Lost City

I have taken the following directly from my journal.

April 3 - 7, Ciudad Perdida

(Taganga, Colombia)

' Joe slept like a baby last night. I know that because I didn't! I was eaten alive by man-sized mosquitos! Joe and I shared a double bed that had a mosquito net but we were both too tired and drunk when we crawled in and lacked the good sense to tuck the net in under the mattres. We both suffered from this laziness, though I suffered in addition to not sleeping. I woke up with thirteen fat miserable sleeping mosquitos on the inside of the net.

I emerged from this den of sweat and bug-bites at 7:30, began unpacking my big bag, leaving just the necessities for the trek. Joe continued to sleep. Quick breakfast, Mark had left-over hard boiled eggs, oatmeal, milk in a bag, and fruit. Stored our bags at the hostal. Failed to lock down beds for when we returned in both Taganga and Medillin. Oh well, hope for the best. It's nearly Semana Santa, places will be booked, reserved, full, overflowing, streets crowded, drugs and alcohol everywhere, and we may end up on the street. Cool!

At 9:15 it arrived, the jeep that was to take us into the jungle where we would begin the trek of all treks! The Toyo (The 'ta' had either fallen offor been stolen) was an unbelievable mess of a sight - one side mirror was missing, the other dangling by the driver side door, the passanger door had no handle, drivers door had the long metal tool normally used when stealing cars as a permenant means of entering and exiting the vehicle,. had we been pulled over we could actually really claim to not know how fast we were going because the spedometer was broken, reading a consistant zero (negative five actually) kph. Furthermore, the engine was super hot!, and oil empty according to the two other gauges (that were both broken). Six of us sat like stuffed smelly olives facing each other on two benches behind the driver and passanger (this was the setup, I=, if thats not crystal clear...). The rof had been ripped up, gutted, leaving exposed nails and shredded insulation, to give us a bit of head room. To top off this hunky grade A Colombia Hoopdie, the rear door would pop open every time we began to drive. No matter how hard we or the driver slammed it, the door would break free! Lucky for us the tire on the back of the Toyo had some srot of latch this twist that configuration that was in decent shape. Thus the door would pop open but was held to six inches. We (two of us being pressed up against that rear door) would make it after all!

Don't get me wrong, our Toyo/monster truck did have three things going for it: Military grade beast status tires (that needed air every fifteen minutes), a nice little shiny radio, and a cute box of Kleenex tissues secured to the passanger flip down mirror. Those came in handy when beer began seeping down through the roof getting our hair a bit tipsy.

We threw our bags on the roof, crawled in to the truck arranging knees between legs, feet under over between butts close to ears, elbows in ribs, laughing all the way.

The drive took two and a half hours. The first hour and a bit was through Santa Marta, on paved 'comfortable' roads. The final hour (after passing a military checkpoint where sixteen year olds who barely had peach fuzz but strapped fully automatic rifles to their boyish chests, live ammo in pockets, cigarettes hanging from slim lips, menacing faces with hair +/- 0.034 cm long. One kid had two mortar rounds in his pockets. These guys were prepared for war!) was in the jungle, on a road taht would be a great spot in New York to test Hummers and military vehicles. Hair pin turns, boulders, ditches, river crossings, this beast got a workout as it bounced and tumbled along. I forgot to metion earlier while describing the Toyo that the steering wheel wasn't properly alligned, or perhaps it was, but in any event it took a LOT of work to maneuver the truck through the slightest turns. Hand over hand has never seen such a good day. Operating like a ferocious little dishwasher the driver had to turn the wheel almost one full rotation every time a slight turn came about. Jesse could have fixed it!!!

The drive out there was calm and relaxed. Our driver looked to be 50ish years old, slowed for every bump, cautious, efficient. The six of us smiled and had a good laugh as we conquered the road. The drive back was a different story.

This motherbtich was out of his go&%·%? mind! He drove SO fast, flew over bumps and ditches, literally slid around turns, one hand the entire time (in the same car!!!) and it moved so fast there was practically a strobe light effect. To make things worse, he blasted this terrible local music where 15 songs sounded exactly the same. A glimpse of that drive:

' ACORDIAN ACORDIAN my wife (BUMP! Jordan - WOOHOOO!!!) left me on the (EEEERRRRRRCCCHHHH! Driver - HHAANNGGG ONNN) farm with (ACORDIAN TRUMPET GUITAR - ROCK!) our children (BANG! Heads smash into roof maybe a nail or two), and now I sing to mourn (Mark - Haven't these motherfuckers ever heard of a piano!) FWOOMPH! we're all thrown to one side elbows hitting ribs cheeks kissing each other hands flailing trying to catch hold of something fixed - Joe - Yo where's the spliff?! Jordan - Army! Put it away! BANG another rock, OOP SPLASH, river crossing, water pouring into the back of the truck. More singing and accordian, Mark still furious about the poor quality of music.

Note - The driver's only two words of english were Hang On, and Mark was miserable every moment of the way, the music was another ant in his pants.

And so it went. We made the four hour jungle crazy road drive in under half an hour. We heard after returning from the trek that some paramilitary had stopped a similar tourist-filled truck on the same road and executed the driver, not harming a single tourist. Maybe that explains the new driver, and increased speed. Nevertheless, we made it back to Taganga, sore, smelly, certainly NOT in one piece.

The trek itself was dagone great! Set out on foot friday midday after a huge, tastey lunch. The walking took us up and down hills, very challanging inclines that had us working our butts off and sweating like animals within minutes. Stepping on stones to cross rivers, avoiding mud that was knee deep and swallowed shoes. Had it rained my K Swiss hole ridden old garbage appropriate sneaker wannabe hiking boots would have been eaten, by the mud, and gone forever. But they made it! Still intact, not really wearable, but still in a piece or two!

We hiked the following hours per day: Four, four, six, seven, four, stopping a few times during each set to swim, chow down on fresh fruit, candy, chocolate. Saw a few beautiful cascades, we visited a cocaine factory where a local (who was suspiciously good at what he did...) showed us the entire process of making blow. Didn't let us take pictures of him... little bit fishy....

The food was phenomenal. Portions that were too big, a variety of well prepared fresh meat, vegetables, the fruit was some of the best I have ever tasted. Chocolate milk and coffe every morning. Our guides and helpers worked tirelessly to make sure we were comfortable. They were fun, helpful, crazy, our guides Lalo and Gustavo (the latter is 18) made our trip unforgettable.

Bugs were an issue. Every hour of every day we were attacked. I found three ticks (in places I will not disclose), other people found more. Spiders in our beds, mosquitoes that bit through socks. Did I mention, bugs were an issue?!

The trek itself was more fun that the Lost City. 2500 steps (that I did barefoot!!!!!) circular foundations, breathtaking views, huge military presence, ok, that about wraps it up. Maybe I'm a bit too critical, it just didn't really do it for me.

Our six person group hooked up with another larger group midway through day two. Mostly laidback but wild stoners, certainly a fun group. It was wonderful to see the two groups slowly become one, as drinks and spliffs were passed, stories exchanged, friendships developed.

Overall it was an outstanding few days. Mentally and physically challanging, beautiful, out there, fun and stupid. Wild dogs following us, Lalo (and eventually all of us) screaming 'Vamos a la Playa!!!'. The indegenious people carrying packs twice or three times their size up inclines I had to do on all fours. The swimming, cliff jumping, laughing, tumbles while crossing rivers. Become close with Mark and Joe, as well as Bibian and Fernando. The lunch and drinks after reaching civilization after the five day trek. Powerful experience. Awesomeness.

We ended up shacking up in a small, new, unknown hostal for two nights after the trek. I was kind of hoping to end up on the streets. '

Mark Joe and I have stuck together since the trek, travelling south through Medillin, Popoyan, into Ecuador and Quito. Colombia is hands down the most beutiful country (people wise) I have been in thus far, I am refering to the women. Incredibly beautiful women, but not the arrogant, high fashion, expensive clothing type. These women were behind cashiers, washing the floor, serving lunch (or cooking it). A natural, exotic look mixed in with a turn your head down shyness, but keep eye contact boldness. Beautiful beautiful beautiful, I could not believe how attractive the women were. I had heard stories, but you really need to see it to believe it.

I've already written too much, so I'll wrap it up. I hope the journal entry wasn't too raw, I tried to edit it while leaving its spirit untouched. The past few weeks have truly been a trek, getting close with Mark and Joe has made it all so enjoyable. Mark left today for the Galapagos, just me and Joe for a bit. We'll be together down into Cuzco Peru, then its anymans game.

My health is where its been the entire time, more or less ok. I realize the key to traveling is standards. If you lower your standards enough everything is fantastic! My standards are below the ground, thats why I'm having such a good time :)

Hope to be in touch again soon. My love to you all.

SF