The End of Service Conference

Manizales, Colombia.

Last weekend I flew to Manizales in Colombia’s Zona Cafeteria to attend the WorldTeach End of Service Conference. Arriving on Friday morning, it felt good to be back—I hadn’t been there since my visit back over Semana Santa. Since we had to wake up at 4 a.m. to catch our 6 a.m. flight, we spent most of the day napping—the conference was scheduled to begin in earnest the following day.

That night, we went to a local theater to watch the Manizales volunteers perform songs with their students in English as part of a presentation with Manizales Billingue, WorldTeach’s partner in the city. Decked out in their holiday costumes, the kids were adorable enough to make even the Grinch smile. They sang English songs to the theme of the “last day of school.” Afterward, all of the volunteers sang alongside the students as they intermittently waved at their families in the audience. Overall, it looked like the kids had the time of their lives, getting their two hours and forty-five minutes of fame.

Universidad Catolica de Manizales

When the show ended, we went out to grab a drink with some of the Manizales volunteers. It was strange hanging out, knowing that we would soon part ways, possibly for forever. We had all come a long way since our first days at Santa Cruz during WorldTeach Orientation—many of us now spoke decent or excellent Spanish, we were comfortable being in Colombia, and had overcome countless challenges throughout the year.

Unfortunately, we were not all there—due to budget issues, WorldTeach was holding two separate conferences, one for the volunteers on the coast (Baru, Cartagena, Monteria, Soledad) and one for the interior (Bogota and Manizales). Luckily, I had been able to say my goodbyes to the coastal volunteers during my October visit to La Costa.

After a long night, the next morning a rolled out of bed and dragged myself to Universidad Catolica de Manizales, where we were meeting for the conference. Although many of us were very…er… sleepy, we had a productive day talking about our experiences teaching. It felt good hearing that I was not the only one who has had a frustrating year trying to punch through the Colombian bureaucratic BS to actually accomplish what I came here to do.

I made it!

We also had practical sessions covering resume-writing and how to leverage our experience in Colombia as we pursue our next professional endeavors. Although helpful for obvious reasons it also pressed the issue in my mind just what the heck I am going o do when I return home for good in three weeks. But more on this later.

That evening, our field director, Tara, sent us on a scavenger hunt-esque mission o follow clues spread throughout the main plaza that would, in theory, lead us to a final secret destination. Sadly, the game soon fell apart when confusion about leaving behind discovered clues causes many of the groups to hit dead ends. Then, as if to spite us, God made it rain on us.

Luckily, I was wise to Tara’s evil plan and knew that they were making dinner at the hostel/house where the Bogotanos were staying. Sure enough, we arrived as Tara and Lynn were finishing up preparing our Thanksgiving dinner.

Gradually, the other volunteers trickled in, each more soaked than the last. When everyone had finally arrived, we enjoyed some awesome Thanksgiving food and our last night together.

The Bogota and Manizales volunteers.

Sunday morning came and along with it, the final day of the conference. After an enlightening ice breaker game of “Never Have I Ever”, we commenced with the final sessions of our WorldTeach careers. We talked about readjusting to life back in the states and the things we were looking forward to back home. At the end we all received plaques commemorating our year of service in Colombia.

Later, we headed to Juan Valdez café to have one last hang-out and take a group photo. After that, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

Eventually, it was time for the four Bogotá volunteers to go back to our lovely mountain home—but the weather would ensure a complicated return.

When we arrived at the tiny Manizales airport, we learned that our flight had been canceled. Not only that, but we would need to take a nearly two hour bus ride to catch a flight in the in the neighboring city of Pereira.

On the bus to Pereira.

Given the region’s frequent mudslides, I felt that I’d rather take my chances flying through inclement weather, but choice is a luxury Colombia rarely affords.

We loaded onto a questionable-looking bus, given apologetic juice boxes and ham sandwiches, and sent out our merry way through the rain-soaked Colombian countryside. Although it was hardly a smooth ride, I somehow managed to drift in and out of sleep for most of the two-hour journey. Finally, the bus pulled in to the airport in Pereira.

After spending the next few hours waiting around at the Pereira airport, it was time to board the plane back to Bogotá. Passing through the boarding room, I encountered one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in South America: a vending machine that sells beer.

Awesomeness incarnate.

I will repeat that.

A vending machine that sells beer.

Move over, Machu Picchu.

At any rate, we got on a scary propeller plane in the dark and took off for Bogotá. Thirty minutes later, after I had barely made it through a single music album on my iPod, we landed at El Dorado International Airport.

Yes, our bus ride to Pereira took four times longer than our actual flight to Bogotá.

Colombia is like that.

Summer Travels Part 3: The Rich Coast

Saying hi to mom

Drowsy and discombobulated, I awoke in an air conditioned hotel room.

Where was I again?

Then the previous day’s travel hell entered my mind and I remembered—Costa Rica.

Sleeping in the same room were my two brothers; my parents slept in the next room over. With my brothers still asleep, I headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Turning on the light, I was immediately taken aback by its niceness—this was certainly no grungy hostel bathroom.

By the time I was done with the bathroom, my brothers were stirring and I borrowed some of their clothes, as mine were conveniently lost somewhere back at the Bogotá airport.

A while later, my parents came to our room and the whole family reunited for the first time since my January departure.

At the Sarapiqui hotel

After a posh breakfast, a van came to take us to our first destination; Sarapiquí. We left San José and over the next few hours, passed through the beautiful Costa Rican countryside. At one point we stopped at small tourist tienda, which was surrounded by a band of lizards. Most of the lizards just stood there, motionless, although some were apparently in the middle of mating season.

Finally, we arrived at our rural hotel, deep in the heart of the Sarapiquí jungle. The hotel consisted of a main lodge with several surrounding “huts” containing the bedrooms. Once we settled in, we went to the pool area to have a few drinks.

When I went to the bar to order a beer, the bartender tried to speak to me in broken English and I responded in Spanish. She looked at me with pleased amazement.

A gringo speaking Spanish… was it even possible?

Canopy

One of the things I would learn about Costa Rica is that its economy is completely dependent on foreign (mostly eco) tourism and as such, everyone speaks English, or at least tries to. But I was in Latin America and I wanted to speak Spanish, so I stubbornly refused to let people speak to me in my native tongue.

Later that day, a van came to take us down the road to spend a few hours doing canopy, or zip-lining. Although I had done canopy early that year in Manizales, this canopy course was way larger, having sixteen zip-lines as opposed to Manizales’ one. The zip-lines passed over rivers and passed tall jungle trees—it felt like being on the Forest Moon of Endor.

Didn’t see any Ewoks, though.

The rapids

The next day we took to the rapids, doing some pretty hardcore river rafting and battled aggressive alligators and man-eating piranhas as we flowed down the current.

…okay maybe that was a slight exaggeration. But we did get to eat watermelon.

When we got back to the hotel, I was delighted to hear that my long-lost luggage had finally arrived along with my clean clothes. No more bumming clothes off my brothers for me.

Done with Sarapiqí, we headed west to the Arenal Volcano, where we stayed at a nice hotel that had pool with a bar in it.

I will repeat that; a pool with a bar in it.

God is indeed great.

ATVing

On our first day in Arenal, we went on an ATV tour. Back in California, my family owns ATVs and I have been driving them longer than I have been driving cars. Every summer, we take them out on the trails in the Lake Tahoe National Forrest, roaming freely wherever the paths may lead. Although it was slightly annoying to be treated like an inept tourist and having to follow a guide, we still got to drive through some breathtaking countryside. I waved at the locals as we passed.

About an hour into the ride, we stopped at a tourist-looking area and dismounted the ATVs. Crossing a bridge, we passed through a forest of gift shops and arrived at a platform overlooking a bowl-shaped valley with a powerful waterfall… falling at the valley’s opposite edge.

The rope swing

Continuing on the trail, we eventually came to another stop—a river that created a small swimming lagoon. By this point, I was covered with dust and dirt from riding at the back of the pack and I welcomed a chance to get fresh.

Heading down a rocky embankment, we soon arrived at the swimming hole, which was marked with a small waterfalls created by the river and a rope swing. Although I wasn’t sure if the rope would hold the weight of a tall gringo, I said to hell with it and swung away, nearly belly flopping into the lukewarm water below. My dad and brothers followed suit while my mom gave us moral support from the embankment.

Hanging out with the family

That night, the whole family hung out in the sports bar attached to the hotel. It was a bona fide gringotopia, complete with banners from American sports teams and a pool table. Although the bar tender was kind of a sourpuss, we had a good time hanging out.

The following day, we went on a nature hike next to the Arenal volcano. The guide told us some pretty terrifying stories about people who had died hiking near Arenal—a very active volcano. Except rather than spitting up molten hot magma, the volcano shot car-sized balls of superheated volcanic rock. In other words; a wonderful way to die.

And by wonderful, I mean excruciatingly painful.

Regardless, the jungle near the volcano was lush and beautiful. Although the area had been completely destroyed during Arenal’s last major eruption, in only a few decades the jungle had made an impressive comeback; there was a wide array of plant and animal life. At one point, the guide threw ants at a spider web so that we could watch a Shelob-sized spider devour its prey.

In front of the Arenal Volcano

After the hike, we headed to a hot springs resort to enjoy the thermal waters. The springs were located at a fancy hotel that made the place we were staying at look like a Motel 6. We had a good time relaxing in the waters and I was particularly delighted when we stumbled across a water slide. Good times.

Most of the next day was spent driving to the distant coastal town of Manuel Antonio. Along the way, we stopped at a cloud forest for yet another nature hike. We looked at trees and ants and hummingbirds then continued on our merry way.

The next day—our last full day in Costa Rica—we went on another hike, this time near the coast. Although most of us were sick of walking around humid forests and looking at the same wildlife, this time we got to see some cool animals, including sloths, toucans and spider monkeys. The path passed by the ocean and we spent some time dunking in the ocean.

Spider monkeys on da roof!

Later that day, we headed back to San José and our final hotel. Tomorrow, my family would be heading back to California and I, back to Bogotá.

The following morning when we arrived at the airport, I wondered if the aviation gods had changed their minds and would finally bestow their favor upon me.

As it turned out, they hadn’t.

After waiting in a long line to check in, the airline attendant told me that I had been kicked off my flight due to overbooking. He put me on a later flight—that would depart seven hours after my scheduled flight—and gave me a $150 USD voucher for a future flight and $14 to buy lunch in the airport.

Seriously, aviation gods… wtf.

After passing through security, I waited with my family at their gate and soon it was time for them to depart. Saying our goodbyes, I reassured them that the next five months would fly by and that I would be home before they knew it.

I watched them board and minutes later, the plane left the terminal and took off.

Waiting at the airport with my dad

Passing the next seven hours alone in the San José airport, I contemplated my return to Bogotá. The last three weeks had been incredible—the life of a backpacker is indeed a lot different than that of a foreign language teacher in Colombia.

But I still had work to do in Bogotá.

And so I went back.

Semana Santa in Colombia’s Coffee Region

Manizeles is a short flight from Bogotá.

Standing on the crowded TransMilenio bus sporting my overstuffed travel pack, I might as well have been dressed up as Uncle Sam with the looks the other passengers were giving me. Normally, I can avoid stares by keeping a low profile and keeping my mouth shut, but with my giant gringo travel pack, I wasn’t fooling anybody.

After linking up with two other volunteers, I arrived at El Dorado International Airport with plenty of time to spare. When it was time to board, the flight staff led us down a short flight of stairs and ushered us onto a bus that took us to where our plane was waiting further down the runway. Although I was slightly taken aback by the fact that the plane had propellers rather than jet engines, I had no choice but to surrender to the will of the aviation gods and board. Thirty-six minutes after takeoff, we landed on a small runway in La Nubia Airport in Manizales, Colombia.

Thus began my Semana Santa in Colombia’s Coffee Region.

Manizales is San Francisco's South American twin.

Mountain Hostel and Manizales Night Life

Watching the city pass by on the way to the hostel, I could not help but feel that I was back in San Francisco. As the taxi powered up steep hills, passed through tunnels and weaved through incongruent streets, a strange air of familiarity hovered over the city just as the fog often does over the city by the bay.

After arriving at Mountain House, our home away from home… away from home for most of the week, we checked in and got ready for a night on the town. Many of the WorldTeach volunteers from across Colombia had come to Manizales for Semana Santa and were all staying at the same hostel, so I was excited for a mini-reunion.

That night when we went out to check out some of the Manizales night life, I was immediately struck by the differences between the bar scene in Bogotá and Manizales. Whereas Bogotá’s is huge and spread out, the Manizales bars were concentrated in a relatively small area. The streets were filled with college students having a good time, drinking on the streets within plain view of patrolling police. Although much of that night became an aguardiente-induced blur, the highlight of the night was dancing and drinking with friends at a place called Cable Bar.

Salento, Colombia.

Two Days in Salento

The next day, after forcing myself out of bed, making some scrambled eggs and chugging two cups of coffee, I left with the others on a bus for the nearby town of Salento. As the bus navigated the coffee region’s comically crooked roads, my enguayabado self endured three excruciating hours of doing my best not to vomitar. About two hours into the trip, our bus was stopped by a roadblock of Colombian soldiers carrying big guns. The soldiers were cordial as they frisked us for any hidden weapons. When they were satisfied that we weren’t gringo guerillas, we got back on the bus and continued towards Salento.

Hills near La Serrana hostel.

The bus dropped us off in Salento’s main square and I fell in love with the town at first sight. Salento had retained nearly all of its colonial architecture, accentuated by an old white church making up its center. Merchants set up stands throughout the square, selling a variety of art, jewelry and clothing.

After a pleasant jeep ride over an increasingly more rural road, we arrived at La Serrana, and I fell in love yet again. The place resembled a bed & breakfast resort more than a hostel and encompassed a large property overlooking rolling green hills. After checking in and dropping my bags in my room, I went for a walk to take in the surrounding area. Looking out at the painfully beautiful green pastures and peaceful tree-covered hills, I couldn’t help but smile—this was the Colombia I had been itching to see since the day I set foot in Bogotá. After four months of living in a polluted, overcrowded metropolis, I savored every breath of fresh mountain air.

Riding on the back of the jeep.

The next morning we headed into town to find transport to the Valle de Cocora where we planned to do some hiking. After hiring an old Willy’s jeep to take us, we piled on to the vehicle and I rode standing on a foot plate sticking out the back. With the wind blowing in my face as the jeep passed through some of the most breathtaking countryside I had ever encountered, I could have sworn I heard the Indiana Jones theme song playing from some invisible speaker.

When we reached our destination, the jeep dropped us off and we continued on foot through the Valle de Cocora. Colombian soldiers stood guard near the entrance to the trail to protect against guerilla activity that continues to pose a threat in the region. After entering the Valle de Cocora, I felt thrust into a Dr. Seuss book—the impossibly tall wax palm trees standing in the distance gave off an otherworldly aura. I would later learn that these trees were the tallest palm trees in the world and Colombia’s national tree.

In Valle de Cocora.

We spent a good five hours hiking through the mountain jungle, crossing makeshift bridges and ascending steep rocky inclines. Halfway through it started to rain and the already-muddy trail devolved into an even muddier trail, enveloping our boots with thick, brown mud. Although a pervasive fog prevented us from enjoying the view when we reached the top of the mountain, it was still worth the hike.

The Hot Springs

At the hot springs.

The day after we hiked through Valle de Cocora, we returned to Manizales to finish up the rest of the week checking out the area. On Wednesday, we attempted to visit one of the few places in Colombia that has snow—Nevado del Ruiz, but mudslides had made the pass impassable and we had to turn back. Instead, we decided to go to one of the hot springs in Manizales to soak up some sulfur. Although I had always pictured a hot spring to be a small pond in the middle of nowhere with hot, bubbly water swirling around in it, I was surprised to see that it turned out to be more like large, warm swimming pool.

After a few hours of lounging in the hot spring sipping a beer and looking out at the clouds hanging over the distant mountains, I was as relaxed as anyone could be.

At the coffee farm near Manizales.

The Coffee Farm

One of the highlights of the week came when we visited a coffee farm just outside Manizales. Again, we took jeeps through beautiful countryside en route to a rural destination. Touring the coffee farm felt a lot like wine tasting, as we got to sample some of the best coffee I have ever tasted while learning a lot about the coffee-growing process.

Colombia is one of the largest producers of coffee in the world and it was fascinating to see how they grow it first-hand. We walked through the coffee fields and inspected the large machines that process the beans after they have been picked. I was so fascinated by what I learned that it has inspired me to write a post about Colombian Coffee, so keep an eye out for that in the near future.

Los Yarumos, Torre al Cielo and Catedral de Manizales

Los Yarumos is a large ecological park in Manizales where you can do a lot of different outdoor activities. They have a zip line, ropes course and a series of hiking trails to keep you busy all day. Due to time constraints, I was only able to do the zip line, which they call canopy. The zip line was fun, albeit short, but nonetheless worth the $4 USD it cost to do it.

Riding the zip line in Los Yarumos.

After zip lining, we went to Torre al Cielo, a large UFO-shaped tower on the highest hill in Manizales. The tower overlooks a stunning vista of the surrounding mountains and is famous for being the best seat to one of the prettiest sunsets in the country. We went to the tower’s third floor lounge and had drinks as we looked out at God’s impressive handiwork. Although you can also go to the top of the tower and pay to be strapped into a safety harness to literally hang out on the top terrace, I opted to save the $10,000 pesos to put towards my margarita fund.

On our last day in Manizales, we visited the Catedral de Manizales, one of the tallest cathedrals in the world. The impressive neo-gothic architecture makes the cathedral one of Colombia’s treasures and I was able to tour the inside and climb to the top of the one of the cathedral’s highest spires to take in a panoramic view of the city.

Catedral de Manizales.

Back to Bogotá

After a fun-filled week, the time finally came to say goodbye to our friends and head back to the big city. Although I was reluctant to leave such a beautiful place, my duties back in Bogotá beckoned for my return. Seeing a new part of Colombia has whetted my appetite for more and I can’t wait for the day I will get to see more of this truly enchanting place.