In the back of my mind, all day long when touring, I’m thinking “Will that be something I can include in the blog tonight?” Today that train of thought led me to lose whatever good sense I have left. Horse sense, that is. But more about that later.

The first order of business this morning was a visit to the Capilla del Rosario coffee plantation, high on the western hills of the Medellin valley. Medellin is nestled on seven hills in a valley of the Central Andes range, if a metro area of 5 million can be “nestled.” Sprawled is more like it.

Faithful readers may recall that we visited a coffee plantation in Costa Rica. The similarities and differences were interesting.

First, both are focused on tourism. Growing coffee seems to be almost a secondary aim. In the case of the Doka plantation in Costa Rica, the coffee they produce is a premium product sold to end consumers and to high-end restaurants. In the case of Capilla del Rosario education is their main mission, coffee is produced for export. Tourism is a nascent industry in Colombia but growing rapidly.

Capilla del Rosario works as a research station, currently trying out 42 different variety of coffee plants and helping more than 40 other growers in the region by providing technical and marketing advice. With 65,000 coffee plants they are the biggest grower in the region. Typical plantations are mom-and-pop operations with one-tenth the number of trees.

In the 1980s Capilla del Rosario had 500,000 coffee plants. The reduction has been caused by encroachment of housing developments as Medellin expands outwards. High rise condos abut the main roasting facility. It’s also hard to get workers to do the manual job of picking coffee berries. They would like to have 34 pickers to handle the current plants; they’re luck to have 17. They should be producing 20 tonnes of coffee; they currently do 7 due to labor problems and climate change.

Being in a desirable part of Medellin means their taxes are high. They are currently working on gaining relief from the government.

I told our host we have the same problem in Florida. Kids sell Mom and Dad’s strawberry fields because they don’t want to do the hard work for low pay that farming brings. Why not sell out to real estate developers, avoid the tax bite and retire? The average age of coffee farmers in Colombia is 60.

The Doka operation has just moved from sun drying to a modern, mechanized system. Capilla del Rosario does sun drying in covered flats so that moisture can escape naturally from the bean. They do have mechanized systems from the 1980s and hope to modernize sometime soon.

We sampled two varieties of coffee. It’s not just the beans, it’s the way they are dried and roasted and the way the coffee is brewed that makes the difference. I wish I was enough of a coffee afficionado to tell the difference. Our host favors milder, light-roasted coffee, brewed with a French press and slow addition of water, if I got it right. Dark roast is like a slap across the face in the morning versus a gentle caress from light roast.

One item of interest to Judy and me is the Laurina bean, which is naturally low in caffeine content (0.5%).

Speaking of the tourist trade and condos: our hotel, and much of the Zone 6 (high end) neighborhoods are being converted to AirBnBs. Ever since Fortune Magazine touted Colombia is a must-go tourist destination in 2022, business has been booming. The government is considering limits on short term rental activity in an effort to bring down out-of-control price escalation.

Another interesting development, driven by growth: “Biological bridges,” which provide pathways so that animals in town can move without being penned into a particular area.

Medellin is a party town. Weekends run Thursday through Saturday. There are brightly-painted party busses, vehicles with no doors nor windows and seats only along the sides. The center is open for dancing.

But Sunday is a family day. In an effort to produce physical fitness, several major thoroughfares in downtown Medellin are blocked off for pedestrian use and exercise. Given the Medellinian’s love of carbs and animal protein, it’s a very much worthwhile policy.

We’re going to learn much more about it tomorrow, but Medellin is a real comeback miracle. For many decades, and as recently as 10 years ago, Medellin was the most dangerous city in Colombia. There were an average of seven car bombings a week in Medellin.

There were three factors contributing to this violence. First, beginning in the 1940s the FARC and other leftist gorilla groups fought the government to win rights for rural agricultural workers. With the advent of the drug trade, armed paramilitary groups on the right fought to win control of cocaine fields from rural landholders. The Escobar drug cartel played into the violence as well. With the signing of the 2016 peace accord with FARC conditions have improved greatly, to the extent that Tauck and other tour operators feel confident enough to bring planeloads of tourists here. But not all armed groups have signed on and there is still violence in rural areas, especially along the Venezuelan border.

I told Catalina that I’m confused as to how a country with people averaging $380 of monthly income could seem so prosperous. Her answer wasn’t complete and she promised more discussion tomorrow. But she did say that Colombia has the greatest income disparity of any South American country. And as tourists we haven’t been seeing the real Level 1 neighborhoods. But so far Colombia doesn’t have the feel of a true downtrodden third-world country.

Our local guide said she is of two minds concerning ranking of neighborhoods. The general concept is one of income redistribution. Those in Level 6 pay much higher taxes per square meter of housing than those in lower levels. And those in Levels 1 and 2 can qualify for subsidized housing. A three bedroom apartment, typically housing seven people, might go for $200 a month or could be purchased for $10,000.

But statistics show that upward mobility is difficult. It typically takes six generations to escape Levels 1 and 2. Health services are level dependent. An ambulance driver checks the injured party’s level to decide where to take the injured person. Low levels get minimal care in public facilities. When applying for a loan, the bank checks the applicant’s level. Neighborhood level even comes to play as a caste system: A Level 2 person finds it hard to date or marry someone at a higher level.

As we traveled from east to west and back downtown, our guide played the latest music craze: Reggaeton, a cross of Reggae with some hip hop thrown in and arguably the most popular music genre worldwide if not in Caribbean and South American countries. She played several selections, although it probably went through one ear and out the other of our fellow Tauckers. Three fourths of us have heard of Taylor Swift only through contact with our grandkids. The other one fourth don’t have grandkids. Nonetheless, here are a few references:

UNA NOCHE EN MEDELLÍN (REMIX) by KAROL G, Cris MJ & Ryan Castro

Si Antes Te Hubiera Conocido by KAROL G

magínate by Danny Ocean & Kapo

That and a little Salsa and you’re good to party all night in Medellin.

Oh, and the horse thing. In the afternoon we visited the Normandía horse farm, one with 120 horses of a particular breed that have an unusual short, rapid gait. Judy will have to cut a video to demonstrate.

The purpose of the visit was fourfold. First, to learn how to approach a horse. You first say “hello” by extending your hand palm down and then scratching its neck, combing it, etc. We learned how to do it without being kicked or bitten, although I’m sure these horses are well enough trained so they aren’t very dangerous. That’s where I hugged my horse. Judy didn’t have a go at it since she breaks out with an allergic reactions when she gets near a horse.

Next, we were shown how to become a leader of a horse. It’s a matter of behaving with confidence so the horse accepts the human as the master. If you do it right the horse will obediently follow you wherever you go. Several of our group tried this skill. I passed on this opportunity.

Then we were shown how horses are given swimming exercise, for much the same reasons we do swimming: stress-free exercise, strength building and to cool down. The horses typically do three laps with their heart rate monitored to avoid over stress.

And of course we had a chance to ride a horse around an arena. And of course I had to take one for the blog and give it a try. The riding part wasn’t too bad, the same breakneck speed as a pony ride at a six-year-old’s birthday party.  But I had to have a pretty girl push me from behind to get my arthritic hip up over the beast’s rump. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Then it took four experts to adjust my stirrups for reasons I didn’t understand. The dismount, thank goodness, went without incident.

Finally, a demonstration of the horses going through their quick-step paces by riders who compete internationally in this sport.

Tomorrow is focused on downtown and the recent violent story of this city that bills itself as the City of Eternal Spring.

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Colombia, like many Latin American countries, is very much a Catholic nation. Even though the 1992 constitution dropped Catholicism as the official state religion, upwards of two thirds of Colombians profess to be Catholic. Throw in the odd Protestant and Christianity rings in at 90%. But, like many countries these days, regular attendance is much less and declining. 

Nonetheless, the Salt Cathedral of Zipaquirá Wikipediahttps://en.wikipedia.orgSalt Cathedral of Zipaquirá was voted as the #1 wonder of Colombia by readers of a Bogotá newspaper. It’s a functioning Catholic Church, holding regular masses but, lacking a bishop, it isn’t an actual cathedral. 

The cathedral has been created in the caverns of a real salt mine, one that was first used by the Muisca peoples as early as the 5th century BC. The Spanish, of course, took over production since salt here. Back then salt was a medium of exchange due to its value as a food preservative. 

The mine continues operations as Colombia’s second largest mine (the largest is in the north near the Caribbean). Workers in the 1930s, devout Catholics, carved niches in the salt walls to house images of the Madonna. By the 1950s a more formal cathedral was carved, which lasted into the 1980s. The current cathedral and the tunnel that leads to it was constructed in the 1990s as the result of an artistic competition. The tunnel has 14 stations of the cross carved into its salt walls. The cathedral is constructed with three sections representing the birth, life and death of Jesus. 

But getting there was half the fun. After a brief bus ride (20 minutes is brief in this traffic beset town) we boarded a tourist train that took us to Zipaquirá, a trip of about two hours or a little less. We passed through the outskirts of Bogotá, into the countryside and through several towns and villages. 

Trains are something of a rarity in Colombia. The government rail system went broke in the 1990s. There are only a few lines operating in the coal and oil regions. The Chinese are said to be financing a line and the Colombian government has plans to revitalize rail transport. Getting trucks off the highways is a much needed improvement. This line was started by former rail executives and workers. Based on the occupancy of this 13-coach Saturday excursion they seem to be doing well. 

As we traveled, our guide called out the neighborhood ratings. “That was a 1-2 neighborhood but now we’re in a 4.” If I squinted real hard I could make out the difference. We saw families enjoying Saturday, farms and greenhouses raising roses and carnations for us to give our sweeties on Valentine’s Day – a big Colombian export. We saw a community on the side of the hill called the Butterfly Neighborhood. Originally a squatters’ settlement, the residence painted their houses bright colors, eventually settling on a pattern that looks like a butterfly from a distance. It’s now the largest mural in Colombia. And we saw multimillion dollar houses high atop the ridge line with private roads and security guards, less than a mile from the Butterfly Neighborhood.

Near the end of the trip a trio of musicians entered our private coach and played a half dozen tunes on guitar, lute and drum. They were quite talented and added greatly to the trip. 

After a more normal two-hour bus ride to the airport we’re on the plane flying to Medellin for the next three nights. Tomorrow involves coffee and horses. Even though Judy and I don’t drink coffee and she’s allergic to horses, Catalina assures us we’re going to love the day. 

Last time I rode on the back off a beast of burden it was a camel at the Giza pyramids. The blamed animal tried so hard to dismount me that I had to put my cell phone away and hang on for dear life. 

 

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Today’s the big day – Judy’s birthday – and we spent it seeing the highlights of the city. Neither of us would have guessed this is where her celebration would occur but then again we never planned on celebrating mine in Israel and India. 

First stop: a local neighborhood market, of which there are 19 in Bogotá. The city threatened to shut them all down if they didn’t clean up their act, hygienically and commercially. They did and what we saw appeared to be well run. 

Speaking of neighborhoods, the Columbian government back in the 1980s came up with a system of categorizing neighborhoods based on income on a scale of 1 to 6. Category 1 neighborhoods are the poorest; 6 the wealthiest. Middle income neighborhoods might have monthly incomes of $600 per month. Less than 1% of Columbians have monthly incomes of $2,000 or greater. The Four Seasons is in a 6 neighborhood, surprise, surprise.

Another factoid: of roughly 10 million people in the metro area, 900,000 ride a bike every day. Not sure if that includes motorcycles, but there is a good network of bike paths parallel to major thoroughfares.

Fresh fruit and vegetables were the order of the day at the market, with tasting samples of many. As we left we had a sampling of chopped meats, potatoes, pork rinds and plantains. Fun.

Next the Gold Museum, similar in many respects to the Gold Museum in San Jose. The emphasis was as much on indigenous history as gold. The people of the pre-Columbian times developed sophisticated metallurgical techniques that combined gold with other metals such as copper and tin. The museum has a large collection of intricate items created by the indigenous peoples, many of them left behind by the Spaniards when they discovered they had as little as 5% gold content.

The restaurant for lunch turned out to be located within a stone’s throw from our Cranky Crock hostel. Funny after having discovered a place once, going back the next day makes you feel like you’ve come home. Familiarity breeds homeliness, maybe. Typical Colombian food – a mountain of it – that somewhat repeated what we’d had the day before.

Next, a museum focused on the works of Fernando Botero, the most famous Colombian artist, one with a worldwide reputation. All of the works, Botero’s and others from Botero’s private collection, were donated by Botero to the Colombian government. The stipulation was that the museum would be open to all without charge. The museum, like many public museums in Colombia, are under the management of the National Bank of Colombia.

Our tour guide for the museum was Botero’s grandson who knew the artist well and told many interesting stories of his relationship with his grandfather. Botero’s main artistic focus was on volume – the relationship of a painting’s elements to each other in terms of size. The photos give an idea of what that means. He was also a sculptor and is sometimes better known for that work than his paintings.

Some of Botero’s art dealt with the conflict with FARC, various paramilitary groups and drug cartels (lines between which were often blurred) which led to violence and bloodshed for decades.

Finally, a walk through the Candelaria neighborhood where Judy and I toured yesterday on our foodie walk. Today, however, we went to an area we hadn’t seen, the Place de Bolivar. The Palace of Justice, the National Capitol and the Primary Cathedral of Bogotá are located there, along with about a million pigeons, as any good town square should have.

At the welcome dinner this evening Judy’s birthday was recognized with a candle bedecked dessert and a round of Happy Birthday singing.

An hour’s bus ride back to the hotel and we’re prepping for dinner at 6:45 PM. Bags out at 7 AM, a day at the Salt Mine (literally) and then a 5 PM flight to Medellin. Box lunch will be served on the bus to the airport. We ain’t on Le Bellot anymore!

 

 

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We did it in San Jose the other day and we did it in Singapore so we figured we’d try it here in Bogotá: Doing a walking tour that includes sampling local food also serves as a great way to see a city and learn something of its culture.

The result here was slightly different but equally satisfying.  In Singapore we sampled different cultures found in that melting pot: Chinese, Indian and Malay and had an equal mix of food, culture and history. San Jose focused on culture and history with tidbit samples of food. Here, it was a seven-course walking banquet with a lesser amount of cultural commentary.

The tour started at 1:30 (we goofed off all morning, having breakfast at 10). It was a group of ten from the U.S. and Canada. Three guys got my attention. They were childhood friends and are traveling together through Columbia for two-plus weeks. So far, they’ve booked three nights in a hostel. After that, who knows? Cali, maybe? Medellin? Wives are at home; this is a guy trip. Another gal on the trip shares tomorrow, January 24, with Judy as their birthday.

Speaking of the hostel, that’s where our tour began: the Cranky Croc Hostel. It’s a 45 minute/$10 Uber ride from our hotel. We got out on a nondescript street. No Cranky Croc to be seen. I asked in my broken Spanish for directions from a lady standing in the doorway of another hostel not 100 yards from ours. Never heard of it. I was googling away and trying to fend off a  panhandler when a lady came up, her mother on her arm, and asked in English if she could help. She was most apologetic, embarrassed that visitors would be subject to such behavior. “There are many different layers in our society, some more well-to-do than others.” She shooed him away.

She googled and, like me, determined the hostel should be right in front of us. Sure enough, under a sign about the size of a dinner plate, there was the Croc.

The hostel itself seems quite nice – welcoming and clean. Owned for six years by an Aussie. Probably a notch down scale from our digs at the Four Seasons, price wise.

I wish I could give you the name, recipe and cooking instructions for each of the seven dishes, but I can’t. Each represents food common not just to Bogota but all across Colombia. I’ll have to let the pictures give you an idea. It is the experience that is important, not the details.

We had ceviche, a national favorite. Each Latin American country seems to have their own variation on the theme. There was an empanada-like creation the outside of which was mushed up yucca. Desert, a choice of a fruit concoction sandwich or a fig creation. Everything with a different kind of cheese. A tamale boiled for six hours in a plantain leaf container with rice, chicken, pork and beef. “We eat meat here in Colombia. If someone asks for vegetarian, we say ‘sure, we have chicken.’” There was a dish of beef, plantain, potato and avocado. Another empanada-like creation with more cheese, I think (they started to run together). The last dish was a soup featuring potatoes, corn (on the cob), capers and of course the ubiquitous plantain and yucca chips.

In general, Colombian food has three fundamental characteristics: plantains,, potatoes and rice; cheese; and frying. “It doesn’t make us fat because we have to walk up and down these hills,” our guide explained.

Indeed, Bogotá is nestled in the middle of the west range of the Andes, on the side of the Andes, in fact. Old folks hiking up hill and down at 8,600 feet, me with a queasy stomach (now settled down, thank goodness) kept us puffing and panting through the three and a half hour tour.

One interesting factoid delivered by our guide: When the peace settlement between the government and the FARC was signed, many former cocaine farmers were out of work. Instead, they turned to raising cacao, the base ingredient of chocolate. Craft beer brewing has also become popular.

FARC – The Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia – had been fighting the Colombian government since the 1960s. It also controlled much of the cocaine producing regions. Implementation hasn’t been perfect; some fighting by splinter groups continues and the promises of the agreement for reform have not all been fulfilled. But peace has opened up the tourist trade for gringos like us and has led to stability for much of Colombia and an end to the killing that has gone on for decades.

We were impressed by Bogotá the city. Modern, clean bustling (too much traffic, for sure) and the people we encountered quite friendly. The tallest skyscraper in all of Colombia dominates the skyline. Our guide reported, with a sense of Colombian pride, that it was the creation of a bunch of Spaniards from Barcelona and is only 40% occupied.

Everywhere you turn you find street art – graffiti, some might call it. But a lot of it is high-quality artwork and a lot of fun to view as you can see in today’s pictures, with food intermixed.

Our Tauck tour kicks off tomorrow, although in the quixotic arithmetic of tour companies, today was Day 1. We’ll spend the day in Bogotá and leave the next day for Medellin.

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Our flight to Bogotá was smooth and uneventful. The immigration lady wished Judy a happy birthday in advance. We were met at baggage claim, picked up empanadas at an airport food stand and arrived at the Four Seasons in about 45 minutes. I’ll include some bus window shots of the streets of Bogotá, a city of 8 million people, to give you an idea.

Speaking of empanadas, having missed lunch, we walked down the street to Kuma Mya and had four more to tide us over.

We’ve booked dinner at CASA, advertised as a Mediterranean-style restaurant practically next door. We’re calling it Judy’s birthday dinner because tomorrow afternoon we’re doing a foodie walking tour of Old Town and won’t be up for a big dinner. Then Friday, her actual birthday, we have a busy day with a tour-provided dinner. Celebrate while the celebrating’s good, we say.

As it turned out, we ate tapas style, sharing two appetizers, a single main course and a dessert creation. I’ll include a picture of the latter but its decadence really is embarrassing.

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