Pablo Escobar's Medellín

I couldn't come to Medellin without paying a visit to it's most famous son. I didn't actually see him but his grave is one of the stops on the Pablo Escobar tour. A lot of you will have heard of Pablo Escobar, many may not, but prior to this trip my knowledge was drawn from the well written, and researched “Killing Pablo” by Mark Bowden, seeing Pablo depicted in the Johnny Depp movie Blow, and also that Pablo managed to make Medellin, and Colombia one of the most dangerous places in the world through the 80's and early 90's as a result of his management of the billion dollar Medellin drug cartel, trafficking cocaine all over the world. At one point, there was alleged to have been approx 1 million people directly working for the Medellin cartel, all under the rule of Pablo Escobar.



Since his death, a day after his 44th birthday in 1993, Medellin is a city transformed. No longer afraid of being shot down in the street or being blown up by one of the many car bombs of the period, the locals have taken to the streets and now can be seen in one of the cities many sidewalk cafes, bars and restaurants. I have to agree with the current tourist slogan about Colombia. “The only danger you face is that you may not want to leave”.

The tour was run by a local couple who run Paisa Road tours and do the twice daily tour (min 4 people) from the Casa Kiwi hostel in the Zona Rosa. Incidentally, a fantastic hostel, if you are in the neighbourhood. Picking us up at 10.30am, I had one of the most interesting 3 hours of my life. We got an unbiased take of the rise and subsequent fall of Escobar, straight from the mouth of a Paisa, a local of Medellin. I make this point as there have been numerous other books, painting Escobar in various lights from a Robin Hood type character who just tried to help the poor, to a worldwide criminal who was merciless in killing anybody who dared to stand in his way. With police, politicians and generally anybody who opposed him, his motto was “plata o plomo”, a Spanish phrase meaning silver (money) or lead (bullet), a simple choice in the world of Escobar.

We travelled around Medellin visiting various sites and buildings of interest. Escbar left a big legacy in Medellin in bricks and mortar. Always white buildings too, his homage to the white cocaine he traded in. As Tony Soprano cleaned his dirty money through a “waste management” company, Escobar had his own construction company. And most of his buildings remain, including the first apartment building he built solely for his family. Aside from his security, he only had his 5 family members living here. This was until a drug cartel from a rival city, Cali, planted a car bomb outside and destroyed a lot of the building. It was then taken over by the police but Escobar left a lasting reminder, paying a couple of guys to spray the building with machine gun fire as it was occupied by the police. The bullets hole sprayed across the outside of the building can still clearly be seen from the road.



Pablo Escobar came from humble beginnings but as a child always declared it was his ambition to be rich. It is fair to say that he achieved this. In 1989 Forbes magazine had him as the 7th richest man in the world. He once reputedly burned $2million in US dollars just to keep warm. At his peak, he offered to strike a deal with the president of Colombia. He would repay the national debt to the US in return for impunity against his drug trafficking. An offer refused.

An expert in people management he knew how to get the local community on his side. He built new houses for them and gave them away for free. He built new schools and football pitches. People from the street loved him. However, the other side to Escobar was how went about building his empire and disposing of his enemies. He is credited with inventing the concept of “sicarios”, hit men who prowled the streets of Medellin on motorbike, killing policemen. Reportedly paid $1000US for every policeman they killed, one year saw over 400 policemen murdered on the streets, often by corrupt colleagues who saw it as easy money.

The tide started turning against Escobar when he blew up a passenger jet on a domestic Colombian flight. His target was a high ranking politician, who incidentally didn't take the flight. The bomb on the plane exploded, causing the death of nearly 100 innocent Colombians. As well as at home, he was also attracting interest from the US due to the fact that 80% of the cocaine being used in the US was being sourced directly through Escobar in Colombia.

The net started closing in on Escobar in December 1993 with a task force of Colombian police and the CIA from the USA. A day after he celebrated his 44th birthday, police flooded the city of Medellin in the search for him, and using sophisticated telephone tracing technology, he was tracked down to his aunt's house in a middle class barrio of Medellin. The photos show the outcome as Escobar and his bodyguard, “Lemon” tried to escape by jumping out the window at the back and escaping over the roof. The guy in the red t-shirt is an American CIA agent.





Still in debate to this very day was how did he actually die? He vowed he would never be taken alive, preferring “a grave in Colombia than a cell in America”. Family of Escobar insist that he committed suicide, whilst the security forces took great delight in claiming the scalp of Escobar. However it happened, he was finally dead and Colombia could start the very long process of rebuilding.

Salento - The coffee zone, Colombia

My guide book, The Lonely Planet (my bible), describes Salento as a “must see” destination. As it's a bugger to get there I hoped it was going to be worth it.

An early start from the Casa Bellavista hostel, I had a one hour cab ride to the bus station in Bogota, 8 hours on the bus to Armenia and then a 1 hour bus to Salento, and I was finally here. Tired, slightly grumpy and ready for a good nights sleep at the Plantation House, the “only” place to be in Salento, according to my bible.



On arrival, finding a receptionist who didn't speak a word of English, my first hostel WITHOUT wi-fi, and also my very first hostel where breakfast is not included, I was ready to rip up my Lonely Planet and use it as toilet paper. A commodity I sorely needed as toilets in South America do not supply it. Thankfully, I refrained, and after a good night sleep, and one of my very own jam sandwiches for breakfast, the world felt a much better place.

Salento is in the coffee zone, (Zona Cafetera) in the hills of Colombia. There is only one road in and out. And where I was staying, The Plantation House, is a working coffee farm, with fresh Colombian coffee on the go all day in the kitchen. My kind of place. The town is picture postcard material. And you should see the bars, replete with Colombian men in their ponchos and big cowboy hats sat drinking beer. And not for the tourists. This is really how they live. A slice of real Colombia. Life slowed down by quite a few notches.





My first morning I took one of the jeeps from the Plaza in Salento to Cocora, a lush, palm tree filled valley some 30 minutes from Salento. There are a number of treks in Cocora, the longest being approx 7 hours, but I decided on a much shorter one, having a 3 hour stroll in the valley. And it was paradise. For much of the time the only people I passed were tourists on horseback, most of the time spent in solitude. Obviously something other people thought too. As I took a breather on a rock, soaking up the sun, I got the most pleasant surprise. Walking around the corner came a girl who was completely topless. I tried to divert my eyes, I did, but had to look again to make sure I wasn't dreaming. No. She definitely has no top on and was completely naked to the waist. It took her a few moments to realize that I was there and the look on her face was priceless! I certainly didn't expect that kind of scenery when I set out this morning.



Arriving back in town, I picked up a couple of beers and sat on the verandah of the Plantation House reading my book. The building is over 100 years old and sitting on the wooden deck, with views out over the coffee farm, would have been so relaxing. IF it wasn't for the annoying young fools behind me spending the last 2 hours talking about philosophy and the reason for being. You are young, away from home for the first time, just bloody enjoy yourself!

Saturday evening in Salento. Wow! What a spectacle. Even for me and I have spent many a night in Halifax. It seems that on weekends, locals from the neighbouring towns come to Salento to let their hair down and put on their dancing shoes. The women, and girls, spray paint on their tightest jeans and seem to get as much breast on show as physically possible. Little beer tents are erected around the main square, music is blasted out, and the Colombians have a ball. And when a song comes on that everybody seems to know, we have mass karaoke. Has to be seen to be believed.

And dinner was quite an experience. I sat down in a local joint and was asked if I wanted the menu. Si, senor, I replied. Trucha o Churrican? The menu consisted of only two items. Well, I knew trucha was trout, so I plumped for the other one, not knowing what it was. Macaroni senor? Hmm, this could be interesting. Si, I replied. Well, what a dish. Takes some describing but it was delicious. Grilled sausages, on a bed of macaroni, with rice, tomotoes, fried potato cake and a grilled banana. I kid you not. You would never put these together but it was tasty and filling. All for $6000 Colombian pesos, which was £2. Bargain!

As the music got louder, and the dancing raunchier, I took the sensible option. Picked up a couple of beers and joi...........had a slow walk home.

Buenos noches amigos.

Iquique - Northern Chile

After 4 days in the Bolivian desert, in accommodation that would struggle to be called basic, and with food that I never want to see the likes of again, I was happy to be heading to my next destination. Iquique on the coast of Northern Chile. A surfside beach town that promised some well needed r&r.

It's funny how you end up in places when you travel. When I left the UK I really did not have a plan. I made a bit of a joke about it, but I literally had the first 6 days planned, all in Buenos Aires. After that I had no idea where I would go and end up. Some of my destinations came from browsing my Lonely Planet, but many, as was the case with Iquique came from chatting to other travellers in the hostels.

I knew of one place in Chile before I came to South America, and that was the capital, Santiago de Chile. However, chatting to travellers is an invaluable resource and through this I discovered the identity of towns in Northern Chile such as San Pedro de Atacama (see previous post) and Iquique. A place that I was looking forward to for weeks whilst on the road. Beach time!



Getting there wasn't very relaxing. I had a 8.30pm night bus for 2 hours and then I needed to wait an hour before changing to a 6 hour overnight bus. I eventually rolled into the bus station at Iquique at the ungodly hour of 5:30am. Tired and grumpy, the taxi driver picked the wrong man to try and rip off that morning. He was all nice and friendly in the cab, jabbering away in Spanish, but on arrival at the hostel he tried to charge me way over the odds for what was a very short cab ride. What followed was a quite heated argument, me in broken Spanish telling him that I wasn't born yesterday, or words to that effect. And that he could sing for his $4000 pesos. Again, I didn't use those exact words but I did babble something in Spanish whilst raising my voice for effect. And I told him that he was getting $3000, no more. I firmly gave him the money, thanked him for his services and went into the hostel, leaving him muttering to himself on the side of the road.



Arriving in a new place at 5:30am is never good but it makes such a difference when you get a friendly welcome as I did at the Hostal La Casona. Granted, it was a welcome all in Spanish but between us we managed to determine that my room wouldn't be ready until much later, but I could have a blanket and sleep in the lounge. An offer I gratefully accepted. La Casona turned out to be a great hostel. A few blocks from an amazing beach. A fantastic supermarket almost on the doorstep. And great areas to sit in the sun and chill with a beer (or 2).



Iquique was the place that I did my parapenting. My first time and what a great experience. Taken high up in the hills surrounding Iquique to the spot where I would take a running jump off a cliff. Thankfully strapped to a chap who did this for a living. As it turned out he had been doing it for 11 years so I was greatly comforted. The experience was amazing as we caught the warm thermals and glided high above the city, climbing higher and higher. The flight lasted about 30 minutes and was so peaceful with amazing views and on the way down we drifted over high rise apartment blocks before softly landing on the beach. Amazing.



My four days in Iquique passed very quickly. Despite it being a small town I never felt that I needed to find something to fill my time with. Sat in a hammock drinking beer, reading my book in the sun, or just munching quality empanadas on the beach, the time I spent there was a real tonic. And just what I needed as I faced into my next challenge. Getting into Peru and negotiating another overland border crossing. Thankfully it would be my last as I am flying from Peru into Bogota due to the massive distance between the two countries.

Bolivia - Salar de Uyuni

Bolivia wasn't a country that I had read much about, let alone planned to visit. However, there is one place in Bolivia that you must not miss whilst in South America, the Salar de Uyuni (Salt Flats of Uyuni), the world's largest salt flats, sitting at 3653m above sea level and covering an area of 12,106sq miles it truly is a sight to behold.

Once I started reading up on this trip and the various companies I wondered how safe it actually was. If I had known then what I learnt through the course of the next 4 days I might have re-assessed the “need” to actually go on this tour. But more of that later. For now, I had a good recommendation of a tour operator from a Canadian friend who had done the trip the week before. Reassuringly, the Bolivian drivers for this company didn't drink at the wheel or fall asleep whilst driving. And yes, I'm being very serious.



So, with a tour company I felt I could trust, and a 4 day tour that started and ended up back in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, I was all set. An early start saw us filling up two 4x4s with a real mix of nationalities. Aussies, Irish, Norwegian, German, French, Swiss and Dutch. Thankfully, Christophe who was travelling in my 4x4 had just studied Spanish for the last 3 months so became our official translater as the Bolivian drivers do not speak any English.



The first stop was the Bolivian border. As you can see, there is not much too it. Just a cabin with a lone official who is there to check your documentation and give you the all important entry stamp into Bolivia. With that done we were off for the long drive through the Bolivian desert to the first national park. As we ascended higher and higher, a few of us started to feel the effects of the altitude. This is where the famous “Coca” leaf comes in. This is the plant from which cocaine is derived but for all Bolivians it is a natural as drinking a good old cup of tea. You take some of the coca leafs, stick them in the side of your mouth and let the leafs do their stuff. The theory is that as the minute levels of cocaine are extracted, it deadens the effect of altitude sickness. I have to admit, I did feel better but was never really sure whether it was the leafs actually working or whether it was more of a placebo effect.

Over the next 4 days we saw some of the most amazing landscapes, many of it surreal, like something you imagine to be on the surface of the moon. We visited active geysers, many natural lagoons, saw more flamingos than you could shake a stick at and the coup de grace on the first day, a dip in thermal hot springs. I was in two minds whether to strip off and get in, as it was damn chilly in the Bolivian mountains, but how glad am I that I did? It was amazing, so so good. Despite knowing I was at a hot spring, the temperature was a very pleasant surprise. I just wish we had longer than the 25min bathe we had. More fun was had afterward, trying to get dried off and back into our clothes, al fresco, with my silly little travel towel. Try that whilst maintaining your dignity.



The accommodation for the trip was basic to say the least and some of the food left a lot to be desired. Some of the guys on the trip really enjoyed it but a salad on a bed of cold fries was not my idea of good tucker. And have you tried drinking Bolivian wine? A warning. If you like wine and don't want to be mentally scarred, stay away. Stick to the ubiquitous Coke that is served with every Bolivian meal. I was mightily glad to be back in San Pedro at the end of the week, tucking into a juicy hamburger, chips and cold cerveza.

So, what did I learn about the Salt Flat tours through the course of my trip. Well, in the last 2 years at least 18 tourists have been killed in accidents directly attributable to bad driving, drunken drivers and a blatant disregard for safety. A very sobering moment awaited us as we finally reached the Salt Flats. A memorial to 12 tourists, and their drivers who died in 2008 when the two 4x4s they were travelling in collided head on, exploded and everyone burned to death.

Considering that the Salt Flats are so huge, and so flat, the mind boggles as to not only how could two jeeps crash into each other, but what speeds must the drivers have been going to cause the deaths of everybody in both jeeps. It's frightening.

That was why I was glad to have discovered this at the end of the trip, and was glad to be back safe and sound. I for one will continue to sing the praises of my tour company, Estrella del Sur, for their good, sober, very friendly drivers.

San Pedro de Atacama

Another early start saw me on the 7:00am Pullman bus service from Salta to San Pedro de Atacama, across the border in Chile. I hadn't originally planned to visit San Pedro. Truth be known, I had never even heard of the place. However, after speaking to various travellers in the weeks I have been away I decided that San Pedro was the best option for me to visit the Salt Flats (Salar de Uyuni) in Bolivia. That was, I got to see this amazing landscape, but ended up back in San Pedro rather than Uyuni. And now, after visiting Uyuni, boy did I make the right decision.



The journey from Salta was 11 hours, which was surprisingly painless. It was the 2 hour wait at the border in Chile that did me in. A long day sat on the bus and literally 10 minutes walk from the central plaza in San Pedro we had to wait to clear the customs formalities. Hot, dusty and painfully slow. This would test the patience of a saint, something I have never claimed to be.

Finally I recovered my bag and walked the short distance into town, looking for my hostel. As San Pedro is small, and only has a few main streets, this didn't prove to be too difficult. What concerned me more was that the warnings in the Lonely Planet about the ATMs in town being very unreliable proved to be true. I had a grand total of $4000 (approx £5) Chilean pesos leftover from my earlier visit to Chile. This clearly wasn't going to get me very far. And to make matters even worse, after visiting all 4 ATMs in the town, I still had no money. Apparently they were all empty until the morning. Whoever maintains those ATM networks needs to find alternative employment.



So there I was, tired, grumpy AND skint. Maybe a lie down was what I needed. That's when I saw the vertiginous 3 level bunk beds! My god! There were 2 bunks left in the dorm. The one at the very top and the one in the middle. I was asked which one I wanted. Really? You need to ask? I flopped on the middle bunk feeling very sorry for myself and wondered whose idea was this trip. Oh yeah, that would have been mine. Maybe a shower would help my mood. Well, I better make it quick. San Pedro is one of the driest deserts in the world and the showers in the hostel were only available through the day, and you had to adhere to the hand written sign on the shower door, "3 minute showers only!". Later that night, I took my $4000 pesos and had coffee with cherry pie for dinner. And I can't tell you how happy it made me. After such a long, tiring, trying day, a little thing as a piece of pie but a big smile on my face.

The next day, after a very good sleep, everything in the world was good again. I was told at the bank that there would be money after 12pm, and there was. I think the security guard was a little concerned by my little jig of delight as my pesos came out of the machine. I could eat. And more importantly, I could pay for my Salt Flats tour, the reason I came to San Pedro in the first place. Trip secured, and money in my pocket, I went to explore San Pedro.





My guidebook, albeit a year old, states that the population of San Pedro (altitude 2440m) is 3200. From what I have seen today, most of those appear to be tourists. There were more tour and travel agencies than I have seen in a very long time all vying for the tourist peso. The biggest draw seemed to be the Salt Flats but there were also sandboarding, trips to the Valley of the Moon and very early geyser visits. If all this tires you out there are numerous eating and drinking places in town, ranging from little take away joints, to plush restaurants and everything in between.

For me? I was going back for some more of that cherry pie and fabulous coffee.