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 José del Guaviare: Colombia's best department capital?

@wwaycorrigan

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

Medellín, Bogotá, Cartagena, Santa Marta, Cali, Bucaramanga. In roughly that descending order, these are the top cities for immigrants to Colombia.

San José del Guaviare: It's far from a dull backwater.

As populous, fairly well-connected, and relatively cosmopolitan urban centres, it's not surprising that they attract foreigners from near and far.

When it comes to smaller towns, the likes of tourist-heavy Salento, San Gil, and Villa de Leyva are to the fore.

Outside of the aforementioned, plus perhaps about another dozen places, if immigrants settle elsewhere, it would most likely be by accident rather than design. Or employment or a relationship brought them there against their better judgment.

The Guaviare grind

Now, while San José del Guaviare, like Colombia in general, has seen the number of foreign tourists grow in recent years, few seem to stick around. (I'm not including Venezuelans — they're not really foreigners in Colombia, being from a país hermano/brother country as they are.)

That tourism in the Guaviare department is on the up is understandable. There are some stunning sites to be seen around San José, some of which I wrote about after my first, brief visit in 2018, and the town is not difficult to get to from Bogotá.

Yet, it's also understandable that few visitors stay longer than needs be. The town itself isn't quite in the quaint cohort.

Revved-up motorbikes and the coming and going of cargo trucks in the river port area mix with loud music from a stream of competing bars to ensure there's plenty of noise around the centre from dawn to early morning. Add in the stifling heat — often in the high 30s degrees Celsius — in the heavy, dusty air and it's easy to see why many may find it a bit too much.

Yes, it's on the banks of a majestic river, the Guaviare, but its murky waters aren't the most inviting for a refreshing dip.

'The barefooted Indigenous kids who enter some establishments looking for free treats can get a little annoying after a while — 'Ah, not again lads!' — but they're not going to pull a knife for non-compliance.'

The pristine waters that run into the impressive natural wells, pozos naturales, do offer aqua relief. But located 10 km from the town, they're not exactly a comfortable walk away. And as they are inside a protected park, there's also a 10,000 COP entrance fee to access them. OK, there are a few swimming pools in the town but it's nice to have natural, cost-free options.

Thus, why would one stay in San José del Guaviare when Colombia has so many other more attractive alternatives?

Outside of my penchant for finding delights in the drab, relishing the rough and ready, the town has what can be described as more pleasant pull factors, as I discovered after over two months there.

Safety first

For starters, as department capitals in Colombia go, it's surely one of the safest. One can wander about the place at any time pretty much assured that nothing untoward will happen. It's virtually free of delinquents. Fair enough, the barefooted Indigenous kids who enter some establishments looking for free treats can get a little annoying after a while — 'Ah, not again lads!' — but they're not going to pull a knife for non-compliance. I don't think they would, anyway.

So while it's not unique in having friendly, helpful residents, this lack of petty crime (petty for those who don't suffer it, that is) gives it an advantage over many other big towns and cities. (The reason for such lack of in-your-face crime may be due to darker forces behind the scenes, as I explained in my Pacific Puerto Asís story.)

Also, as a single guy, I found its women to be refreshingly free of this insidious idea that the white foreigner comes with riches to raid.

What's more, that hustle and bustle of the centre and adjacent river port area is balanced out by far quieter neighbourhoods in most other parts of the town, such as the Bello Horizonte and La Paz barrios.

In terms of accommodation, it's on the cheaper end of the scale compared to the bigger department capitals. I've been told furnished studio apartments can be rented for around 600,000 COP per month (that's roughly 120 euros).

Speaking of value for money, more-than-satisfactory, standard two-course lunches cost between 6,000 and 9,000 COP. The equivalent in most of Bogotá these days is about 12,000 COP. (I must note here, in similar-sized, similar-vibe Granada in the Meta department, from where I write these lines, such lunches are available for 5,000 COP and monthly accommodation is equally if not more cheaply priced. But Granada is not a department capital — that may play a part in pricing.)

Tax and vax haven

Guaviare is, however, one of the five Vat-free departments of Colombia — the others are Amazonas, Guainía, Vichada, and Vaupés.

So with a range of everyday products tax-exempt, one might expect the cost of living to be notably cheaper. Yes, some things are less expensive than Bogotá but others, such as beer, are not. One explanation, given to me by a tienda owner, is that the Vat-free status is cancelled out by having to pay protection money — a vacuna/vaccine, as they call it — to the real power-brokers in the region, the guerillas, the darker forces I referred to earlier.

It's generally just property owners and business people who are forced to pay this vacuna. So the likes of tenants and employees should see some benefit from the tax-free status.

I noticed that motorbikes, the preferred transport option in San José, are in the Vat-free category. I assume it's the same for bicycles. For if I were to return for another prolonged period, I'd look into buying a bike. I figure cycling would be a great way to visit the likes of the natural wells and the town of El Retorno, 30 km to the south. There are many other places to pedal to as well. The topography is fairly flat, after all. Although the heat makes up for the absence of crippling climbs.

I suspect this is the mental trade-off for me in San José del Guaviare. Because, as I've proclaimed before, I am a fan of altitude. Yet, I do also like climates where one can dress light 24/7 — it complements my minimalist outlook.

Now, if you're of a more cosmopolitan composition, San José is unlikely to excite you. But a dull, insular backwater it is not. And since my first visit over six years ago, its population and urban area have grown, making it a livelier spot, for better and for worse (it's more the former, for now at least, I feel).

In fact, if for some reason I had to base myself in one of Colombia's department capitals, from all those I know, San José del Guaviare would top my list.
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The mild rover

@wwaycorrigan

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

'Oh, the wanderer is back.'

It's a remark often directed at me whenever I return to Ireland. You see, some people in my birth country think that I'm a full-time traveller.

This year Wrong Way has been more of a rover than before.

The main reason for this, I figure, is down to where I've been based: Crazy Colombia.

Irish emigrants in the more popular locations — Australia, Britain, Canada, the USA — live abroad but someone like me is a wild rover, to take from the eponymous song (although I'm unlikely to return with riches similar to those of the oft-remembered, unnamed Wild Rover).

'They think it's all rover'

Now, while at times I think I'd like to rover regularly, the reality is that I've been more fixed than floating when it comes to moving around. Constant changing of my abode within Bogotá over the years doesn't really make me a rover. Yes, mentally I may have never really settled in — and on — Bogotá but my physical time spent there betrays this.

Taking miles travelled as a guide, I wager many so-called settled folk in high-income nations have covered more ground than me since 2012, my first full year in Colombia. Or they've at least flown over more ground than me.

Only this year could I justifiably be called a rover, but perhaps more of a mild one than a wild one.

For starters, I've had no fixed abode in 2024. January was spent with family in Ireland. On my return to Bogotá in February, an acquaintance invited me to stay in his luxurious, spacious apartment. 

March and July also saw me in a salubrious setting in the Colombian capital, apartment-sitting for friends. In between, I had a total of a month, in two separate stints, working in Palomino in the La Guajira department on the Caribbean coast and when in Bogotá I stayed in the box room of an acquaintance's apartment — it was a way of recouping money he owed.

'This current wandering at least provides some relief in these wondering times.'

From February to July, outside of my travels to Palomino, I also visited San Juan de Rioseco, Moniquirá, and Chocontá, as well as double trips to both Pacho and San Luis de Gaceno.

Since early August I've been out of Bogotá, a largely unavoidable four-night return in the middle of that month aside. It started with ten days in Puerto Asís, followed by eight days in La Chorrera. I flew to the latter via San José del Guaviare, which has been my main base for over two months. From San José, I've taken in the nearby towns of El Retorno and Calamar.

I do have a banking matter to attend to in Bogotá before the end of October but I am not at all sure where I'll go after that.

Capital crime

While there are certain things I miss in the capital, when I have no solid reasons to be there, well I don't really want to be there, particularly when it means I have to house-share. (The cost of a private hotel room in the provinces is usually cheaper than getting a basic, unfurnished studio apartment in Bogotá, if one can be found, that is.)

All this time outside of Bogotá represents my longest stint away from the city while remaining in Colombian territory.

It's largely the result of, as one can probably guess, having no steady work mixed with much uncertainty as to my next move. And this is unlikely to change in the coming weeks.

On the whole, I'm largely relaxed about the situation — a bit too relaxed, some may argue. That not having access to a kitchen is one of my main concerns shows that I'm not exactly at breaking point. Being able to cook, to have greater control over what I eat, is important to me, all the same. It would also be nice to truly have my own place, but I will most likely never get to enjoy such a luxury in Colombia.

Whatever about not being able to cook these days, there's a cornucopia of food for thought simmering in my mind. If only I could get a peso for each thought, then I wouldn't have to worry about sourcing gainful employment.

My current wandering at least provides some relief in these wondering times. Being a mild rover has a cathartic side.
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The independent traveller's guide (of sorts) to Guaviare

Broadly speaking, there are two types of travellers: Those who do some sort of planning, research if you will, before getting to their destination; and those who just rock up to a place, a kind of 'see what happens' approach.

These days, I tend to find myself more in the latter camp. It's part of the adventure really. If I've to plan for a break, something that's meant to be relaxing, it can almost take the fun out of it.

On top of this, I usually prefer travelling alone. I find it quite a release to hop on a bus companion-less, heading to some destination I know very little about and where I don't know anybody on arrival. A chance to get away from it all and lose myself in my own thoughts.

The view from the top of one of the many large rocks at Ciudad Piedra.

Thus was the style of the recent visit to San José del Guaviare, the dusty small town and capital of Colombia's Guaviare department.

Up until recently, the place was generally regarded as being off limits to not just tourism but pretty much any unnecessary visits. It was a 'zona caliente', that is to say, a hotbed of violence in Colombia's internal conflict.

In Bogotá, across the stratum divide, this view still seems to hold for many. "Be careful going down there" was the refrain from most, as it is when one goes to many regional outposts. Now, by area, it is a big department, about the size of Croatia actually, and I only explored a small section of it around San José, so I can't speak for it all.

Yet, what I did experience was nothing but friendly folk in an environment that felt anything but threatening. Indeed, in terms of having personal belongings stolen, the chances of this happening in San José seem pretty remote. Alas, we can't say the same for the country's capital.

The biggest problem with the place — which in some ways is paradoxically a plus — from that independent, off-the-cuff traveller perspective, is that the tourism infrastructure isn't quite in place (yet). If you haven't signed up with a tour company, getting around to see the many wonderful sights can prove to be a bit of a headache.

Of the fledgling tour companies in operation, Geotours del Guaviare is one that I had the pleasure to chat with and get some useful information on my second day there, by accident as it was albeit. However, doing tours on your own with these can be pretty expensive (though, if you're coming with dollars or euros in your back pocket, it won't seem too much at all).

On our way to the refreshing natural wells with the help of Saúl ...

Nonetheless, where there's a will, there's a way and all that. So while I was given a chance to go on a group tour with one agency, sticking to my independent guns, from San José's main square I contracted a motorcycle taxi guy (cum guide, of sorts) to bring me to some of the sights of interest.

Considering the agency prices, Arnulfo's negotiable 80,000 COP for an 'all-day' (09:00 to 18:30 as it turned out on day one) trip seemed reasonable. (That's just over 22 euros. And yes, I did get it at a lower price; we are in straitened times.)* In fact, the motorbike ride in the hot sun was an attraction in itself, if a little bit testing on the posterior.

Although he wasn't the most informative, Arnulfo turned out to be good company all the same, although he was a little difficult to understand at times. We got over the small setback of his struggling to find the 'pozos naturales', natural wells, at the end of our first day. That I opted for a second day with him is proof of that.

The ancient rock paintings at Cerro Azul ...

Alongside the natural wells that we eventually found (with thanks to a third party, Saúl!), on that first day we took in the rather mysterious, ancient indigenous rock paintings of Nuevo Tolima, followed by the impressive Ciudad de Piedra (Rock City) and then the rock tunnels. It's what the tour agencies call the 'rocoso', rocky trip, with all the attractions being within relatively easy reach of each other (with transport that is).

On day two with Arnulfo we went to Cerro Azul, or Blue Hill if you like, where there are more indigenous paintings to try to 'decode', a 'cool', in every sense of the word, bat-filled rock tunnel to traverse, as well as stunning views over the vast plains-cum-jungle.

A refreshing tienda pit stop came after that  — Arnulfo's call, honestly. In fairness to him, it's a sweaty trek up and down Cerro Azul in the energy-sapping sun, while the motorbike journey alone to get there from San José is a good 90 minutes, most of it on unpaved roads. He deserved a beer or five.

Once 'watered', we briefly took in Laguna Negra, the Black Lake. By that time, with the sun setting, the blood-sucking flying insects were out in force and I was left badly exposed. They were the biggest threat faced over the four-day visit.

Going to Guaviare in dry season means missing out on the chance to see majestically-coloured rivers, akin to the more renowned Caño Cristales (an advantage for the Guaviare versions is that they're far easier, and cheaper, to reach). The best time to see the rivers in bloom is between July and November.

This anteater caused a bit of excitement among the concerned locals in San José ...

Also, on the fauna side of things, Guaviare has much to offer. In this regard, I didn't see a lot on this occasion — an unexpected visit of a young anteater to the centre of San José that caused a bit of excitement was as exotic as it got.

In any case, it's just another reason to go back. We can call this a reconnaissance mission of sorts for the independent traveller. The contacts and groundwork have been laid for that return visit.

*Both Arnulfo (+573115678891) and his brother Antonio (+573115559047) offer moto-taxi services.
There are a host of hotels in San José del Guaviare, from basic to slightly more upmarket. Residencia Casanare, a block away from the main square, has rooms available for as little as 10,000 COP.
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