Café con Salsa

I entered Colombia via the Ecuadorian border near the town of Tulcán. The border crossing never felt even remotely unsafe, which was fortunate. My next several hours in a bus less than comforting. The southwestern part of Colombia is known for problems with drug smugglers and "armed bandits," according to my sources. That meant that on my long journey up to Popayán my bus was stopped a few times by heavily armed police. Seeing officers with large weapons was unsettling, but perhaps necessary in one of the remaining volatile regions in what is mostly a very peaceful country.

Anyway, a night in Popayán was immediately followed by a shorter ride to Cali, the self proclaimed salsa (the dancing kind) capital of the world. The big city was hosting a massive salsa competition that weekend, so obviously I was visiting at the right time. My first night in town I joined many people from my hostel for a night out at the "salsatecas," where I did my best to not look idiotic while imitating salsa dancing. Alongside me were some tremendously skilled Colombians. SERIOUSLY, their feet moved masterfully, with a magical fluidity that inexplicably matched the  fast-paced beats. It was loads of fun, but salsa dancing is not my forte. That was made crystal clear.

The following night was the conclusion of the big salsa event in town. I joined two Irish friends from my hostel on a quest to see it in person. A long wait in a ridiculous line led to disappointment, as the venue ended up being filled to maximum capacity early in the evening. We caught a bit of the fancy footwork on TV at a nearby mall instead. Then I crossed "salsa in Cali" off my list and left the next day.

North of Cali lies the famous Zona Cafetera (Coffee Region), my next stop. In a bizarre and ideal twist of fate I landed a place to stay as a WWOOF (Worldwide Organization of Organic Farms) volunteer at a local "finca." I wanted to escape the hostel scene for a while, learn new skills, and meet a different kind of traveler.

The place I stayed was a small coffee farm called Tabanoc. The partial owners and curators of the land are Heidi and Jeffrey, two people I grew to admire greatly for their approach to life. There was also baby Oshana, Tagua the boot-fetching dog, and a troop of volunteers I have come to call close friends.

Tabanoc is very much a work in progress, and that makes it the perfect destination for volunteers. The wide array of projects I helped with kept my time at work varied and interesting. I assisted with the construction of a bridge, selecting and setting in the pieces of a stone floor, weeding, clearing a field for corn, playing with goats, and picking coffee. None of that work was particularly glamorous, though always satisfying to complete.

What makes volunteering at a small farm like Tabanoc so worthwhile (other than the awesome people, beautiful setting, and endless learning opportunities), is the free time. We only worked about 5 hours per day, and had Sunday(s) off. In my time off I mostly relaxed, which was absolutely perfect! My afternoon nap routine will be hard to break. I also participated in a sweat lodge ceremony, known as Temazcal on my free Sunday. It is a Mexican tradition for purification of body and mind, and some of the locals participate in it every two weeks. I thoroughly enjoyed it, despite the intense heat. The cultural experience felt genuine, with a mixture of pleasant aromas and song floating through the scorching air. Give it a try if you do not mind a little sweat, dirt, and introspective thought.

Another aspect of Tabanoc that was extra special to me was the food we ate. I need a lot to fuel me throughout the day, and committing myself to eating no meat during my stay was frightening at first. Those worries subsided quickly. Breakfasts consisted of staples like fresh fruit or delicious corn "arepas," which somewhat resemble thick little tortillas. Lunch varied a lot, and was always very healthy and satisfying. In the afternoons, after nap time, we enjoyed a host of sweet breads, pies, and cakes, generally banana or avocado themed. My peers had serious skills in the baking department! The local (and I mean LOCAL) coffee was also a good touch. Plus we had an endless supply of bananas to eat whenever we pleased (all the time). Oh, and then there was dinner. Dinner was always terrific. Feasts that come to mind include pizza night and sushi night. Jeffrey's sushi was the stuff of legend! Most of my contributions in the kitchen were as a dishwasher, and that was fine by me.

Of course me coming to a lush green environment meant there was more to do than pick coffee, eat like a king, and nap in a hammock. There were acres and acres of dense forest divided by two cascading rivers, all waiting to be explored. I did the only thing I could think of - I went out at night. With my host Jeffrey leading the way I got to hike in the hills and along the riverbanks of Tabanoc in the dark. I spent 4 of my nights out and about. Just as I had hoped, the forest had a bounty of animals after sunset. We found pesky moths, sleepy butterflies and birds, bats, tarantulas, freshwater crabs, many a frog, and a dangerous little snake. There were 10 to 15 species of frog, mostly fairly common looking varieties (for South America). And then there were the glass frogs! We discovered 3 types: red-spotted, black-spotted, and white-flecked. All of them were seen sitting atop leaves beside the river, looking like the funky little aliens they are. Jeffrey and I admired their bright colors, crazy eyes (see picture), and transparent skin. Each one was an exhilarating find for both of us. They were the clear highlight of each night out, except for the final one...

My final night at Tabanoc I was sitting around shooting the breeze with my friends. Then we all heard a funny noise a short distance away in the forest - night monkeys! Jeffrey confirmed it to be their typical sound, and so he and I quickly launched out into the forest for a glimpse. It took some time, and lots of clambering around, but we saw some. One was high up in the trees, its oversized eyes shining from our headlamps. It moved around adeptly, though nervously, as we looked on. Another was close to the river and a bit trickier to see. Just to see them at all was a fortunate occurence. It felt like an appropriate send-off for me. (Sorry if you cannot see the monkey in my one really dark picture.)

Leaving Tabanoc proved difficult. I had already extended my stay from 7 to 10 days, and I would have stayed much longer if I was not on the timeline created by other obligations, such as my flight home. The friends I made were a truly fascinating bunch. We all hailed from different countries and backgrounds. I learned a lot from everyone, and I am not just saying that. These were well-travelled individuals with great stories and real life experience to back up their views on life. We shared many good moments. Saying my goodbyes was sad. These people mean a lot to me now! I have a feeling some of us will find ways to reconnect in the future.

With little time to dwell on my farewells I now head north for the Caribbean coast. I have been looking forward to this part of my trip since Day 1 back in April!