First stop: Salento.

After all the flight dramas the reunion had finally taken place on the domestic flight to Pereira. That was great. Lyvette introduced us to her new baby pink water bottle that was designed for a 3 year old that she was going to carry around Colombia with her. Then we had a taxi ride from the airport to the bus stop. The taxi driver was a lovely man who gave us all whiplash.

His break control was all over the show and we felt like we were back in Asia as he sped up into stationary traffic and then slammed his breaks on at the last minute. As we all head butted the windscreen for the umpteenth time we questioned our transport choices and Lyvette decided she needed a physio because her neck was so sore. It was like riding a very erratic kangaroo. Only worse.

Nursing our whiplash we managed the 1hr bus journey from Pereira relatively pain free. The bus pulled up and the driver said something really fast in Spanish;

“Ah, he told us to ‘wait here he’ll be back in 5 minutes’,” Gemma announced with such confidence that we believed her. Everyone disembarked the bus. Except for us. The driver stared at us like we were stupid (we stared right back, like we were stupid) and then he shooed us off the bus. 

It turns out Gemma can’t speak Spanish (not even close) and the driver definitely didn’t tell us to wait for 5 minutes. I became the translator of the group (because Gemma clearly had no idea) and I had been educating myself for 7 years on Duolingo in preparation for this moment.

After what seemed like a lifetime of travel we had arrived at our first destination of Salento.

This is a wonderful little town in the hills with brightly coloured buildings and streets full of dog shit.

It is famous for its coffee and is home to the world’s tallest palm trees. (Apparently it’s not famous for its dog shit, but it should be). The main form of transport is known as a “Willy” which is basically a jeepney. We arrived around 10am and decided it would be really wise to hit the ground running and book onto a coffee tour.

Which, on paper, sounds great. Until you’re the person who falls asleep standing up, mid tour. I realised I had fallen asleep when I woke up with my face inches from the floor. I could see Gemma chuckling to herself across the group but that still wasn’t enough to keep my eyelids open. It seemed that 48hrs without sleep had finally caught up with me and no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t stay awake. The main issue with this being I was on a coffee tour and I was stood up. The secondary issue with falling asleep stood up is that (in my situation) when this happens it’s very hard to stay upright. I fell over that many times as I was overcome with sleep that eventually I had to lean against a doorway to give me some support. The rest of the group must have thought I was crackers. Not even two cups of coffee could keep me standing straight. After an eventful journey back to the accommodation riding a “Willy” with my eyes rolling into the back of my head, I announced that I needed a nap and told the girls to wake me up in an hour.

Fast forward an hour and the world was right again, my eyes were open and it was 3 for 2 margarita time. Exploring the little streets of Salento was a delight. For all of us except Gemma. Mainly because she was the unfortunate soul that stood in dog shit.

Day two in Salento and we headed to Cocora Valley to see the world highest palm trees. It’s beautiful, you should definitely go. You can even hire wellies if you wish – which Gemma and Lyvette did. I wore my trainers. The weather was beautiful and the main loop around the palm trees definitely didnt require said wellies. Then Lyvette and I continued onto the hiking loop track to see the hummingbirds, which again was lovely. We sat watching the birds with a hot chocolate and a piece of cheese stuck on a spoon (apparently this is a thing?) and the heavens opened. 

And it rained. And rained. And rained. 

As we trudged back through the mud I tried to avoid the puddles (which were plentiful) as I only had one pair of trainers for the whole trip (travel light and all that). This proved to be very difficult as the entire track was a bog. Eventually we made it back to the start and I personally think my trainers did well all things considered. Lyvette was living the dream, prancing around in her wellies.

We went to find the queue for our Willy ride home. It was massive (not the Willy, the queue) but an official looking man ushered us forward to the Willy that was waiting in the rain. He shoved Lyvette inside (clutching her child’s water bottle), then closed up the back flaps and pointed to the outside of the vehicle, nodding to me;

“Get on the back,” he gestured for me to stand on the back bar outside of the Willy.

Oh, I see. I’m queue jumping because no one else wants to stand on the back and freeze to death whilst it’s pissing down. 

How the people in the queue laughed. Actually laughed at me.

I can safely say my trainers were not dry by the end of the journey. But it was fun. And my fingers have only just regained feeling.

That evening we were getting the night bus from Salento to Medellin. Gemma had researched and informed us multiple times that apparently this bus was “freezing, absolutely freezing and takes 7hrs.”

Now, one thing we’d forgotten about Gemma is that when she reads a blog, this becomes the gospel truth (not our blog obviously- she’s not an idiot). 

The bus wasn’t until 10pm so we had time to kill. Something that has become apparent to us thus far in Colombia is how loud the music is. Music everywhere – bars, bakerys, shops, pharmacies it doesn’t matter. They will have music and it will be loud. Always.

Following the loud music, on this occasion, led us to observe my new favourite people; the dancing couple. Grooving (if you can call it that) on the street corner. To their boom box. They were mesmerising and we guesstimated about 70 years old. The man stomped around in circles using one leg for momentum whilst the woman wiggled and thrusted. She then intermittently and very aggressively grabbed the man’s face and kissed him (he wasn’t phased, he just continued in his circles). THEN, when we thought we’d seen it all, she launched herself through the air and mounted him. Actually straddled him in front of her boom box, on a busy corner, in the centre of Salento. Her flexibility is to be applauded. THEN she spanked him, hard, before turning around and ordering him to spank her.

We watched this performance from a restaurant window and I can honestly say these people are my favourite thing about Colombia thus far. It was quite the scene. I was inspired. 

And they did the impossible and avoided stepping in dog shit through the entirety of their shenanigans.

Finally, it was time for the night bus, one night and two days in Salento done. And we loved it despite the rain and dog shit. Once we (I) had slept it was beautiful.

We boarded the supposed ice bus with Gemma wearing two hoodies, bed socks and joggers and Lyvette and I wearing the warmest things we’d brought – linen trousers and a raincoat. I was also armed with my soggy hiking shorts (they stank) and wet trainers that hadn’t managed to dry out post hike. Lyvette carrying her prized possession that is a pink water bottle. And off we went into the night.

The bus was not cold. Not at all. The blog had lied. The blog also lied when it told us the journey to Medellín took 7hrs. It did not. It took 5hrs and we arrived in the big city at 3.30am with no room booked until the following night. 

Thankfully our accommodation did have a 24 hour reception. I’m just not sure the hostel cafe staff expected three (40 year old) girls and a childs bottle snoring all over their chairs when they came to open up for breakfast at 7am…