solo travel Archives - Page 26 of 32

Asia Georgia (the country) Georgia Trip 2014

Tbilisi Loves You: First impressions

My flight from Warsaw landed in Tbilisi at 4:00am, a time i am well acquainted with but after almost two days of plane travel i was bleary eyed. The sign that greets you at customs says, “Tbilisi: the city that loves you.” And i felt the love, or at least, i felt welcomed. It was too dark and early to do anything, so i settled into a comfortable cafe in the airport terminal and drank coffee and smoked (inside the cafe) until the sky lightened. I haggled briefly and successfully with a man who said “i have car. I drive you,” and we drove to the city. (The price: 25 lari) i wasn’t able to gain access to my hostel until 9:00 so i spent 3 hours walking around the old city part of Tbilisi and around the river.

Wow. This place is awesome. Seriously, from the sleepy early morning until now, the lively evening, it is beautiful and and so incredibly interesting. My pulse quickened as i walked down the winding streets with their beautiful, dilapidated buildings, medieval-looking churches, pocket sized squares, cafes, and shops, all nestled beneath mountains dotted with more churches and imposing fortresses, along a rushing river. There are also a handful of crazy super modern architecture structures, which add to the old world charm by way of their juxtaposition.

I know what you are thinking:”your pulse quickened? Cut the hyperbole already.” But it did. On first glance the whole place was just that exciting. It is that unique: not quite European, a bit middle eastern, a bit Central Asian…but wholly enchanting. And none of it feels precious or artificial. It’s just…great.

First impressions aside, i was exhausted and must have looked it, bedraggled as i was, with my pack on my back, that as i stood looking up at a synagogue, a man, the caretaker, invited me in to sit. I hung out there for about an hour, chatting with the man, drinking his coffee.

After that relaxing interlude, i went to my hostel to drop off my bag. I am staying at the Old Town Hostel. I have a private room with a kitchen on the 4th floor. Shared bathroom, shared, living room area, on one of the particularly ramshackle side streets, which is, as far as i can tell, walking distance to everything.

Dropped off my bag and set off again. The day was beautiful – sunny and warm. I walked all around, stopping to have breakfast and a cigar in one of the squares. Happily the rumours are true: everyone here smokes and there are no restrictions on where they do it.

I went to so many churches today. All simple, medievally looking ones, beautifully painted on the inside and decorated with candles, urns, and gilded pictures of saints. Unfortunately, i haven’t any pictures from inside the churches, as they were filled, crammed, and overflowing with worshippers. This is a religious culture. People cross themselves, just when walking past a church. Women cover their heads to enter, and everyone seemed to be going. They lit candles and incense, prayed, took communion from dramatically dressed and dramatically bearded orthodox priests, and they kissed everything: pictures of saints, the floor, the interior and exterior walls, crosses, each other… And the singing was some of the loveliest i have heard in church. Each stop was wonderful, although in some cases the best i could do was stand outside and listen, as the church was so full, that worshipers stood outside doors and windows to participate.

I also wandered around the area where the public baths are: underground, sulphur baths, both public and private where you can enjoy hot and cold pools, brutal massages and exfoliation at the hands of strong and serious men and women on stone slabs, and all the public nudity you can handle. They are fairly ancient and renowned, but i know i won’t be partaking, not being comfortable with either public nudity or massages.

I have just finished a walk around many of the same areas, but now in the evening. The bars and restaurants are busy. There are a few narrow, pedestrian streets lined with cafes, bars, and lounges, all busy and at least half of them hookah lounges filed with men smoking and playing backgammon.

I’m still a bit tired, so i have opted for a quieter bar/restaurant where i am enjoying a glass of Georgian wine and a cigar, just a few steps away from the louder, busier places, where they are playing a loud mix of middle eastern music, techno, and hits of the 1990s.

There is still so much so see and explore. This is only day one. I am already so happy i came here. Tbilisi says it loves me. Is it premature to say i love it back?

Europe Georgia Trip 2014 Poland

Warsaw Whirlwind

I arrived in Warsaw at around noon and zipped through security and immigration and onto a train which got me into the city centre speedily and without incident. I did a bit of reading up before leaving and knew where i planned to roam around. Of course, upon leaving the train station I promptly set off, quite confidently, in the wrong direction. Walked for about a half an hour before I realized something had gone wrong. No matter though, I got to see some of the more ordinary parts of the city, filled with traffic, cafes, milk bars, and kebab shops.

Once i had my bearings i walked up the lovely Nowy Swiat (street), lined with cafes, churches, palaces, the university, and oodles of inviting cafes and eateries. There were certainly people about but the streets weren’t particularly lively as it was pouring rain and windy. A winning combination. First purchase: an umbrella. Nevertheless, the walk was lovely. The churches were filled with worshipers and three of them had weddings underway, so I watched for a bit. In each case, the bride & groom sat on chairs, which led me to believe that these are long ceremonies. I didn’t stay long enough to find out how they ended.

One church stood out for the fact that it (allegedly) has Chopin’s heart in an urn inside one of the columns in the nave. I was disappointed that it was not on display in a box, like something out of Snow White, but it was cool anyway.

At the end of that street it opens up into a beautiful square in the “Old Town”. I am using quotation marks because this part of the city was decimated in WW2 and then later re-built and restored, painstakingly, into an exact replica of what it was before. So it isn’t technically old, i guess, or at least not entirely, but it really is beautiful. Wonderfully open squares with outdoor cafes are surrounded by colourful buildings, often ornately decorated with design or paintings of people and animals. Of course there are countless places luring you in with their pastries, vodkas, meats, and dumplings.

After walking for quite a while (and getting quite soaked in the process) i cozied up inside a warm eatery with wooden…everything, and lots of books lining the walls. (An observation: there are still tons of bookshops here. Awesome.) i had a plate of golden pierogies and a cabbage salad, washed down with a pot of tea. Perfect rainy day fare.

After that, more walking, including poking around in an antique store filled with soviet and WW2 odd and ends, where i picked up an (allegedly) antique, wood-lined, silver cigarette box with a skull on top of it – with a cigarette in its teeth. There was no way that wasn’t coming home with me.

This really was just a Warsaw sampler. There are so many wonderful looking museums and areas to explore, but i only had 10 hours, and there is still the airport to factor in. I spent the last hour or two in the most perfect cigar lounge, settled into a leather chair with a Bolivar Belicoso Fino and a Punch Limited Edition torpedo, watching the rain and reading. There were some other guys in there, but they were in pairs, talking in hushed, conspiratorial sounding Polish, so i didn’t make any new friends.

I then confidently got on a train back to the airport, with just enough time to spare and rode three stops before i realized i was on the wrong train and did not know any words in Polish to assist. After drawing a picture of an airplane and something that was intended to be Chopin (after whom the airport is named) for a foursome on my wrongly chosen train, much to their amusement, they pointed me in the right direction, and, well, here I am back at the airport, waiting to board my flight to Georgia.

I’ll be back here for a sequel to this Warsaw whirlwind next Sunday, at which point I should have a better idea of where I am going.
On to Tbilisi!

But first, a few more photos:

Asia Georgia (the country) Georgia Trip 2014

Georgia (the country)

In one week I’m off to Georgia – the country, not the American state. I know. Georgia. Random. This will be a short trip, 10 days in total, so it seems somewhat ludicrous that I am flying to the other side of the globe, but I think I’ll be able to pack a lot in to my time there and I love flying so the long flight is kind of a bonus (all that forced relaxation and guilt free napping…heaven).

It’s not like I discovered Georgia of course, but I really hadn’t given it a thought until about a year or so ago when I was looking at my atlas one lazy day over a cigar (as you do) and I saw it and thought, “What’s the deal with Georgia?” So I started reading about it and became very intrigued. First of all, it looks beautiful in terms of landscape and architecture: snow-capped mountains, bucolically verdant valleys, medieval churches, and glittering modern design. Second, people don’t really go there – not like they do to Italy or Argentina anyway. This appeals to me. The off-the-beaten-track places are always the best. Fewer crowds and a sense (albeit somewhat false) that you are discovering something new makes any place better. Third, Georgia is small enough that I can see enough of it in my time allowed such that I shouldn’t feel deprived. Fourth, I feel an obligation to select travel destinations that will help to improve the geographical knowledge of my friends and family. You’re welcome.

You can read about Georgia on your own if you are so inclined, but here are some basic facts to get you started. Georgia is technically in Western Asia, on the ‘balcony of Europe’. It is nestled between Azerbaijan, Armenia, Russia, and Turkey, with its West coast on the Black Sea – the Caucasus region. Population: about 4.5 million. It was in the news most prominently in recent memory in 2008 when it fought a war with Russia. It has this awesome looking language – Georgian – which is a Kartvelian language. Seriously, Kartvelian. It’s fun to say aloud. It is a family of about 4 languages which are only spoken in that region, so it is entirely dissimilar to neighboring languages like Russian and Turkish. The written language looks like this: ულოცავენ. სად არის უახლოესი სიგარების მაღაზია? (Which means, “Greetings. Where is the nearest cigar store?” I think.)

The flag is this cool looking medieval design that would not look out of place being held high by a knight on horseback.

Apparently, Georgia is the oldest confirmed wine-producing country on the planet, with evidence of wine making vessels discovered from about 6000 bce. From what I can tell the food looks good, with lots of dumplings, bread, eggplant, walnuts, and tomatoes.

The capital city is called Tbilisi (or T’bilisi), which will be my base for the time that I am there. It looks like a beautiful city with charming crumbly bits and beautifully re-built areas, set along a river lots to explore.

From what I’ve read, the Georgian people are renowned for their hospitality, much of which may be booze inspired, but nevertheless, the stories of friendly and welcoming locals was appealing.

But here’s what sealed the deal for me: you can still smoke everywhere in Georgia: in restaurants and bars, in the backs of buses, etc. The thought of being able to smoke cigars with my meals or beverages – inside – is so appealing, that this alone makes it a winning destination. I plan to smoke constantly and joyfully. I have read in two different books however that in Georgia, although it has very high rates of smoking, that when it comes to women, only prostitutes smoke outside on the streets. This is a theory I will obviously be testing on a daily basis.

One added bonus is that my flying itinerary affords me two lengthy layovers in Warsaw, so I’ll be able to do some exploring there are well.

So that’s what I have planned. I’m sure it will be terrific and I hope to have lots of interesting adventures to share.

Now, let’s see how many cigars I can cram into my backpack…

Colombia South America Venezuela

Wrapping things up in Colombia & Venezuela

On my final night in Cartagena I went out for dinner and then to a La Casa del Habano cigar shop/bar in Gethsemani. It was fairly quiet when I arrived but I had a decent chat with the Manager who showed me bundles of tobacco to be rolled into Colombian cigars.

The smoking situation is Cartagena has been better than in Bogota. You still can’t technically smoke inside, but with the weather being so beautifully tropical, there is no shortage of patios to smoke on; plus, you can smoke in cigar shops and there are at least three in the old city. There are lots of “Cuban” cigars being sold on the streets here and they are all fakes. There are real Cubans for sale in the shops, but they are very expensive – as much as in Canada.

Here’s a few more Cartagena pictures from my final day:

The next morning i flew back to Bogota and sent many hours walking around, doing a bit of shopping and finally killing time in doors when it got too cold and wet to be comfortable outside. That night i flew to Caracas.

I had a nine hour layover in Caracas, which would have been great had it been during the day, but we arrived at about 12:30 am. I thought initially i might stay at the airport and sleep on a row of chairs, but i realized that i probably needed some sleep if i was to be at all functional when i returned home and went right to work – plus, the airport in the middle of the night feels pretty sketchy. Not the sort of place i would feel comfortable sleeping in public. This is also what i determined reading accounts by other people who had been in the same situation. Indeed, the whole area around the neighborhood seems pretty dodgy at night.

Earlier in the day i did some hotel research and discovered that there are only two hotels near the airport and they are both very expensive. There are other hotels in downtown caracas of course, but they are quite far from the airport and transportation is expensive. Anyway, I was too tired to look for creative or alternative options so i got a room at a fancyish business hotel about 10 minutes from the airport. I took some colorful Venezuelan Bolivars out of the ATM and the next thing i knew i was in a tinted-windowed SUV being driven to the hotel. (the taxi ride: also expensive)

I checked in and had a restful, but brief sleep. The next morning i saw that the hotel was right on the Caribbean and had lovely pools and patios. So i ate a an overpriced breakfast taking in the view before taking another taxi back to the airport. From what i saw of the neighborhood on the drive back; it looked poor and unremarkable, but had lots of colorful Chavez graffiti and beautiful mountains. That was my brief foray into Venezuela.

Colombia South America

Mercado Bazurto

This morning, after breakfast i hailed a taxi to Mercado Bazurto – a large market well outside Cartagena’s centro historico where locals sell all manner of food and household items and operate shops and eateries. It is not a common tourist destination i am told and it has a reputation for being very dangerous. I don’t know how well deserved that reputation is, but to be on the safe side, i left my bag at the hotel and took just enough cash to get there and back, plus a bit extra, and my camera (and a few cigarillos).

The taxi driver dropped me off at the most chaotic, labyrinthine, dirty market i have ever been to. There were roads for vehicles, unpaved and soggy with mud and bits of rotting vegetable matter and scraps of fish and meat, all of which the birds and dogs were fighting over. Other than the main roads were dark passageways, covered mostly by tarps and lined with ramshackle wooden stalls. Everywhere people were descaling and gutting freshly caught fish, cutting up various animal carcasses, and selling all manner of fruits and vegetables. Cars and colorful buses, taxis, and donkeys pulling little carts made their way loudly through the streets with no sense of order. The shops played loud salsa music or less frequently, rap. Men walked around selling juice, cafe tinto, and lemonade, or pushed carts selling arepas, buns, and other items. The whole place smelled like garbage, wood smoke, fish, and rotting flesh and plant matter. Not surprisingly, i loved it. It was a complete sensory overload. I enjoyed wandering, though i avoided the darkest alleyways.

I attracted a lot of attention. People wanted to sell me things, but mostly they just wanted to say hello. I wanted so badly to take pictures of the market and the people and buildings which were crumbly but painted with bright colors and pictures of fruit and chickens, but i did not take a single photo. I felt very conspicuous and it seemed like it might have been rude to walk around and take photos, so i just walked, and smiled and said buenos dias. I did sit down at one stall where a woman was making cold drinks and had an orange and milk smoothie while watching people cooking up meat in a big pot over a fire next to a small shack that operated a single person hair salon.

It was a terrific place to visit; i’m so glad i went and did not allow the fear-mongers to convince me to stay away. It did not feel at all unsafe, but i certainly felt like it was best to stay to the busy areas. I walked out of the market, past lots of roadside eateries (basically, small wood stoves with a few tables and plastic chairs), and then through a fairly nice (and mercifully air conditioned) mall before catching a taxi back to the old town.

Today is my last day here as i fly back to Bogota tomorrow. I shall spend the rest of the day, walking and enjoying the beautiful weather before returning to the cold and misty Andes.

Colombia South America

Cock Fight

Yesterday morning, before it got too hot, i went for a walk around the walls of the old city. The walls are fairly high and thick and hold numerous cannons, pointed out at sea. The walk is quite pleasant and offers great views into the streets below.

After my walk i hung out at the hostel in the hammock for a bit and ran some errands and had dinner with an Australian girl and then i headed to one of the squares where i was meeting someone who had promised to take me to a cock fight.

This all started the day i arrived when i met this guy, a local, and we were chatting about what i was going to see and i asked him if her knew where i could see a cock fight. (I had originally wanted to see a bull fight but they only happen in January and February.) The man said, you have no idea who you are talking to–i have 48 chickens for fighting. And so he said to meet his at 6:00 on Friday and we would go.

On the face of it, this seemed like an exercise in poor judgment on my part. I was going to go to a dodgy part of town with a guy i just met to see a cock fight. My instincts said do it, but be cautious. So i met the guy and his two cousins at 6:00 on Friday. I was happy to find out that a young couple from Australia (a girl and a boy) would be joining us. (The Australian cuople told me they had been mugged at knifepoint the day before at 5:00 right in front of their hostel in the touristy neighborhood, but they said they only gave the guy about $5 and he went away.) We hopped in a taxi and went about 15 minutes out of town to a much, much poorer neighborhood.

Before we went to the arena, we went to the patio of this bodega on the corner and had beers (well, i had water) and chatted and took in the people watching. Although it was not an area i would go on my own, i really enjoyed it. Loud salsa music was playing and people were out walking and shouting at each other jovially and dogs were playing in the street. The whole area was really run down and dusty, but it had a friendly feel.

At about 8:00 or so we went to the arena. It is an arena dedicated to cock fighting and in one of many in Cartagena. It seats people in the round on three levels (the admission fees vary depending on what area you sit in). Just outside the arena is an open area with a bar and placed where they keep the chickens on fight day, where they prepare them, etc.

the spikes are applies to the chicken legs

So people have chickens and they have their chicken trainers bring them to the arena. The chickens have their feathers clipped in particular ways and underneath and on the legs the feathers are removed. The chickens are weighed in a special scale to see what weight class they belong in, and then the spikes are attached. A cut is made in the back of the chicken´s leg and a metal thing is inserted and it is bandaged to the leg, then into the metal thing a spike is screwed in – a spike about 2 inches long. Then the lower part of the chicken’s leg is wrapped, kind of like how boxers wrap their hands.

While all this is going on, men are standing around drinking beer, smoking, chatting, and checking out the chickens who are to fight.

The fight began and we took our places. The two chickens are brought into the ring and the betting begins. Some of the betting is organized and some of it is just guys betting with the guy next to him. The whole process is really chaotic with everyone shouting names and numbers all at once and waving money around. The minimum bet is 20,000 pesos (about $10 or $12 dollars), but bets go into the thousands i am told.

The fight starts and the chickens start pecking at each other and flapping and the crowd goes crazy yelling. Above the ring hangs a clock, counting down from 15 minutes and a sign with each chicken’s name and stats (wins, losses, weights, village of origin). Also in the ring are two judges. If one chicken takes the other down for a period of time, that chicken is the winner. If 15 minutes goes by with no big wins, then it is a draw. Judging by the reaction, the crowd doesn’t like draws. Most of the fights lasted about 10 or 12 minutes and ended with one chicken dead or nearly dead. The quickest fight lasted about 5 seconds.

the winning chicken and the dead chicken

I found it all quite fascinating and i enjoyed yelling at the chickens: Come on Chino, don’t be a pussy, take that motherfucker chicken down! Or sometimes, if i was rooting for chicken number 2 (when both chickens had the same name, which happens more often than you would think), i would yell: Numero dos es numero uno! The fighting was interesting, but the best thing was just the experience of being there and knowing it was something not a lot of people get to see. Also, i liked that you could sit in the arena, watching the fight and smoking cigars. That was pretty cool.

We definitely stood out, the Australians and I. We were the only gringos there and the Australian girl and i were the only girls, aside from the one selling the beer. We hung out there for a couple of hours and then took a taxi back to the centro historico. After being dropped off i went to the Casa del Habano and had a cigar and mojito with the manager while watching Romancing the Stone on the tv. The manager says it is his favorite movie.

Over all, it was an awesome experience. A definite first for me – and maybe a first for them, as i am not sure how many cigar smoking, tattooed, pale, blonde vegetarians they get at the cockfight.

Colombia South America

Playa Blanca

Cartagena is on the Caribbean, so it is not surprising that it is surrounded by beautiful beaches. The ones right here in Caragena are fine, but the farther out you go, the more pristine and beautiful they become. About an hour away by speed boat is a beach called Playa Blanca: a stretch of powdery white sand along turquoise sea with palm trees and various places renting hammocks and grass huts for the night. I am not much of a beach person, but this sounded quite idyllic, so i decided to go.

There are 3 ways to get to Playa Blanca: take a tour (which involves also going to an aquaraium and has less than favorable reviews and costs about $50,000 pesos or more), take a 3 hour bus ride and then convince someone to take you to the beach the last half an hour by motorbike, or convince someone to take you in a private boat.

I was not going to spend hours on a bus and did not relish the idea of a tour, so i opted for the private boat. I went just outside of the old city to the market at about 7:30am and found where the boats were. They were smallish, fiberglass boats with wooden benches and were sort of rectangular in shape. They were docked next to where men were repairing fishing nets and gutting the freshly caught fish. I found a man with a boat and asked if he was going to Playa Blanca. He was not going there, but just past it, and would drop me off for 20,000 pesos (about $10-$12 dollars). This sounded good. I hopped on the boat and waited. The deal is, you have to wait for them to fill up their boats before they leave. i waited nearly 2 hours but i did not mind, as men came by selling coffee and bananas and i really enjoyed watching the fishermen and the activities as the boats were loaded with supplies. Our boat was filled with water jugs, flowers, crates of pineapples, bags of plantains and coconuts, and other less exciting items and about 10 other people got on board. Then we left.

The boat sped along, leaping off of the waves. I have never been on a boat that fast and it was very exciting. We passed by green areas of trees, the new city of Cartagena with its modern high rises, and past tiny shacks along the water, where people were clearly living in great poverty. After about an hour we arrived in Playa Blanca.

I was the only one getting off there, so i hopped off the boat and waded to the beach (there is no dock area). The boat began to pull away and then came back with the captain yelling at me that i had not paid him. I argued with him, as best i could, that i had paid in Cartagena, but after some time, i realized that i may have paid the wrong man (ie not the captain). I saw others paying in Cartagena, but perhaps they paid the correct person, or maybe they were just ripping me off, but i finally gave in and paid 20,000 pesos, again.

Obviously, this is only about $10, so it was not the money that bothered me, but my pride was injured and i was a bit embarrassed as it looked like i was trying to get away without paying, which was not the case. Anyway, as the boat pulled away and i was left on this desolate beach, i regretted coming, did not want to be there, and realized…how was i going to get back?

I had assumed that there would be a dock with boats and that it would be easy to arrange for return transport, but once the boats drop of their passengers, they leave. The beach did have one end which was clearly more touristy, as there were lots of people (but still only grass huts and hammocks), but the end i was at was fairly deserted. I sat down on a chair feeling kind of upset and pannicky. There is no road, no boats, no electricity, no telephones (no motor cars)…i was already planning to live there forever Gilligan’s Island style, when some women wandered by and sat with me. They had been at the busy end of the beach selling massages. They tried to chat with me, but the language barrier made it mostly impossible, however they could see i was unhappy. They called over a man who operated the hammock, hut, and kitchen establishment at which i found myself. (El Paraisio de Mama Ruth – i highly recommend them for sleeping & eating.)

This man did speak fairly good English and i explained my situation. He expressed regret for my being ripped off and said he would arrange for a boat to take me back at 3:00 (it was now 11:30) for 10,000 pesos. He fixed me up with a hammock, and some lunch of salad, rice, and plantains (he brought out a platter of freshly caught fish for me to select from, but i explained the vegetarian thing). I felt immediately more at ease.

And so i hung out there for more than 3 hours. i ate lunch, smoked two cigars, lay on the beach, sat in a chair looking out at the sea. Occasionally people walked by selling jewelry, shells, or coconut drinks, but other than that, it was completely quiet. Nothing but wind and waves, and a few men who emerged from the sea holding long, bright silvery fish they had caught with their hands. I have to say that i relaxed very quickly and found it quite peaceful.

At about 3:00 though I got anxious. My English speaking friend was no where to be seen and there were no boats on the horizon. I figured I was going to have to spend the night, when a boat came around the corner, loaded with people and with a man sitting on the bow, waving his arms. It was the guy! I waded out to the boat, thanked him for his help, and we sped off back to Cartagena.

The day, over all, was a great experience but i must admit to being particularly happy when i set foot back on land in Cartagena, tired, sweaty, and salty.

I spent the evening walking around, grabbed a bit of dinner and found a another cigar shop where i sat with the manager and his friend and smoked and chatted for an hour of so. (This time I learned all about prostitution in Cartagena.) I had planned to go to a salsa club, but was nodding off by 10:00, so i just went to bed.

That was my Thursday. I can’t wait to see what will happen today.
d

Colombia South America

Cartagena Squares after Dark

My hostel here in Cartagena is very good, in the sense that there is a good group of people here. The common areas are very comfortable and there are small pools (one with fish) and some hammocks. Yesterday late in the afternoon, i came back to rest and hang out for a bit before going out for dinner. I had a pleasant time chatting and listening to everyone’s travel stories.

After that i went out and had dinner at an outdoor pizzeria on a busy square situated beneath a cathedral. It was the perfect spot for my first dinner. The square was filled with tourists and locals and wandering musicians. The only minor downside, is that every 5 minutes someone came up wanting to sell me something: jewelry, paintings, (fake) Cuban cigars, etc. Eventually they left me alone, but it took awhile for them to figure out i was not a buyer. But it was delightful to sit there and smoke and eat dinner and watch everything unfold.

After dinner i walked back to the Gethsemani neighborhood and to the Plaza de la Trinidad. Earlier in the day it had been a small, deserted square at the base of a yellow church, but now it was filled with food vendors, young people, and loud salsa music. I hung out for a bit before five people got up on the steps of the church and began doing a dance. The square then filled with people following along and dancing in unison. It was amazing. I was tempted to join in, but did not. I don’t know how long this lasts or how often it occurs, but it was really cool.

After that i went back to the hostel and had tea with a couple of traveling girls.

Today, i have no plans, so i shall see how the day unfolds.

Colombia South America

Arrival in Cartagena

Greetings from Cartagena. I arrived at about 11am on a flight from Bogota (1.5 hours). I took a short taxi ride into the old city and checked in to my hostel: La Casa de Chicheria.

The part of Cartagena i am staying in is the old city, which is the historic part, which is separated from the sea and the new city by thick, stone walls. The old city, is stunning. Colorful two-story buildings with balconies spilling forth flowering vines and plants. The city is dotted with lovely squares with large, stone churches and palm trees. Everywhere are fruit vendors and sellers of jewelry and souvenirs. On the squares are restaurants with tables perfect for people watching and enjoying a coffee and cigar. It is quite stunning.

Cartagena is very different from Bogota. First of all, it is tropical. It has been raining today, but the air is warm and thick with humidity and parrots call out from the trees. Cartagena is also much more touristy than Bogota. There are souvenir shops and hawkers of every variety and tour guides trying to convince you to take their tours. People here speak English, not most people, but certainly those who are trying to sell things. As a result of the touristiness, it is also very clean and beautiful relative to Bogota. It is also more expensive – still affordable, but there are not a lot of $2 meals in the old city. There is another part of the old city, called Gethsameni, which has all of the beauty of the more touristy part, but is a bit less touristy, and the buildings and streets a bit more crumbly. This area has most of the hostels and cheaper bars and restaurants.

I discovered all of this on my preliminary walk around the city to get my bearings. Unfortunately this was in the rain, but it was warm, so i did not mind.

Happily, i stumbled across a cigar store and went inside. I bought a small cigar and sat with the proprietor who poured me a rum. We chatted about cigars for a while. It was very pleasant.

I can tell already that one could easily explore the whole old city in a day, so i shall pace myself. There are a few places just outside the city to see, but i shall wait for the sun to come out before i venture to one of the many beachy islands.

Right now i am hanging out at the hostel for a bit before hunger drives me outdoors. I’ll surely write again later, as there is more to say. Later.
d

Colombia South America

Smoking Cigars in Bogota

The smoking situation in Bogota is the only this that has been disappointing. It seems that it is illegal to smoke indoors and the law is followed. Despite the lovely courtyards at my hostel which are technically outdoors, they are also smoke free. There are also virtually so outdoor eateries, cafes or patios here – probably due to the rainy and generally cold climate. This means that my cigar smoking has been done walking, sitting on steps of churches, or convincing a cafe or bar owner to bring a chair outside. It is not the end of the world, but i would have liked more options. I look forward to seeing what the situation is in Cartagena.

Also, i am very glad i brought lots of my own cigars, as i have seen no where selling them and no one smoking them.

Still, it is easier to smoke in public here than in Vancouver, so i am not complaining.

Wandering North

Tag: solo travel

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Smoking Cigars in Bogota