Another long weekend…there are many holidays here in Colombia! We head North of Cali into the coffee region to a small pueblo called Salento. This country really is breath taking the ride alone through the lush landscape was amazing.
The pueblo is basically a one street town with a little park on one side. The main street is lined with beautifully painted doors, restaurants, coffee shops and stores.
Everything here was wonderful, the people, the food and most importantly the coffee (which packs an overwhelming punch.)
It felt so nice to be in a small town with a cool climate. And, finally for Aaron and I to be alone. We drank hot agau panela with brandy, walked the streets and enjoyed the serenity of the area.
From the town we took a 25 minute jeep ride up a bumpy road to the Valle de Coaca. The jeep (a Willy from the 40’s) is normally meant to hold four people sitting but this isn’t normally this is Colombia so 12 of us packed in most of us stood on the back of the jeep as it bounced along the bumpy road through the misty forest. The locals that we rode with were funny- they made us laugh the whole way as we all bumped and knocked into each other.
Valle de Cacoa is an amazing valley full of wax palms; it is a strange site to see a palm forest in the mountains. Here we hiked into the valley were rain fell in sheets, it was cold, wet and amazing. Rivers, waterfalls, cliffs, mountains, palms and spectacular views.
The valley was so green and lush.
By the end we were soaked and freezing and our Willy was less than reliable on the way down. The tranny seemed to fail and we had to roll the jeep to safety on the windy road. Much to our amazement, our shock…the driver managed to get it going and we arrived back at our little hospadaje with runny noses and longing for a hot shower.
That night we decided to go off the main street for dinner and although we love to support the underdog, eating in grandpas dining room was a little over the top. It wasn’t the neon lightening or blaring TV that turned us off rather it was the butchery of the bloody cow in the bath tub that was a little to close for comfort. But as they carried plastic buckets of blood and animal parts from the bathroom to the kitchen it was hard to say no to Grandpa that was more than polite and happy to have us as quests. So we politely told him that we had to come and see his place after meeting him earlier in town but we ate a late lunch (lie we were starving) and that we would just be ordering some chicken soup, I would say he was disappointed but that would be an understatement, rather he was hurt that we were not going to have some of his trucha (trout.) After what seemed like an eternity in the over-lit room he brought as a bowl full of broth and every part of the chicken you can imagine. I couldn’t name most of the parts but the feet were easily recognizable. Surprisingly the soup had a wonderful flavor but I couldn’t get over the buckets of blood just a few feet away. We thanked him left our dollar fifty and found a really cute place were we ate amazing trout cooked in cream and garlic.
Trips like these remind us why we came here. They seem to make it worth it.
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