“Welcome to Bogotá!” Felipe shouted, joyfully, as we raced over yet another gaping hole in the road. His words were almost whipped from his mouth by the wind; I held on tighter to the back of his leather jacket, and scanned the streets for unseen graffiti as we turned up yet another side street. If you’d told me a few months ago that I’d be riding around Colombia’s capital on the back of a motorbike with a guy I barely…
My first Spanish classes – in Colombia The beginning of September has brought with it the sudden realisation that I’ve been in South America for seven months. Which means I’ve also been speaking Spanish for the same amount of time – or at least attempting to. When I first arrived in Ecuador, I barely knew a single Spanish phrase. And after an initial burst of linguistic eagerness, I spent a long time avoiding most attempts at speaking the language. I…
“This is a forgotten place,” Marcos says, as he unlocks the chain wrapped tight around a set of big blue doors. “But you’re with me. You’re probably safer up here than you are down in Medellin.” Eight years of living in the Colombian city, and Marcos knows what he’s talking about. “Up here” is Regalo de Dios, a small barrio in the mountains overlooking Medellin, and their community is clearly enamoured with this New York native. It’s with good reason,…
If you’ve wondered whether it’s safe in Medellin, Colombia, you’re not alone. Worrying about safety in Colombia has been a common thought process for decades – and not just for tourists, either. Even native Colombians have to deal repeatedly with Medellin’s unsafe reputation. Imagine what it’s like to arrive at an airport and watch as someone checks your Colombian passport. Imagine them saying, in a slow voice of recognition: “Your name is Pablo? And you’re from Medellin? Please come this…
I’m not the first person to say I love the heat. When I was younger it was great, sure: sunbathing by swimming pools in Turkey and Greece with my family, summer holidays with friends to Spain and Italy – all warm, happy, and drenched in sun. But as I’ve got older, and travelled to the more intense heats of Syria, India and Thailand, I’ve realised I have a bit of a dislike for seriously hot climes. While I still enjoy…
“Who wants to come and stay at Casa Elemento?!” As soon as Ed whirled his way through the upstairs bar at our Santa Marta hostel, throwing out brown paper business cards every few steps and grinning disarmingly at anyone who made eye contact, I knew I was going to like him. “Yeah man, Casa Elemento is totally chilled and really cool. It’s up in the mountains, and we’ve got dorm beds, a swinging bed, and a huge outdoor hammock that…
One of the worst things about travelling is having to say goodbye. Whether it’s to friends and family when you first start a trip, or to the people you meet on the road who disappear from your life as quickly as they entered, it’s always sad making that inevitable farewell. And when you’re travelling by yourself, there are even fewer familiar faces around. Of course you’re always meeting new people when you travel – but that doesn’t mean the goodbyes…
Life moves differently in the Ecuador Amazon. We’d been out on a day’s hike through the rainforest to reach a secluded waterfall, unexpectedly accompanied by a young Ecuadorian girl who’d been acting as our guide for the last hour. Now she skipped along beside us as we trudged through the humidity of the Ecuador Amazon jungle, on the way back to our lodge for the night. “We’ve seen more of the world in one day than she has in her…
Can I become fluent in Spanish in South America? Six months ago I relocated to Ecuador, a Spanish speaking country, with little to no Spanish speaking skills of my own. I moved in with a host family, started volunteering as an English teacher at a local high school, and attempted the task of learning Spanish. Half a year later and I’m sad to say I’m still nowhere near being fluent. Although I’m infinitely better than I was before I left…
“¿Tres ensaladas de frutas, por favor?” I leave the tiny serving hatch, where three women wearing hair nets and harried expressions rush back and forth. Plates of food scattered around the kitchen are ferried to the multitude of teenage hands reaching through the bars at a speed my eyes can’t even keep up with. Heading over to our regular table, I drop down into a chair with a sigh. “I just had the Year 8s again. Pablo…he’s impossible!” Sam shakes…