rustxgold

We visited Bolivia with the primary intention of seeing the Salar de Uyuni. After seeing photographs, we too wanted to walk on water. Of course, though, as is more often than not the way in South America, plans tend to get compromised due to one thing or another and this one thing was Dakar.

Just like that, La Paz quickly became our home base for 5 days and we made it a point to fill them with as many activities as possible. In the city there were only so many handicraft markets we could peruse and only so many empanadas we could indulge in.

One day was filled with a tour of Tiwanaku, the archaeological site of an ancient city's ruins, which, personally, was nothing to write home about. We also mildly climbed up Chacaltaya, a mountain in the Cordillera Real range of the Andes. 'Mildly' because though it was only 500 meters to the refugio from where the bus let out, the altitude really did a number on us and wiped us out pretty good. Not to mention, we hadn't realized how cold it would be up there and were not at all prepared for the snow.

And then, there was the Death Road. A 64-kilometer stretch of a narrow, unstable, downhill, (mostly) dirt road that descends nearly 3,500 meters over the course of 3 hours more or less. That's about 40 miles long and 12,000 feet high. Having never mountain biked before and firmly grasping the handbrakes on my road bike for the slightest descent on stable pavement back home, the idea was too intimidating for me at first, but when faced with the choice between another empanada and death, I chose death.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to safely handle a mountain bike, a camera, and the Death Road all at once, so photos of this exhilirating ride are nearly non-existent, especially considering I was the last of the pack and missed all but one photo taken by the guide. After more than 3 hours of clutching the brakes, clenching my teeth, and trying to outpace the last support van, I made it all the way down the mountain and survived the Death Road.

By the way, I might mention that the views on the ride down were some of the most spectacular I'd seen in all of South America.

Salento was just the prescription we needed for the unrelenting heat, humidity, and mosquitoes of the northern coast of South America. It's a quaint, little town in Colombia's major coffee-growing region where the people are so welcoming and friendly. The main square is reminiscent of Swiss chalets with some serious Caribbean flair - you couldn't escape the colors even if you tried.

The quiet of the early morning lasted only until the town slowly awakened and the plaza came to life. Restaurants and street vendors ready to break the fast of any passerby opened their doors to rich, flavorful dishes and freshly squeezed fruit juices. Shops touting a wide range of hand-made artisanal goodies flooded with tourists from the world around.

We approached a line of parked vintage jeeps, equally lively in their color palette, hopped in a light blue one, and made our way to a peaceful hacienda just a short distance from town. No vacancy available, we smiled at the tent we'd been lugging around, asked for their camping area, and settled down.

The afternoon was spent visiting a coffee plantation where we learned about the attributes that make it organic. As an alternative to pesticides, the sweet nectar of pineapple plants are used to divert pests. Plaintain trees, aside from providing sustenance, retain a substantial amount of water in their trunks, serving as a natural source of irrigation in the dry season. Avocado trees provide shade and their roots help to prevent erosion. Harvesting is done by hand, taking a month or two to complete, depending on output. The family-owned plantation produces an average of 4 tons of Colombian and Arabic beans per year, 70% of which are distributed domestically and internationally, while the remainder is reserved for personal consumption and direct sales. Harvested, cracked, washed, dried, roasted, ground, and finally brewed, we were shown step by step the process by which the aromatic, delightful cup of caffeine-packed goodness that we all love and enjoy is created.

Nearby is the Valle de Cocora, accessible by foot and horse. We hired a bright red jeep to take us 11 kilometers through the winding, uphill road to the entrance of Parque Nacional Natural de Los Nevados. Steep and ridden with mud, we opted for the shorter trail to the Quindío wax palms, indigenous to the area and Colombia's national tree, growing in abundance, despite the constant overcast skies. Tall and lanky, they reach into the clouds, forming an oasis of otherworldly beauty.

The evening we headed out was Día de Las Velitas. The lighting of candles and lanterns mark the start of the holiday season. As the bus pulled away, we saw families observing this tradition in front of their homes and along sidewalks. Holiday cheer was in the air and we were reminded that Christmas was just around the corner.