Colombia Part 2: Ibague - Armenia - Manizales

After a brief lunch of freshly-fried empanadas in Central Bogotá, I hopped a taxi through the city's insane traffic and booming road construction to the bus terminal. The gastronomic experience that has been my Colombian vacation so far continued as I struck up a conversation with the taxi driver about the strange tropical fruit I have been enjoying in the city. He noted that granadilla was absent from my list, and immediatly stopped at a fruit market to buy me one. It was tasty.

Once at the bus station I used 'minutos'—paying by the minute to use someone's cellphone—to call Juan's cousins in Ibagué to tell them when I will be arriving. According to the Lonely Planet and everyone I spoke with, the trip should take about four hours. In a typical tourist move, I hopped the first bus that said 'Ibagué' and expected it to take precisely that long. Unfortunately, I chose the AutoFusa 'mochiliero' that stops every five minutes. The four hour trip thus took six, causing unnecessary worry to my host family when I arrived two hours after dark. I fought off hunger with fruit-stuffed bread and plantain chips purchased through the bus window.

Along the way I met an economist who worked for Acción Social, an arm of the Office of the President that assists Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) in the country. Colombia has roughly 4 million IDPs—10% of the total population—as a result of the 50-year old 'conflicto armado'. Although the origins of the conflict and the factors that sustain it are too complex to discuss in a blog post, suffice to say that leftist guerillas and in a longstanding war against a central government that has historically employed ultra-right paramilitary groups to do its dirty work. Adding to this conflict is a process that scholars call the 'normalization' or democratization of violence, whereby the use of violence as a means of social control spreads beyond the belligerant parties into broader society. Thus many of the officially disbanded paramilitaries continue to operate as 'illegally armed groups' who are available for hire to drug cartels, business people, and politicians who want to dispose of their enemies. This industry— along with the nation's lucrative coca fields—creates a sort of inertia that sustains the armed conflict far beyond the realm of political difference. Caught in between are the middle-class victims of extortion by guerilla and paramilitary alike—though that threat has waned in recent years—and the peasant campesinos who are forced off their land by both groups as well.

The mandate of Acción Social is to offer interim and long-term assistance to the desplazados, while conducting research and advocacy to promote their right to return to their land. My friend on the bus meets with such families who carve out a meagre living in the slums of Bogotá: he identifies their needs, tracks their land claims, and facilitates the distribution of government subsidies. All of this fits within the wildly popular former President Alvaro Uribe's democratic security policy, which has paired increased police and national guard activity with economic liberalization and an expanded social safety net. The rapid decrease in violence significantly contributed to the election victory of President Juan Manuel Santos, Uribe's successor and former Defence minister who took office last week. Although Uribe's two terms in office were not without serious scandal, the fact that Colombia is today considered a premiere tourist destination exemplifies how only idiotic gringo communists could suggest that his impact on the country has not been—in the aggregate—a positive one.

(On the topic of idiotic gringo communists, I saw a group of them protesting in front of a Colombian military base on the highway between Bogotá and Ibagué. Apparently they consider the presence of U.S. troops in Colombia to be unwelcome foreign interference, but their own presence in the country is just fine as they are showing solidarity with the Colombian people. These Colombian people, so in need of solidarity, were notably absent from the demonstration.)

My destination Ibagué, a city of just of 500,000, is the capital of the Tolima department in central Colombia. Due to its lower elevation it is quite hot during the day, such that my host family showers in cold water despite living in a home that would be considered luxurious by Canadian standards. Due to its absense from the Lonely Planet guidebook, it is considered to be 'off the gringo trail'—in fact, I did not see another foreigner nor speak a word of English during the three days I spent there. While the city itself is somewhat limited in tourist attractions, it does boast a prestigious classical music conservatory that performs symphonies from such greats as Mozart and Dvorak every Thursday night, free of charge. I cannot comment on the bar scene because it was a dry city as a precaution against violence during the Presidential transition.

During a truck-ride up from Ibagué to my friends' cottage in Tolima canyon I was able to sample some more of Colombia's typical dishes. Tamales are pouches of banana or plantain leaves stuffed with various potatoes, vegetables, and meats according to the region; while kumis is a yogurt-like drink made of fermented milk that I am told made its way to Colombia from Central Asia about thirty years ago. Both are available from the supermarket, but are much tastier when purchased from a roadside restaurant where they are made from scratch.

After a couple of days in Ibagué, my trek resumed in the city of Armenia in Colombia's famous coffee-growing region. The bus-ride between these two cities passes over La Línea, a mountainous ridge well over 3km above sea level that is notorious in the region for its beautiful scenery and trecherous driving conditions. An 8.5km tunnel and a bridge are currently under construction that when completed are expected to reduce travel time by about an hour and decrease the number of traffic accidents. Since they are currently incomplete, I was treated to the winding roads and traffic jams that will soon be banished to the history books.

From Armenia with Juan's mom I made day trips by car to 6 of the 11 municipalities in Qunidío department. Local attractions include the Disneyland-like Panaca and Parque Nacional del Café; the market town of Salento; and the peaceful town of Filandia whose population of 15,000 proudly boasts its fifth year without a single murder. The town's central square was a hopping place when we rolled up, only to be deserted ten minutes later as the crowds poured into the cathedral for Sunday mass. New foods in Quindío included lechón—a suckling pig stuffed with rice and veggies; two types of fermented drinks made of corn and cane sugar respectively; and a bland fruit from a palm tree that tasted somewhat like squash.

The highlight of Quindío is the Botanical Gardens, which boasts a butterfly conservatory and insect museum. Staff there have an ambitious plan of collecting at least one sample of each of Colombia's 230 species of palm tree. Visitors are made aware that the biodiversity of Colombia is unmatched anywhere in the world: consider for instance that there are over 4,000 known species of orchid in the country, with many more undiscovered.

I currently write from an Internet café in downtown Manizales, which is connected to the bus terminal by a brand-new gondola system. This vibrant mountain city of about 300,000 is among the safest in Colombia. I will take a brief Spanish lesson tomorrow afternoon, then head to Medellín on Friday—a day which also marks the mid-point of my trip. I'll post some more photos in the coming days.