Lost in los llanos, Colombia

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

It was, like most things in my life have been, more by accident than design: my seven-month stint in 2025 living in los llanos, Colombia's vast plains and renowned cowboy country.

'To the horizon. And beyond!'

For most of that time, San Martín de los Llanos in the Meta department was the base. This was thanks to an invite to do a bout of house-sitting for an American native — that's a USA American, for the sticklers amongst us — a guy who I'd only befriended in December 2024.

Thanks to that, from February to early May I lived in relative comfort. In fact, it was close to my ideal: a furnished place to myself in a town with a nice vibe to it. Not far off my Goldilocks zone.

When that house-sitting stint ended, I still wasn't keen on an indefinite return to Bogotá, the place that has been my default setting in Colombia. So when I found a furnished studio-apartment (of sorts) for an agreeable 450,000 COP (about 95 euros) per month, bills included (and with the option to pay fortnightly), I took it. This led to another two-and-a-half months in San Martín.

Grand Granada

Then came an offer I couldn't refuse: a furnished room with kitchen access for 160,000 COP per month in Granada. This arose thanks to the partner of that American for whom I house sat in San Martín. It was the partner's sister who had the room. So even though I was fairly content, if not tremendously productive, in San Martín, the chance to significantly reduce my overheads appealed.

What's more, having stayed in Granada on previous occasions in 2024, returning wasn't a big deal. I knew what to expect.

Twenty kilometres south of San Martín, it's roughly twice as big as its northerly neighbour. To give Granada a one-word description, it's grand. That's the Irish grand, which means fine; not fantastic but not too terrible either. Middle of the road.

Meal deals

One area, though, where Granada rates highly, if one puts importance on value for money, is in the cheapness of eating out. This is because there are four (that I know of) restaurants that sell breakfasts and lunches for 5,000 pesos, just over one euro. Similar fare would be at least double that in Bogotá and other cities and towns.

For me, these meals are in the popular 3-Bs, bueno, bonito, barato, category. That's bueno for good, bonito for nice/pretty, and barato for cheap. That last b is undisputed, whatever about the other two, which are more subjective.

While I haven't tried the breakfasts — this is due to my version of intermittent fasting — the lunches are filling and wholesome. And, in at least one of the establishments, meals are served late into the afternoon. It's not a case of having little to nothing available after 2 pm, as often happens in other such places.

'If Granada is controlled by guerrillas, it happens on a different level to my humble comings and goings.'

The main dish usually comes with a mixture — if you ask for a mixture, that is — of beans, peas, chickpeas, pumpkin, plantain and a token salad. OK, the chicken/meat/fish portions are puny but the soup starter, often a sancocho, a type of stew with a mix of root vegetables and rough cuts of beef or chicken, is hearty. It's almost a meal in its own right.

So with such a selection for 5,000 pesos, you really couldn't buy the ingredients and cook them at home more cheaply. Trust me. I've done the experiment, not with all the same ingredients albeit. I do, however, still like to cook my own meals. This is chiefly because I enjoy cooking, I have the free time these days to do so and, in doing so, I have greater control over what I consume.

It's why for the month or so I had in the 160,000-pesos-per-month room in Granada, I ate the 5,000-peso meals no more than six times.

The town is also hard to beat for agreeably priced beer. Unhealthily so, it could be said, in that it may encourage one to drink more than desired. My tienda of choice, Doña Rosa's, sells 750 ml bottles of Tecate for 3,000 pesos with the same volume of Costeña for 3,500 pesos. It's as cheap as you'll get in the country.

Water wars

Now, while Granada might be good for keeping the costs down, it's less appealing in other aspects. And no, I'm not referring to the fact that it's said to be controlled by leftist guerrillas. If that is the case, it happens on a different level to my humble comings and goings. (For the record, San Martín and most places north of that town in Meta are in the hands of the right-wing paramilitaries, so it goes. From Granada southwards, down into Guaviare, it's largely guerrilla territory.)

One drawback is that Granada lacks an inviting natural watercourse nearby. Yes, there's the visually impressive River Ariari. But it's 6 km from the town, so a tad far to be a comfortable walking option. OK, it can be refreshing to go for a dip on reaching the river after the walk, but then one is faced with the trek back in heat regularly in excess of 30 degrees Celsius. Cycling would be a better option, if one was going to be based in the town long enough to make investing in a bike pay off, that is.

There is a smaller river that flows through the outskirts of the town, just north of the hospital. Alas, the one acceptable bathing spot it has is, unsurprisingly, very popular. It's regularly filled with screaming children and revellers blaring mindless music from portable speakers, the Colombian standard. Not only that, but its rather murky waters aren't that enticing.

The waters of San Martín's Caño Camoa, in contrast, are clearer. And the river offers a selection of more secluded bathing spots. Although, on Sundays and holidays, that seclusion tends to get smashed.

The San Martín view

Another plus point for San Martín is that it has various tranquil — as in traffic-light and with a feeling of being in nature — loop roads to wander. I didn't find anything quite as tranquil in Granada.

In addition, San Martín has a 130-step mirador, a viewing tower, to ascend, offering views of the seemingly never-ending plains to the south and east, with the alluring Andes introducing themselves to the north and west. The tower also doubles up as decent exercise, especially if one ascends and descends it a few times in a row.

'Thanks to Lejanías' proximity to both the Guape and the Andes, there's a freshness to the air that's lacking in Granada.'

On top of all this, in San Martín I was given WiFi access in La Reina, my panadería office there. I never had this privilege in the various panaderías I frequented in Granada. What's more, the friendly staff at the rustic library in San Martín had no issue in giving me the building's WiFi password. No such service came from the more modern but quite tacky library in Granada. (Only in Doña Rosa's tienda did I have WiFi in Granada, another pull factor, if one were needed, to her cheap beer.)

Whilst based in Granada, I did visit two other llanos towns, spending a few nights in both.

San Juan de Arama, 20 km south-west of Granada, has little going for it. About the best I can say is that it's fairly quiet.

A little of Lejanías does you good

Lejanías, 40 km west of Granada, at the foothills of the Andes, overlooking the broad River Guape as it flows at pace towards the plains, has much more to it. Its setting alone is satisfying. In fact, on that front, I think it's the best of the four towns mentioned here.

That it has another river nearby, a much smaller one than the Guape, where one can relax unperturbed, is a bonus. There's something about listening to the flow of water in a relatively unspoilt natural setting that puts one at ease.

Thanks to its proximity to both the Guape and the Andes, there's a freshness to the air that's lacking in Granada. Granted, Granada is far bigger and is a significant transport hub in these parts. With that, it has more people, more vehicles, more concrete and thus more pollution.

One minor negative for Lejanías is that it's a buchona-free town: the big, 750 ml beer bottles aren't available. This is the case for many small towns in Colombia that are a fair distance from their department capitals. It's a manageable inconvenience all the same. And better for my health as I have a rough beer budget that I like to stick to i.e. I measure my beer-drinking by cost rather than volume. In any case, it's not a lack of beer that's my problem these days.

No, one of my main issues right now is finding income-generating work, something for which los llanos bears little responsibility — even if I do find the hot climate unconducive to doing computer work.

Sort my income issues out and I'd have no problem taking up residence again in San Martín, Lejanías or Granada, more or less in that order of preference.

One could be in worse places than lost, in thought, in los llanos.
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Colombia and a few of my favourite things

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

I was looking back at previous blog articles — a blogger's version of going through old photos — when I found Introducing "our" Colombia, published in July 2017. In that piece, in an attempt to remind readers there's no "u" in Colombia, each letter from the word Colombia was used to refer to something that represented the country for me.

Now, while many things in that original story still hold, I feel it's time for an update.

Ergo, I present, in Sesame Street style, 'My Colombia 2025'. (Do note, other letters of the alphabet are available to list some of my favourite things in the country, but I have to follow the format here.)

Our Colombian smorgasbord. Tasty and wholesome!

C is for Costeña (and cuajada)

In my earliest days living in Colombia, I was a fan of Costeña lager. While its taste was similar to the more popular Bavaria beers i.e. Aguila and Poker, it stood out from the others thanks to the form in which it came: a 350 ml short-neck, stubby bottle. The rest were in 330 ml long-neck bottles. Costeña was always competitively priced, too.

When Bavaria introduced 750 ml bottles in mid-2012, followed a few years later by litre bottles, the beer company shifted away from Costeña (initially, in some parts of Colombia anyway, 750 ml Costeña bottles had been available but were soon phased out).

The beer eventually disappeared from the tienda fridges. It was only available in 330 ml cans in some supermarkets.

But in late 2023, Costeña came back to liven up the market. OK, the standout stubby 350 ml bottle is no longer available — it's in the standard 330 ml long-neck — but its return in 750 ml bottles is very welcome. It's almost always cheaper than Aguila and Poker, sometimes up to 40 per cent less, and I don't think it's in any way inferior.

Many Colombians seem to agree with me. From my observations, Costeña is growing in popularity in cantinas and tiendas across the country. It is the economy of it, stupid. Why pay more for a similar brew that doesn't really offer anything different?

Another "c" I'm compelled to mention here is cuajada, a fresh cheese made from milk curds.

For most of my time in Colombia, I'd effectively given up on cheese because I felt the quality of most of it was poor while I also found it quite costly, relatively speaking (I was guilty, though, of not shopping around on this one — a rarity for me).

However, while in San José del Guaviare last year, I got into eating cuajada — and continue to do so. As it's practically salt-free and very mild, I find it a refreshing snack, particularly in warmer climes. And at an average of 9,000 COP per pound, it's not badly priced.

O is for oficinas

As a mostly independent operator in these parts (more on that to come), the ability to spend a few hours every day in Colombia's ubiquitous panaderías — cafés-cum-bakeries — is essential for me. They are my offices, oficinas, where I go to read and write whilst sipping on a competitively priced (yes, there's a theme here) tinto (black coffee) and the odd piece of fresh-from-the-oven bread.

'Before, when offered a bowl of soup with hens' feet protruding from it, I'd politely decline whilst silently thinking what sort of savages eat such tripe, or rather entrails and unsightly body parts of fowl to be specific.'

Yes, I could do this in my place of residence. But, as I explained in a previous post, the coffee shop effect is at play. I'm better able to focus in an establishment where people are coming and going and where there's light background noise. Light, that is. Such places do exist in Colombia, at least on occasions.

L is for los Llanos

Los Llanos, Colombia's vast plains and traditional cowboy (and girl) country. More by accident than design — as with most things in my life — over the last few months I've become well acquainted with the mild hustle and bustle of these plains. To be more specific, considering the enormity of the region in question, I've got to know how things roll in the towns of Granada and that of my current abode, San Martín de los Llanos, neighbouring municipalities in the Meta department.

With temperature highs around 30 degrees Celsius, the temptation for an evening ice-cold Costeña beer in one of my preferred cantinas/tiendas is difficult to resist. So, residing here may not be the best for my health. Nor is it good for doing computer work. I've little enthusiasm to turn on my laptop. It's the heat's fault.

Nonetheless, as a man born and reared on a cattle farm, I find the vibe of the place comforting, most of the time. Sure it wouldn't be true cowboy country without the odd drive-by shooting. And I'm warming to the ever-so-pretty tarantulas.

O is for on the road

OK, it would be helpful if there was a "u" in Colombia for the purpose of this exercise. Although, I'm not sure if I even have a favourite "u". Oh wait, of course I do. Former president Uribe. The people's president. Or the paisas president, at least.

'In some ways I feel that the Boyacá department is my spiritual home.'

Sticking to the rules, though, my second "o" is for on the road. This is when I usually feel most relaxed in this land, travelling around it. "B" and "i", below, expand a little more on this.

M is for menudencias soup

A sign, perhaps, of how much I've adapted to life in Colombia. Years ago, when offered a bowl of soup with hens' feet protruding from it, I'd politely decline whilst silently thinking what sort of savages eat such tripe, or rather entrails and unsightly body parts of fowl, to be specific.

Nowadays, I find this pick-and-mix delicacy hearty and wholesome, and, wait for it, competitively priced. It's better than ultra-processed rubbish in any case.

B is for Boyacá and Bogotá's barrios populares

While I'm currently based in los Llanos, in some ways I feel that the Boyacá department is more my spiritual home. One reason for this is that towns in its loftier and thus cooler locations have what I consider a more Irish countryside hue about them. And because of its mountainous terrain, there's more variety to it than the relative sameness of the plains.

For example, the low-lying town of San Luis de Gaceno, in the department's south, has a culture and climate similar to San Martín. Further north and high up in the Andes is the quaint colonial settlement of Güicán, close to one of Colombia's few remaining glaciers. There, goats and sheep are almost as numerous as cattle. Ovines are pretty much non-existent in los Llanos.

What I'll call my Boyacá bromance really got going once life started moving again after the pernicious covid-19 lockdowns. From my base in the far north of Bogotá, within walking distance of the city's northern bus terminal, it was easy for me to escape to the myriad towns further north. And this I happily and regularly did between 2021 and 2023.

As for Bogotá's barrios populares, especially Santandercito in the far north, I feel at home there. Yes, Santandercito and surrounds have their rough edges, yet there's a sense of community that I feel is lacking in other, more affluent neighbourhoods in the capital. Many barrios populares are like small, welcoming towns in a big, impersonal city.

I is for independence

Colombia has allowed me to avoid working a full-time job, save for one uninspiring experience as a copywriter/translator at a marketing agency from December 2018 to January 2020. Thus, I have been able to move around the country pretty much when I want to.

An employer would have to pay me quite an amount of money for me to sacrifice this employment independence, largely economically inactive as I currently am, albeit. As I've said before, I prefer to work with people rather than for people. Or work on my own, when and where possible.

A is for Amazon

Few people in the world haven't heard of the Amazon (no, I don't mean the company, which I've never used). And I'm sure many would love to get the chance to visit it. So, having been on its doorstep for years, it had always been in my plans to go there.

Now while San José del Guaviare, a town I first visited in 2017, is technically in Colombia's Amazon region, it's not in the Amazonas department. And I always felt that I couldn't call time on my days in Colombia without visiting Amazonas.

This, I finally did in 2024. Very loosely following in the footsteps of Roger Casement, I travelled to the indigenous reserve of La Chorrera, which you can read about here. As I say in that piece, I'm in no rush to return to La Chorrera itself. However, it was quite an experience and I wouldn't mind exploring other parts of the Amazon in the months and years to come.

So that's it. My latest spelling out of what C-O-L-O-M-B-I-A means to me. Until the next time.
__________________________________________________________
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San Luis de Gaceno: Going its own way

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

As has been well documented on this blog, I've visited several rather similar Colombian towns — pueblos — over the last few years. 

Now, some cynical types might say that all Colombian towns are pretty much the same, in a mediocre sense, apart from a small number of exceptional ones. I, of course, wouldn't go along with that.

Gorgeous Gaceno: There are worse places one could be!

Putting God in His place

Nonetheless, having been to so many, particularly in the Andean region, that I don't always remember one over the other or that I forget specific attractions is surely understandable and forgivable, isn't it?

This doesn't mean I didn't/don't like them. One could say it's akin to mixing up lookalike siblings. They have unique traits that set them apart but on first appearance or recalling the individuals from memory it can be hard to tell the difference. This is usually "corrected" through further engagement or by delving deeper into the memory bank.

Some places, though, just like people, stand out more so than others. They are, for good or for bad, more easily remembered.

San Luis de Gaceno, in the hot, low-lying lands in the south of the Boyacá department, is in that category. Its setting alone, which you can get an idea of via this YouTube Shorts video, https://www.youtube.com/shorts/v_NToHlkGcQ, should ensure that.

Yet, Colombia has many quaint towns surrounded by stunning landscapes. Indeed, while the natural beauty around San Luis de Gaceno competes with the best of them, architecturally speaking, it's in the lower leagues.

That building blandness aside, it is often the quirkier aspects of a person or a place that linger. With San Luis de Gaceno, for me anyway, two such quirks have stuck in the mind.

'This parish peculiarity could be a sign that Sanluiseños like to, um, think outside the main square.'

The first, more obvious one, conspicuous by its absence, is the fact that the town's main square is devoid of a landmark Catholic church, nay any religious building. This goes against not just the Colombian but also the Latin American standard.

A church-free main square. 

It does have a Catholic church — and, lest one be accused of bias, places of worship for some other denominations — but it's simply the case that it's not located on the main square.

I heard it said that the locals loved their faith so much that they wanted the church to have a standalone spot, which it does. It's on a knoll just off the main road.

Whatever the reason, this parish peculiarity could be a sign that Sanluiseños, the demonym for the locals, like to, um, think outside the main square, so to put it.

'Only their chickens and rivers run free'

The other "major" anomaly that I observed — or didn't observe, as it was — is that the town has no fried/roast chicken restaurant, asadero de pollo as they're called in these parts. Or if there is one, it's well hidden, which would be a feat in itself. These are the eateries, after all, with lines of chickens slowly spit-roasting away for all to see. They're ubiquitous in Colombia. Well, I had thought they were.

It's not, it must be noted, that I needed one during my stay — in heat in excess of 30 degrees Celsius I tend not to have cravings for roasted or fried chicken. It's just that in many Colombian towns there's nearly no other option when it comes to eating out. So the lack of one was a mild surprise.

One thing I do like to have, regardless of the weather, is a cup of quality, unsweetened coffee.

As I've detailed before, it can be next to impossible to find such a "treat" in small-town Colombia. Yet, once again, San Luis de Gaceno bucks the trend.

An oasis of calm: A serene spot where one can unwind. 

In the couple of panaderías I frequented, the coffee served up merited more than a pass mark. And I am a fairly tough grader when it comes to my brew.

Throw in the town's closeness to fluvial freshness — with some serene spots along the river great for cooling off — and a comfortable en suite hotel room for 20,000 pesos per night and it's easy to see why San Luis de Gaceno, as a place to unwind if nothing else, has much going for it.

This is not to mention the quite spectacular scenery en route from Bogotá. It makes the five-hour journey that little bit less taxing. (This is, by the way, on the same road, just a little further south, as Santa María, which I visited and wrote about previously.)

Indeed, if the work and visa gods permit me to stay in Colombia beyond November, I may go back to San Luis de Gaceno to enjoy a longer stint than the rather rushed two nights I had there.

That would be a rarity for me — a return to a town I've already visited. It's as good as an endorsement that Wrong Way can give.
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A pleasant Villanueva vibe

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

One trend I've noticed in Colombia's low-lying lands — lower than Bogotá that is — is that even rather small towns have a more sinister side to them compared to their loftier equivalents.

Villanueva on the fringes: Looking south towards the vast plains. 

I refer to locations in what is called tierra caliente, literally 'hot land'. It seems to be a case of 'hot by name, hot — in various ways — by nature.'

Bovines and barrels

As a very rough guide, it applies to places with an altitude below 1,500 metres. That is to say, an urban centre closer to sea level is, in my experience, more prone to insecurity issues than a similar-sized settlement at a higher altitude and thus cooler climate.

I've found this "nastier nature" in the likes of Chaparral, Girardot, La Dorada and Tocaima.

Thus, it was to my pleasant surprise that I encountered no such dangers in the largely nondescript town of Villanueva on a recent, somewhat unplanned visit there. (The nearby Monterrey had been the original choice but bus schedules/routes meant it was easier and cheaper to get to Villanueva. For this particular trip, the destination was of secondary importance to the need to escape Bogotá.)

'If the town has a more sinister side, I didn't find it on this visit.'

At 420 metres above sea level and sitting at the entrance to the Casanare department's vast low-lying plains, Los Llanos, which lead all the way to Venezuela, Villanueva's economy is chiefly driven by bovines and barrels. It is, after all, Colombia's cowboy country and also an important petroleum-producing region.

Cowboy country (no animals were hurt in the making of this monument). 

Indeed, the principal peeve is the regular noise from the big oil trucks constantly passing through. As my first night taught me, it's best not to take a hotel close to the main street. Thankfully, owing to the fact — one assumes — that it is a trucker stop, the town has many accommodation options dotted all over.

That aside, while the heat may give it a coastal vibe — minus the sea, of course — there appears to be none of those overbearing Costeño types about (Costeños being Colombians from the coast, particularly the Caribbean region). One is generally left to one's own devices. (Do note, I visited midweek, maybe it's different at the weekends, but I doubt it.)

Plain sailing

While my referring above to Villanueva as nondescript may seem negative, it's just a case that, architecturally wise, it hasn't much going for it. Those vast plains that stretch out to the east and south are, nonetheless, quite captivating, a significant contrast to the undulating landscape of the Andean region.

The layout of the town itself very much reminded me of Casanare's capital, Yopal, a small city I visited a few years ago. I do recall being rather indifferent about Yopal. In fact, I remember thinking that it was relatively expensive, most likely due to the oil economy, so I left with more of a negative than positive impression.

Villanueva, on the other hand, seems affordable across the board. It must also be said that as a result of my current mindset even hell would entice me because of my general boredom with Bogotá.

Impressive: Río Upía. 

What Villanueva lacks — a stream aside — is a natural cooling-off spot within a comfortable walking distance. Yopal, for its part, does have the expanses of the River Cravo Sur close by.

There is, though, the impressive Río Upía eight kilometres south. It marks the border with the Meta department, with the small town of Barranca de Upía on the other side, on the river's southern banks. The broad, fast-flowing waters don't look like the best place to go for a refreshing dip all the same. Conditions might be a little tamer in the dry season.

Back in Villanueva, the barrios to the north-east of the lively main road offer a chilled-out vibe, nice for a casual wander as the town thins out and runs into sparse woodlands.

If the town has a more sinister side, I didn't find it on this visit. And going by the overall friendly demeanour of the locals, I'd be surprised if it does have one.
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