo cómo me trataron. A veces hasta me siento como una celebridad menor, porque la gente parece tan contenta de que haya llegado un gringo ahí de paseo. Supongo que no somos muchos los que llegamos. En el terminal de buses de la ciudad, pregunté a un policía dónde estaba la custodia de equipaje, y no sólo me llevó a la custodia, sino que me habló de su vida, me preguntó de la mía, me dio la mano tres veces durante la conversación, me dio el nombre de un policía en el centro de la ciudad que podría darme un tour especial (tour que no tomé al final, pues no encontré a dicho oficial), y concluyó diciéndome "felicidades," como si hubiera ganado un premio al llegar a la custodia de equipaje.

O sea: los Colombianos se pasaron de amables. Se desean felicidad entre sí a cada rato, me imagino, porque hay mucha tristeza en el país, o por lo menos lo ha habido.

El centro colonial de Popayán, a todo esto, está muy lindo. Mucha iglesia, mucho puente antiguo. Mucha gente me miraba mientras caminaba, así que les decía "buenas tardes," y siempre se ponían a hablar conmigo. Comí una "bandeja" de pollo asado que venía con papas bañadas en una crema de coco, y arroz y plátano frito y ensalada...estuvo riquísimo. La comida colombiana es increíble. Ah, y acompañada por una cerveza Poker. Mmmmmm.

De ahí tomé un bus a San Agustín, y juro que era amigo de todo el bus cuando llegamos al cruce de San José, donde el bus me dejó. De hecho sé que me tenían cariño porque insistían que el chofer del bus esperara a que llegara un bus a San Agustín mismo. Pero no llegaba y al final me dejó ahí igual. De repente, otra situación complicada. Eran como las 9 de la noche, y estaba en una zona donde recién había guerrilla, aunque "ya no" (la frase favorita de los colombianos, la escucho a cada rato). Ahí estaba, solo, al lado de la carretera. Tuve que hacer dedo. Y no llegaba NADIE, esperé como una hora. No había teléfono ni nada, ni nadie. Era un poco desesperante. Al final un tipo me llevó, y resultó ser guía turístico y me llevó a la puerta de mi hostal. Estaba agradecido del alma cuando vi luces por fin en la carretera. Ya había pasado ene películas, de que iba a tener que dormir ahí, que me iban a encontrar los FARC en la noche, que me iban a secuestrar y mis viejos iban a tener que hipotecar su casa para liberarme...

Resultó que el tipo que me llevó era amigo del dueño de mi hostal. Eso sí, tuvimos que llegar a la ciudad por una ruta un poco circuita porque había venido de donde las putas (o "chicas de tiempo," como lo decía él...estamos en tierra de García Márquez, después de todo) y no quería que su señora lo viera entrar al pueblo. "Pueblo chico, infierno grande," me dijo. Tienen ese dicho en Colombia también, parece. ¿Ya ven lo fácil que es entrar en confianza con los colombianos?

Hoy he recorrido el Parque Arqueológico San Agustín, uno de los sitios aqueológicos más importantes de América. El tour que me hizo mi nuevo amigo Humberto (no el que llevó anoche, sino otro tipo, un guía esperando fuera de la entrada al parque) incluyó reiki, ya que se supone que sale mucha energía de las ruinas y las tumbas de San Agustín. Aprendí que mi aura es de 4 m de radio. Y ¿la suya?

Ya pondré fotos, se lo prometo.

Muchos saludos a tod@s.

Quito is Bonito

Today is unfortunately my last full day in Ecuador, and I couldn't be more sad about it. Ecuador is the first country on my trip where I felt like there was so much more I could have done, and it will be great to come back here someday (hopefully soon) and explore the place a bit more in depth. I would also recommend it to my gringo friends, particularly the ones who don't speak Spanish, because it's a very accessible place, very safe, the people are incredibly cordial and it has a well-developed tourism infrastructure. Plus, in terms of sights, it's a very small country that packs awesome beaches, the Amazon jungle and the Andes mountains all in one place. Oh, and the Galapagos Islands as well (!).

From Guayaquil, I took a bus to the town of Cuenca, which is basically Ecuador's third city, in terms of both size and importance. Cuenca is kind of like an Ecuadorian Salamanca: it's a university town with very evident Spanish influence (as opposed to Guayaquil, which was a bit more cosmopolitan). It has about 75 different colonial churches, ranging importance from the cathedral (shown above) to small chapels in the surrounding countryside.

The highlight of my time in Cuenca was a trip to a Panama hat maker, where I bought a Panama hat. What's that, you say? Panama hats...in Ecuador? Well yes, mi amigo, Ecuador is the world's main producer of Panama hats. Carlos says that he's not even sure if they make them in Panama. The guy who I bought mine from (pictured in the first photo) was awesome. He was mute (probably a case of too many cigarettes) and so we communicated by gesturing. He was quite an artisan: the hats are all made by hand, out of this one specific variety of straw, and then steam-ironed so that they are about as thick as paper. The best-quality ones are so tightly woven that you can roll them up tight enough to fit through a man's ring, and then unroll them and they will go right back to their original shape. Mine's currently rolled up in a box, so we shall see how good quality it is when it needs to pop back.

I also took an excursion outside of Cuenca to the most important site of Inca ruins in Ecuador, known as Ingapirca. Cuenca was an important stop-over place for the Incas, as it is close to both the jungle and the sea, and well-located between Cuzco (which, as we ALL know, was the capital of the Inca empire) and Quito, which is about as north as the Incas got before the Spaniards arrived.


After a nightmarish (literally) overnight bus to Quito, I got right into things here, where I have been since yesterday morning. Yesterday I didn't do too much, since I was so tired: just 2 big excursions a bit outside the city. One, as you can see, was to the actual line of the Equator, which is just north of Quito. So I'm not QUITE in my home hemisphere yet (I was for one brief moment there), but I will be starting tomorrow. Which is a big milestone: Go north, young man.

Yesterday's other big excursion was to the Osvaldo Guayasamín Museum. Guayasamín was Ecuador's most important artist, and his paintings reflect the struggles and themes of the Latin American continent (mostly from a fairly leftist perspective, although some of the values reflected in his paintings were quite traditional, such as the idea of the family as the center of society). Some of the themes include: mestizaje, the class struggle, dictatorships, the dignity of the poor, and civil wars. He built what he called "The Chapel of Man," which houses most of his paintings today. The painting I posted here is actually a giant mural, and it depicts a condor, which represents the cultures of the Andes, dominating a bull, which represents Spain.

As this is my last day in Ecuador, and I realized that Quito had way more to offer than I initially realized, I had to fit a lot of things in. So I started my day early at the Presidential Palace (pictured here), known as Carondelet. You can't go inside but I realized that that was probably ok, as I have had about enough of presidential palaces to last a lifetime. I then explored other areas of Quito's colonial quarter, including the Jesuit church (plated with 7 tons of gold--I would have posted a pic but you aren't allowed to take pictures inside--you can probably google "iglesia de la compañía quito" and see better ones than I could ever take), the Dominican church, and the Panecillo, which is a hill where a winged Virgin Mary presides over the city.

I also managed to hit the Mariscal, a neighborhood known as "gringolandia" because of how Americanized it is, and go up to the top of a mountain next to the city via cable car, where you go from 2800 m to 4100 m above sea level in about 15 minutes. I even had time left over to buy some books and see the movie "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter and...Spring," which was awesome by the way. It came out in the US like 3 years ago (came out in Chile like a year ago, I don't know why they're so behind here) so you can rent it.

And that's all for now. Tomorrow I am off to Colombia. The first stop for the night will be the colonial town of Popayán. Will I make it? Stay tuned!

A Cordial Welcome to Ecuador

Last Friday, as planned, I took a bus across the border into Ecuador and arrived in the city of Guayaquil in the evening. Ecuador is a curious place: it's incredibly poor in the countryside--like, Bolivia poor--but its cities are completely prosperous, orderly places.

My friend Carlos picked me up at the bus station, and from that moment I passed an entire weekend where I didn't have to be constantly on guard about my stuff, and where I didn't have to worry about where I was going and how to get there. Because Carlos took care of everything. We had a great time. I had time to just relax and watch TV (including TV Chile, channel 51 in Ecuador!), and he took me out and I met a lot of his friends. I learned some interesting tropical Guayaquileño slang (like, for example, they use the word "man" to refer to women, men or things, as in "Vamos a llamar a esas mans para que salgan con nosotros"), and saw a lot of Guayaquil. We walked around the city's recently-rebuilt Malecón and walked up the hill of the charming colonial neighborhood of Las Peñas. I let myself be pampered by the family's maid Luz, who makes amazing fresh blackberry juice. We partied until practically the break of dawn at a disco with the beautiful people of Guayaquil on Saturday night.

On Sunday we drove out to his parents' beach apartment in the town of Salinas, but not before a driving trip along the Pacific coast of the province of Guayas. We stopped and had lunch in the town of Montañita, where hippie Argentines sit on the sidewalk drinking their mate and braiding things into each others' dreadlocks. I had Ecuadorian ceviche, which is more soupy than the Peruvian variety (and, sorry, but not as good). We spent the night at the apartment and I slept like a baby for 10 hours, with the sound of waves breaking in the back of my subconscious.

Now I am in Cuenca, Ecuador, which is actually kind of cold in comparison to hot, tropical Guayaquil, as it is up in the Andes a little bit. All is well.

Thank you to Carlos and his family for allowing me to make myself at home for a couple of days.

Guest Post del Web MSGG

Esto viene de mis ex compañeros laborales, de la página web del gobierno en Stgo, específicamente mi socio, el destacado diseñador gráfico Ale Ramírez.

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Informe N° 001, del Ministerio de Seguridad del Estado de la Página Web
Antecedentes: Busca del ciudadano norteameraucano : Carl [redacted]
Nombre de Pila en Chile: "Cafiche(r)", "Gringo"

Según los últimos antedecentes recopilados por esta Secretaría de Estado se informa que el individuo se encuentra en un lugar indeterminado en Perú. Imágenes de satélite nos informaron que los primeros días del mes de mayo se observó un brillo en la ciudad Putre, posteriormente se confirmó que se trataba de la "pelada de Carl]". Al realizar una operación rastrillo por los países de Bolivia, Perú y últimamente en la ciudad de Arequipa, se han confirmado las sospechas de que el individuo en cuestión realizó más de alguna estadía en dichos lugares. Esto se confirmaría al escuchar a los residentes del lugar con frases nunca antes pronunciadas por ellos, en las que destacan:

1.- El pulento condoro
2.- He PERREADO
3.- Pato Yáñez pa´ tí.

La institución a su vez informa que se encuentra en buen estado a pesar de los golpes de la naturaleza, tales como: influenza de Rita, esguince de Vero, y la nula contratación (hasta el momento) de un traductor a la altura de Fischer. El resto del equipo sigue mantiéndose en pie, sorteando con hidalguía las diferentes tareas.

Esperamos que el Sr. Fischer se encuentre en buen estado, tanto físico, como sicológico y a la vez etílico.

Se adjunta foto satelital.