Colombia Part III

So part III of Colombia is going to start off on a bit of a tangent.  One of the more interesting games I’ve been playing along the way is the juxtaposition of my soundtrack.  And by my soundtrack I’m referring to the ipod set to shuffle for days on end.   It has provided quite a few interesting situations.  Ben and I rolling into Belize City listening to Public Enemy and De La Soul.  The hours I spent trying to find a tiny border crossing into Panama only to end up talking to a very elderly local as Prince provides the ambiance. I’m not talking the ‘acceptable’ Prince either.  I’m talking about Prince and the New Power Generation ‘7.’  One of the more embarrassing is when I was listening to my high school dance playlist only to come across a military check point while Depeche Mode’s “Somebody” played in the background.   My personal favorite is driving into the rainforest with Rodolfo in Costa Rica to the wonderful serenade of a 30min ‘Mr. Completely.’ The list goes on but the most surprising took place in Cartagena.   After Frank and I moved some stuff into his new place we set out for dinner at a restaurant called Patacon.  I was riding in the back when Frank turned up the stereo.  On his mp3 cd. Nine Inch Nails. Now how that came to be I’m not 100% sure but Nine In Nails in the back seat of a Prado in Cartagena Colombia was something I would never have expected.

 

So speaking of Patacon I learned a few things about eating while in Colombia.  One, and this has been one of the more popular photos in my gallery if the number of emails I have received are any indication, is that no matter how good the idea is, 30 years of tactile conditioning cannot be overcome.  The idea of giving patrons glove to keep their fingers clean while eating the delicious grilled chicken is a good one and apparently I was the only one uncomfortable with it. The gloves over my fingers triggered responses in my head that what I was touching was dirty and not for consumption. Gloves mean rebuilding an axle or painting my rims. Working in the yard. Building a campfire. Gloves are there to protect your hands. Why am I protecting my hands from something I’m putting into my body?  Yep that Pavlov guy was a pretty smart cat. Two is that plantains are used in EVERYTHING in Colombia.  A patacon is just one of them. A mush of plantain deep fried to a thing crisp. Then you eat it with such items as carne asada, pico de gallo, pollo braso and various other condiments.  It’s excellent. Lastly I need to confess my addiction. I stumbled across a restaurant in Panama that they also have in Colombia that has become my Mr. Brownstone.  Crepes and Waffles. (sweet I just discovered they have a location in Lima) Yeah doesn’t sound like a place you’d find a gringo trembling from withdrawals and waiting for his fix. But it is. First time I went there it was while waiting for a movie. I saw the word ‘waffle’ and I had to have one.  It had been a long time since I had a Belgian waffle and fresh berries and ice cream made it the perfect pre-movie meal. On my second visit I was introduced to the “Babydoll.”  The Babydoll is a devine creation.  A baseball sized scoop of icy vanilla bean ice cream wrapped in a well crafted crepe.  This base was covered with 4 lengthwise slices of banana, whip cream, chocolate and caramel syrup.  Add a coke and it is the perfect meal. All for less than $4 no less. So all the weight I lost eating rice, beans, and chicken came right back during my 14 days of Panama and Colombia. Those lbs were added during a state of pure bliss. The Babydoll.  So music and food. That is a perfect topic after the header of “Colombia Part III” right? How about we see if I can make it to 1000 words tonight.

 

After my stay in Cartagena came to an end it was time to head south again and Medellin was the destination.  Not only is it the namesake of a fictional movie starring Vince from Entourage but it was also the cocaine capital of the world only a decade ago. Yep that was my destination. The city is nestled in a narrow canyon and has the nickname “city of eternal spring” because of its climate.   I was looking forward to a day or two there. Then I arrived.  It was late due to an accident in the mountains on the way there. I rolled to the hotel recommended by Lonely Planet and the only one with a parking garage. As I’ve struggled with my whole trip, Ruby was too tall for the garage.  Once again the hospitality of the Colombianos was revealed. I think. 

 

The kid at the garage called 3 hotels looking for one with parking I could use and an available room. After finding one nearby I asked for directions. Instead of drawing a map he located the night manager who hopped in my car with me and guided me through the prostitute, transvestite and junkie filled one way streets of downtown Medellin at 11 at night. We found the hotel and I offered to give him a ride back now that I knew the location. He declined and I offered to pay for his taxi. He declined again, said “welcome to Colombia and have a good trip” in Spanish and walked out the door. Inside the hotel I found a very nice receptionist and that was the end of the ‘nice’ of the hotel.  I snaked my way through the crowded lobby of drunken Parcheesi players and smoking teenagers and up to my room. After opening the door I instantly knew I had a very rough night ahead of me. I would be sleeping on top of the bed, fully clothed and no chance in hell I was getting in that cold water only shower.  I found a fairly clean blanket in the closet wrapped myself in it and slept a rough 3 or 4 hours during the night. Morning dawned smoggy and filthy.  But I guess that will be part IV.