Wax palms, the national tree of Colombia, in Cocora Valley. (Gwen Stokols)
Our readers share tales of their ramblings around the world.
Who: Gwen Stokols (the author) of Alexandria, Va., and her nephew, Evan Kopf of Closter, N.J.
Where, when, why: Before beginning a full-time job, my nephew elected to teach English in Colombia for a year and I decided to visit him while he was there. The guidebooks were enticing; I originally thought the visit would be for 10 days, but I kept adding additional places to my itinerary. My trip ultimately clocked in at 15 days.
The author and her nephew, Evan Kopf, at Cabo de la Vela. (Gwen Stokols)
Colombia, with its varied climate and topography, is filled with natural wonders. With that in mind, I skipped Bogota and Medellin, and focused on less populous destinations. I was especially excited to explore La Guajira, one of the most beautiful but least prosperous regions in the country.
Evan and I decided to meet in beautiful Cartagena. From there, we traveled east across the northern coast, parallel to the Caribbean Sea . At our first stop, we stayed near Santa Marta and hiked Tayrona National Park. After that, we stopped in Riohacha and met members of the Wayuu tribe, the indigenous people of Colombia, who primarily live in La Guajira. From Riohacha, we ventured to Cabo de La Vela, on the northeastern coast near Venezuela. After that, we flew to the city of Cali, in the coffee-growing region of the country. During our week in Cali, we drove into the Andes for an overnight in Salento.
Highlights and high points: Seeing the wax palms shooting out of the grassy mountains in the Cocora Valley was jaw-dropping. Palm trees are already unusual in a cool, mountainous climate, and these skinny trees can be 200 feet high! Because of the altitude, fog hangs low over the mountains and imparts an otherworldly feel that reminded me of “Jurassic Park.”
Cultural connection or disconnect: When we returned our rental car, the company’s owner started telling my nephew a story in Spanish. My Spanish had improved over the week, but was still not good enough to understand a conversation at standard Colombian speed. So when Evan gasped at one point in the story, I made him repeat it to me. He translated that after we left the rental office the previous day, a man tried to rob the woman at knifepoint as she was leaving her office! I gasped, too. Fortunately, she was not hurt and the robbery was unsuccessful. When we left her office, the lady and I hugged. After that story, she was like family.
Biggest laugh or cry: We were almost back to Cali after our thrilling hike near Salento when we missed the exit for the city. It should have been simple to turn around and resume course, but the GPS started behaving badly. Eventually, it directed us onto a three-mile dirt road, at the end of which we were supposed to return to the main road. Our progress driving the little compact on the muddy road was extremely slow because I was worried about the car’s suspension as we went over ruts and bumps. Then we started encountering puddles too wide to drive around. I eyeballed the first one and concluded that it was okay to drive through.
Finally, we saw the intersection where our dirt road met the highway, a few hundred feet in the distance. Too bad there was one more puddle blocking our path.We both got out of the car and scrutinized the dark pool of water. Staring at the puddle yielded no answers, so I dipped my foot in; my foot was submerged before it touched the sticky bottom. It wasn’t dangerously deep or part of a running stream of water. But we imagined what it would be like to call the car rental lady from the middle of our puddle, stuck in the mud and needing a tow truck. With those happy thoughts, we opted for “better safe than sorry” and turned our poor, mud-caked car around.
How unexpected: Without fail, every Colombian I met was warm and helpful. Over and over again, we interacted with people who were happy to answer questions, provide directions or just generally assist us in tracking down whatever we were looking for.
The other surprise was how hard it was to mail a postcard. When you ask Colombians about stamps, they don’t understand what you mean, because no one seems to send letters. The post office is a private enterprise, but is in no way more efficient than ours. After asking numerous people and getting a variety of answers, the task ultimately fell to Evan to mail my postcards after I left. They arrived in the United States five weeks later.
Favorite memento or memory: Two weeks was a long time to travel with anyone. The fact that my nephew and I were still enjoying our time together at the end of the trip was impressive, as was his patience and tolerance of my foibles. The greatest gift, without a doubt, was sharing the experience.