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We were supposed to arrive in Cartagena around 11:15 am on Friday.
In order to make it to the Bucaramanga airport on time for our flight, we had to hire a private driver to pick us up in Barichara and take us. He was going to pick us up at 4 am.

The night before, we got an email that the flight was delayed one hour. The following morning, it was delayed another hour.

By the time we got to the airport, staff was bringing us some drinks to make up for the fact that it was delayed another 45 minutes. It was 2:30 pm by the time we were finally in the air, and I was pretty grumpy about it. Three flights with EasyFly in one week, all three delayed. C’e­st la vie.

As soon as we arrived in Cartagena, we got a taxi to the Walled City to eat a late lunch and drink a cold beverage. We were warned by many people before arriving there, but Cartagena is hot. Hot and humid. It was a full-on assault as we walked to our apartment. The heat. The taxis and horse-drawn carriages pushing pedestrians off the road. The vendors trying to sell us jewelry or figurines or dresses. The restaurant owners trying to usher us into their restaurants. The palenqueras wanting to pose for pictures with us for money. It was a stark change to peaceful little Barichara.

Anthony was a trooper and carried my luggage for me since I had made the dumb decision to wear heels for once. The few minutes it took to get to our new apartment, he was dripping sweat.

Our apartment was nice and cool upon arrival, and it had a wonderful balcony overlooking the heart of the action, at Plaza Santo Domingo. We took a few minutes to cool off and adjust to all the activity below us before joining in.

We took in the views from every angle, enjoying the pink sunset before walking to the wall at the edge of town.

We spent the evening exploring town, the evening breeze perfectly pleasant.

We stumbled upon Plaza Bolivar and heard drums, so we went to investigate. A group of dancers were putting on a show for everyone, switching out costumes for their different routines. I was entranced, so we stayed awhile.

We grabbed dinner on a rooftop outside the wall, and then we walked the 15 minutes back to our apartment where after people-watching the plaza a few minutes more, I quickly crashed.

We left the apartment while the streets were still calm the next morning, taking in the pretty balconies and flowers around us, and walking along the wall.

Once we found a restaurant open for breakfast, we grabbed a bite to eat, and then we walked to the Getsemani neighborhood, a very up-and-coming part of Cartagena full of street art with a more hipster vibe to it.

I really, really enjoyed that part of the city and wished we were staying there instead.

We had a walking tour at 10 am, so we walked back across town to find our English-speaking guide, Edgar.

He was awesome. He had a good sense of humor, was clearly passionate about Colombia, was very informative, put an emphasis on making sure we were in the shade and the occasional air conditioning during the tour, and he even impressed us with his knowledge of capitals. I thought I would stump him when I told him I was from Kansas, but it took him two seconds before he announced “Topeka!”

The tour was supposed to last two hours, but he gave us a little extra time, and at 12:30, we were on our way to lunch.

The air conditioning was a relief but not enough, so we went back to our apartment to cool off in the pool for a bit (where I showed off my awesome tan lines), kept company by the world’s tiniest lizard.

We slept the afternoon away but then went back to the wall, to have drinks at Café del Mar for sunset.

The views were lovely. Until every person there crowded in front of us to take selfies with the sunset in the background.

We lasted long enough to see the sun fully set and then headed off to the Getsemani neighborhood for dinner, eating tapas and pizza at Demente. The square just outside was full of people, allowing me to people-watch during my dinner.

We took the long way back to the walled city. I was wanting to experience some salsa dancing, so we stopped by Donde Fidel Salsa Club.  It was still a little too early for it to be bumping though, so we continued on back to Bolivar Plaza to watch the dancers there again, since I enjoyed it the night before.

We stopped in a few shops, looked at some art, and called it a night.

Our last day in Colombia, we had enough time to go get breakfast back in the Getsemani neighborhood again, walk a few more streets, and then pack up and sit in the very warm Cartagena airport.

After a morning spent walking the streets around Parque Lleras in Medellin, Anthony and I went back to our beautiful apartment, packed up, and started our day of traveling.

Our flight was again delayed around two hours, so we got to know the domestic airport in Medellin pretty well. It was a pleasant little airport, our gate overlooking a beautiful garden, but I was happy when we finally took off. We landed in Bucaramanga after one hour and caught a taxi to the bus terminal in town, where we waited another hour for our bus to leave for Barichara. As is the way of buses in Colombia, we made several stops to cram in as many people as we could. We winded our way down and up a canyon for three hours before arriving in San Gil, which was another brief stop, and then another 40 minutes to Barichara.

I was instantly in love with the town. It was already dark out, so I couldn’t see a whole lot, but the main park was so peaceful and smelled like heaven. The Church overlooking the park was, of course, beautiful as well.

We walked up the cobblestone streets where we found our house, and our hostess showed us around. We somehow ended up in a bit of a mansion, with way too many bedrooms and bathrooms, but goodness, it was stunning (and cheap! Because Colombia). The Spanish architecture of Barichara is gorgeous, and our home was open air, the ceiling giving way to sunlight here and there to shine down into little stone basins, sitting areas surrounded by plants, the showers looking up into the stars, and then there was the beautiful pool.

There was a balcony that looked down on the pool, but also provided incredible views of town and the Church.

We grabbed dinner and daiquiris at a cute little restaurant in town, and then passed out in our giant bed that smelled of lavender, listening to the sounds of nature outside.

And speaking of the sounds of nature, the birds woke me up in the most peaceful way possible the following morning, and I went up to the hammock to take it all in until Anthony woke up.

Our hostess came over to cook us breakfast and made fresh-squeezed orange juice. We then grabbed our daypack and took off for our walk down the Camino Real to Guane.

The views were hazy and cloudy, but we could still see peaks of the canyon, and we stopped frequently to listen to the hundreds of birds around us. The weather was perfect and the cobblestone path easy to follow.

After about an hour, we came across an older man walking the opposite direction. He smiled and stopped to talk to us, asking if we were going to Guane, and telling us how much longer we had to go.

One hour more, and we arrived in the picturesque tiny pueblo. We walked down the street to the park, and sat down to eat some ice cream.

We thought we might go to the museum in town and then catch the bus that runs every half hour back to Barichara. But then learned the museum is closed on Wednesdays (when we were there), and that there was a landslide the night before that was blocking buses from going between the two towns.

Anthony went into the office of transportation and said we needed to go to Barichara, and the lady working said “Not today.” Oh.

Fortunately, we found a tuk tuk driver who said he could get us close, and then we could walk the rest of the short distance. Once we got there, though, the road had been cleared enough to let us get all the way through.

The rest of the day was spent walking around beautiful Barichara, swimming at our amazing house, and eating fresh, delicious meals at a mostly vegetarian restaurant in town.

The next day, we woke up to fog coming down over the walls. We figured it would clear up, though, and we caught an early bus to San Gil for our paragliding tour in the Chicamocha canyon.

We joined eight other people in a van to drive up to the top of the canyon. Unfortunately, the van couldn’t get up the last stretch of muddy road, so we had to get out and climb. I’m not sure if we missed the road we were supposed to take or what, but we ended up having to climb the edge the cliff to get all the way up. It was still cloudy and rainy, and I was skeptical that we were going to be able to fly.

But once the guides arrived, they said they thought it’d clear up enough in another hour, so we all hung out and took in the views.

Before we knew it, the guide was calling me over. I was the first one to go. Nerves kicked in, and I stood there shaking a bit as they got me all geared up. They typically have a bilingual guide on tours, but they were without him today. My guide knew enough English to tell me to “Run, run!” and then we were in the air, flying.

I sat back, put my arms back through the straps, and relaxed as we climbed higher and higher in the air.

Aside from the extreme height, he took things easy at first, just gliding around, offering me views of both sides of the canyons. After a few minutes, four more sets were in the air with us, but we stayed above them.

After around 20 minutes, he started doing acrobatics, asking “Es okay?” after the first one. I said “Si!” and the next five minutes were spent flipping around, doing loop-de-loops, while I screamed and laughed.

Then it was time to land. We were still high up and it took a few attempts of him swooping across the launch point before we were able to come down enough. I walked back to Anthony, feeling absolutely elated.

A few minutes later, he was the last one to take off.

His whole group disappeared from view for the majority of the time, but eventually, the others came back one at a time. I still didn’t see Anthony though. After around 40 minutes, I caught site of him, but they were low. They kept trying to increase their altitude to land back at the launch site, but it just wasn’t working.

Eventually, the lead guide came over to tell us that Anthony was going to have to land somewhere else, and that we would all leave now, and Anthony would ride back with the other guides and meet back up with me in San Gil. I was not a fan of this plan because Anthony didn’t have his phone on him, and it sounded like a nightmare trying to find him when I couldn’t communicate with him.

One of the other guys on the tour helped translate what the guides were saying to me, and told me that I could stay and wait if I wanted while the rest of them went back to town. I said that was fine, so there I was, sitting on the top of a canyon in the hot sun, with some paraglide guides who couldn’t speak any English, not knowing when or where we’d be finding Anthony.

Fortunately, they were all very nice and professional, and I never once felt like I was in any danger. Which is saying something, since I basically live with a constant feeling of being in danger. One of the guides knew enough English to reassure me “Es normal. He’s fine.”

Soon enough they were packing up their stuff, and I understood enough that Anthony had landed at some park and we were going to go get him. So I climbed into the van with them, and used a combination of my very basic Spanish and Google Translate to figure out that we were going to a park about 10 minutes away to pick him up.

The van then climbed up a dirt path to another launch site, but Anthony wasn’t there. So we went to the park parking lot, and there he was. He climbed onto the van and said “Hi baby”, and then off we went, jamming out to Spanish hip hop music with our guides, all the way back to San Gil.

From there, we caught another bus to Barichara, and we took a swim, walked up to a viewpoint for one last look around before it got dark, and then went and got a fancy meal for our last night in Barichara.

I would love to return to this heaven someday.

It was our last morning at Alto Bonito in Salamina, and the sunshine was fierce. Martin showed off his cooking skills one final time, and my belly was full and happy as I enjoyed our views for the last few minutes.

We caught the little bus heading toward town where we booked bus tickets to get to La Pintada. We knew nothing about La Pintada other than that we could supposedly get to Jardin from there.

The bus ride had great views of the mountains the whole way, but it was also hot with way too many stops. We were a whole 10 minutes from La Pintada when they made one more stop for everyone to eat lunch.

After arriving, we started asking around for how to get to Jardin. The consensus seemed to be that we should get a bus heading to Bolombolo, and from there, we’ll get a Jardin-bound bus. So we finally agreed and waited an hour for that bus to take off.

The route was full of construction so now we had dust blowing in through the windows to stick to our sweaty skin. But the driver was fast and soon enough, we were hopping off at La Peñalisa to await our final bus. Anthony tried to leave his wallet on the bus, but a good Samaritan alerted me to it before I climbed off.

Luckily, we only had to wait 5 minutes before we were able to flag down a Rapido Ochoa bus that said Jardin on the windshield. And that bus had air conditioning! Have I said “bus” too many times yet?

At last, we made it to Jardin around 6 pm. The main plaza was filled with people eating fresh fruit from food stalls, children dancing and laughing, men sitting outside bars drinking some beers, other sitting in bars watching the soccer game. Still more were just leaving the big beautiful Church.

We checked into our hotel which directly overlooked all this action.

After freshening up, we walked around to see the town and had a pleasant dinner at Café Europa. After walking around a little longer, we decided to enjoy the action from our balcony for the evening.

We heard people outside partying until early morning, and soon after that stopped, the locals were outside sweeping, and the Church bells were ringing.

We got an early start and sat outside a café drinking our coffee. When walking around the square, a yellow pup came sprinting up to us and started biting Anthony’s legs. I thought it was hilarious, but he wasn’t so sure the pup was being friendly and couldn’t get her to stop. We walked back into our hotel with her attacking our legs the whole time. She knew not to come inside but just looked at us sadly, like we were her only friends and we had abandoned her. Once we came back outside, she followed us around, much more politely now. She became my puppy for the remainder of our time there.

After eating some breakfast, we changed to go on a hike. There are tons of tours and activities around Jardin, probably the most popular of which is the horseback riding tour to the waterfall that falls through a cave. I had wanted to do that, but we decided we weren’t going to have enough time, so instead, we did a decently long hike on a path going outside of town, looping around and coming back through a different part of town. We walked through banana trees, yucca plants, and flowers galore. We visited horses, and the world’s cutest pup visited us, running up to us whimpering for attention.

We took a slight detour and caught some incredible views of Jardin.

We came across a river and crossed the bridge over it.

We saw a waterfall through some dense trees, but there was a locked gate to get to it. After some wandering around, we found a house that provided tours to the waterfall, but first they led us through a long cave full of hundreds of bats.

We came out the other side and climbed up to the waterfall. The spray felt refreshing after our long morning of hiking uphill in the sun.

We continued our walk, coming across another waterfall on the way, this one the waterfall of love. Apparently, it guarantees that your love will last forever if you kiss in front of it. So we were sure to lock that down.

We found a little cobblestone foot path short cut the rest of the way back into town, and then we walked the streets until we found somewhere that looked good for lunch.

Next up was Medellin, so we caught a bus for the 3-3.5 hour journey. It was honestly one of the prettiest drives I’ve ever been on, gorgeous mountain and river views from both sides of the bus the whole way.

Unfortunately, I was a bit carsick from all the bumps and lurches, but we survived, experiencing urban life in Colombia for the first time, and what a change of pace it was. We grabbed an Uber to our apartment in the El Poblado neighborhood. Jaw dropped as soon as we walked in and saw our views.

We weren’t sure we even wanted to leave, but it was our only night in the city so we went out and grabbed some dinner around Parque Lleras.

We decided to check out one more place for drinks and ordered some fancy cocktails.

I was dead tired, so we decided to relax back at our balcony for the rest of the night, the evening views every bit as spectacular.