Bogota

We landed in Bogota caught another salsa blasting, lane weaving taxi to our hostel and

tried to catch a walking tour to make the most of our day. Fortunately we made it in

time. We heard a bit of the bogota history tried some delicious exotic fruits, tasted the

illegal drink of chicha (corn beer) and wandered the streets. With a noticeable limp in

our step and the sun and heat on what was supposed to be another rainy day which

now makes only 1/12 of the days of weather predictions right for the trip, we decided to

call the tour quits as in exchange for some much needed sleep. Bogota wasn't the most

beautiful place we had seen and the next 24 hours were going to be long. We grabbed

a quick lunch and a nice long 3 hour nap to try and rest up for the last night of our trip.

Andrius came back over and we went on a wild goose chase to play the Colombian

sport of Tejo.



 After finally locating the diviest bar I've ever seen we walked through

sausage restaurant into the back where packs of men were playing the ancient

Colombian game. The point of the game is still unclear but it's essentially Corn hole with

dynamite. After hearing the explosions and getting hit with some mud shrapnel we

weren't sure we wanted to play. Our waiter was pretty adamant about us playing and

recognized we maybe shouldn't be on the big boy courts and ushered us upstairs to a

private area and a smaller version of the game.

Rich ended up as the champion of our

version but we were all pretty excited to have made one explosion each. We grabbed a

bite for dinner at a Russian place and then headed back to pr- game for our party bus

to Andres de res. We hopped on the bus and headed out to the massive restaurant that

turns into the bar/club in Bogota. With countless rooms and music styles the place was

rocking with locals and visitors galore. We grabbed our bottle and made our way

through the different rooms. As we left we ran into a group of people who sang the

Miguelito Nececito song with us. Apparently it was sweeping the nation. Our bus trip

home got us back just in time to get to the airport where we return home after an

amazing vacation.

Medellin

After a surprisingly safe and comfortable Viva Colombia flight we touched down in

Medellin. Located in Antioqua region of Colombia the Paisa people were historically a

mixture of Jews and spainards. We were told that throughout Colombia the Paisa

people are stereotyped as being thrifty business owners and money-hungry ... I

wondered where those ideas came from. Upon our arrival to Medellin we went straight

to the Happy Buddha hostel in El Poblado. Happy Buddha seemed to be one of the

most popular hostels of all the travelers we met, so were excited to see what all the fuss

was about. Checking in was a fiasco when we were first given the master key to the

hostel and led to a room with one bed for the 3 amigos. We were starting to get pretty

used to the lifestyle and eventually made it into a suitable room.  Being the rainy season

in Colombia the forecast for our time in Medellin looked bleak. We soldiered on through

a bit of light rain and explored the El Poblado area. Our hostel was home of the famous

tree bar and we decided to enjoy a few tacos before drinking for the night on the bar

learning the moves to the Salsa dance.

In order to get ourselves more acquainted with the beautiful city we signed up for the

Real City tour our guide Juan would take us around the city for the next 4 hours

educating us on the rich history of Colombias founding as well as the effects the cartels

had on the lives of the Colombian people from oppressive war and corrupted politicians.

As we walked through the city he warning us about "Papaya level X" - safety alerts.

Explaining if you give an opportunity to someone, someone will take the opportunity

from you.


 We walked through areas once a place of terror and destruction that have

now turned into places of hope and light. Being in Medellin the town from which Pablo

Escobar operated the Cartel, our guide explained to us that we shouldn't use his name

openly in public as this was not openly accepted. Opting for the term "famous criminal"

as to not offend the many Colombians who were very curious to see what we were

doing. Juan now in on the savage joke (during the trip we had settled into

nicknames: Rich - El Salvaje and Mike - Miguelito .... somehow Corey escaped

unscathed) was openly using it and the notoriety of the name was only growing

amongst the tour group. We passed through the streets of Medellin and were alerted to

updates on the extremes of Papaya levels. We passed through Plaza Botero seeing the

famous artists sculptures that he donated to the city.


We walked by groups of savvy

negotiating old men as well as parks were Guienea pig gambling allegedly took place.

As the tour came to a close we were beat from the activities of the day. Having needed

to help Andrius with his western union transfer we walked around the city trying to find it.

Afterwards we went back to Pablado for a late lunch and relaxing in Paraque Lleras. Our

hostel hosted a bar crawl on Wednesday night and we were MedellIN for the activity.

After preparing for the night out with Ron and a few games of America vs The world we

went out on the town with the group to a few bars in the area.

Thursday morning began early as we were taking a day trip out to a small town of

Guatape. We were running a bit behind schedule and rushed to the bus terminal where

we just made it. Fortunately the concept of a sold out bus doesn't exist at she alerted us

that only 3 of the 4 of us would be getting seats for the 2 hour winding journey. We

couldn't avoid the non stop blasting of salsa music on our trip and this ride was no

exception. When we arrived we were relieved to find out that we were on time to make

our Paintballing in Pablo Escobars mansion tour. We grabbed a quick bite before

boarding a salsa boat to his home. When we arrived we miraculously ran into Jennie

and aoife who we thought were going to miss the festivities. Team Blue and Team Red

suited up while listening to our Spanish speaking guide explain the rules in Spanish.

Questions in English were answered by blank stares and grunts/hand motions.

Deciphering enough to get the basics the blue team (cheaters) (Corey and George)

outplayed the rest of field (Wally rich Jennie Aoife). Games ranged from capture the flag

to Medellin vs Cali cartels. Something about shooting paintballs in one of Escobar's

mansions seemed pretty unreal. The fact that the compound was built on the top of an

island with 360 degree views of the water only accentuated that feeling. No one left the

game unscathed as welts amounted on each of us.



Afterwards we were given a tour of

the property of the man who at one point claimed to have 800 homes, ran a cartel that

made over $60 mil a day and spent $2,500 on rubber bands just to hide the cash. This

particular house had been browned up by a rival cartel but Pablo was not there. His

houses had double enforced walls and his cars were always kept running just in case of

safety. It's tough to grasp the power Pablo had at the height of his reign. After we

returned for a light lunch we headed to the famous Piedra de Penol, A massive rock

with 740 steps that take you to the top observation deck. After barely surviving the climb

we all had a good laugh as cheers for El Salvaje were yelled by random tour group

members from the day before. The views of the town from the rock were amazing and

we stopped for a cerveza before heading back into town for another 2 hour oversold bus

ride back to Medellin. We went out and hung in a park bar before heading to a few other

places afterwards.




Friday began a bit later than usual as we were picked up at 11am to head up to the

mountains of Medellin where we had signed up to go paragliding. Not fully

understanding what we had gotten ourselves (a few of us had never even seen a

paraglide) into we watched as brave tourists strapped themselves to kits other and jump

of the side of the mountain and floated along from there. Admittedly, we also saw one

freestyler fall out of the sky causing a frantic panic at the launch site. Juan assured us

that we were in good hands with just a peice of cloth attached to some tiny strings with

a guy operating it who doesn't speak a world of English. This really helped Rich's

confidence as he wobbly legged walked up to the paraglide to be snapped in. As each

of us jumped of the cliff to experience life as a bird it was an amazing opportunity to

view Medellin from above while looking around and seeing that we were flying amongst

the clouds and birds in the peaceful mountain air.




With everyone's feet back safely on

the ground we all took time to appreciate the experience before hopping back on our

bus. Juan took us to Comuna 13 on the way back. His only way to describe the place

was that the way the world viewed Colombia a few years ago is how Colombians

viewed Comuna 13. Easily the most dangerous place on the planet only a few years

ago. It was home to both left and right extremists and the breeding ground for cartel

recruits. Needless to say we were thrilled to have come back from paragliding and

getting through the Comuna safely. A trip to Medellin can't be complete without taking

the metro and cable car to Santo Domingo. The metro is an important symbol in

Colombia and operates incredibly well. The cable car helped conned down town with

Colombians living in flavela shacks up in the mountains. What was a treacherous 4 hour

hike up a mountain became an easy cable car ride. Unimpressed by the views after

paragliding we were thrilled to check the trek off our list of things to do.





Having finally gotten approved to attend Shabbat services we rushed to get there on time. The

address system was not easy to follow and locals weren't too keen on knowing where it

was, eventually we arrived at what we guessed was the synagogue. The synagogue

was behind barbed wire and security quizzed us on our heritage before taking our

passports and letting us in. Fortunately we arrived quite early and the sermon was

translated from Portuguese to English for us before creating Shabbat together.

 Unfortunately, we had to cut Shabbat dinner short as we had dinner plans at the

critically acclaimed Carmen and got there just in time for a delicious meal. Being our last

night in Medellin we wanted to go out with a bang we rested up and finally got a shower

in after having lost running water for the day in the hostel. Off to the tree house bar

again before hanging at a bar in Paraque Lleras where we were barely able to talk due

to the blasting salsa music. Just as we parted ways with George to head home we ran

into a group of people we met on the metro cable and they convinced us to stay out

instead of heading home. We attempted to go to a few salsa clubs but, in true South

American form, the bouncers were not happy with Americans in shorts. We eventually

found a place and hung for a bit before heading back to the hostel so we could catch

our early flight to Bogota.

Tayrona National Park

We began the next day with a light breakfast and a newly acquired travel companion

Jennie (a solo traveling Kiwi) for the trip. We then loaded up on groceries for our night

in Tayrona (despite Tayrona's ban bringing in alcohol we felt it was appropriate that

each person in our group have there own 1L container). before our quick walk to the

bus stop about 5 blocks from our hostel. As the bus came to a stop we were a bit

disappointed to see that it was too full. To our surprise the bus operator waved us on,

as if there was plenty of room, little did we know that standing in the aisles and even in

the stairs was standard. At each stop we begged for the driver not to add more people

to the bus and cringed as more and more people were packed onto the bus. Rich had

the luxury of standing with his neck twisted to one side the entire ride since the bus

wasn't high enough for him to stand.


After an hour ride we arrived at the entrance to the

park. We received a nice welcome video, booked our accommodation paid our entrance

fee and boarded another bus that took us to the trail head. There are about 5 areas to

see in Tayrona with the most beautiful one located a grueling 2 hour hike through the

diverse terrain.



A combination of the sweltering heat and the extra bags of survival

goods (mainly cartons of rum) made for a sweaty hike. We were delighted when we

finally arrived and were able to claim our hammocks for the evening.


 We all went  straight for the crystal clear water with drinks in hands. Clearly the most boisterous

group in Cabo San Juan de Guia we belted songs and Americanisms. As the sun began

to set we explored the rest of the area and the hut situated on a small hill. As darkness

fell we enjoyed the simple pleasures and found a big rock to sit and talk for awhile. All

was well and good until Jennie tried to walk back to the hammocks.



Unable to see in the  dark she took a misstep and fell some 5 feet into the unknown. Quickly we pulled out

flash lights to see she simply only fell onto sand and escaped with possibly a broken

toe. We found the infirmary but were informed that it was closed this week. How

convenient. A cold night without any bug nets made sleeping in the open air hammocks

a bit difficult so an early morning of relaxing was much needed. Originally we had plans

to try and do a day trip to Minca but we wanted to enjoy the beauty of Tayrona instead.




The decision to skip Minca and delay our departure was reinforced by a stomach

bug Rich was dealing with in the morning. As noontime came we packed up our things-

noticeably lighter this time around and the boys headed off for another 2 hour hike back

where we were accompanied by a few monkeys along the route. The other option for

those who chose it by necessity or enjoyment was to take a mule along the path. With

Jennie not able to do much walking she faced her fears and went by horse with Aoife.

Exhausted from the hike we stopped for a quick ice pop before finally getting back to the

entrance where we boarded the chicken bus again. This time most of us were able to

find seats however our concerns changed to entertainment when a chicken boarded the

bus. We had been joking about chicken buses for awhile but to our surprise along the

route we picked up a man carrying a chicken with a leash. Now we know pets are

allowed on the Colectivos. Back at the hostel we enjoyed a few games, some swimming,

and hanging out with other people at the bar. We were excited to go to karaoke and

meetup with Andrius and George. Again unknowing that they tiny town of Santa Marta

has little Monday nightlife we found almost everything closed. So instead we grabbed

dinner on the roof of the one place that was open. Meanwhile George and Andrius

weren't able to find us because our rallying point wasn't open. Their night took a turn for

the worse as they were robbed at knifepoint. George walked away with everything but

his money but Andrius wasn't as lucky and lost his passport, wallet, phone, and watch.

After going for to the police to file a report there wasn't much they could do. With flights

already booked for Medellin our fear was realized that he wouldn't be able to fly without

ID. Needing a European embassy to issue an emergency passport he still had to get to

Medellin. So as we packed our cab for the airport on a 1:15 flight. Andrius headed to the

bus station for a Colombian-time 12 hour bus journey. Our cab driver gave us the option

of how fast we wanted him to driving. In no real rush we opted with normal and safe.

Isla Grande

Our ragtag ensemble of 2 students, 1 IT professional, 1 British finance guy, and the
always vital Lithuanian professional basketball player currently on leave for the
off season from his team in Germany were locked and ready to go to the marina where
we had hoped to hire a boat to take us to Isla Grande directly. We successfully got on a
boat but didn't quite know the captain had no idea he was taking us to Isla Grande.
Fortunately we were able to get the information across and he knew exactly where on
the island to drop us off. No real need for socks allowed door to door service to be quite
the amenities as we hopped off the boat into the Caribbean water with or bags over head
hoping that our 10,000 peso (about 3 dollars) deposit would ensure that the boat would
return for us the next day.

After checking in we quickly learned that stable power,
running water, and any semblance of Wifi would not exist. The Golden Frog hostel
was an awesome little house with no doors or windows just open air format with a living
room that was essentially a covered balcony. Eager to enjoy the slow relaxing
atmosphere around us we hopped into a few hammocks and began to forget about time
for awhile.


When we were ready for lunch we learned that it was already too late to
order from the hostel so we had to go into "town" for lunch. A 15 minute walk along a
dirt path through the forest led us to the property of the restaurant owner Pola. Passing
her animal cages and passing the free range chickens and pigs we arrived at the
restaurant. With only 2 tables both under a canopy in front of her restaraunt/house
overlooking the crystal clear waters of the Caribbean. she cooked up freshly caught fish
and a little special side of vegetarian food for me. Breaking the cardinal rule of not
waiting an hour before swimming we jumped into the water for a quick swim. Having
been such great customers we were told that dinner would be served at 6:30 back at the
same spot. Happy stomachs agreed and we would return for dinner and head to the
cock fights with her! This was a big fight as her family members had a chicken in the
fight. After we dried off and headed back through the forest to our hostel we lounged
around enjoyed the simple things and chatted with everyone else in our hostel. Ready
for our dinner we navigated back to Pola's using only a cellphone flash light to guide us
along. Not fully realizing it would be difficult to eat outside again in the dark we were
pleasantly surprised when instead of dining outdoor we were invited in Pola's home
made of concrete bricks to dine at her kitchen table under the single light that hung from
a tin roof that covered only certain parts of her home. Bathrooms? Don't count on it,
Lighting? Lost for 30 sec in middle of dinner. Despite the ambiance; the food and
experience were amazing.



 After we finished dinner our new American friend Ben who
was living in a tent on Polas farm and her children offered to lead us to the village where
the fight would take place. Another unmarked walk through the Forest found us in the
middle of town at the fighting ring where everyone had gathered for the main events. As
the eight of us reached town you could see the locals coming out of their homes to see
what the gringos were doing here (One of the children guiding us had gotten tired so our
Lithuiana was carrying the young child). As we took our seats around the ring we met
one very excited child whose dad's chicken was competing. After almost 20 mins of
betting, prepping the chickens and getting the right music the fight started. The fight
lasted nearly 10 minutes (10 mins which none of us enjoyed) the young child's chicken
had lost.

However he was happy to help lead the way back through the Forest to our
hostel where we had planned to be taken to the Blue Lagoon on the island. After
meeting at the bar and sharing some Whiskey Shakes among the crew (essentially
just whiskey and coke poured into ones mouth then you shake it up) we were guided
back Into the forest for a 30 minute walk where we exchanged more cultural differences,
played guess the accent performed by George and carried on along the way. Finally
once arriving all the flash lights were turned off and the pitch blackness was only
disturbed by the light from the stars allowed us to jump into the lagoon which magically
lit up with each stroke. We spent roughly 25 minutes in the lagoon before heading back
to our hostel to hang out which was as described be Aoife to be a "fizzer" of a night
before crawling into our "mozzy" (mosquito) net covered beds.
Rich having ordered breakfast the night before for us had us up early again. With only a
few hours left before our scheduled 12:30 pick up some people decided to kayak
through the mangrove while a few others from the house swam out into the caribean
with snorkle gear and SUP boards after a bit of exploring we decided to just rest wading
out in the water as boats passed by here and there. After sometime we decided to swap
activities before hoping to get a shower before our boat ride back. Having No luck with
running water we packed up and headed back to the beach to await our rescue from the
Benedicion Edi. Only about an hour late we were relieved to have had a ride off the
island since another boat wouldn't come until the next day. After climbing into the boat
and become the butt of nearly every Colombians jokes we were ready to go. Little did
we know what the rough waters ahead had in store. Our captain, well equipped with his
snorkel mask on, plowed full steam ahead into massive waves that made the boat feel
like we were in the log flume. A treacherous ride that even the Colombians on the boat
feared that the Bendecion may hold the same fate as the Titanic. After about 30 minutes
of what in retrospect was one hell of a ride we arrived at the boats first stop on our
journey home. Playa Blanca, Baru Islands which is known for its beautiful beaches. We
hopped into the choppy water and off to have lunch served by the first mate of the ship.
Having had a bit of a stressful journey Corey quickly threw down 10,000 pesos for a
back massage on the beach. Soon after by choice or force each person in our group
received in chair massages at our lunch table. Quite skilled at their jobs as hustlers and
masseuses we were all quite rejuvenated by the experience.

As time to leave Playa Blanca came a few of the shipment jumped into the ocean and swam out to the boat.
Engine trouble seemed no problem for the boats men as he dismantled the engine and
reassembled it. Just to make sure the boat would be able to return to Cartagena. As we
saddled up for another 45 minutes of wave thrashing the boat salesman reassured us
that the boat was nearly double over a safe capacity and that this was how accidents
happen. Comforted by his words our journey home was rocked by huge swells and a
captain who seemed to have little care for the enjoyment of his passengers. After a few
stops for some engine tweaks and gas fill ups we got back just in time to make our
scheduled 4 hour bus ride from Cartagena to Santa Marta. Now we weren't quite
expecting first class accommodations on our journey but we were mostly all picked up
before our bus sped off leaving Mike and Aoife (our British IT friend) at the hostel.
Fortunately this was just to avoid the congestion our on boarding caused in the street.
The bus made about an hours worth of what seemed to be the bus drivers friends
shuttle before packing the bus full. With air conditioning and salsa music on full blast we
were on our way to Santa Marta! The driver seemed late for something as he passed
every car he could on his way. None more entertaining then when we passed an
ambulance with its lights on. We were all feeling a bit more assured knowing that if
anything happened now there was an ambulance just behind us. After unloading our
bags we were off to have dinner in the downtown area. Our hostel was an old cartel
house with secrets all around.


 As were about to hop in a cab the front desk told us not
to get into the car and he would call us a taxi since it was quite a dangerous area.
Everyone had planned to meet up at Agave Azul for dinner but once we arrived we
found out the restaurant was permanently closed. We settled down at an Italian
restaurant had some dinner and drinks before heading to another bar recommended by
our waiter before turning in for the night.

The Walled City

A hazy morning in our private bungalow we began by recounting the tales from the night
before. After we got out of bed and collected our things to move into the larger shared
room. We ran into a few fellow travelers from the night before in the courtyard. A few
Englishman had joined in on the conversation and spoke about a place called Isla
Grande with claims of it "being the greatest thing he's ever done in his life" the promises
of bioluminescent bays, cock fights, and recluse were enough to convince us to change
our plans and spend the next night on the island. The hype machine really got started
as others from the hostel jumped onboard for the excursión. However in best efforts not
to let the cart go before the horse we had one more day in lovely Cartagena. Our
newest addition to the group, George, joined us on a trip about town. First at the
recommended restaurant in the square near the hotel and then off to Castillo de San
Felipe perched up on a hill  just outside of the walled city.



Mozying about in the heat of Colombia is no small task. Sweating is basically the norm but a local surely wouldn't be seen in anything but long pants. We got a first hand look at the locals in their jobs as we took a wonderful detour to the mall. Wally, George, and Rich needed their respective
fixes from McDonalds (Keylime Pie McFlurrys!!) Now is when the entire trajectory of our
trip changes. We were yearning to learn more about the deep rich culture of Cartagena
and had been told a tour guide would meet us at the Clock Tower in town. There we
were 4 guys waiting for a free tour when 2 Brits recognized us and decided to wait with
us. Shortly after a blue haired Brit who lived in Sydney came by assuming Corey was
leading the tour because of his red shirt. As we tried to piece together the fragments of
information we knew about this tour we became less certain that we were getting the
tour we were waiting for. When we finally realized it was a lost cause we decided to do
a tour of our own. Mostly in search of the famed bar "El Balcon". As we wandered the
streets asking for El Balcon we were assured many times that it was just around the
corner.  Along our walk a fellow American, Chris, who served in the Army heard our
English, with a very excited "Y'all Americans??" he joined the crew. We ran into John
the fixer again and he pointed us directly to the yellow building down the block but alas
nothing. At this point we had the three of us leading a total of 8 people through the
sweltering streets of Cartegena for more than two hours in a search of a bar!!! Just as
we were about to give up and have drinks in a square we were able to connect to a wifi
and got directions! The Bar was located on the complete opposite side of the city back
near our hostel. Baffled by the over confidence of nearly every Colombian we strolled
the streets and grabbed an Ice pop at a place called La Palletteria which held us over
until our arrival at the bar. Thankfully it was exactly what we were expecting. A fun
themed bar with a balcony over looking the square at the locals below.



As we caught up and learned more about each other everyone now was hearing about or planned trip to Isla Grande. Not wanting to miss out the rest of the group booked the same hostel for
the next night. Another scenic sunset atop the wall gave us the opportunity to catch up
even more and have a few cold Aguilas before having dinner out in the square. As
expected a freestyling Colombian duo came to our table with their boom box. Having felt
that the only true way to repay them was to repay them with our rendition of Nelly's Ride
Wit Me (this song would become a theme for our trip). As we got more excited for the
night we couldn't have been more happy to rush back to the hostel for our Dance
lessons. We were hoping to brush up on our salsa skills but the bachata was the dance
of the night. It started out quite easy but as the dance progressed became quite difficult.
If there's one take away its that its all in the hips! The only true way to repay the
instructor for his generosity was to teach him a few dance crazes taking over the USA.
Mainly the chicken bop, king crab, jumbo elephant, and stanky leg.   Feeling pretty good
about our warm up we wanted to charge ahead and show off our skills at the famed
Cafe Havana where live music and authentic salsa filled the bar and we brought a little
extra flare to the dance floor. Unsure if Chris, the American solider, would make it home
after being unable to communicate where his hotel was we had very little confidence
that he'd make it to meet us the next day at the clock tower.

Let's Get It Started

A 3am wake up call couldn't have come soon enough as another adventure awaits. Our first

destination Atlanta before our flight to Cartagena. Thanks to some good luck and good

fortune I was upgraded to first class. Upon arrival at the airport we negotiated and

finagled our way into acquiring a companion pass for Mike to join me at the front of the

plane. (Rich had made the economical/looking back at it dumb decision to fly Spirit

airlines). As we boarded the plane we wanted to take full advantage of being first class

passengers and washed our breakfast quiche down with a few man-mosas. As the flight

attendants prepared to land we asked for another drink only to be denied. However, to

our delight our air hostess Megan hooked us up with another man-mosa to get us

through the landing process. After arriving in Atlanta we were hoping Mike would luck

out and get upgraded for the second leg. After speaking with the gate agent she

assured us we wouldn't be as lucky this time around. Alas delta pulled through and back

in first class we flew. Our 3 course meals and drinks had us drinking the proverbial kool

aid and dreaming of the high life. The Colombia immigration line is where we ran

into Rich and now our trip was ready to take on Colombia. Unlike our high flying first

class flight,Rich had flown Spirit airlines where you were charged for EVERYTHING,

even a cup of water.


From the airport we went to El Viajero Hostel our home base

during our time in Cartagena and a $4 taxi from the airport was our transport there.

Stopping at red lights was naturally only a suggestion as our cab weaved through traffic

with complete disregard for lanes. Ironically he refused to bring us anywhere but the

front door. Our first room fortunately was a private triple where we took a quick rest and

enjoyed the air conditioning on an otherwise sweltering hot day. We wanted to get

acquainted with the city and took to the streets of Old City. We wandered through the

Narrow streets lined with colorful homes draped in flowers passing a few of the sights

marked on our map.




Being the gringos in shorts and t shirts made us stick out pretty

badly. We were continuously offered good and services by vendors on the street. John

the fixer was the most memorable offering anything under the sun with broken promises

and lies of living in New York where no one knows him. A much needed nap back at the

hostel restored or energy right before sundown. Rich and I grabbed a few Aguilas from

the super market and we headed to watch the sunset. Staking out a spot on top of the

wall in a cannon portal we watched as the sun sank into the Caribbean with views of the

business district in the distance.




To be Colombihonest we were in no rush to leave. We

made new friends atop the wall as we learned about Ingrids trials and tribulations of a

traveling boat saleswoman. We parted ways and headed back to the hostel. After

debating how much we wanted to turn the dial up on just our first night in Colombia. Our

bottle of James Dowell made the decision for us. Our rooftop dinner in Getsemani (or as

Corey pronounced it Get-some-money) lined our stomachs and the fireworks in the

distance filled our eyes. Media Luna hostel is the jumping off point for all things

Wednesday and we joined in on the fun. Although we weren't allowed to join the band

our requests of the stanky leg were taken but never fulfilled.