Colombia

I spent September and October travelling around Colombia. I nearly didn't go there, because I'd read an independent travellers website before I left which pretty much said that every country in the world is safe to visit, except Colombia. However, I got a very different story from anyone I met on my journey who had already been to Colombia. They all said it was safe, and worth the effort. They weren't wrong.

I had planned to dose on my bus ride in to the country, but the road from the Ecuador border, winding it's way through wide lush green valleys, with the evening sun adding some magic to the colours, was absolutely outstanding. Had I known of its beauty I would have planned to spend more time there. I had other plans - I headed to Cali, the salsa capital of the world. Almost. It was pretty lively from Thurs to Saturday, but fairly tame the rest of the time. So I danced some salsa. It was a mixed bag. I had a dance with this attractive chick who was a good dancer - but she never looked at me or smiled throughout the entire track. Thus it was one of my least favourite dances. And I had plenty of dances which I really enjoyed with a lot of other different people, who did smile. A smile is so important and so simple - why look so miserable?

Travelling is all about doing the unexpected. So I learned to paraglide. It was a two week course, set up in the mountains of Santander, towards the border with Venezuela. The first three days I spent on the ground, learning, playing with the wing, watching training videos, watching the others fly, getting the take off skills up to scratch without taking off, learning the theory of landing. Day 4 I had to run off a cliff. So run off it I did. In front of the take off site, the ground drops away sharply - there are some bushes, small trees, rocks, and beneath that a concrete road. For the first few seconds of taking off, you feel like you are sinking rapidly towards all of this, and then the glide takes you - you stop losing height and you surge forward. You pull yourself in to your harness, look towards the landing zone, knowing it'll take you about 4 minutes to get there, and you try to relax. Your heart is beating like crazy, your hands - holding the controls - are shaking; you're trying to fly straight, but the odd bit of turbulence pulls you up down left and right. You feel insecure in your seat. And then you're in front of the landing zone. You have to lose a little more height, but the tall trees on either side of the field are frighteningly close. As are the cows in the field - can't they move to the edge out of the way? I near the trees on the left and pull hard right, I near the trees on the right and pull hard left, I reach the middle of the field, pull gently right, straighten myself, and put my feet down ready for landing. Flare. Touch down. I'm alive!

As the two weeks rolled by, my number of flights and time in the air grew rapidly, and I became comfortable with these sensations. I learned to feel comfortable near the trees, I learned to judge my height and speed, look at the wind socks, enjoy the views and flying amongst the birds, soar in thermals, soar along the ridges, land more gently and more controlled, spin 360s. I learned a lot.

It wasn't all plane sailing: on my second flight I struggled to get out of my seat for landing, only managing on my 3rd attempt when I was only 3 feet above the ground; on my penultimate flight my confidence got the better of me when I tried to ridge soar with no wind - I had to do an emergency landing in a gap in the trees in the fading light on the side of the mountain; on one takeoff my wing didn't inflate fully so I lost height rapidly and dragged myself through the bushes before the glider righted itself. Heart fluttering moments, but moments that I cherish.

I enjoyed a lot more of Colombia - the picturesque villages of Villa de Leyva and Barichara, exploring the coffee region around Salento, the white sands of the Caribbean coasts, the blue crabs, bbq pizza and a jam session at a hostel in Taganga, the walled city of Cartagena, the salsa night and the Botero museum in Medellin. My very favourite place though, in the whole of Colombia, in the whole of South America, was Lake Guatapé. The hostel was right on the side of the lake - every morning I would go out for a swim then come back for breakfast. I would spend a few hours doing some research on the web, then I would go for an afternoon walk through the pleasant countryside. I would do some more research in the afternoon and socialise a bit in the evenings. The hostel was an eco hostel - recycling, using local resources, fairly efficient. The place was like paradise. It's almost how I fantasize my life to be. The only thing I would add is the ability to dance blues all night long. That would make it perfect.