by Richard
All the back packers we met headed south, had been robbed by (fake?) police in Venezuela, and the last nail in the coffin, was a second hand story about an airline steward who had gone to sleep in his 5 star hotel room in Caracas, and woken up in hospital the next day, where police informed him that he had been raped and all his possessions stolen!
On the other hand everyone had great things to say about Colombia and a 15 page national Geographic article confirmed that the government had cleaned up crime by beating guerrillas back to the frontier lands and investing heavily in jobs for everyone. Certainly cocaine still abounds, there is fighting between FARC and the militias, and violent crime exists, but none of this is apparent to the tourists. (see forum for political discussions on the subject)
We landed at Bogota airport and the typical little yellow taxi sped us towards the old town. The city of 7.5 million Colombians is surrounded by towering, lush green hills through which we circumnavigated the business districts to get to Candelaria. We were surprised at how clean and smart the streets and buildings were kept.
Our hostel Andandamyi is a beautiful old colonial house with courtyard gardens slung with hammocks and the faint sound of Buddhist music emanating from the rooms beyond. Margarita, a calm Colombian lady, has travelled herself to many places in her beloved India and spent a couple of years in Geneva. We were welcomed into the lovely communal kitchen by the quiet mannered girls with a cup of tea, where a notice proclaimed "always happy, never hurried, never worried".
Bogota’s Zona Rosa contains many pricey bars and restaurants, unlike the pretty old town which becomes a bit desolate and risky at night. We hung out at an Irish pub The Monkey Pub, sipped Guinness and sang along with the staff (and mascot monkeys) and joked around to some great tunes on their iPod. On another evening Kate could enjoy organic chicken at Suna, washed down with a bottle of fine Chilean red. That’s what back packing is all about 
In Bogota we also visited Colombia’s most famous artist Botero, who’s style is to exaggerate the curves of his subjects, whether of fruit, or of people. Since we had noticed that Colombians seem quite fond of ample, curvy women in tight clothing, we wondered whether Botero was slightly overstating this cultural appeal.
Fernando Botero, Mellin 1932
The other must in Bogota is the amazing Museo del Oro (Gold Museum).
With four enormous galleries we spent many hours learning how the ancient craftsmen moulded and gilded delicately exquisite pieces.
Right: “because of it’s shiny skin and it’s aggressiveness, astuteness and vitality, the jaguar was associated with regenerating powers of gold and the sun.” – ……what do you mean it doesn’t look like a Jaguar?!
(I was surprised and excited to see these hummingbird earrings. We had seen the modern silver version in the Galapagos a few weeks beforehand and had thought then how original and beautiful they were. Little did I know that Richard was to surprise me with them that evening after the museum visit )) – Kate)
More gold treasure than I’ve ever seen before! Bats were symbols of power for the shamans, and gold breast plates were the wonder bra of ancient times.
Villa de Leyva – Kites, kites everywhere
A $3 taxi ride delivered us to the Bus terminal where we started out of town following the lane of a dual carriageway which is closed every Sunday for Bogotans to cycle up and down. There were every manner of bikes from tiny tots to professional lycra clad racers, peddling with gusto past the many food stands and bike repair stalls. The four hour bus journey to the north took us through rolling misty hills and past villages of kite flying kids and the remains of kites tangled up in overhead telephone lines. The kite festival of Villa de Leyva was just finishing and hundreds of revellers were on their way out.
Throughout Colombia the presence of soldiers is very apparent. Several times, young conscripts standing guard at checkpoints along the roads, waved at me or saluted as I peered down at them from behind the bus window. It was very reassuring to know they are here to protect us and seemed happy about it.
Kidnapping and sold into sex slavery.
At Tunja we had to change to a local bus. An enthusiastic man with square shoulders, a very wide false grin and neck wider then his head appeared with Kate running along behind him. He grabbed her bag and commanded us to follow at a semi running pace out of the terminal to the side of the road. He soon reappeared in a white 10 seater minibus and rushed us and bags into it.Charging through the town at breakneck speed and clinging to our arm rests we began to wonder if it had been wise to let ourselves be hustled away like this. Kate was looking decidedly white and I started trying to ensure that pedestrians caught sight of my pale gringo face through the side windows of our kidnappers vehicle. The way the bus slewed across the road around hairpin bends over the mountains, not only added to our fear, but also began to turn my stomach. We stopped at a petrol station and I reached for the door and freedom (or at least fresh air). "Quick get the numberplate", Kate implored in a whisper.
She had visions of being sold into the Colombian sex trade and wanted to SMS the registration to a friend for help. I returned to the front seat next to the driver to feel more in control and engaged him in conversation telling him that he drives like the devil. "Me?!", he said, "no,no", and laughing he did slow down a little. I was re-assured by the way other bus drivers waved to him that we were not about to be abducted and ransomed, still I was glad when after 45mins we finally reached the village and quickly handed over $5 plus a $1 tip for not murdering us
The Colombian Highlands hostel is lovely. Clean, pretty rooms, sweet breakfast terrace and a friendly welcome. We have had real difficulty trying to understand the Colombian Spanish accent, but here the girls made a real effort to speak very slowly (and did all our washing for $2.50).
A local cafe owner stocked us up with delicious cake and delighted in talking to us about the time he’d studied in London.We followed his directions to a hike to "Paeo de Angel" passing friendly villagers, farmers and tomato pickers along the way. Colombian people do seem to live up to their friendly reputation and are keen to impress upon us that we are most welcome in their country.
Below: Kate debating on whether or not to risk joining the angels by walking along the steep sided drops on the “Path of Angels”.
Salento – coffee trees and exploding boules.
Loaded with water,empanadas,crisps and sandwiches we left Bogota again. 8 hours of roads winding up and down the most amazing forested hills, with steep ravines cutting through, them made for a breath-takingly beautiful journey to Eje Cafatera to stay on a coffee farm for a few days. The mountain roads were a continuous stream of juganaughts headed in both directions and moving at a snails pace. Of course our mad coach driver was keen to keep to his schedule and overtook on every blind corner and double yellow line! We’re very grateful for our Ipods on such long bumpy journeys and have been listening to audiobooks such as The Economic Hitman" and "A History of Ideas"…which quickly puts us to sleep .
Plantation House is a hostel run for 5 years now by former Oracle DBA, Brit, Tim and his Colombian wife. 2 years ago he bought the adjoining run down coffee plantation for $50k and with 4 farm hands has been getting it back into shape. The steep sided slopes have been enriched with fertiliser and for $2 he gave us a tour, including the processes for extracting and washing the beans.
The hostel was buzzing with nationalities, French,Swiss,German,Dutch,Spanish, and an English couple we became friends with, Lisa and Sam from Epsom Downs and New Malden. It’s a small world. Even more of a nice surprise when Naomi and Jasmina arrived, two Israeli girls who were with us on our Galapagos cruise three weeks earlier. They had journeyed from Ecuador to Colombia by bus, which had been fine, though quite long and tiring.
The next day Lisa, Sam, Kate and I squashed into the back of a jeep with 3 others and 2 more hanging off the back. We spent they on a wonderful hike through valleys of wax palms, following a river up stream and tentatively inching our way over slippery log bridges criss crossing the stream until we arrived at a refugio to try the local hot, burnt tasting, sweet sugar cane tea with a lump of goats cheese called "Panella". Many humming birds drank nearby us, and we befriended three colombian ladies and two English girls Lucinda and Emily.
In the evening the little Plaza of Salento was bustling with eating stands and restaurant tents. The grilled trout is absolutely delicious and for $8 comes with a huge flat crispy plantain potato.
The colombian men and women sat around until the early hours playing drinking games with bottles of sugar cane spirit and getting up to salsa on the pavements or inside dark bar rooms where the mens urinal is open in one corner. It was strange to stand there pissing in the dark with dancing couples behind me over one shoulder.
A couple of Hollanders joined us at the Tejo bar. Tejo is a rural Colombian game, similar to french Boules, however you throw heavy metal discs into boxes of clay, but which contain explosive gun powder triangles too. Drinking beer and jumping with excitement at the flash and loud explosions was fun, though much of the time heavy metal disks were rolling across the bar or bouncing into the yard beyond! Kate suggested two teams…..
….and the boys team launched themselves into victory with Sam’s final winning shot into the bull’s-eye!
First stop was the National Heritage park around Mount Kinabalu. The mountain was shrouded in cloud and with my ankle and Kate’s achillees tendon we were not able to attempt any hill walking so contented ourselves with getting lost amongst the trails in the lower forests.
We spent the days in long river boats guided by a local lad called Yad, who was learning the importance of conservation and eco-tourism. 
