Popoyan, Cauca, Colombia
I spent three nights in Popoyan, Colombia. It is a colonial town in the south west of Colombia in the Cauca department. It’s buildings are well maintained partially it seems as a result of it having one of the biggest Semana Santa celebrations in Colombia. Every building is painted a stark white which to me has the effect of rendering it slightly like a very large mental asylum. This feeling is re-enforced by the seemingly quietest main square in Latin America where the inhabitants don’t seem particularly partial to tourists – hissing or whispering under their breath ‘gringo!’ or ‘turista!’ on several occasions.
I had only intended on staying for two nights however Martina and Mark from Austria who I’d run into in Salento invited me to join them for dinner. So we walked around to find the only affordable restaurant that was open – a Italianesque named place that looked quite promising with clean dark wood tables in a sleek modern style restaurant. When my choice of a chicken sandwich and fried potatoes arrived it was it was apparent that something had gone horribly wrong with the chef. The promised fried potatoes were not ‘bien cocinada’ as requested but rather the usual soggy undercooked white. Opposing these on the other half of the plate was a soup of mayonnaise, tomato ketchup, and mustard submerged under which were pieces of lettuce and ripped up bits of chicken breast. A forlorn single square of white factory bread sat unadorned floating slightly in the mayonnaise soup.
After this edible disaster we decided we thoroughly needed a strong drink so we proceeded to a liquor shop with two tables in front of the caged-in bottles. After ordering two bottles of Aguardiente and several beers (Colombia’s favourite liquor, like a light Ouzo), the liquor store hanger-oner proceeded to buy as a number of bottles more. So, after being the last up in town I woke up the latest in the hostel, well past the check-out time. As I prepared to leave for San Augustin it started pouring rain and I was accosted on the street by the hanger-oner who showed up with two large beers and kept on insisting I drink one of them. I declined and spent a rather wasted afternoon trying to rid myself of my headache.
Silvia to Tortoro with the Guanbianos, Cauca, Colombia
I drove to the town of Silvia for a day trip from Popoyan. The main attraction appearing to be the ability to see a group of indigenous people named Guambianos who still retain their traditional way of life (growing potatoes and onions) and dress – wearing bowler hats jauntily accompanied by a blue skirt, a colourful scarf, and all topped off with army or ankle-high hiking boots.
After enjoying some trout from the trout farm I lay lazily on the grass in the main square until striking up a conversation with on of the bowler-hatted Guambiano fellows. It went largely along these lines.
“Where are you from?
“Canada”
“I really want to buy a little table for 4,000 pesos. Would you give me the money?”
“Umm, no.”
“But want the little tiny table, it would help me, would you give me 4,000?”
“No, but perhaps I could take your photo for 1,000?”
“Oh, yes!”
I then handed over the thousand and by this time had been joined on the other side by another fellow, this one holding a wood staff with three shiny silver buckles around it. So I took the photo and was then told I had to pay double because that was the chief with the shiny staff. I said no to the scrounger causing the chief to have a good chortle. My posse was now growing and cigarettes were handed out to all three fellows now surrounding me.
So with my mission accomplished in Silvia I then went looking for their village in the mountains. After following a degrading rock strewn path for an hour, I found another indigenous town name Totoro. However, in this town instead of dressing in unusual clothing the main activity seemed to involve giggling at and harassing strange white people. While sitting in a cafe downing a pan and cafe tinto the chorus of giggling grew louder after one drunk fellow had approached my then out-of-sight bike. I went outside to see him sitting on it mimicking driving. Annoyed I told him he could ask me if he wanted to sit on my bike. This earned me some threatening looks from the assorted idiots as they ambled up the road. I returned to Popoyan a little soured by the last events of the day.
Archaeological Park of Tierradentro, San Andres, Cauca, Colombia
About three hours from down a unpaved road lies the small town of San Andres also known as Tierradentro after the archaeological park there containing hillside statues and tombs buried under volcanic rock. Halfway to San Andres I stopped at a restaurant in the high valley to have some breakfast. I was greeted by a person from Bogota who was working for the Caterpillar corporation, training the locals on how to use the machines to build the new paved road that was currently half-built. He told me one of his workers had been stopped and had their motorcycle robbed from him while passing on this road. So with his admonitions to go fast and not stop for anyone I sped along as much as possible to the town on Inza and then on to San Andres.
The main sites stretch over about a 5 km area on the mountains overlooking the valley surrounding San Andres town. While they weren’t spectacular the walk was pleasant. I ran into Marie from New Zealand and we sat in the blazing sun laughing about the Gringo Trail that everyone including us seemed to be on.









