After a day of climbing en El Salon De La Justicia, Machetá - a place were I sent my first 7b+ ,)

I went to

leave the comforts of my settled little life and I did. Its free-flow is still giving me courage to sail further away, but closer at the same time. Discovering the, for me, very new places and faces, actions and reactions, methods and functions. Trying to trully open my eyes and see beyond the known and understood. Feel the breeze of a brand new air. Senses!

How lucky I was to earn my scholarship for this life-size journey towards, among other things, the center of my own self. I was not the best student but this opportunity made me want to become one. Sit and listen, sqeeze that sponge in my skull until it squeezes no more. 

Patience is something I am learning to have and it makes me restless. Let's go!

Lásku

Once upon a time in Colombia

Shortly after my arrival to Colombia I felt the usual urge for climbing. And so I went to Suesca, a place about 60 km north of Bogota. There is a massive crag along a neglected railway track with established 400 sport and trad routes, including some multi-pitch climbing too. I have made friends with some local climbers as soon as I reached the crag, with whom I have climbed many times ever since. I slept on a beautiful ledge within the crag my first night which proved very pleasant. And so we climbed and enjoyed it as ever. The following night the 4 of us squeezed in a Miguel’s little room just to rest before leaving for another nice climbing spot in Suta Tauza where there is plenty of boulder problems surrounded by the magnificent scenery, green and rocky valley. The night after we stayed at a friend’s parents’ “finca” indulging ourselves in a hot Jacuzzi bath which was my first experience of this kind. I also cooked with “tomates de arbol” which I found growing in the garden, I added them to the morning omelet which was interesting but I learned that they taste better in a jugo (pronounced /hugo/)… 

A week or so later… I was moving from my first CS host to another, from northern part of Bogotá to the central one. It was all happening later in the evening as the circumstances didn’t allow it any earlier. When I got off the Transmilenio bus (local transportation system) I guessed my way through. It is not that difficult here as they use the grid street system where the streets and avenues are numbered. The trouble began when the little alley I was walking through got narrower. As started to think that this might be a little bit dodgy, a guy, who I noticed with the corner of my sight, started to follow me. He soon got very close to me and started saying repeatedly “celular” (mobile phone). When I looked at him he was holding a knife blade right next to my face, threatening me with it.

Honestly, I didn’t have a clue what to do, it felt unreal and I was scared as hell, unable to run fast with 20kg on my back. I kept telling him I didn’t understand him and kept going my way while he was pulling me back into the dodgy alley. At this point I realised that my escape was only about 20 meters ahead of me, at the main road. In the meantime a young woman entered the little street and, when she saw what was happening, she started banging on one of the metal gates. This made the robber step back and gave me enough time to escape. 

Shaken but happy that I survived such situation scratchless I reached my destination. I stood there ringing the bell but no one answered. The light in the apartment seemed to be on, I even tried to speak to the neighbour but I think my Spanish wasn’t sufficient to explain my situation. Then, suddenly, a car pulled over about 30 metres above the entrance where I was standing. Two lads came out and started walking towards me. I greeted them hoping they might let me in. Instead, one of them pulled out a knife and the other one grabbed my bag and started to run with it towards the car. “What the fuck”, I thought aloud. It took me about 3 seconds to wake up again. I caught up with “the other guy” who was already inside on the back seats with my backpack but he didn’t manage to close the door yet. I grabbed hold of him trying to pull him and my luggage out and asking him all along, and not very kindly, to return my property. But he sat there quietly not letting go of whatever he was holding onto. Menwhile, the other guy and his weapon, also slightly taken with my sudden reaction, tripped over and dropped his “gun”. Then he quickly got into the car while “the other guy” held on even tighter. The car started to move. I started to walk. It speeded up. I started to run. And soon enough it was going too fast for me to keep up so I let go. That was it, all gone. Well except my passport, debit card, a bit of cash, broken mobile phone, pocket knife, the clothes I was wearing and my lovely boots! They almost robbed me of all my enthusiasm too, but it kept burning and, thanks to all my dear friends, it is now back to its full blaze! It wasn’t easy, in my head there was  a proper turmoil going on. But few days later I got a teaching job and people looked after me. And going out in Bogotá may be fun too… 

Especially if you go to the underground salsa club and you are not sober, accompanied with some alike crazy people. Everybody dances like there was no tomorrow, aguardiende is drunk straight from the bottle, sweat condenses on the ceiling and rains back onto people. Spectacular! The other time I went out was again with my dear doctor and some more of her friends and two bottles of Famous Grouse. We made it to a private party in an old and huge apartment downtown. We danced, we drunk, we had tons of fun until, and that I don’t remember, we left. Apparently we took a taxi. Apparently I opened the door before the taxi managed to stop and I started walking. Then I remember this glimpse of a struggle to find my way around even though I was nearby and it’s usually very easy. There are the signs with street and avenue numbers on almost each corner of the block. But by the time I got to the next corner I couldn’t remember what the previous one said… I woke up in the morning, in my bed, very thirsty and with some blood on my trousers which wasn’t my. Who knows. Not me. 

Bogotá is full of homeless people who are often drug addicts or “recycladores” (people who collect the street refuse and take it to the recycling collection points and so earn some pennies) or both. The later ones are my personal heroes. They can often be seen pulling a two-wheel cart, piled up high with rubbish, right through the crazy Bogotá traffic. Once I approached one of these guys and asked if I could help him pulling his cart. He was hesitant but, when I insisted, he agreed. And so I pulled and he collected. I think we must have made a good team as we got some attention from the onlookers, while we were stuck in traffic (with the trolley, ridiculous). It’s hard to survive

in Bogotá doing this. Once I was walking home when I saw another recyclador loading his trolley so quickly and skillfully that I had to pause. I shared some bread and water with him and helped him to finish it off. This is, by the way, how I pay the taxes here, directly to the hungriest, with food.

Once upon a time, when coming back to the “Colombian capital of chaos” from Suesca, I found out about a trash metal concert. So I went. It was a good one, sound bands, reasonably priced beer but not very lively audience. I had to mosh alone. After the gig I didn’t have enough money to pay the taxi all the way home so I went looking for someone to share it with. The first guy I asked was up for it but in the end we took a bus because he knew how. I invested the spared capital into a slice of naughty pizza and even naughtier beer. And here comes the cherry: My landlady locked me out of the house (“she thought I was not coming home that night?!”). When no one answered my loud-enough-to-wake-the-neighbours-up knocking I put on my climbing shoes and guess what… I wasn’t very sober and my mother won’t be happy… Some serious urban free solo climbing took place before the dodgy roof traversing and down-climbing the other side. 

Truth, it was alright to live this family but things changed. First I lived with a girl, her father and another girl who was renting like me. After about a month or so I came home and the renting girl said she was sad. Why? Because the other two had left. Where? Buenos Aires. Really? Really! Funny, I told them two off for making noise moving the furniture after midnight the night before. A mother (of the girl who left with her father) moved in. With her boyfriend who didn’t like me. And his son who was quite funny but I didn’t understand him. They were alright too and they tried my birthday space flapjack but apparently didn’t feel anything. Except the son who thought that someone was touching his feet all night long. I got high too, the ladder must have had many steps because it took me a while to get back down...

Some interesting projects I have come across so far:

Educational institute for children from a poor neighbourhood in

Bogotá: http://www.nidodelgufo.org/site.php?site=co&lang=spanish&section=sede

Food for homeless people in Bogotá:

http://aguapanelita.org/

Homestay for mentally disabled adults near Bogotá:

http://www.agualinda.org/

Organic coffee farm near Armenia:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNnBAMbM6-U

Organic and spiritual farmstay near Armenia:

http://ecoaldeaanthakarana.blogspot.com/

Some things I learned about the country in which I've lived for past 8 months

On 8th April last year I flew from Willemstadt to Medellín, the second major city in Colombia. It's told to have about 3.7 million habitants and it's located in Aburrá Valley, a central range of Andes. The city's recent history is closely related to the infamous drug-lord Pablo Escobar who, apparently, helped a lot to develop it in the 80's and early 90's. He used to reward people for killing policemen but also built many schools and hospitals, one time even offering to pay off the Colombian external debt. He was feared and loathed and loved at the same time.

The climate of Colombia and its flora and fauna are some of the most diverse in the world. Colombians claim to have the largest amount of plant and animal species which are not to be found anywhere else in the world, the big part of which lives/grows in the thick jungle of Amazon. There are some isolated tribes too who would certainly preferred to remain this way but, unfortunately, the trends of civilised outer world is difficult to convince and of a diametrically opposite interest.

Most of the country's area is covered with wast flatlands but these are contrasted with some serious mountains such as Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta which reaches up to almost 6000 metres making it the highest coastal mountain range in the world (forbidden to enter due to its sacredness and coca cultivation). And, of course, the Andes mountains, western, central and eastern range. Bogotá is located at its western range at the altitude of 2600 metres.

The political situation, even though it's dramatically improved in recent years (or so they say), is still a bit tense. There is still a civil war on fuelled by certain armed groups (FARC) who are disobedient to the local laws and free to operate in the areas with difficult access though tackled by one of the toughest armies in the world. Such situation may make locals a little bit cautious.

A drug business which wouldn't exist so much without the buying force of the U.S. but which is bombarded under pressure of the U.S., punishing a few unlucky people and the innocent nature is the one that the most uninterested non-Colombians would recognise.

People of Colombia, them I find generally warmer and more open-hearted, more straightforward. I think it's easy to engage with them but one might also be met with some prejudice in a way that every foreigner is a rich gringo (the history of this expression is actually quite funny; during the Mexican - American War in the 19^th century the US soldiers wore green uniforms and the Mexican ones used to shout at them “Green, go” (home, supposedly)), which I'd ignore most of the time. The negative encounters are immediately balanced by good-heartedness. For instance, after a crazy party with a Czech guy I met in Bogotá, I stopped at a small restaurant (there are many restaurants everywhere in Colombia) on my way home and had breakfast, during which I was interrogated by the restaurants owner, cook and server, who, satisfied with my limited answers in my even more limited Spanish, didn't let me pay and said that I was welcome any time I was hungry. I had difficulties disguising my emotions.

By now I think I established myself well among a few communities I happened to infiltrate, I found some good friends who helped me a lot and without who I would probably be back in Europe already. I met a lot of local climbers and mountaineers and I am trying to learn as much as possible from them; the teachers who help me with my teaching techniques and finding new students; I even have my personal doctor who didn't hesitate to come and visit me when I felt unwell and from who I learn a lot not only about health related issues; people who have their homes open for me any time I need it. Travelling really opens such doors for me, love to all those involved and those to be involved in future!

And what about food? The two main meals of the day are “desayuno” (breakfast) and “almuerzo” (lunch). There's a lot of typical stuff around and it varies from region to region. The typical full breakfast would consist of “caldo” which is a simple beef or fish broth with some potatoes and coriander plus “huevos al gusto” plus a chocolate drink with bread, it's sufficient to fill me up well and it can be as cheap as 4000 COP (2USD). Other favourite breakfast option is “tamal” which is rice, peas, a piece of chicken and a hard boiled egg all cooked inside a banana leaf. Then there are all kinds of “arepas” and “empanadas” with even more kinds of fillings. Lunch would normally have two parts, soup (usually “crema” or “sancocho”) and the main dish which is rice, meat(often grilled or “asado”), pulses of the day, a fried platano aka “patacon” and maybe a salad too. All this you can wash down with a tasty “jugo”(pronounced /hugo/) - the fresh fruit juice/smoothie or lemonade. My favourite dishes are “ajiaco” and “bandeja paisa”. In general, the local food is of rather mild flavours but of high nutritional values. People drink a lot of coffee which is usually not very strong and sweet, “aguapanela” (raw cane sugar dissolved in water, doping for the nation-representing cyclists), chocolate drink, jugo, “aromatica” but also alcoholic beverage such as beer, “aguardiente”(sugar cane distillate with an anise flavour), “chicha”(panela and corn flour fermented drink) and “guarapo”(peels of any fruit but most often of pineapple and panela fermented together). And lots of fruits you have never seen in your life. I'm well fed here.

The culture comes with music and it can be heard from many corners – salsa, merenge, regeton, vallenato and more, people love to dance and they seem to have a certain predisposition for this activity. That makes it hard for me to learn (salsa) because I feel like a trunk of hardwood tree next to them.

Another interesting observations: the ability to sell and advertise, they can be very “approachful” which is something unthinkable in Europe; punctuality is a rare phenomenon in Colombia and it took me a while to adapt.

A_B_Curaçao

Willemstad is a capital of Curaçao and it, with its suburbs, covers about 1/3 of the entire island. In the heart of this city stands a sublime oil refinery. I couldn't believe it until I saw it. People who live down-wind from this industrial gem are obliged to inhale its flowersome fumes.
Population density of Curaçao, compared to Banaire, is almost 7 times higher what gives this island a city-like character. Even though I was told it's dangerous there I've only met nice people.
I arrived late at night and I had no intention to look for a hotel. So I exited the airport premises and started to hitchhike to the right(yes, I didn't have a clue where that would take me). Two young Curaçaoans stopped and seem puzzled when I told them I wanted to go in direction of Willemstad. I got in anyway, they turned back and drove me few kilometres towards the "centre". Near the place they dropped me I found larger area covered with bushes and I spent a night on a comfortable pile of hey which I laboriously accumulated from near surroundings. The night was mosquito-free!

Next day was hot and dry, I hitched my way downtown with a cheerful mid-aged lady who was driving her car fast and listening to high-volumed music, including salsa and hip-hop. Looking for a cheap and authentic place to eat lunch I found a little bar/restaurant with very loud music and a few merry-drunken elders where I was served fried fish. Happy and fed I set on the road once again, mission this time being a beach-search. What an adventure it sometimes turns out to be. It included, but was not limited to, a stormy argument between bus driver and one of the passengers over spilled drink, round-the-prison excursion and finally a ride by Esther, who happened to take me to one of the nicest beaches I've seen on this island. After hearing my story she even decided to have me the following week. When visiting the local yacht port and marina we met a guy who's name I don't remember but who took as on tour on his large fibre-glass dinghy around the boats on anchor so I could offer my services directly to those who were heading to Colombia. No success, but it was fun!
Esther lives alone with her two crazy cats. I assisted her with cooking and tidying up as an exchange for her sincere help. She also lent me her precious bicycle which I used to stroll up and down the island. Down south, near the marina I found some sharp boulders and so I could maintain the smile on my face. A week later I moved over to stay few days with a cosmic-turbo-mother harMonica with whom I had lots of fun, so much that for people who aren't used to it, such an experience could be unbearable. Together we explored the island, climbed the highest peak(45 minutes walk with a pleasant scramble in the end), watched water, under the pressure of sea motion, jetting out from the small but sharp caves, jumped off the cliff into the turquoise Caribbean... And many more. Monica can manage many things and people at the same time, we are the same hyper family.

Picture sources:
http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/21/2157/416CD00Z/posters/ken-gillham-oil-refinery-willemstad-curacao-west-indies-central-america.jpg

http://www.lago-colony.com/MCCALL/Swing%20Bridge%20Curacao.jpg

A_Bonaire_C

On Bonaire I could see those boulders even before landfall. Very sharp limestone rocks laying all around the place, but mainly in the northern part of this island. Scattered goats criss-crossing the thorny bushes full of the tall cactus trees, including the big and, apparently, tasty iguanas (just like snails or frogs, initially eaten because of the lack of other food). I fancied trying the "beast soup" but I didn't get an opportunity. And at the same time I think I'd feel sorry for eating such an adorable creature.
Within 1 km to the west, south west from the island lays another one, called Klein Bonaire. This is one of the main diving sites in the area. Taras and I took a dinghy and crossed over to snorkel there. What a magnificent underwater ecosystem, heaving with colours and life, many kinds of rainbow-like fish playing and painting this coral world alive. My jaw dropped open and salty water poured into my mouth just to remind me to keep my lips tight around the mouth piece. Beautiful!

I drunk my first cup of tea at the local "Coffee Shop" where, officially, they sell legal beverage and tasty cakes. One gets high only by imagining a joint (cannabis containing cigarette) and smoking this piece of imagination. Real high indeed! So high that my friends were unable to locate me from their not so very high seats.
One of the highlights was an invitation for a dinner and sleep-over by Dutch couple. Nature-therapist + data analyst were their occupations, which leaded to some pleasant conversations over the tasty meal they prepared for us. Another invitation I got from a guy called Gilbert who worked at the fanciest restaurant/bar on the island, place where we were taken to dine by Captain Steve and John on the night of our landfall on Bonaire. Gilbert and his girlfreind Tatiana(remember I it right) are an adventure-searching couple who are open to share their experience with others and always ready to enjoy it all. And more...
The rest of the nights I slept in a billion star hotel right next to the beach, facing the vicious and blood-thirsty mosquitoes. Everyday day I swam 2-3 times to cool a hot day off my skin. And every other day I travelled inside the island to scrape the skin surplus on my fingers off on the sharp rocks by, what else if not, climbing!
Not so many boats at the Kralendijk convinced me to fly over to Curacao, where I hoped to find more opportunities.

Captain America?

- Hello, Adventure?!
- ...
- Helloooo?!
- Oh, hi.
- Hey! You must be Steve.
- Yes.
- My name is Rado /handshake/ and I heard you were looking for crew going to the South Pacific. I´d be interested but perhaps not all the way. I´m willing to explore the Latin America before proceeding further West.
- OK. Do you have any sailing certificates?
- Hmm, no.
- And what about experience?
- Well I´ve crossed the Atlantic recently plus a little bit of coastal and river sailing but that´s about it. But I definitely want to do more.
- OK. What knots do you know?
- Hmmm... A bowline, figure of eight, ... fisherman´s knot, and this other one I do not remember its name, let me show you... /demostration/
- Oh yes, that´s a reef knot. That´s good. You´re hired. You can move in as soon you´re ready, we´re departing on Thursday.
- :)) Alright!

Negotiating a ride on a boat may indeed be sometimes that easy. It took me couple of weeks to find the opportunity. Captain America´s Adventure is an old Dutch schooner, two-masted, 22 meters long steel built monohull, originally built in 1931 as a motor fishing vessel. Later converted into a sailing boat with two masts, four booms - 2 standard plus 2 hoistable gaff booms, which help to stretch the square sails between them. Plus 2 other sails in the front, the gib and yankee, as my fellow sailors called them. The yankee stretched through the Adventure´s majestic bow sprit.
A real old-school sailing experience with all the manual sail-work procedures which often could be compared to any adrenalin sports. I have learnt and enjoyed it a lot.
Our crew consisted of 5 people:
Captain America a.k.a Steve, grown up cowboy from Texas who loves his steak but didn´t feel offended by my vegan dish. He is chasing his friend´s idea to establish a shipping company and transport goods(organic melons) between some of the Southern Pacific islands using the power of wind.
Another member was/is Taras, Spaniard looking guy from Siberia who happens to be on the road for last 4 years. He claims to have girlfriends all around the world and he, at the moment, lives for this Adventure all the way to the Pacific.
Then it was JoMo, Steve´s old sailing pall from Dallas who can play well his harmonicas and who attempted to fight the boats unpleasant adour with 20 litres of bleach. Only staying for a part from Martinique to Panama.
The latest crew to board Adventure was Jonathan. 45 year old geezer born in Pool, brought up in Australia and UK who climbed and surfed many places in the world, claiming his momentary residence in the Azores. Strong and interested in sailing, wild-life, surfing, dolphins... Also the most experienced and homblest member of our crew.
What a bunch! We had a good sail the whole way to Bonaire. It took us about 4 days. Just that I had little issues and disagreements with the Captain regarding the safety and some of his methods which cumulated into a loud argument the second day in the Bonaire marina and so I decided to leave.