Baños was a great place, and although the volcano eluded me the four days I was in its shadow, I caught a glimpse of it´s smoking cone while I ascended north out of town. Supposedly (still uncomfirmed), the volcano erupted two days after I left. I recounted my luck of having stood at the refuge (at the base of the summit) just four days prior to the eruption with all the confidence in the world as I listened to the lava crackle and spit above me.
Since my arrival in South America I have toyed with the idea of going north to Colombia, an enchanting country with a dark side (which is mostly enhanced through the media). I had already began my travel south from Quito, but something kept pulling me back to Colombia. Whether it was the good reports from fellow travelers, my curiosity, or my proximity to the country, I decided to find out for my self what all the fuss was about and head north...
On my way to Colombia I made a quick pit stop in Quilotoa. I am unsure if one can even classify Quilotoa as a town, but it´s stunning beauty and enchantment draws visitors, and therefore it consists of some hostels and a few small tiendas. The majority of visitors are drawn by the large crater lake formed by the eruption of Quilotoa many years ago (the volcano now lies dormant). The views are majestic and the natural peace this place conjurs is unmatched. It was hard to leave, but my journey had to continue onward.
While journeying away from Quilotoa I could not help but notice the basic state of living on the hills and countryside surrounding the lake. I don´t like to use the word ¨poverty¨ because poverty implies a sense of desperation and unhappiness and from what I could tell these people had farms, animals, and although they worked very hard, always seemed to have a smile and presence of happiness. However, they did live in huts made of mud and grass from the earth and worked all day in the fields. I noticed that many age very quickly but retain a certain beauty only the land can supply. The women wear beautifully stitched dresses and traditional hats and to my amazement most wore high heals. As I stared out the window of my passing bus, in my security and comfort, I realized how different my existence is from these people. Not for better or worse, just different. After a full day and a half of traveling I was in Colombia and enjoying beautiful mountain scenery as our bus meandered north...
On my way north in Colombia I made a few short stops in Popayan and Cali. Popayan has the look and feel of a colonial town. It has whitewashed buildings and bustling streets. I was lucky and showed up the day of Popayan´s birthday celebration, which meant live music, crowded streets, great food, and fireworks. My first night in Colombia was a success! Next stop Cali... A city of 2.5 million residents, famous for salsa and plastic surgery. Unfortunately, the salsa clubs were at half speed during the week, but the plastic surgery was in full swing.
Finally, I made a longer stop in Salento, a small town in the coffee region. It was one of the most beautiful places on my journey and I filled my days with a perfect mixture of hiking and relaxing.
Although Colombia is a country that has been torn by constant turmoil and bloodshed, the natural beauty of the landscape and the people have endured and still offer the warmth of their presence and the strength of their hearts. They are as resilient as the coffee that grows in the region. I am in constant wonderment about the contrast between the beautiful landscapes and generous people of Colombia and the dark shadow of drugs and war.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
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