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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San Juan de Rioseco: Only its river runs (almost!) dry

@wwaycorrigan

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

When travelling in Colombia, one is best not to put too much faith in expected journey times, particularly those sourced from the likes of Google Maps and with Bogotá as the origin.

'Oh look, that town is only 100 kilometres away and Google Maps says it takes about two hours to get there. Great!'

Eh, good luck with that.

The bullfighting ring is easy to see, but can you spot the main church?

About the only way such an arrival time could be realised is if you use private transport i.e. your own vehicle or contract a driver, and leave in the early hours of the morning.

Failing that, you face tumultuous traffic whilst traipsing topsy-turvy roads on buses that appear programmed to stop every couple of kilometres or so. These stop-happy buses are usually at their worst on journeys over shorter distances, but even on longer trips the compulsion to occasionally stall presents itself. (On those lengthier trips, it can go from sluggishly slow to fear-inducing fast, as I explained in Colombia's plebeian transport: A riveting ride.)

Having spent the majority of my adult life in Colombia and having travelled here fairly extensively, I should be accustomed to all this. However, one's formative years leave a mark.

Thus, when I see that a place is around 100 km from my base, my Irish mind tells me that the trip should take no more than two hours. Accounting for the Andes' bendy declines and inclines, I add a generous hour to that. Yet, even with that, I'm often still left frustrated at how long the journey ends up lasting.

Río Seco's feet fish

So it was for my recent trip to San Juan de Rioseco, about 60 km west of Bogotá as the crow flies — around 100 km on the road — and a daytime journey that Google Maps calculates at 2 hours 45 minutes.

Yet it took a painstaking hour and 45 minutes just to get to Facatativá, a town less than 40 km from the capital's main bus station, Terminal Salitre. Add to that the hour it took me to get from my Bogotá accommodation to the bus terminal and the total time on the road was over five hours. A mediocre 20 km per hour. (Leaving San Juan de Rioseco at 10 am on a Sunday proved more efficient. It took just three hours to get to Terminal Salitre.)

With all that in mind, one-night escapes from Bogotá are more hassle than they are worth.

As it was, I had three nights in San Juan de Rioseco. While I liked the place and its people, such a stint was enough when one has little reason to be there only to check it out. I'm particularly budget-conscious these days, too, so that played a factor in my more limited stay.

'Bullfighting trumps God from this outlook.'

San Juan's closest watercourse, the not-entirely-accurately-named Río Seco, River Dry — some water flows through it, enough for small, feet-nibbling fish to thrive — and after which the town is named, is insufficient for a refreshing dip.

In the likes of the smaller San Luis de Gaceno, one can waste away a few hours, cost-free, enjoying the nearby river. The lack of such a natural attraction in San Juan de Rioseco only increases the temptation for a few daily cooling-off beers. That's not great when one is trying to reduce one's overall beer consumption.

There is a swimming pool open to the public but in such warm lands I prefer a natural river or suchlike in which to bathe. Two advantages of the natural option are that it's free and, normally, one can seek out a quiet spot away from any splashing and screaming children. And adults.

Mentioning rivers, on a clear day the majestic Magdalena can be seen from certain points in the town. In fact, I was told that in the same direction the snowcapped Nevado del Ruiz also presents itself. Alas, the view was hazy throughout my stay. A faint glimpse of the Magdalena was as good as it got for me.

Coffee highs

There was no such visual impairment of San Juan de Rioseco itself. The most impressive view is from a perch just off the principal road into the town where the bullring grabs the greatest attention, outdoing the church on the main square (see video, below). Bullfighting trumps God from this particular outlook.

By taking the La Balsa route up to the Cambao-Vianí road, you get a more panoramic vista of the town and countryside at Mirador el alto del ángel, the High Angel Viewpoint, or something like that. There, the angels and God put the bullring in its place.

Had I been more adventurous I could have at least walked to Vianí, 16 km east of San Juan on the road back to Bogotá. From the glimpses I got of it whilst passing through, it looked like a respectable enough town.

A walk to Cambao is more of a stretch, sitting 36 km to the west on the banks of the Magdalena as it is. These are places to visit in their own right on another occasion. Walks in and around San Juan de Rioseco satisfied my wanderlust this time.

That many establishments in the town know how to brew quality coffee makes it easier to hang about. As I've oft-mentioned, not every Colombian pueblo has mastered the art of preparing decent, unsweetened coffee.

The somewhat bohemian craft coffee shop, Buáni Café on the main square, which cultivates its own beans, is the standard-bearer. Yet, even some of the plebeian panaderías make acceptable brews. Considering two of them occupy spaces in a building called Casa del Café, House of Coffee, it's only right that they do serve out a cuppa that doesn't seem like a chore to drink.

August Agosto

Now, not that I was in search of one, but it seems that San Juan has no tourist information centre. As it turned out, a chance encounter with affable Agosto within minutes of my arrival resulted in my getting sufficient info to meet my modest needs.

After initially and curiously asking me if I wanted to buy a Renault Laguna — I don't think I had the appearance of somebody on the lookout for a car — he pointed me in the direction of one of the more affordable hotels in the town, Hotel Central. (25,000 pesos for a basic room with private bathroom and, just as important these days, a good internet connection. Plus, the owner, Alcira, was very hospitable.)

Subsequent serendipitous meetings with Agosto saw him tell me about the La Balsa walk and the best route down to the river. On my second day in the town, he even suggested that I could stay in his spare room. I gave that a miss, though. Hotel Central was more than adequate, fairly quaint and far from extortionate.

More than adequate, fairly quaint and far from extortionate: This works as a motto for San Juan de Rioseco itself. It's just best not to do it as a mere day trip from Bogotá.
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Happy in Jenesano

@wwaycorrigan

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

Well, it may have taken 19 months, but I finally managed to swap the Bogotá beat for some pastoral peace, of sorts. (I'm discounting, due to their brevity, this year's day escapes on foot to Cota and La Calera as well as a bike ride and subsequent 24 hours in Cajicá.)

Jenesano's main plaza, the standard Colombian layout.

And like the last time I left the Colombian capital for a few nights, it was to the Boyacá department once again — the small (although big enough by Irish standards) market town of Jenesano and surrounds on this occasion, to be precise.

Close encounters

Some may wonder why I don't opt for more exotic locations, the argument being, as previously stated on this blog, that once you've seen one Boyacá pueblo (small town) you've practically seen them all.

There's merit to that viewpoint. Yet in terms of largely hassle-free travel, towns to the north of Bogotá tick many boxes for me. I live a five-minute walk from the city's northern bus terminal, so travelling north means I avoid most of the metropolis' traffic mayhem.

Yes, there's much more to the north of Bogotá than Boyacá, however, when it's only a few days' break, I don't want to spend too much time in transit.

The reason I chose Jenesano was simply that a barrio buddy mentioned it to me, he's due to work in the town next year.

'I've observed that urban centres in Colombia's warmer lands often have a rough side to them. This may have something to do with the growth of a certain cash crop. That and the politics at play.'

At 2,100 metres-above-sea-level, it's a little warmer than Bogotá. Just a little that is — it's certainly not tropical.

Par for the course in these parts, rolling hills abound. Equally standard are dubiously domesticated dogs guarding every dwelling. Most are in the bark-worse-than-bite category but it's always a good idea to have a lump of a stick with you just in case.

Now, why exactly this was so I'm not sure, but Jenesano was previously called Genazzano after the Italian province of the same name, which translates as 'healthy people' or 'healthy town'.

Back to one's roots, kind of: harvesting arracachas.

I must say, I didn't see anything that points to the locals here being healthier than other Colombians. Indeed, if the lads who were football training are anything to go by, they could do with consuming fewer arepas.

For sure, the pace of life is certainly more relaxed and one would have fewer security concerns here compared to Bogotá, but that's quite a low bar.

What I tend to like about such agricultural towns with a mild climate is that the locals generally leave you to your own devices. I've observed that urban centres in Colombia's warmer lands often have a rough side to them. This may have something to do with the growth of a certain cash crop. That and the politics at play.

Mucking around

So while I would have been quite content to do my own thing in Jenesano, a random encounter with an older couple in a tienda bar on my first night meant I got a whole different, more fulfilling experience.

The couple and I were minding our own business until I ordered my second 850-ml Club Colombia (don't worry, Poker, it was purely for the novelty factor of the new bottle size for this brand — it won't become a habit). The young bartender, bless her, asked me what part of the USA I was from.

Of course I told her that not everyone who speaks English-accented Spanish is from the US. When I asked her to guess where I'm from, the couple took an interest.

'The five-kilometre wander to the slightly higher and slightly bigger Ramiriquí did take place the next day. Pleasantly surprisingly, there was a scarcity of annoying dogs en route.'

Thus began my friendship with Jenesano blow-in, José — he's from San Juan de Rioseco in Cundinamarca originally — and his local wife, Lucila.

They told me about their finca, farm if you will, on the hills outside the town and invited me to go up the next day. They were set to dig up and bag their arracacha harvest (arracacha, or racacha as it's also called, is a root vegetable, kind of like yuca but with a yellow-ish colour and, as far as I'm concerned, a much better taste).

Ramiriquí and beyond.

I postponed my half-plan to walk to the nearby Ramiriquí and accepted the couple's invite. I wasn't there just to make up the numbers, either. I, quite literally, mucked in, getting my hands dirty, putting into piles the dug up arracacha and then separating the edible root from the plant. A change is as good as a rest and all that.

José and Lucila did look after me for my endeavours, it must be noted. It wasn't exactly slave labour.

Not only that, but after a few "celebratory" beers back in Jenesano, they came to my rescue. Dropping me off at my hotel at the, um, ungodly hour of about 10.30 pm, there was no one attending the inn to let me in — shame on you, Hotel El Palacio.

After waiting in vain for a few minutes, the friendly couple brought me back to their house and gave me a bed, a very comfortable one at that, for the night. You see, sometimes it is good to befriend the locals.

The five-kilometre wander to the slightly higher — about 200 metres to be more exact — and slightly bigger Ramiriquí did take place the next day. Pleasantly surprisingly, there was a scarcity of annoying dogs en route.

While I only passed the afternoon in the town, it does seem to have a nice vibe to it. It also has decent and reasonably priced coffee from a number of cafés on its quaint main square, always a major plus point that.

For those looking to work up more of a sweat, there's a decent trek up to a chapel to the south-east that offers a landscape view of both Ramiriquí and Jenesano as well as Ciénega to the north-east, about six kilometres further on from Ramiriquí.

For my last day in Jenesano, I returned to José and Lucila's farm to pick up some arracacha to bring back to Bogotá with me. See, it wasn't a, um, rootless journey.

The couple then drove me to Tunja, Boyacá's capital city, where they had a few messages to run. I accompanied them for the afternoon before they dropped me off at the bus terminal.

The random things that can happen when you escape the monotony and explore pastures new, eh? The next adventure can't come quick enough.

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