Back to hostel, and drunk beer while waiting for my bed to become available. A little early in the day, perhaps, but I had to teach the kiwi chap what it means to be from Aotearoa.  Eventually got a bed, then headed into the central city.  Walked around for a while, checking out some chap’s sculptures.  Famous Colombian artist – specialty is satirical fatties.  Big sculptures of fat people, fat cats, fat dogs, etc.  Then, started towards some modern new-age blah-blah park.  Designed for people to walk around barefeet, over shallow ponds, sand pools, etc.  Stopped for a beer at a very dodgy bar.  Drunk guy tried to talk to me.  My espanol is reasonable by now, but I couldn’t understand a word he said.  Ended up telling him I didn’t understand, again and again.  Got annoyed, and left.  Got halfway to the park, couldn’t be bothered crossing the road – and turned around to get back on the subway to the hostel.  My enthusiasm for being a tourist really is completely gone.

So – back to the hostel, and decided I’ve completely had enough of travelling.  Make the plan to get back to Quito immediately.  To my new Finn McCool’s family.  So, evening is spent impatiently waiting for the next day, so I can leave.  Drinking cerveza, and eventually drinking my Sav Blanc, while eating cheese and pate – and watching Bruce Willis fighting the good fight against those dastardly terrorists.

So, mix of beer and wine caused a small hangover when I awake for 18 Dec.   Drink some cervezas, and book a flight to ingerlund.  27th of December I leave South America, and 28th December, I arrive in the Queen’s island.  More cerveza, finish my cheese and pate, and then off to the bus station.  Leaving the kiwi hostel owner still pondering the distribution of my bill.  Again – the cerveza was more than the accommodation.  This time – internet also, as I’d spent quite some time uploading photos.  Bus station, and get on a bus.  That’s what bus stations are for.

18 hours or so later, it’s the 19 Dec, and I’m at Ipiales for the fourth time.  Colectivo to the border, and met the Alejandro at the border.  Alejandro is a crazy colombian guy I met in Quito – in the same dorm room.  Get over the border without being searched by the corrupt policemen.  Didn’t have any forgotten bags of coca leaves this time anyway.  I think.  Another colectivo to Tulcan.  And discover the restaurant at the bus station is being renovated.  I’d been pinning my hopes on today’s meal being there.  No such luck.  Have an empanada & coffee instead, and get onto another bus.  Back to Quito.

So, a little over 30 hours after leaving Medellin, I get to Quito.  Taxi to the hostel.  Just in time for the free ron&coke night.  I avoid it.  Get myself a private room, with bathroom this time.  Novelty.  Get into my suit, and off to Finn McCool’s.  With four bottles of booze I bought at the duty-free store on the border.  I pretty much bought everything which said “Irish”, and a bottle of champagne.  The irish stuff as gifts for the bar, and champagne for jeebersmas.  Must remember to buy some icecream.  Get to Finn’s, and I can’t see Lee or Ursula, and there’s some new ginga girl behind the bar.  I’m apprehensive.  Then, I see Paula – the ‘glassie’.  Squeals and hugs.  Then she runs over to the pool table, to tell Lee & Ursula.  They were here, just hiding.  More squeals and hugs.  Then, the regulars.  Squeals and hugs.  And so on for the next hour or so, as more of the old regulars arrive.  It’s nice to be home.

And even the new ginga bargirl turns out to be quite nice.  Very nice in fact – I think I’m in love with her.  Platonically of course.  Scottish girl, and worthy of Finn’s.  Anyway – the night goes on.  And on.  7 or 8 of us for the shut-in.  Playing pool for money.  Hanging up a hammock.  Slightly too many people for the hammock, and suddenly a big chunk of the concrete pillar comes out.  The bit that contained the hook for the hammock.  So, hammock and people on ground.  Some time later, Lee falls over.  Knocks his head.  Decides not to get up.  Sleeps underneath the foosball table for a few hours.  The rest of us chat.  Eventually, it’s myself, scottish Helen, and Ross left – until it’s time for opening again.

And thus 20 Dec begins.  And how it begins, it continues. Lee & Ursula take the day off – good on them.  Spent most of the night trying to convince Ursula that they should both take a week off.  Anyway, I don’t take the day off.  Kiwis aren’t slackers.  Full day of drinking cerveza, playing pool, and a bit of bartending.  Gets to closing time again.  It’s Alison’s last night before heading back to seppo-land for 10 days.  And Rafael’s birthday.  Alison is barstaff, and Rafael is a foosball player.  So, again a few of us for the shut-in.  Alison leaves for the airport at 5am.  Arguments and silly deeds and silly words from/between Ross and Merav.  Ross – irish barman.  Or bar-boy, as I like to call him when I’m trying to annoy him.  Merav – israeli part-owner of the bar.  Alison had given me the keys to lock up, which I eventually do.  But Ross decides he’s taking the keys.  Despite Ali asking me to take care of them, Ross’s current mood insists that I acquiesce, to prevent further problems.  And so, after 30 hours of travel, and 33 hours of Finn McCools, I return to the hostel for bed.

Next update – I’m guessing, but pretty sure I’ll just copy-and-paste the stuff I wrote last time I was in Quito.

Anyway – they were still going strong in the morning – although getting harder to understand.  Still – the poms not quite doing so well as the aussies.  Surprise.  I decided I’d better get out of here before I decide to teach them a lesson.  So, check out, and a txi to the bus terminal.  Next bus to Cartagena, por favor.  Just behind a young japanese girl.  We wait for our bus.  Having just bought tickets for the 11am bus, at 10 minutes past 11.  Half an hour later – the japanese girl is getting antsy.  Starts asking people every 10 minutes or so where the bus is.  I figure she hasn’t been in Colombia too long.  Bus does turn up, eventually, and we get on.

The wheels on the bus went round and round.  And we arrived in Cartagena de Indias.  Bus to town, not really knowing where the bus goes.  Eventually figure I’ve gone well past where I probably should have exited the bus.  Get off a while later instead.  Across the road from a place called “Drinking Bar”.  So, I drink in the bar.  Then, have dinner at the chinese restaurant next door.  Expensive shrimps and broccoli.  But, I haven’t eaten broccoli in a while.  And despite not liking broccoli particularly, it’s good to eat it again.  Washed down with more cerveza, of course.

And then I figure it’s time to swallow the pride, and get a taxi.  So – taxi to a hostel.  In the red light district, of course.  Hostel is full, so have to walk to another one.  Immediately accosted by chap wanting to sell me the white stuff.  Doesn’t really believe me when I tell him I don’t want any, or the green stuff either – so the act of being best friends is put on several times over the next days every time he sees me.  But, I get to a hotel/hostel – check in, and actually get a decently priced room – all to myself, with fan and double bed.  Best deal I’ve had since Quito.  Ahhhh…. Quito, how I miss you Finn McCools.

But – no irish pubs with a block or two of my hotel here.  So – an evening at a cafe bordering a small plaza.  Cervezas, while watching children play soccer, and the local ladies posing for photographs with each other.

Wake up for the 15 Dec – ready to explore Cartagena.  And do so.  It’s got a big wall around it.  Walk on the wall for a while.  Apparently they didn’t like the inglis (Francis Drake, specifically) burning down the town, and holding it for ransom, and what-not.  So – a big wall.  Got the idea from the chinese, I reckon, but weren’t quite crazy enough to build a wall along an entire border.  Just around the town.  Still pretty cool.  But, having lost nearly all my enthusiasm and energy for being a tourist – got bored pretty quickly.  Ate some bloody good steak.  First time for a long long time.  Bloody good, and good’n'bloody.  More wandering around the Old City – which is also pretty cool.  All old.  And a city, I guess.  But, unlike most of Colombia, lots of people trying to sell you stuff, or anything else to get money.  First time I’ve seen it on this scale since Peru, I think.  Most of Colombia really has been qute tranquillo – which I took for granted until being reminded of it today.  So – in general, Cartagena is very similar to Cuzco, just to a lesser extent.  It would be an awesome place to wander around, if you got rid of all the hawkers.  Luckily in Cartagena, the hawkers and others are in certain areas – and the entire Old City is good for walking around.  So it’s just occasional moments of the “I’ve already said ‘no’ several times – now …” feeling.  Also – everything well overpriced.  Walk outside the Old City walls, and prices fall drastically.  Although still too high – am looking forward to getting out of Cartagena completely – and seeing proper Colombian prices again.

Anyway – had dinner in the dodgier district I’m staying in.  A few cervezas, and the garfield movie on the television.  (Punctuation nerds – I don’t use capitalisation when something doesn’t deserve it.)  And when the nice lady suggested I should have the bill rather than another delicious ice cold cerveza – moved back to my position on the small plaza from last night, until once again I became too tired to justify ordering more cerveza.

So – 16 Dec started with waking up earlier than is natural, again.  I’m getting sick of knowing what 8am is like.  Breakfast, a bit of electronics shopping – which involved flirting with 12 year old girls.  Electronics shopping, for you nerds, was an adaptor for a 2.5mm jack to a 3.5mm.  My new Titan MP3 player uses a 2.5mm earphone jack, which I didn’t realise at the time.  So, I’ve bought this useful adaptor for the inevitable breakage of current earphones.  And broke my Titan a couple of hours later.

But – today was dedicated to seeing a couple of the things which the guidebook recommended other than the big wall thing.  So – the Palace of the Inquisition.  Torture instruments.  Much better than the Lima one.  Better torture stuff – although most or all of it was replicas, I believe.  But – allowed to pretend to be the victim on most of it.  I believe.  Well – nobody was around, and nobody stopped me.  The museum also had a second floor with displays regarding the history of Cartagena.  Boooorrrrriiiiing.

Cold shower (all showers on the coast are cold – but one is not unhappy about this.  Hot weather & women)  Then – more aimless wandering.  Overpriced, but very very good ceviche for early dinner.  Shrimps with white wine, mango & maracuya marinade.  I’m describing it only so that I will remember it when I get to ingerlund, and want to attempt a replication.

Then, found a cheap dodgy cafe near my hotel.  Cervezas.  Dodgy inglis bloke talked to me for a while.  Told me I was a better man than he, after I sympathised with his lady problems, but mentioned I’d been faithful to a girlfriend while in this continent of beautiful ladies.  Also congratulated me on finding the place with cheapest cervezas in town after very little time.  I reminded him I was a Kiwi.  He left, and I continued with cheap cervezas.  Until internet time – and some babbling on this here website, possibly a little too soon after the cheap cervezas.

This evening – the plan is an overnight bus to Medellin.  Home of Pablo Escobar.  Apparently much improved since being the murder capital of the world back in the 80′s.

But, he did survive the walk, as did we all.  Took three days to get to the actual city.  Lots of wading through rivers, avoiding poisonous snakes, meeting indigenous people, staying at an army camp, etc.  Arrived at Ciudad Perdida itself, after a long walk up lots and lots of very steep slippery stairs, at about lunchtime on the third day.  A very very cold shower, and then spent the afternoon and evening doing nothing but killing mosquitos, playing cards, and drinking a bit of whiskey and wine.  Previous camps had cerveza available.  But not the camp at the City itself.  Luckily, I had brought whiskey, and the french had brought wine.

The fourth day, we had a tour around the city.  All the explanations from our guide were in espanol, so I didn’t understand too much of it.  But just walking around it was cool.  I think they’ve only uncovered 10% of it, or something.  But that is good – as it is really only the foundations of where buildings used to stand.  All uncovered – it wouldn’t be too impressive, unless they rebuilt the houses.  But as it is now, you stand in a circular foundation made of stone – and there are half a dozen pathways leading from it into dense jungle.  Most of them just seeming to lead to nowhere – because of the density of the jungle – but two or three which have been cleared away, leading to more circles.  And the centre of the city, with a stone throne.  Which rhymes.  So I figured the rhyme must be a signal that I should sit on the throne naked. 

Anyway, the second night up at the city, we drank more whiskey, and played more cards.  And discovered that our guide had actually brought our blankets up here.  We just hadn’t found them last night.  So our freezing all night was not necessary.  Oh well.  Walked back to the army camp on the fifth day for lunch, and muchas cervezas.  Then onwards to the place we stayed at the first night.  Longest day of walking, and it had been raining – so was very very muddy.

Last day, returned to the village.  Swam fully clothed on the way back, to get rid of the mud.  Very nearly jumped in with camera still in pocket.  Spent my very little remaining cash on cerveza.  And then back to Taganga.  The frenchies and I then went to a seafood restaurant in Santa Marta – highly recommended by the hostel owner.  Was indeed good – and led to a late night of chatting and cerveza back at the hostel.

10 Dec – not feeling too bad after the six day hike.  Wasn’t that difficult though – and I think most reports I’d read about it beforehand must have been written by elderly unfit seppo women wearing hawaian shirts.  But, I did very little today anyway.  Lay in a hammock, reading an awful awful book.  Drinking good good cerveza.  Fish for lunch with the israeli chap from the trek.  And another day gone.

Which made me promise to actually get back to doing stuff on 11 Dec.  So, procrastinated for a while, but eventually packed my stuff, and caught the colectivo to Santa Marta.  Stocked up on carrots, apples, mandarins, cash, garlic, whiskey and sunglasses – and then headed off to the Tayrona national park.  Beaches, they reckon.  Pristine, they reckon.  Got there, and got my whiskey confiscated.  Dumb.  Walked for 40 minutes, and got to the first beach/campsite – Arrecifes.  Dangerous for swimming, they reckon – so the plan was to have a couple of cervezas, then continue to the third beach/second campsite.  But, started chatting with three colombian guys, and then playing cards with them.  And it got a little late to be walking in the jungle – so stayed there for a night.

12 Dec – an apple for breakfast, and then off walkin’ again.  Second beach which was supposed to be nice for swimming (was actually called La Piscina – which I think means something like swimming pool, or something to do with swimming anyway) turned out to be rather average.  So – I pressed on to the third beach, which had the second campsite.  El Cabo – nice setting, but again – the beach was rather disappointing for somebody who has been to Northland.  Pretty little bay though.  I guess.  Met an english couple who’d briefly joined us the previous night – they were looking for some friends.  Had a couple of cervezas, and then finally went for a swim.  One or two hours later – I’m already sunburnt, bored, and wishing I hadn’t already booked and paid for a hammock.  Afternoon trying to think of something to do.  Evening - watch the english boyfriend dig himself deeper and deeper into a hole that he’d made when he caused him and girlfriend to miss the restaurant’s dinner hours – on his girlfriends birthday.  So – birthday dinner consisted of canned tuna on crackers.  But he kept joking about it, as she got angrier and angrier.  It was rather reminiscent of myself on the last day of the Inca Trail.  But – she seemed to gradually forget about it – whenever he wasn’t reminding her – and eventually we all played frisbee on the beach for a while.  Glowing frisbee – in the dark.  Cool.

13 Dec – got up early, and started a-walkin’ again.  Ate the last of my healthy foodstuffs.  Got back to Arrecifes, and had a couple of beers.  Then – onwards to the park entrance – another couple of beers, and onto a bus back to Santa Marta.  Bought some souvenir-type stuff, and checked out a museum.  This museum had a model of Ciudad Perdida – as it would have looked, back in the day.  So – one can see the full extent of it.  Fairly impressive, I guess.

Back to Taganga, and checked back into the hostel.  Table of drunk inglis and arsetralian guys.  Had been going for a couple of days, by the sounds of it.  Sat with them for a while, but couldn’t handle listening to them after a while.  The arsetralians were holding themselves together fairly well – but the inglis.  Well, you know.  Managed to quickly once again rack up a tab of cervezas that was higher than my accommodation.  But managed to get a fairly early night.

Join in next time, when Spidey says: “Kruse goes to Cartagena”.

30 Nov – got up this morning, and got myself a beer.  And breakfast.  Then, some more cervezas and sitting in the sun.  Finally checked out, and walked into town.  Stupid hot sunshine and stupid big pack and stupid long walk.  Then, some internet, and watch the Black Caps thrash South Africa.  Lunch – with some decent barbequed meat.  At last.   A couple of potatoes as the vegetable side of things.  More cerveza.  Eventually get a colectivo to Tunja.  Buy a bus ticket to Santa Marta, but discover I’m low on cash.  My Quito spending habits seem to have stuck with me.  Quick taxi to the centro, get some cash, and back to bus station.  Buy bus ticket, and then drink cerveza while waiting.  Bus to Bucaramanga.

So, arrive at Bucuramanga at 3am 01 Dec.  Bus to Santa Marta leaves at 3am.  But I have to wait until 7am.  Dumb.  Try to figure out a way of sleeping at the bus station without having my stuff nicked.  Then, soon after 4 – the lady comes to find me, and tells me I can get on a bus at 4:30.  Sweet.  Dodgy arrangement of getting on a bus to somewhere else – which takes me to where a bus is waiting on the side of the street.  All to avoid the bus station taxes/fees, I think.  Anyway – got myself a bus to Santa Marta.

Arrive in aforementioned Santa Marta – and undecided on where to stay.  Research at internet cafe.  Still undecided.  Decide to go to the first place the taxi driver assumes I want to go.  Casa de Felipe, in Taganga – a small village just outside of Santa Marta proper.  With a beach which isn’t too polluted.  Book into the hostel – and walk around the village.  Which takes about 5 minutes.  Fresh seafood for dinner.  Sweet.

02 Dec starts with a swim in the Caribbean.  And then not much else.  Drinking cerveza in a hammock while reading a book, with a couple of breaks to eat seafood.

03 Dec – similar to 02 Dec.  But I also accomplish something.  Book a tour to the Lost City – Ciudad Perdida.  Go to dinner with some folks from the hostel, and return to the hostel well past a sensible bedtime for somebody starting a trek tomorrow.  And also with far too many cervezas under the belt to be sensible for the same trek.

I’ll write about the actual trek next time.  When I’ve got more energy.  But – I’m back safe and sound.  And considering another trip into places where there is no internet or other such things.  This time – for beaches.

So, early in the morning of 29 Nov, I arrive in Bogota.  Not wanting to spend time in Bogota again, I immediately buy a ticket for Villa de Leyva.  Which turns out to be leaving in 10 minutes.  So – off I go again.  But I discover, in Tunja, that the bus only goes as far as Tunja.  From there, I have to get another colectivo.  No problem – colectivo to Villa de Leyva.  Arrive in Villa de Leyva, and walk to the main plaza.  Find an internet cafe to do some research on places to stay.  Discover the place I was intending, has closed down.  Jot down notes on others.  Then, I run into Arizonian Matt – one of the chaps from the San Agustin jeep tour.  Sit down and have a beer with him, and some food.  Starving – I scoff down a big messy burger in about 30 seconds.  He’s staying at another tranquil place outside of town.  So, he leads me there.  Another cool place with gardens, hammocks, beer in the fridge, etc.  But not as stinking-dirty-hippie-ish as the place in San Agustin.  Have a beer to recover from the walk there.  Matt had told me it was 7 minutes, with a bit of uphill at the end.  It was actually about 15 minutes, the entire thing uphill.  Bastard.  More cerveza, and a bit of sitting in the sun, a small siesta, and then more hammock time.  With book and MP3 player.  Sweet.  Into town, dinner, a couple of cervezas while watching a Phil Collins concert on DVD, and then back to the hostel.  Chat for a while with Matt and another seppo.  More cervezas.  And a nice early night.

And that’s two fairly uneventful days.  Lots of relaxing, and lots of travelling.  I’m looking forward to getting to Santa Marta, so I can do the Lost City trek – and see something big and impressive again.  Next update should be from Santa Marta, as even though Villa de Leyva is pretty and nice and tranquil – there’s not much to do.  Nature walks.  Pah.  I got nature at home.  So, currently watching NZ thrash the yarpies.  Then, hopefully my guess on when buses leave from Tanja to Santa Marta is correct.

Then, dinner.  At fancy looking place.  Ordered the Argentinian Churrascaria.  Looking forward to good, well-cooked steak – and other tasty bits of well barbequed meat.  I got a Colombian steak, and a potato.  The potato did have a slice of cheese in the middle.  So that was nice.  But the steak.  Tenderised for starters.  A decent piece of steak shouldn’t need to be tenderised, for jeebers’ sake.  So, I ate as much as I could, and ran off to my new local bar.  And drank cerveza until I could drink no more.  Then – bed time, and no hallucinations.  Or ghosts – which is another theory which came to me later to explain the odd occurence the previous night.

25 Nov -  Slept in more than I intended, but managed to check out and get to the bus station in time for a decently-timed bus to San Agustin.  San Agustin is only 130km away, but the journey takes over 6 hours.  This is solely due to the condition of the road.  Good fun.  Old old Chevy bus – with brightly decorated front dashboard/entire wall.  Very bumpy road.  Top speed of 30km/hr.  I know this, because buses here have little LED displays with the current speed of the bus.  Buses all through the continent have them – but Colombia is the first place where they’ve actually worked.

The nature on the sides of the road was beautiful.  To describe just how beautiful – it looked exactly, EXACTLY, like New Zealand.  Down to individual plants.  Kinda cool.   But, eventually we got to San Agustin.  Picked up a couple of gringo girls on the road about 5km out.  They’d caught another bus which didn’t actually go through San Agustin – but just dropped them off there.  And assured them another bus would be through some time, that they wouldn’t have to pay for.  I think I got lucky with my ‘choice’ of bus.  Anyway, the girls and I ended up going to the same hostel together.  Met two english guys and a frenchman.  The girls are english and swiss.  And we discover that we’ve arrived on the first day of a local carnival.  So, we all head into town.  Entire town is packed with market stalls, and then we discover the horse stable area of town.  A fair has been set up, along with heaps of tents serving food.  A fire outside, with a rack of meat leant up over it.  The meat is apparently pork.  Seems to be heaps of steaks somehow attached to each other – forming a sheet of meat.  That rhymes – so you know it’s true.  We eat some of this, and drink plenty of cerveza.  People return back to the hostel in dribs and drabs.  Young english guy and myself eventually return, and sit in common area drinking cerveza and chatting about life until 3 or so.  I should really describe our hostel.  Our dorm is a big teepee looking thing, two stories.  Top story – three double beds set in a circle.  Bottom floor – open walled lounge-type area.  With hammock – as is nearly every available space around the grounds.  The hostel is set on a hill overlooking the valley.  And is very very chilled out.  Never see the owner (another frenchie) – as I suspect he is constantly lying in a hammock in the private quarters – the second floor of the main building.  Main building is entirely made of mud walls with bottles set into it, and often decorated with mosaics.  All in all – a hippy’s dream, in other words.

26 Nov – Eventually got up, and staggered down to town.  Had lunch, where I met the young englishman.  Then, I wandered out to the Parque Arquelogico.  Rains a little bit on the way, but I keep dry by buying a cerveza for the road.  Maybe a 30 minute walk – and I arrive there.  Another UNESCO World Heritage Site to tick off the list.  I do the whole thing, and it’s kind of cool.  Certainly not “comparable in size and style to the more famous Easter Island statues”, as my guidebook says.  Although I guess saying that a big statue in San Agustin is half the size of a small moai is comparing them.  But, Rapanui never had a statue of two monkeys having ‘relations’.  Or a statue of some guy grinning while holding a baby upside down by it’s feet.  Anyway – not as cool as Rapanui, but still pretty good.  Lots of tombs being guarded by weird statues, pretty much.  Then, I started to walk back towards town.  But – got a ride on a scooter by some friendly lady.  Dropped me off outside her pizza joint, and suggested I go there for dinner tonight.  Fair enough – and I planned to, it seemed only fair, but when I returned to the hostel it turns out that as a special treat, froggie’s wife was going to cook a homecooked meal if we wanted.  I figured it would be rude not to.  So – more cervezas, and then a homecooked meal.  Proper vegetables.  Awesome.  No rice.  Awesome.  Spent the entire night sitting around the table, drinking and chatting.

27 Nov – we had to get up early.   The two girls, the young englishman, and myself had arranged for a jeep tour for today.  To be picked up at 9am.  So, we all get up earlier than is healthy.  And wait.  And wait.  So I have a cerveza.  Then, jeep arrives.  Is actually a ute, with the back covered in over a couple of bench seats.  Two of the people already in the ute are friends of the english girl.  And we set off.  Two slightly older more sensible guys in the cab of the ute, and six young happy-go-lucky folk sitting in the back.  Then, one chap decides to climb out onto the roof.  Good idea – as the view was much better.  The rest of the trip is spent with two or three people sitting on the roof at any one time.  (Had a roofrack type system).  We visit several archeological sites – all very very similar to those at the Park just outside San Agustin.  Except those that had had their statues stolen to create one of the walks at the Park – leaving just the tombs.  Which are fairly interesting – once or twice.  So – lots of tombs and statues.  Then lunch.  Then a couple of waterfalls – including the tallest waterfall in Colombia.  Then back to San Agustin, sunburnt and tired and with a rather sore arse from the rather uncomfortable roof.  Back to hostel for a well earnt cerveza.  Then, into town to say farewell to the girls and english boy.  Then – supermarket – and back to hostel to cook my own dinner.  Long time since I have done that.  And drink some horrible horrible colombian wine.

That’s all for now.  Next update – hopefully I’ve caught a bus to Bogota, and then another one to somewhere north of there.

22 Nov – so, about 4am or so, I’m back at the hostel.  People in the lounge – want beer, but the chap won’t sell it to them.  My last act before leaving – using my influence to buy some beers.  Then, the people in the lounge decide they don’t want them.  So, I have to leave them there, without getting any money for them.  Dumb.  Head to bus station.  Discover two irish chaps I know from Finn’s – heading the same way as myself.  Bus, as expected, is very late.  I sleep on the bus station floor.  Then, I sleep on the bus.  Forgot to get my passport out of my bag – so have to go into the luggage compartment when stopped by the army for the second time.  Attempt at eating some lunch at Tulcan – the Ecuadorian border town.  Not too successful.  A little hungover, it seems.  Then, cross the border with the irish chaps.  Get to Ipiales, the Colombian border town.  Buses to where they want to go, and where I want to go, would be arriving about midnight.  Not a good idea.  We decide to stay the night in Ipiales.  Find a hotel across the street from the bus station (not the same as the one I stayed in last time – as it was closed).  And I sleep some more.  A lot more.  Sleep until it’s too late to find food anywhere.  So have peach juice and cerveza for dinner.

23 Nov – Eat something.  After a long time.  Then catch a bus to Popayan.  Bus takes longer than expected – so I arrive at night time.  Not cool.  But, no problems.  Decide to take the easy option – and just catch a taxi – giving the address of a hostel in the guide book.  Get a dorm bed, then go find dinner.  Then, a small local pub.  Meet some locals.  I drink beer, while they drink the local spirit.  A cross between cachaca and sambuca.  Sounds pleasant, no?  Then, I’m added to the rounds of this local spirit.  While still using beer as a chaser.  Everybody gets drunk.  I get drunk.  Then, I return to the hostel.  Have a vague memory of talking to somebody when I got in.  But, when I awoke this morning – and apologised for waking somebody up and talking to them – it turns out I had been talking to somebody who wasn’t there.  It seems I hallucinated a person, and had an entire conversation with them.  Presumably giving everybody else in the room some extreme fear.  When I woke for the second time this morning, there wasn’t a single person left in the dormitory.  It was full last night.  I think I may stick to solo cerveza tonight.  I certainly didn’t take any drugs last night (knowingly, at least – possible drink spike?)  – and any alcohol which causes me to have conversations with imaginary people… I’m staying away from.  Sometimes.

Anyway – that’s how I escaped Quito.  Despite needing to return there – as the sneaky bar staff stole my favourite tie.  And my Ecuador hat.  Next stop – San Agustin.  Then – north.  Back to the Caribbean.

So, 11 Oct, I woke up on a bus.  And arrived in Popayan – 3 hours later than I expected.  Just in time for lunch, actually.  Then – another bus.  Got to Ipiales (frontier town) late at night.  Border was closed, so stayed at a dodgy hotel next to the bus station.  Not as dodgy as it could/should have been.

12 Oct – taxi to the border.  Then the fun started.  Got my exit stamp from Colombia – no problems.  Ignored all the touts wanting to change my pesos into US dolares.  No problem.  Then, a policeman asked me into the station to search my bag.  No problem.  But – there was a problem.  My bag of coca leaves which I’d forgotten about, and thought I’d lost.  I hadn’t lost it, it was in my bag.  And is apparently illegal in Ecuador.  I’ve been carrying it since Bolivia.  Through Peru, into Ecuador, Colombia, and now back into Ecuador.  Cops didn’t like it.  Well / actually, they did like it – because they were about to get a bonus.  I wasn’t concerned, even after they told me it was illegal – because I figured “it’s 1 dollar worth of coca leaves – they’re going to slap me on the hand, and tell me to go on my way”.  I’d forgotten how corrupt policemen are here.  So, eventually, they got sick of me being unconcerned, and started threatening me.  Told me 6 months to a year.  Thewn one of them started whispering to me – but I couldn’t understand.  I figured out he must be asking to “sort this out without any problems”, but couldn’t understand him – and had to admit so.  Then, they got a little bit antsy.  I figured they were worried about the fact that I probably had no actual problem when their superior got there, but wanted to make some quick money.  I also was a little bit antsy.  Not completely sure I had no problem.  So, I looked up the word for “fine” in the phrasebook.  And asked the nice policeman if I could pay a fine, instead of going to jail.  Then they brought out the handcuffs – and started threatening me properly.  But, it was obvious they wanted the “fine”.  Now, I’ve got no idea how to go about bribing police officers – but they obviously had had some practice.  So, I bribed some police officers.  For one bag of dirty coca leaves worth one dollar.  Offered the chaps $120 seppo dollars.  They’d counted my money when they were searching me, so I figured I needed to offer them what I had, minus enough to get to the next town.  The police gave me back twenty – and then went and hid the “evidence” they’d found.  Nice honest corrupt policemen.  Bribe was too much, and they gave me change.

So, I’ve ticked another thing off my list of things to do.  Have bribed a police officer.  Three, to be exact.  At the point of actually counting out the money, that was when my hands started shaking.  So, once I got that sorted – went straight to the duty-free store and bought some whiskey.  And had a cigarette.  Was hoping I would hold out for longer than that after Pen left – but bribing police made it pretty necessary pretty quickly.  Then, caught a “colectivo” to Tulcan – the Ecuadorian border town.  Lunch at the bus station restaurant, then a bus to Quito.  All the time, occasionally remembering the whole bribign incident, and getting either proud or angry.  Arrived in Quito about 7pm.  Just in time to catch the metro bus to the hostel, and check in, for free ron and coke.  I hate ron and coke.  Ben arrived five minutes later.  Drunk.   Then we drunk ron and coke.  And then went out.  Ben & I found a local’s bar, with not a single other whitey.  One rather attractive young negress latched onto me – but I had to tell her I had a girlfriend.  She understood, but still stuck with me for the rest of the night.  I eventually figured I couldn’t stay awake anymore, and went home.  Stole Ben’s bed – because his bed was the bottom bunk, and I didn’t trust myself to try and climb into my own bunk.

13 Oct – when the All Blacks should be thrashing Ingerlund.  But we’re not.  Instead, we get up very hungover.  Gringo cafe for breakfast.  Then, sit in the hostel TV room.  Drink a couple of beers.  And find a crowd of people wanting the rugby.  So – off to an irish pub.  Lots of english people.  I tease them.  We drink.  Then France loses.  I am not happy.  Drink more.  Then, taxi to the sports stadium, to watch Ecuador versus Venezuela at the soccer.  Referred to by me a lot as “gayball”.  Possibly didn’t endear myself to too many english folk.  Not a bad game of gayball, but it rained the entire time, and Ecuador lost.  Very chilled out crowd though.  Then, Ben & I lost all the others – and caught a taxi home by ourselves.  At this point, I just wanted to lie down and sleep.  I suspect Ben did also.  But, we found a bar before we found the hostel.  I think.  My recollections are rather blurry.  What I do know is that we drank more.  A lot more.  Seabreezes.  And then I started playing pool.  Could barely stand up – and was sure I would get thrashed.  But, it turns out that I am bloody good at pool.  Champion of the table until closing.  Except for Ben, who I coached through an entire game – too bloody well.

Anyway – can’t say too much more about last night.  Because I can’t remember.  But I stole Ben’s bed again.  And today we are hungover, and it’s looking like another night in Quito.  I have to remember to make Ben and myself promise to be home by midnight, so tomorrow we can head off and actually do something.  Oh – and Ben reckons Galapagos was awesome.  So, I’m definitely doing that after he leaves.  Despite having no money left.

(Should really be difficult to get lost in Bogota.  The addresses here are very very sensible.  Each street is numbered.  And the address is what street number you’re on, followed by the perpendicular street, then number.  So – Calle 8 9-12 will be on Calle 8 (calles run east-west, carreras north-south), on the block with a corner onto Carrera 9, and building number 12 on that block.  The numbering restarts every block.  Very useful.)

Eventually find Plaza Bolivar – which is pretty sweet.  Another plaza with huge cool old buildings on each side.  Including a cathedral – of course. Then, we check out the gold museum.  Displays of many pre-spanish-invasion gold pieces.  Considering how much gold the spanish stole – the amount here is amazing.  And the museum is being renovated – so is about a fifth of it’s intended size.  And therefore displaying less than a fifth of the collection.  But still, lots of gold.  Pen wouldn’t agree to stealing any.

Then – we kept walking around.  But, everything was closed.  Sunday.  Even the supermarket was closed.  So, a little bit of internet use (when my world was shattered into little pieces by the result of a sports game), and then dinner.  Dinner at the only place open in our neighbourhood, with cerveza.  And back to the hostel, to drink the bottle of passionfruit cream liquor I’d bought yesterday.  Not bad.

08 Oct – time to move hostels.  We’ve decided to see what the rich part of town is like.  So, we check out – and catch a bus to the northern part of the city.  Walk a little while, and get to what is supposed to be the closest thing to a backpackers hostel in this part of town.  It turns out to cost us three times our previous hostel.  But – it’s fairly nice, and in a nice part of town, and breakfast is included.  I splash out for Pen’s final two nights with me.  Then – venture out.  But it’s raining.  And my jacket was stolen on the bus from Ecuador.  Dumb.  Stop for some food – but it’s still raining afterwards.  So – splash out on a taxi.  Taxi takes us to the World Trade Centre.  We go in, and get Pen’s air tickets changed so that she doesn’t have to spend a night in the hated Miami.  Then, we stroll.  Find a wine shop, with some NZ wine.  To be specific – Monkey Bay Chardonnay, and Monkey Bay Sauvignon Blanc.  We bought a bottle of Sav.  Then strolled some more.  Couldn’t find the famous park which is supposed to be surrounded by nice restaurants and stuff.  But, did find some tents of people selling trinkets.  Got some new sunglasses to replace my thieved ones, and dithered over buying some beautiful white linen pants.  Didn’t.  Strolled more.  Found the electronics district.  So many electronics.  Gadgets and toys and stuff.  Splashed out.  Replaced Pen’s stolen USB flash drive.  And replaced my MP3 player.  Chose who to buy it off based on the guy having Aerosmith videos preloaded on it for demo purposes.  Pen loves Aerosmith.  I ended up paying more than my cheapest quoted price for that reason.  And the guy had a tiny stall – I always prefer giving my money to the little guy, rather than the big walk-in shop with multiple employees.

So – on a high from buying gadgets – we then found a supermarket.  Splash out, and buy some cheese and grapes and what-not, to supplement our NZ Sav-Blanc.  Yum.  Then, pass a camera shop.  I splash out and buy a camera for Pen to replace her stolen one.  Northern Bogota is getting rather expensive at this point.  Then – back to the hostel, and enjoy our consumable purchases.  And laze about, tired from all the splashing out.  Then, get hungry again.  Find nearest restaurant.  Is expensive, but I splash out.  Really need to get rid of Pen, and leave Northern Bogota.

09 Oct – today we’re off to see the salt cathedral.  We enjoy our free breakfast, then go catch a bus.  All the way to the northern terminal, and then switch from the metro bus onto a minibus.  And off we go.  Get to the town of Zipaquira.  Nice small town, with nice plaza and big cathedral.  Of course.  Have some lunch, then get a taxi to the salt cathedral.  The salt cathedral is a big underground cathedral, made of salt.  The miners mine salt from a mountain here.  And they decided they were too lazy to walk into town to pray to jeebers.  So they carved a cathedral out of the pre-mined passages.  And it is bloody impressive.  We went with an english-speaking guide, with two other people.  The two others turned out to be kiwis also.  Big caverns carved out of the mountain.  Big.  16 metres high, by 16 metres wide, by 120 metres or something long.  And the fellas carved big crucifixes and stuff for jeebers’s “passage” or something – at the end of each one.  Up the top – so behind the crucifix is this huge cavern.  Not bad.  And then, the cathedral itself.  Big cavern.  Caverns.  And big pillars.  And statues.  And stuff.  All in all, a pretty cool place.  But, we’d had enough – and returned topside.  Then, a quick beer in a local bar – and to the bus station.  And we manage to get on a bus as it’s leaving.  Full of nuns.  Awesome.  Back to Bogota – for a little bit of trinket shopping at streetside stalls.  Where I give in, splash out, and buy some beautiful white linen trousers.  For more than the cheapest price I’d had quoted.  Then, catch a metro bus back to our neighbourhood.  In rush hour.  Rather crowded.  That whole thing about the japanese packing down scrums to cram people onto the subway?  Very similar to that.  But, we survived.  And, passed a supermarket on the way back to our home.  And splash out.  Cheese, wine, gourmet sandwiches, pate, etc.

So, that was Bogota.  Next week, Spidey says… “Pen gets on an airplane, and Kruse hopefully gets on a bus.  Ben gets on a bus too, in completely the wrong direction.”

So – the morning of 04 Oct, we manage to get up on time. 4-bloody-30. And walk to the bus station. One of those stations that are just for the one company. One other guy waiting there. Office/station closed. Dark and cold in dangerous old Quito. After a while, a chap arrives and opens the office. A little warmer. More people arrive to wait. Buses arrive, and drop off people, who sit around and wait. Two and a half hours after the time we were told to arrive, our bus turns up. Sweet. So, we get on it, and enjoy a five or six hour ride to Tulcan – the Ecuadorian frontier town. The man there tells us that the border is currently blocked. So, we wait. Still blocked. Go have lunch, return. Still blocked. So, we catch a taxi to the local cemetery. Has lots of hedges and trees and stuff cut into shapes. Very cool. Lots and lots. Then, back to bus station. Border is apparently still blocked. So, we wait. Buy beers, and sit outside. Eventually, we’re off.

Into taxis – leaving our bags in the man’s boot. I’m not sure I understand why – but figure it’s a reputable company. Two taxis, as there’s a family of 5 travelling with us. Get dropped off at a roadblock. Border is indeed blocked. Not sure who by. A few trucks, and some burning tyres in the middle of the road. So, we have to walk. I believe the man at the station is bring our bags to us later – when the roadblock finishes. Sweet. Angry civilians blocking the border, us walking through it, and hoping our bags turn up somewhere. Nothing could go wrong here. Then we see a mob of younger folk walking towards the blockade, from the border. With sticks. And having a good go at anybody who rides past/through on a motorcycle. Trying to jam things in the spokes as they pass, and whacking them with their sticks. It looked nasty, but I’m pretty sure that if they’d really wanted to hurt somebody badly – they could have. They were either idiots in the art of hitting people on motorcycles, or they were mostly doing it for show. Still, I got my stupidly small extendable camera out of my pocket, and had it ready as a weapon just in case. They had no problem with people walking through the blockade though. So, eventually, we found the border. Checked out of Ecuador. I chatted with a couple of cops while waiting for Pen. Then, we follow the family of 5 to the Colombian side. Small boy jumps from side to side, between the countries. “Ecuador, Colombia, Ecuador, Colombia”. We all laugh. Pen & I especially, as I had done the same thing with the equator yesterday – “southern hemisphere, northern hemisphere”. We check into Colombia, and then wait, and hope, for our luggage. Grab a quick beer, and sausage on a stick. Order a wine for Pen, and get a 1 litre cask. Hmmm… hold onto that for the bus.

Man does arrive, with our luggage. Sweet. Puts us into two more taxis – which take us to the bus station. By this time, of course, we’re arriving many hours after expected – so I’m not too sure if we’re actually going to have a bus. But – it’s all too easy. The Colombian company which is partnered with the Ecuadorian company we bought tickets off must have very regular buses to Bogota – as we’re given tickets for one leaving within the hour. Sweet. Buy more beers, a snack, and then get on the bus. Feeling rather happy now – we put our bags under our seats (danger of thievery in overhead shelf), and drift off to sleep. An hour or two later – we’re awake. Pen goes to get something out of her bag. It seems lighter. Big box of souvenirs I had tried to send home from La Paz is missing. Odd. I notice a small bag of her tissues on floor of seats behind us. Used to be people behind us, now there aren’t. Then, Pen realises much more stuff is missing. I check my bag – and immediately realise it is much much emptier than it used to be. Everything is gone from my bag except anything in a book form. Much cussing is now going through our heads. I check seat behind – but nothing’s there except tissues. I also try to see how somebody could have done the thievery. Very difficult. Foot rest is a solid panel – leaving just enough room at bottom to maybe squeeze a hand through. But not enough to get the box out – certainly. Very odd. But, nonetheless, everything is gone. Pen’s camera, box of cheap souvenirs, my wooly hats, Icebreaker jersey, Macpac jacket, Leatherman, Maglite (check out all that name-brand stuff – I feel ashamed), drugs (vitamin B12, spirulina, and anti-malaria tablets), MP3 players, and plenty of other stuff I’ve forgotten about. Oh – like the wine. At first, I was sure I’d identified the guilty parties. And, spent the rest of the night fuming about it – running through scenarios in my head of how to confront them.

05 Oct, however, I gradually figure some of my calculations are wrong. Figure that the couple I’ve identified as my worst enemies weren’t actually the same couple who sat behind us originally – and aren’t even a couple. The couple who had done it had, in fact, disembarked as soon as they could. So, while flashes of anger still arose (and still do a couple of days later), there wasn’t anything to do about it – except maybe make some honest mistakes during filing an insurance claim – regarding all the expensive stuff being in Pen’s bag, and all the cheap stuff in mine. (Pen has insurance. I don’t.) Even that, however, wasn’t necessary – as proof of ownership is required for the insurance claim. Of which we have none, for anything.

Anyway, the bus finally got to Bogota. And, we caught a taxi to the old part of town, to find a hostel. Hostel (supposedly “the best hostel in South America”) is full. They recommend another, which we take. Nice lady on the street helps us find it. This, after our taxi driver being extremely chatty and helpful, has confirmed the rumour of Bogota people being very friendly and helpful to foreigners. Well – some of them. Have also had several very dirty suspicious looks. Not much time left in the day, so we have dinner at a local cafeteria type place, and a couple of beers. Then, stop at the supermarket to stock up on booze for the night – and for the rugby tomorrow morning.

06 Oct – I wake up at 8am, and watch England beat Arsetralia. Difficult game to watch – as one wants both teams to lose. But, I support England – as NZ vs England in the semi would be a sure thing – while Arsetralia does know how to beat NZ – even when we’re better than them. So, I’m fairly happy when its time to find breakfast. Then – it rains. Really rains, with a little bit of hail, and a lot of thunder & lightning. So, the plan to head to the northern part of the city – with it’s english bars and airline offices – is abandoned. Instead, we scamper to the hotel. Already drenched, I venture forth again, to purchase supplies for watching the NZ-France game in our room. So, we sit there and wait. And wait. Seppo football. Seppo ten-pin bowling. And plenty of advertisements. But no rugby. Eventually I admit that they’re just not going to play it, and it’s time to head out for dinner. Pen wants to eat at a very ‘starbucks’-type looking place, called “Crepes & Waffles”. So we do. I hate crepes, and I hate waffles. Mostly because I’m never really sure what they are. Except, as per Pen’s definition, crepes are pancakes of some description. I hate pancakes. But, we have dinner. Both meals are pretty much a meal, with a crepe placed underneath it. And called a crepe. Maybe I should have asked for my calamari crepe, “hold the crepe please”. The wine was fairly good – but overpriced like the entire place. But – enough whinging about crepes & waffles.

Because, that brings us to the end of today’s update. Just now I learnt the result of the NZ game. So, I’m off to try and read more about it. And pack my All Blacks shirt and scarf back away.