Not only is Colombia known for narcotics trafficking and the wonderful belly-dancing Shakira, but also for CAFÉ! As coffee is one of my obsessions/addictions/necessities in life, I always hoped I would be able to tour the coffee plantations of Colombia while here. The perfect opportunity arose when Pedro accidentally booked our plane tickets to the Caribbean coast for May, not April during our Easter holiday. Instead of hitting him upside the head I decided to be more practical and figure out another way to enjoy our holiday. After suggesting a visit to the “Zona Cafetera”, around a 5-hour drive from Bogota, Pedro hastily rented a car and found a hotel for the next few days.
The drive to the southern town of Armenia was long but eye-opening. Living in Bogota gives one a skewed perception of the true development of Colombia; almost every other town in the country is under-developed and over-populated. I saw a lot of shackled buildings, livestock wandering the destitute roads, and true poverty among the Colombian people. Contrasting this perception was the landscape of the country, which is undeniably the most beautiful I have ever seen. Lush, green, jungle-enveloped mountains pleased our eyes the entire way, and as we got closer to the coffee region we saw hills and plains full of mango plants, plantain trees, coffee bushes, and other tropical fruits growing that are not found anywhere else in the world. One of the aspects I love most about Latin America is the culture of its exquisite nature; unlike Europe and its grandiose attractions such as the Eiffel Tower and the Roman Coliseum, Latin countries boast an unparalleled charm in their tropical landscape.
La Zona Cafetera
Our first and only full day of our trip was spent at the “Parque Nacional del Café”, a man-made park within the largest coffee fields of Zona Cafetera. To be honest, I was excited but not expecting much as I thought it might be somewhat of a cliché tourist trap, filled to the brim with picture-taking locals and travelers. (Especially when we fell victim to one of the many street vendors and purchased two typical “coffee farmer hats” to wear while in the park!) I could not have been more wrong. I could not have been more intrigued as I browsed through the coffee museum and learned how coffee is processed and exported; I could not have taken more pictures as I walked through bridges and paths that ran along the flourishing coffee fields. We walked through a traditional “Finca” – the houses that coffee farmers stay in and where they prepare the coffee for distributing during harvesting season. We took huge gondola rides overlooking some of the coffee and plantain fields. Basically, I was engrossed in every part of the park and can truly say it was one of the most unique, interesting, and fun experiences of my life!
Coffee hats and Coffee plantations
We decided to head back to Bogota the next day as we heard the mudslides on the huge mountain we had to cross were getting worse and worse; we didn’t want to wait until Sunday to take the chance of getting stuck. However, just as we began to drive up we were stopped by a never-ending, stalled line of cars also trying to cross the mountain. We heard rumors from others that the wait was as much as four hours, so we again tried to remain positive and played cards outside the car until it began to pour for almost two hours! Stuck in the car with nothing to eat and nowhere to use the bathroom, I began to get a little anxious, especially as more rain = more landslides, a natural disaster which Colombia is especially known for. FINALLY the traffic started moving once the rain stopped, but we slowly made our way up and down the mountain as there were many other cars and trucks doing the same. Starving and already tired, we tried to find the nearest town to stop and re-energize. However, we did not realize how far away from civilization we were, and Pedro started to feel pretty bad (no eating, all driving, gastritis = not a good situation). We finally made it to the poor town of Ibague and rushed to the nearest restaurant. However, Pedro stomach was hurting him so badly that he could barely walk, and he instructed me to take the car and drive it urgently to the nearest hospital. You should have seen my face – we laugh about it now but the sick/worried/scared feeling I had in the core of my gut was incomparable; for some reason I felt so hopeless and incompetent but tried to remain as sensible as possible! I headed to a random lingerie store and begged in Spanish for the women to tell me wear the nearest, best clinic in the town was. They directed us to a hospital that was conveniently right next door, and I literally dragged Pedro there. Once there we begged for a doctor immediately and were instructed that “if we saw a door open and a doctor inside, to go in as fast as possible before anyone else” – what a great, organized system. Blood was spewed on the floor, people were wandering aimlessly to find any help possible, and dim lighting gave just such a welcoming ambience. Fast forward a few hours and we were finally back in the car to Bogota, as Pedro had been seen, treated, and injected after being diagnosed with a temporary stomach ulcer. Talk about one of the most action-packed days of your life…
