Sometimes you have just got to get away. Away from your routine, work, socializing, stress, the endless toil and trouble that seems to fill life in the city. Not to say that I live in a particularly booming metropolis, but sometimes being constantly connected to everyone around me, glued to my phone, obsessing over my goals, planning parties – it can all just really weigh me down psychologically.
Luckily, living in Colombia means having lots of inexpensive avenues to explore more and to really soak in and appreciate the natural world around you. There are so many communities, seemingly untouched by the outside world. Not to say that they aren’t perfectly modern – everyone has to have their smartphone, their TVs, their car, etc. You know, technology is ubiquitous.
But these places are low on signal and high on calm. The interactions and pace of life is slower and more relaxed. It’s almost like being in another time, simply because these places are so different to what any American is used to.
For a while now, I’ve been wanting to get out of Valledupar. Parties every weekend can be draining. My friend Linda had mentioned wanting to go to this river called La Mina and stay with her relatives, camping out, so all that was left was to make it happen.
Allow me to help you envision it: a big backward, filled with dogs, ducks, chickens, and plants of all kinds, all set against the most serene of backdrops, the Sierra Nevada mountains.
A finca, which can translate to property or farm depending on how you look at it, is just that – a large patch of land with some crops, palms, and animals (usually) running around. Sometimes its accompanied by a casa campo (country home) and sometimes it has nothing more than a small, hand-constructed casita. The latter was the case in the finca I went to. In the end, my friend was kind of enough to ask her aunt and uncle, who were then kind enough to accept us into their finca.
First thing’s first: transportation. How did we get to La Mina? Well, in Colombia, it is also really easy to get around with minimal planning beforehand. Linda already knew where to go to get the little car, or carrito, that would take us out of the city. My friends Josh, Ninoska, and I met up with her downtown and immediately hopped into the back of a little van.
The goal of these vehicles is to fill up as much as possible, which is why they are so cheap (we only paid $8.000 each to ride – that’s only about 3 dollars to travel almost an hour away!). So of course the car was full – a lady and her baby and a man in the front, another man, woman, and baby in the back along with the 4 of us. At one point, a man even stood on the back bumper and held on to travel from another town to La Mina! Needless to say, these cheap, easy modes of transportation are a bit clown-car-ish, but they’re hassle-free and cheap, so no complaining is ever done, no matter how sweaty and crowded the conditions.
The ride was short but filled with lovely scenery. There are around 4 rivers (Rio Guatapurí, Seco, Badillo, Mojao, and a couple other smaller ones I can’t recall) along the way. Once we made it to a small town called Patillal, we headed off-carretera and worked our way along a bumpy path leading towards the mountains.
After arriving, we went about looking around, deciding where we would sleep and setting up camp. Linda and I made the back-friendly decision and slept out in hammocks under a couple trees while Josh and Ninoska set up camp in a big tent towards the far end of the finca.
We goofed around and took loads of pictures. Our hosts treated us with the utmost of hospitality. Not long after we arrived, they picked some large plantains and grilled them up for us while we set up camp and then headed off to take a swim in La Mina river. They also picked some giant yuca which would be our breakfast on Sunday.
After settling in, we all were ready to go dip our toes into La Mina river. The quiet walk through the town was enough to spark conversation between me and Linda as we found ourselves walking much faster than the couple with camera in tow. As we past indigenous Arawak people with their traditional dress – ancient men and young children playing on the side of the road – donkeys and hogs, we discussed how life has become far more complicated for us over simple illusions: time and money. So much of what we do is rushed by this feeling that we aren’t doing enough. This year is for me, I told her, and I want to spend it doing what matters to me, not simply living to work and spend money and then work some more.
As we strolled through the crepuscular dirt paths leading down towards the river, we both agreed that it is important to disconnect from all of that noise in order to discover what it really means to be human. We are not so different from any other animal – yet we over-stimulate ourselves constantly with no regards for our basic needs. So much of what we think we need is based on distractions modern society has filled our heads with. Both of us took this trip for a mutual goal: to get out of the city, away from the things that endlessly leave us Stressed Out. We dared to ask ourselves if any of that was what life was actually about or if it is in fact a simple departure from something our ancestors knew all along.
It’s interesting to note that even though this walk was peaceful, blasts of Vallenato were not far away at any given moment. People in the coastal region of Colombia are bullosa – loud and not ashamed of it. So even as we enjoyed this lazy walk from the finca to the river and back again, we were accompanied by Vallenato blaring somewhere in the distance or at the nearest local. Linda explained that this is a tradition in coastal towns and a strategy to get people to go out and drink at the estancos, or watering hole-bars located along the winding, otherwise abandoned roads.
La Mina river is dangerously beautiful. In some parts, when the water is high, a wrong step on one of the rocks will send you slipping into swift currents that will pull you down into the harsh rockbeds laid out throughout. Some areas have whirlpools and dark waters full of soapy foam. Linda said it was probably due to the water trapped in the same area being splashed against the rocks. A part of me mused if it wasn’t because people often literally bathe in these rivers. Either way, I did very little swimming in the river because though the waters were low, the movement seemed much swifter than what I had seen before and in other places. Not to mention the recent death of a boy in the river came up during conversation. Still, the view at sunset was absolutely breathtaking, and the calm was perfect for an impromptu yoga session.
Once we were back at the finca, Josh continued to gather wood to make a bonfire. We had decided to roast our salchichas (sausages) over the fire old school camping style and enjoy the clear panorama of the night sky. When we got back, the plantains were ready to eat, so first we restored our energy by eating large, grilled plantains with sloppy, sweet suero, a white cream akin to sour cream but a bit more chunky and – of course – homemade. Linda’s aunt and uncle offered us as much as we wanted, which meant pile after pile of delicious suero on the two big plantains I managed to consume. It’s a must if you live or travel in coastal Colombia!
Then, we stuck our salchichas on sticks and began cooking them up on the fire we built. This went better than expected, however, don’t be fooled – it was hot. It hadn’t hit those low 20 degrees- Celsius temperatures, and the blazing fire just about melted the skin off my hand and face as I tried to hold my sausage over the fire. Josh’s clever solution was to stick the skewers in the ground and watch as they roasted. Once mine was ready, I stuck them in bread and added ketchup American hotdog-style. Linda and her aunt and uncle seemed to find it pretty novel – and tasty.
With bellies full, all that was left was to sit out by the fire and share stories and marvel at the night sky. We looked up and tried to find satellites among the constellations which we also tried to identify. The moon seemed so bright that once the fire simmered out, everyone was lit by an eerie blue light.
With limited technology, I realized how quickly the fatigue filled my body after sunset. Once the sun is down, without artificial light, it’s actually very easy to go to bed early. By 9, Linda and I were curled in our hammocks under blankets, being rocked by the wind – but not sleeping, all the while stirred occasionally by the undulating boom of distant Vallenato and the occasional bursts of barks and cries from the dogs and roosters.
At night, Linda and I were freezing in our hammocks. Turns out one blanket was not enough – my back was cold against the hammock and I curled up to form a cocoon against the chill wind trying to cover every inch of myself with the blanket and the hammock to trap some warmth. Still, in spite of the cold and noise, there is nothing as peaceful as sleeping under the stars (even if the distant music did steal from the orchestra of insects surrounding us – until it finally stopped, briefly at around 4 am).
The climate of La Mina is much cooler than Valledupar because of the higher elevation, and we even saw a bit of rain on the way back (sidenote: it hasn’t rained at all – and much less torrentially, which is the norm – in Valle for over a month). Even though the sun can burn during the day, when the sun went down at night, things gradually became cooler and cooler.
The next day, I struggled to get out of the little womb I had made of the hammock to start the day and make breakfast. By 8 am, everything was ready and eaten. I made a small omelette and some arepas and Linda’s relatives made boiled yuca pulled from the ground the day before along with that delicious suero casero. Of course, all of this went with the traditional tinto, little cups of delicious black coffee. Josh and I couldn’t help by sigh, feeling lucky to be living this amazing Colombian life.
We didn’t have enough time to go up the mountain path to Atanquez, a small indigenous village with its own river landmark. So instead we took off for the chorros, or rushing waters (like a small waterfall crossed with a natural water slide) of La Mina. We took lots of pictures along the hike and enjoyed ourselves splashing in the clear waters (at least until a few families with kids in tow showed up and kind of muddied the experience). It’s a good thing I put on sunscreen, because that sun was blazing hot. Whenever we made it back to the house, we were happy to find bolis, or little bags of ice and juice, waiting for us. They had chocolate, lulo (one of my favorite juices found in Colombia), and some other berry; all were utterly refreshing.
Three things you cannot do without if you make this trip: marshmellows (obviously), bug spray, and weed (if you’re into that sort of thing). We had no insect repellent, which led to Linda and I using the local method of warding off gnats with bites more elusive than bigger mosquitos – a “magic” soap that actually does a good job of keeping them away (don’t ask me how). Still, if you go, I recommend you go prepared. Also, extra blankets don’t hurt either.
We finished our stay by having lunch and lounging around, napping, reading, and joking around in the hammocks. The weather cooled so much that I really did not want to leave, but a bit past two, our transport arrived to take us back, this time in a tiny car with no AC (just like the first).
I won’t soon forget the hospitality shown to us by Linda’s family, the beautiful sunset and chilly sunrise, the rejuvenating rush of the rivers, and the peaceful Colombian paradise tucked away a mere 45 minutes from Valledupar. It’s mini escapades like this that remind me of just how privileged I am to live in a place still so connected to its land and traditions.
All in all, it was a pretty great way to start my birthday week.
Diario de una Aventurera 