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(Mis)adventure, Ethiopia December 25, 2011

Everything That Went Wrong in Ethiopia

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

I have a strong suspicion that Ethiopia wants to get rid of me.

Let’s start from the very beginning.

I arrived in Addis on a bright, sunny morning. My luggage, unfortunately, didn’t. In retrospect it turned out not to be a big deal since the airline recovered it and even delivered it to me the next day. But that very first day in this country, all alone in a city that didn’t feel too friendly, away from Jack for the first time in our 8 months of travel, I felt mighty sorry for myself. Add to the fact that my hotel room was dreary and smelled strongly of new paint.

Things got a lot better the next day. I moved to a better place (with wifi in the room, rarer than an honest taxi driver in Addis!), and I got my luggage.

But soon after it became apparent to me that Ethiopia and I just do not get along.

First, somehow I attract pickpockets

So far I’ve counted 5 attempts – and those are only the ones I caught. Sometimes I feel that I walk around with a sign on my back that says, ‘Please mug me.’ It would’ve been very frustrating except for the fact that these guys were so, so, so, pathetically bad at this that it’s actually kind of funny. Two occasions are quite notable:

Notable pickpocket attempt #1

Location: A shared Bajaj (tuk-tuk) in Makele

I got lost in Makele so I hailed a Bajaj to take me back. I noticed a guy already inside. Not thinking too much of it as sharing a Bajaj seems to be common, I got in.

As we got closer to my destination, my companion – who until that time never uttered a word – pointed outside, “Look, Boston café! Your destination! Over there!” Naturally I leaned forward and that was when I noticed a slight pressure on my back. I looked at my companion, but he kept gesticulating for me to look out the window. Because I can be a little slow at times, I did what he wanted me to do. Again, I felt a pressure on my back. Then it clicked!

I whirled around and noticed that my Bajaj companion had his arm behind me. I looked down and saw that the front pocket of my backpack was wide open.

When I realised what was going on my first reaction was disbelief, then rage. “How dare he?!! – How… RUDE!!”

Adrenaline surging through me, I grabbed my water bottle and started beating him, yelling all sorts of obscenities. I wish it had been a Nalgene bottle and not the flimsy plastic water bottle. It would’ve hurt more. The door of the Bajaj was on my side so he was stuck there with me until he jumped across me, opened the door, and bolted outside with me still screaming after him.

Afterwards I realised that he had also slashed my bag when trying to get to the main pocket. However, in his haste to access the main pocket he had completely missed the $300 worth of Birr on the front pocket. This just proved to me that he needed a new line of work.

Bag slasher, Ethiopia

Notable pickpocket attempt #2

Location: a minibus from the airport in Addis Ababa

A friend and I just arrived at the airport and we hailed the first minibus we could find. They seated me up front, next to a nice lady who tried to help me with my main pack. She kept fussing with it, trying to convince me to move the bag between us. Maybe that was what set off my suspicion. 2 minutes into the ride, I felt a little poke on my side close to where my wallet is.

Paranoid, I reached for my wallet and guess what I found?

Her hand! Nicely hidden behind a slung sweater.

I didn’t start beating anybody this time because I wasn’t convinced she was trying to mug me. But still, I had my hand wrapped tightly around my wallet after that.

But any doubt that it was a coincidence was erased when 30 seconds afterward they abruptly turned the minibus around and pulled over to the side. They unceremoniously handed back our money, shooed us off the minibus, and took off leaving us on the sidewalk with all of our belongings – thankfully intact – far from where we’re supposed to be.

My friend and I looked at each other, “Wtf? Did they just let us get on to rob us?!” It seems like it.

There are many other examples. From little kids who swarmed me and felt up my pants pocket. To the guy who walked past me multiple times in the crowd, each time he walked past he swiped my pant pocket zipper open bit by bit. I always had to have my guards up all the time. It was exhausting.

Fleas and Bed bugs

I must’ve picked these guys up during my trip to the Danakil because soon after, I was covered in red bites all over my body.

This is really, really annoying.

As soon as I got back to Addis, I spread out all of my clothes and backpack in the bathroom, doused them in bug spray, and closed the door for hours hoping that these hitchhikers would just die, die, die!!

Afterwards, I had them washed and dried out in the sun for two days. Hopefully that’s enough. I really do not want to have to get a new wardrobe.

But these bites are nothing compared that Ethiopia’s coup de grace in telling me that I was not wanted here.

I got bitten by a street dog!

This dog bit me

This dog!

BIG sigh.

Rabies is kind of a big thing here in Ethiopia.

As soon as I saw blood on the wound, I thought to myself, “You’ve GOT to be kidding me!!” – I spent the next day running around chasing after rabies vaccines. That was not fun at all.

The thing about rabies vaccines is that you need 5 shots over the course of 28 days. I had to kiss my trip to Omo Valley goodbye because I needed my 3rd shot during that time period. I was really bummed.

I was looking at my other options of what to do next:
Option 1: Continue with original plan to Djibouti and Somaliland.
These are not quite your stress-free destinations to begin with. Having an extra layer of stress of having possibly contracted rabies, I decided that I wouldn’t enjoy these countries under this circumstance. Besides, to have time to do this, I’d need to stay in Addis for at least another 10 days to complete the first 3 shots before I have time between shots to travel.

Option 2: Stay and travel within Ethiopia for the next 28 days.
The thought of staying in a country that seems to try its darnedest to get rid of me isn’t appealing either. Knowing my luck so far I’d probably get bitten as I attempt to feed a hyena in Harar or contract malaria in the south.

Option 3: Finish the vaccine in another country where I know they’re available.
Preferably somewhere cheap, comfortable, and easy to get around.

After half a day deliberation, I decided that I like Option #3 best.
So as soon as my parents confirmed that yes, they have the same brand of rabies vaccine in Jakarta, I booked my ticket to Indonesia.

I feel relieved.
I miss Asian food.
I miss cheap things.
I miss Sari, my family’s masseuse who comes and gives an hour of heavenly pummeling for a mere $5.
I miss my family.
I miss NOT standing out so much in the crowd and greeted with “Konichiwa, arigato! “ or “China, how are you, China?” all the freaking time.

I’ll arrive in Jakarta on Christmas Day at 11 at night, so technically, I’ll be home for Christmas. And this puts a smile on my face.

In terms of Ethiopia, I’m bummed that I didn’t get to see as much of it as I had hoped. But on the bright side, the parts of Ethiopia that I’d seen were BEYOND amazing, especially Danakil Depression.

Furthermore, I’m looking forward to the time when someone asks me, “So, which is the most exciting country you’ve visited on your trip?” I already know what the answer would be.

Say what you will, but there has not been a dull moment here in Ethiopia.

(Mis)adventure, Merzouga, Morocco December 5, 2011

Camel Trekking – Welcome to the Desert!

Merzouga, Morocco

We emerged from the night bus bleary eyed in the early dawn – rubbing our eyes from what little sleep we had and trying to fight off the desert cold. The bus soon left us in a deserted road of what we think is Merzouga.

Jack making a makeshift thermal using my scarf on the freezing night bus to Merzouga

Jack making a makeshift thermal using my scarf on the freezing night bus to Merzouga - one of these days he'll forgive me for showing his leg to the world.

What we could see in the dawn light was mud buildings on a dusty street. ‘Cafe’ was crudely painted on one of them. Everything was closed. I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but after the cramped alleys of Fez, the open desert horizon was disconcerting.

The touts started making their way towards us,

– Excuse me? Where’s your hotel?
– Excuse me, sir? Mam? English?

The camel guide who’s supposed to pick us up wasn’t there. We tried to call him only to find out that the only public phone there takes a special phone card and not coins (what’s up with that?)

In the meantime

– Excuse me? I help?
– Mam? What’s your hotel? You need camels?
– Sir? Mam? Let me help? Hotels? Camel trekking?

was buzzing non-stop around us: to our left, to our right, on our face. Jack was kind of enough to take the brunt of this, chatting all of them up, which gave me time to think of what to do next.

The only other tourists that morning – 2 German girls – were getting into the only car on the street. They asked, ‘We’re going to our hotel, do you guys want to come?’

The only other option was to wait for our guy, Mohammed, to come. Assuming he was coming.

But that would mean being alone with these touts, in a strange deserted city, with no transports to take us away if we want to. So we hurriedly got in the car with them. As we were driving away, I asked the girls how much the fare was. ‘We didn’t ask.’ ‘Seriously?’ They shrugged. ‘It’s not that we have other option.’

Good point.

The driver ended up wanting 15 Dirhams from each of us. 60 Dirham for what should’ve been a 10-15 Dirham ride km ride was a rip off, even for the desert. Thinking ‘Well, it could’ve been worse,’ and too sleepy and tired to argue we decided to pay without making a fuss.

Turned out he wanted 50 Dirham. Each. Which would make the 10 min ride a $25 fare. We balked, ‘No way!’

At one time I believe I actually said, ‘200 Dirham?! Right. Just take us back then!’ – which goes to show how little sleep can addle one’s brain.

He ran in into the hotel to grab the owner – I’m guessing to demand his commission as well as to talk some sense into us. Fortunately, the front door was left open and all four of us ran in with our bags. Securely ensconced inside we felt braver. The German girls delegated the task of bargaining to us – they themselves became spectators of the ensuing back and forth.

We offered him 60 Dirham. Jack was waving our money in front of his face. He refused to take it. Some shouting back and forth ensued in a medley of English, Berber, and Spanish. He seemed to realize that now that we’re at the hotel, there wasn’t much he could do. The hotel owner translated ‘Ok, ok. He said he’d take 100 for all of you.’

‘60 Dirham or none at all’ – the hotel owner barked something in Berber waving our money that the driver finally and reluctantly took. Not without some grumbling and spitting on the ground.

Now Jack and I with the German girls are in the common room with the owner, we told him we don’t have a reservation and would like to see a room.

‘Wait!’ He walked to the kitchen. ‘We should have tea first.’

15 minutes later all four of us were falling asleep with tea cups in our hand – the adrenaline from the altercation with the taxi driver was ebbing away – sipping the tea bit by bit in silence. We were antsy to see the room, bargain for it, and go to bed, but he kept pouring more and more tea!

How much tea can that little pot hold?

Moroccan tea pot - holds more tea than you'd imagine

Moroccan tea pot - holds more tea than you'd imagine

We thought of the sleepless night bus from Fes. It was an experience we don’t wish to repeat anytime soon. Buses in South America seem like a luxury in comparison. Yup, that even includes the buses in Colombia.

Finally after what seemed like ages, the owner got up,
‘Let me show you to your room!’

Our bed in Merzouga, Morocco

Sweet, sweet bed

We tried to get him to talk about prices of a camel trek. The thing is, it would be considered inconceivable that we’d stay there without booking the camel trek from them. It’s how they make money, see? But all he kept saying was, ‘You rest first. Later after you wake up, we talk!’

I hate not knowing what I got myself into. But the bed looks mighty inviting. All we wanted to do was lie down – dusty clothes and all.

Well, I guess the desert will wait. The camels will still be there. The negotiation can wait, doubtlessly accompanied by copious amount of sweet tea.

But first, sleep.

‘Welcome to the desert!’ he shook our hands seconds before we crash into bed.

To be continued…


Traveling to Merzouga to do some camel trekking? Here are some tips for you:
– If you’re coming from Fes by CTM bus, they’ll drop you off at Rissani – a 20 min drive away. Do NOT get into any 4×4 car. Take a grand taxi, which is usually an old Mercedes Benz, and pay the 12 Dirham fee.
– If you’re coming from Fes by Supratours, you can go directly to Merzouga. Be warned that you’ll arrive at 6:30 in the morning. Do not expect any petit-taxis around.
– A better bet is to make a reservation and have your hotel/auberge to pick you up. All of them offer this service.
(Mis)adventure, Tacna October 14, 2011

Getting Scammed at the Peru – Chile border

Tacna, Peru

Something fishy in Tacna border crossing

There's something fishy around here - by hitthatswitch

We knew there was something fishy

about the $20 ‘tourist card’ fee the collectivo driver demanded from all the gringos in the taxi.

There were some signs that should’ve raised a lot more flags than they did that day at Tacna International Bus terminal:

– Guy 1 mentioned that it’s only levied for first time visitors (we had never heard anything like it before about Peru-Chile border crossing).
– Guy 2 said something about the fee is for making the line goes faster (as in like a ‘bribe’?).
– The price was quoted as both in Chilean peso and Peruvian soles but the two numbers are off by $4 each. Which is – well, significant.

But we were vulnerable:

– We just had a 6 hour bus ride and it was getting dark outside
– I was sick and really wanted to get across to Arica, Chile as soon as possible

But more importantly:
We haven’t read anything about the scam> during our research Quite the contrary, we did read something about paying for a tourist card. Now that I looked at that post again I realised that the blog poster fell for the scam without realising it and that the scam has gone up from 15 soles to 50 soles, all within 4 months.

Because we’re so used to rely on hearsay and on our own research, we’ve learned to ignore our own instincts that were sounding the alarm with a gigantic hammer labeled ‘Use only in case of impending idiocy’.

So these guys really knew what they were doing on how to take advantage of the situation, because we went from ‘No, this is crazy. I’ve never heard that we have to pay.’ to ‘Well, maybe we missed something and they’re right?’

Between the guys rushing us around and being pushy and me being sick, and the only other gringo in the taxi having paid up – we paid too (the cheaper of the 2 ‘versions’ of the price).

As soon as we got the hostal in Arica, I looked around the net and I found the only other account of the scam online: http://www.lonelyplanet.com/thorntree/thread.jspa?threadID=2074223

It does seem to be a relatively recent scam since I only found the thread after researching a weird combination of searchwords. The regular keywords such as “Peru – Chile border crossing” didn’t seem to bring up that one thread.

Realising that because of this, there will be a lot more people falling for the scam, I had half a mind to do the 2 hour drive back to Tacna, Peru to confront the guys and to warn the others. But Jack mentioned, half-jokingly, that it might get us both killed. With $20 a person, it’s a big money maker.

So I thought I did the next best thing: put up warning on travel forums online and hope others doing their research about this particular Tacna – Arica border crossing will come across it.

And go back to my zen center and hope karma will get the best of those scammers.

And try to remember the lessons learned from the scam:

– Try to cross the border during the day (psychologically it helps us from feeling rushed).
– Only pay ‘visa fee’ or any kind of immigration fee really to custom border officials.
– Be careful of anyone wearing giant cold chains around their neck (ok, maybe not really).

On the bright side of things…

The Tacna – Arica border crossing itself was a piece of cake – very smooth and orderly. So now, we’re in Chile!

I have to say that nothing like being scammed colored our opinion of a country, that’s why I’m glad those guys said they’re Peruvians. We really, really want to like Chile – our host for the next weeks or so.

We have been impressed so far: friendly people and cars that actually stop for pedestrians on sidewalk (I know! Crazy, huh?). And oh, their soccer team is better too – they just kick Peru’s ass in their latest match: 4-2.

Tell us:

What’s your almost-scammed or fudge-I-got-scammed story from your travels?

(Mis)adventure, Chachapoyas, Ecuador, Peru, Vilcabamba August 10, 2011

Vilcabamba to La Balsa to Chachapoyas – The Long Way to Peru

Vilcabamba, Ecuador – Chachapoyas, Peru

“Hope you’re up for an adventure,” I said to Jack.

“Not really”, he grimaced.

“I just hope it won’t rain. Then it would really suck. Lots of dirt road.”

It was 6 am in Vilcabamba. It was the start of a 2 day journey to cross from Ecuador to Peru, the 3rd country in our RTW trip.

Waiting for our bus in Vilcabamba

Jack, not looking too happy at 6 in the morning - Vilcabamba

Of all the 3 border crossing choices, how did we end up on the longest, most remote and most obscure Ecuador – Peru border crossing?

Well, 2 reasons:
1. La Balsa is supposed to be the more relaxed of the three (and safest, and most scenic). Border crossings make me nervous. My Indonesian passport has thrown more than one curveballs in the past.
2. It looks good on the map. We were in Vilcabamba, and we’re going to Chachapoyas. Looking at the map, it just makes sense.

We could backtrack to Loja (Ec) and bus it all the way to Trujillo (Peru), the bus will even wait for you at the border. But what’s the fun in that?

So in case you’re curious, or

If you’re looking into crossing the Ecuador – Peru through La Balsa, here’s how to do it in 7 (sort of) easy steps:

In Ecuador
1. Get yourself to Vilcabamba
2. Vilcabamba – Zumba by bus
3. Zumba – La Balsa by ranchera

— Cross the border —

In Peru
4. La – Balsa to San Ignacio by collectivo (stay the night)
5. San Ignacio – Jaen by collectivo
6. Jaen – Bagua Grande by collectivo
7. Bagua Grande – Chachapoya by collectivo

If you leave at 6:30 at Vilcabamba, you should be able to get to Chachas by late afternoon or early evening – depending on how crazy your driver is. Read more below…

Vilcabamba – Zumba: It should’ve been straightforward

Cost: $6.50 – bus
Hour: 7 (usually 5-6 hr)

Sur Oriente has a 6:30 am bus that will take you to Zumba.

We quickly left paved road. We didn’t see asphalt again until… well, until Peru.

About halfway to Zumba, we had to wait for 1.5 hr due to road construction. Pretty much in the middle of nowhere.

I made friends with the kids on the bus while waiting. As they were leaving, they took a picture of me with their cellphone. It made me feel a little bit like both a celebrity and a freakshow.

Stuck in the middle of nowhere

We only passed one small town on this 5 hour journey and for the rest of the time it was just us, fog covered mountains and trees, and a very deserted dirt road.

One important tip: Bring food and water on this journey. We were counting on the street vendors who usually board the bus to sell snacks and water, but the road is so remote that nobody came to sell anything. We also missed our breakfast stop. We didn’t eat until way past 1 o’clock when we got to Zumba.

Zumba – La Balsa: Kidney pumping

Cost: $1.75 – ranchera
Hours: 1.5 hr

We got to Zumba around 1:40 and we were starving. There are some stands selling almuerzos (set lunches) around the bus terminal in Zumba. Yay for that!

The last ranchera (open sided truck) to leave for La Balsa was at 2:30 pm. So we got there just in time.

Ranchera that took us to La Balsa

The road was so bumpy – and dusty.

After a particularly rough bump, the seat we were on came loose and we ended up on our butt on the floor. So glad I had my computer bag strapped or else it might’ve fallen off. Phew!

La Balsa – The Border: Tranquillo

Jack crossing the Ecuador - Peru border at La Balsa

Jack crossing the Ecuador - Peru bridge at La Balsa

The immigration offices on both sides were mere shacks on the side of the street. We got stamped out of Ecuador (and I reminded the guy not to forget to put us in the system), and stamped in into Peru.

The whole thing was a pretty painless process. Although the guy did have to pull out a document to confirm that yes, Indonesian passport holders do NOT need visa to enter Peru.

We and another couple were the only foreigners there. It was hot and humid. And we were getting hungry again. We ate some crackers and horrible chocolate bars (first time I realised that yes, you can have horrible chocolate) since the restaurants didn’t really have any food to sell.

Did I mention that you should pack food if you’re thinking of going to La Balsa?

Important tip: Exchange money here at the border. When we got to San Ignacio it was already too late to go to a bank and apparently there isn’t an ATM around?

We’re in Peru. High fives everyone!

La Balsa – San Ignacio: You’re seriously going to fit in more people?

Cost: 14 soles – collectivo
Hours: 2.5 hr

We took a collective out of La Balsa. In the beginning there were just the four of us, the gringos, plus the driver. Then we picked up 4 more.

So yes, apparently you can fit 9 people in a 4 door sedan. It was incredible!

9 people (7 adults and 2 kids) in a sedan. It's possible!

9 people (7 adults and 2 kids) in a sedan. It's possible!

We got dropped off around 6 pm in front of a dark and non-descript building that’s missing part of its wall. The driver goes, ‘That’s La Posada – your hotel’.

We were like, ‘Yeah, right. You’re dropping us off at your friend’s house.’

But no, it turned out to be a hotel alright, albeit one without a front wall. At this point, any clean-looking beds will do. So we forked out 35 soles for a room and slept a very noisy sleep.

Day 2

San Ignacio – Jaen

Cost: 18 soles – collectivo
Hrs: 2

We left at 7 in the morning, before any restaurants (or banks) was open.

This stretch was the least eventful of them all. We convinced the driver not to take on anymore passengers so we rode in relative comfort all the way to Jaen.

Collective stop 1 – Collective stop 2 in Jaen

Cost: 4 soles – mototaxi

Here in Jaen was our first opportunity to stop at an ATM to get some Peruvian soles.

Jaen – Bagua Grande:

Cost: 9 soles – collective
Hours: 1.5

‘Peruanos son bastante celosos y mujeriegos – toman mucho, bailan mucho….’ Our collective driver didn’t waste time in warning us against how jealous Peruvian men could be.

And how forgiving the Peruvian women can be, ‘But Peruvian women – they’re very forgiving. Peruvian men cheat and come home late. They (the women) would cry, but they forgive…

He definitely made the trip, that guy.

Watermelon snack stop

Watermelon snack stop

Along the way, he insisted in buying us watermelons. Somehow he believed that we had never had watermelons in our life before.

He also believes that, unlike his cheating and womanizing fellow Peruvians:

– All Europeans and Americans are good people who do not party until wee hours in the morning then show up late for work.
– All Europeans and Americans women would not take cheating husbands lightly.

Yep. It was definitely more entertaining than the radio.

On the way to Bagua Grande, we finally hit asphalt again.

Bagua Grande – Chachapoyas

Cost: 20 soles – collectivo
Hours: 2.5 hr (it really should have been 4)

The stretch was the scariest ride all 4 of us ever had in our lives.

Jack saw the signs before any of us: dented sides, cracked windows, bald tires. We piled in anyway, all 4 of us. Then we picked up 2 more passengers.

7 people in a sedan.

Then the driver looked at us and winked, ‘Want to see a trick? I can do this drive in half the time.’

Well, he didn’t really say that, but if he had…

The trick would’ve been: Always drive at least twice the speed limit. Drive on the wrong side of the road half the time. Play ‘chicken’ with the other drivers. Ignore your whimpering passengers.

Simple enough.

Almost 48 hours after Vilcabamba, we got out in Chachapoyas around 4 pm, pale and shaky. My hands were white from clinging onto the seat.

We never felt more grateful to be alive.

But it all ends well…

Chachapoyas turns out to be a delightful little town that reminds me so much of a Colombian pueblo. So it all ends well in the end.

In a nutshell

This was definitely the longest and most adventurous border crossing trip we’ve ever taken. Some afterthoughts include:
1. Bring snacks and food. Can’t seem to say this often enough.
2. We’re so lucky the weather cooperates. It it had been raining, it would’ve been muddier, dirtier, and a lot more dangerous.
3. We’re lucky to have bumped into the Swiss couple that we ended up sharing our collectivos with. Strength in numbers can never be truer during any border crossings.

And I guess this post officially marks the end our adventures in Ecuador. I’m curious to see what Peru has in store for us

If it’s anything like the first couple of days, it should be interesting.

(Mis)adventure, Colombia, Our RTW 2011, San Gil May 9, 2011

Cueva de La Vaca – From Caving Virgins to Caving Addicts

San Gil, Colombia

As I prepare myself to go underwater in the frigid water of an underground cave, I thought, ‘How did I get myself into this?’

I blame it on the rain.

See, we have been hanging out in San Gil for awhile, waiting for the water level on the Suarez river to drop. We want to go white water rafting but due to heavy rain, rafting on the Suarez has been a no-go ever since we got here.

I was antsy and bored.

So when a couple of people from the hostel said they were going caving at a nearby cave, Cueva de La Vaca, with little hesitation I signed up. Then I remember that not only am I not a big fan of the dark, I’m also terrified of being in water where I can’t touch the bottom.

But despite my pre-departure trepidations, I’m SO glad I decided to give caving a go.

Because caving in Cueva de La Vaca turned out to be a blast.

Within 10 steps of entering the cave we were already neck-deep in water, making our way into the cave.

We slid and slithered. We climbed and crawled. At one point we were 80 meters below the surface.

The Swimming Pool Room, Cueva de La Vaca - Colombia Travels

Total darkness

At one section in the cave, our guide told us to turn off all of our headlamps.

The darkness that followed was absolute.

Holding hands in a line, we slowly inched forward calf-deep in water in total darkness. Every now and then someone would stub a toe and an ‘Ouch’ would be echoed back and forth in the cavernous room we were in.

When we finally turned on our headlamps again, I could see Jack’s face reflecting a silly grin I know was plastered on my own face.

This is so much fun!!

Then comes the dreaded underwater part

In order to get to the next room, we had to dive underwater. There was a rope to guide us and they key here was not to walk since the opening was not very high, but to just pull ourselves using the rope.

I was slightly freaked out. The guide kept telling us, ‘Es muy facil.’ Then for emphasis, ‘Facil, facil, facil.’ It only takes 7 seconds. Everybody has done it.

Great. No pressure now.

So there I was neck deep in water, shivering slightly from the cold, thinking of the crazy things boredom often has led me to do, and duck my head underwater and pulled.

And pulled and pulled and pulled. Not daring to think of what would happen if I’d get stuck down there.

And somehow I was on the other side.

I made it. High five all around. The guide was not lying. It was really that easy.

And not only that, that was fun!

The last 2 rooms were definitely the highlight.

The ceilings were covered in minuscule stalactites. It was beautiful and nothing like I’d ever seen before.

Beautiful ceiling covered with stalactites in Cueva de La Vaca

Beautiful ceiling covered with stalactites in Cueva de La Vaca - Colombia Travels

The stalactites in Cueva de La Vaca - Colombia Travels

Our guide told us that an exit out of the cave was still not found despite attempts to do so.

That meant we had to retrace our way back.

So that also meant we had to do the underwater part one more time. No whining on my part this time. This time I was ready.

Then we slid and slithered. We climbed and crawled. Back the way we first came.

We came out into the sunshine feeling victorious. We were drenched in water and mud, shivering slightly and wishing we could’ve stayed inside feeling like Indiana Jones just for a little bit longer.

You’d think after having a mud bath inside a volcano we would have our share of mud on this trip, eh? But apparently not.

Already we can’t wait for our next caving adventure.

Cueva de La Vaca aftermath

Afterward: Drying out our clothes and munching on fresh empanada

Cueva de La Vaca

– Cost: 25000 COP ($13) pp.
– The company we went with was Gua-Iti. The trip can be arranged through a hostel or one of the many expedition companies in San Gil.
– Cueva de La Vaca itself is on the way from San Gil to Curiti. Take a bus from the local terminal in San Gil and asked to be dropped off right before entering Curiti (2000 COP).
– Wear longer shorts since sliding around in very short shorts was… uncomfortable.

Have you gone caving before? What is your favorite cave you think we should check out?

(Mis)adventure, Colombia May 1, 2011

Giron – Where The Locals Told Us To Eat Chinese Food

Giron, Colombia

We stopped in Giron on our way from Cartagena to San Gil.

San Gil was a mere 2 hours away. But we decided to break the journey after a sleepless night on the nightbus and explore this colonial city, a 15 min drive away by taxi from Bucaramanga bus station.

After checking at Las Nieves, a cute hotel facing the main plaza in Giron, we went out to look for food. It must have been around the time the school was out because there were a lot of kids in school uniform walking around on the streets.

I figured we should enlist their help in finding a cheap, local place to get food.

All it took was a single ‘Hola. Hablas ingles?‘ to one of them and all of sudden we were surrounded by friendly, chattering, kids in uniform eager to know every single thing about us.

Friendly Giron schoolkids

Our new entourage

They singled out a shy kid out of the crowd as the best English speaker who didn’t look too pleased to be in the spotlight.

‘What’s your name?’, we asked in English.

‘My name is Juan.’

‘My name is Jill, and this is Jack.’

‘Thank you!’, he grinned, and melted back into the crowd.

Did you hear that? He said thank you after introducing himself! How cute.

We started walking together and the barrage of questions started.

Where are you from?

Are you married?

Where are you going?

Jack and Jill vs the Giron School Kids in Colombia

This is when I go, 'Whoa, mas despacio, por favor."

We indicated that we’re looking for food.

They got all excited and gestured that we should follow them. And we did.

So there we were, being led through Giron with its white washed colonel-style buildings, across a park, to the non-colonial part of the town where these kids apparently live in, and in the meantime the conversations never ceased.

Sometimes multiple threads would be going on. I’d be talking to a kid about what her parents do (or trying to), and another one would grab me and start pointing at all the snacks on a stand talking slowly as if to a baby, ‘A-re-pas. Con hu-e-vo y queso. Eso es em-pa-na-das.’

Next we passed a fruit stall and the lesson continues, ‘Ba-na-na, man-za-na, ki-wi.’

They were laughing at our broken Spanish, and they were laughing when we couldn’t understand their Spanish.

I have to say, these kids were so darned charming they could charm the socks off of Kim-Jong-Il.

I personally think they were delighted to be the ones playing teachers for a chance.

Then they indicated that we’ve arrived at the restaurant of their choosing.

We were expecting your usual restaurant selling ‘set lunches’ filled with locals eating their lunch ya? Or something authentic or at least Colombian like that.

But we’d never expect them to take us to a Chinese restaurant.

Chinese restaurant in Giron, Colombia

Not really in the mood for Chinese, but hey, we're here.

Jack and I looked at each other, ‘I can’t believe they took us to a Chinese restaurant. Do you think it’s because I’m Asian?’, I wondered. Jack only shrugged.

Even though eating in a Chinese restaurant was the last thing we had in mind to do in Colombia, it was too late to back out. How could we, these kids looked mighty proud of themselves as if they’d just shown us the lost city of El Dorado.

They even helped us decide on the menu. See, we’ve mentioned somewhat in passing that we liked ‘camarones’ – shrimps. They spoke in rapid Spanish to the propietor and I heard ‘camarones’ mentioned many times. I think they were giving the owner instruction that whatever happened, we had to get our shrimp fix.

And as quick as they gathered, they shouted ‘Ciao’ with a huge smile and disappeared into different alleys towards their homes. Their good deed of the day accomplished.

So the propietor, who I’m sure was slightly confused at being invaded by two gringos and very noisy half a dozen kids, smiled awkwardly at us, pen ready.

‘Arroz con camarones? Dos?’

‘Eh…si’.

Here in Giron, the friendliness of the Colombian people come in pint size. But they’re potent.

And because of that, sometimes you’ll never know where a single ‘Hola’ would get you.

Chinese food in Giron, Colombia

Mounds of Arroz con Camarones. And this is the half size.

Giron, Colombia


Where to stay in Giron: I don’t remember the name, but the hotel we stayed was right on the plaza (60000 COP).
How to get there: 15 min taxi from Bucaramanga bus station – 7500 COP