Circles and Stairs

Indigenous architects have a flair for the dramatic. Like the Incas and the Mayans, the Tayrona civilization built their capital city in stunning harmony with the natural landscape. Before the Spanish invaded in the 16th century, the "lost city" was a bustling metropolis of over a thousand residents. Spanning over 32 acres, these skilled gold workers and stone masons lived in small huts on a series of circular plazas terraced into the lush Sierra Nevada mountains.

The modern descendants of these people are the Kogui, and we crossed through several of their villages during the trek. They all have shiny, thick black hair and dress in white tunics and cropped pants. The only modern addition to their wardrobe seems to be tall rubber boots, which are handy for river crossings. The Koguis live in small wooden huts, identical the the historical replicas on display at the ruins. Our guide, a farmer and indigenous rights advocate, says that the Kogui men and women always live in separate huts and the chores are strictly divided by gender.

Man or woman, all of the inhabitants of this valley have no problems staying fit. The entrance to the lost city can only be accessed by climbing over a thousand mossy stone steps and all 180 terraces are connected by winding, beautiful stairwells. I spent an entire day exploring the city, looking at ancient maps carved into stones and sliding down waterfalls into crystal clear lagoons.

If exploring lost ruins wasn't enough - thousands of mosquitoes, a few huge spiders and hundreds of gun-toting military men added to the excitement of the journey. After 8 foreigners were kidnapped here in 2003, there has been an increase in military security at the site. A sweet, shy 26-yr-old officer with braces took a liking to me and passed me a little note as I left the ruins. He drew a cartoon picture of a cow (or maybe it is a cat?) with a flower in its mouth and he must of spent hours cutting little triangles out of the border of the paper. The note simply said that he couldn't find the words to explain how beautiful I was but he would like it very much if I would call him in two weeks when he gets off duty. Even with bloody toes, a mosquito bite on my butt cheek and a searing case of diarrhea, that little love letter managed to put a smile on my face for hours.

The Lost City

After a weekend of sailing at the country club and two more days of wining and dining in Bogota, I decided last night that it was time to take a break from the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Patricia, my wonderful host, dropped me off at the Avianca airport terminal on her way to work this morning. I caught a flight north to Barranquilla, then a taxi to Santa Marta and then a bus to Taganga...and boom, I was sipping a beer on the sandy Caribbean coastline. Tomorrow I am taking off on a six day trek into the jungle to discover the ruins of the Tayrona empire - el Ciudad Perdida. So don´t be worried if you don´t hear for me for a few weeks. I´ll probably be sipping cocktails with Indiana Jones on some tropical island off the coast of Venezuela somewhere.

She Irons

Alisar(verb) - to iron, polish, smooth

¨Hi, this is my friend from the United States. Her name is she irons¨

Yes, most people in this country agree that Alisa is a ridiculous name for a person (especially for a person who wears such wrinkled clothes). Therefore, most people have defaulted to calling me Alicia.

Today Patricia showed me a blonde-haired girl in her daughter´s Disney book Alicia en El País de Las Maravillas and said ¨She likes adventures too. This is why we call you Alicia!¨

I think it´s fitting. I´m the one who wandered into this rabbit hole afterall.

Texas Hold'em

Playing six hours of poker with ten adolescent boys is definitely one way to brush up on your Spanish. After an innocent morning visiting libraries and parks, I somehow ended up losing fifteen dollars to a sixteen-year-old wearing a trucker´s hat bedazzeled with the words ¨Dedicated to the One I Love¨. I´m not even sure I´ve ever played poker before, but somehow I ended up sneaking into the Italian Club of Colombia with Victor´s cousins to play a few rounds of Texas Hold'em. By some miracle I actually won the first game. The club owner had his doubts about allowing a gringa at the table, especially one in tennis shoes and a T-shirt, but the leader of the KOOL kids convinced the owner to allow me to play another round. Of course I am only assuming this boy was the leader of the pack based on the height of his mullet. Rank in the Italio-Colombio teenage mafia is definitely determined by darkness of sunglasses and amount of hair gel. Nonetheless, I didn´t understand a single word that was said in that smoke-filled room, nor do I think I´d want to repeat any of them in the presence of someone who wears their pants above their hip bones. I know this much for sure - if I ever go to Vegas, I should stick to the slot machines.

Curuba

Orlando and I spent the day chaperoned by a pair of love-struck sixteen-yr-olds, Juan y Maria. After touring an underground chapel built by salt miners, we visited the town of Chia - no relation to the pet. Judging by our time in the car together, I think Juan wants to be a Reggaton singer and Nascar champion. I'm staying with his family in a posh apartment in North Bogotá.

At the beginning of this trip I was expecting to spend a few nights at the hostel, meeting other travelers and throwing back beers at places called "Platapus". But no, Victor's five million cousins wouldn't hear of it. I've been kidnapped by the most hospitable, loving Colombians I can imagine. They're already arranging places for me to stay in Cali, the sunny salsa-capital of the country. I'm not even sure there is a hostel in my future until wedding bells ring in March.

What makes these people so generous? Is it the water? My bet is on Curuba icecream.

Bowling in Bogota

My Colombian hosts dubbed me ¨La Terminadora" after tonight’s bowling showdown at La Bolo de San Francisco. There is no electronic pin setter or scorekeeper at this bowling alley - everything is done by hand. Our pin setter proved it pays to be quick in this line of work. There were many times the pins ricocheted off his shins and the ball barely skimmed his ankles. The job might have its setbacks, but judging by their sweaty shirtless bodies, these pin setters stay in good shape.

Farewell Seattle Snow

To my Recraft crew, UTS nerds, space cadets, slappers, highlanders, POHers, friends that defy categories, and my Dad...

Don't you know how dangerous it is to drive in the snow!

Next time you think about risking your life to join me for a beer late on a Monday night, stay at home and start a blog instead. It will make me feel much better to know you are safely nestled behind your computer screen sharing too much information about your lives.

Thanks for looking after my hula-hoop and bicycle while I am away. During the next few months I hope you all make millions of dollars so you can retire and join me on future adventures.

Wedding Bells

My dear friend, Sarah Jane Baker, fell in love with a dashing Colombian man, Victor Coutin, when they were both students living in Boston. She asked me to be her bridesmaid for her wedding in Cartagena on March 8th and I happily accepted. While most guests are using 5 to 10 precious vacation days to attend the wedding, I quit my jobs, sold my belongings and came down here almost two months early - just to make sure I had time to practice Spanish and brush up on a few salsa moves before the big day. I have no plans, no itinerary and not a lot of money - so who knows how long my adventure will last. Ah, the love of two friends, what better excuse for an adventure?

Here are the two love birds vacationing in London...