Two Brits stumble haphazardly around the U.S.A. and South America. Here, we write about what we see, eat, drink and do. We hope you enjoy and let us know what you think or any recommendations for where we're going by contacting us on Tumblr or via...
I'm a list person. Its partly how we've managed to navigate ourselves over the last nine months. Get somewhere to stay. Check. Work out to get there. Check. Find somewhere to eat. Check. I like to think less Rainman, more highly-organised individual.
We’re back in the UK now, looking for work, enjoying the fantastic weather and catching up with family and friends who we’ve missed a lot. What we've done over the last nine months is too overwhelming to take in so as an exercise in reductionism, here it is in list form...
17 flights (with eight different airlines. Dan's favourite being Air Panama who used a 40 year old plane for their Panama City to Medellin flight) and not one upgrade. NOT ONE. Apparently flip flops and stained backpacks are not conducive to being thought of as ‘first-class’ material.
Unlimited knowledge of the dangers of doing laundry in Latin American countries, where the best places to find free wifi are and what food will make you shit yourself (here’s looking at you frijoles).
One lost bag of underwear, one camera, one phone, three towels, a credit card and five pairs of broken shoes - not all on the same day.
30 boat trips, from ferry rides on a boat with no sides to a little dinghy off Long Island to a speed boat around San Blas Islands.
Eight pairs of sunglasses although Dan's share of this is more than half.
Five incidents of shower gel/shampoo/marmite/(and most recently) dulce de leche (which is a bugger to get off) exploding in backpacks and covering everything. (five incidents of Dan stubbing his toe when kicking his bag.)
One new language, our most prized achievement. I’m basically fluent now hombre.
Two cases of bed bugs. Don't put bags on beds people! If you don’t have some sort of bed bug related incident then the places you are staying are obviously too nice and you must downgrade immediately. Charlatan.
Too many waterfalls to count. Travelling seems to mostly revolve around waterfalls. We saw big ones, small one, ones you could swim in, ones you where you’d die if you tried to swim in them. If you don’t like waterfalls then seriously consider whether travelling is for you.
Potentially 21,600 mosquito bites. One day I stopped counting after 80 on my body and if you multiply that by the number of days we've been away I’d say I’m probably low-balling.
Five shooting stars. Which equals five wishes! FACT.
100 litres of rum. At least. Don't judge me.
15 Caribbean islands and I want to revisit them all. Except maybe the place with #bikegate (see previous post about this atrocity).
12 countries and 14 US states. And we saw Bolivia, Brazil and Paraguay from far away so that’s basically the same as going there.
Four glaciers, hundreds of volcanoes, 30 lakes, 50 UNESCO world heritage sites, two deserts, six capital cities (although we passed through five more but they looked a bit rough so we didn’t stop).
Four pots of marmite and one smashed, inedible one. Thanks Dad.
283 nights sleeping in hostels, hotels, sheds, a priest's house, a yurt, hammocks, a converted warehouse, tents, a 21st storey apartment, my Dad's house, blow up mattresses, the floor, sofas, buses and a wooden hut over the sea.
100 new friends - I've counted and it's definitely that many. And I'm going to stay in touch with all of them.
And best of all, one new husband, courtesy of a quick ceremony in Manhattan City Hall last May.
I started writing this post a few weeks ago about how depressing it was to be a backpacker in Argentina. But after spending another two weeks here I need to amend my previous version, and thinking.
Yes, Patagonia is THE most expensive place we’ve travelled yet - USA included - and yes, the country is so big you spend an inordinate amount of time on buses.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a 17 hour bus journey as much as the next person, it’s just I hate having to pay £80 for it. My friend Pete promised me they’d be Bingo on the buses but I haven’t even seen a blue rinse hairdo yet.
In the month we’ve been here I’ve probably sat on buses for about 100 hours. I’m getting sores on my arse from all the sitting. I’ve set an alarm so Dan knows when to turn me over, like a Christmas turkey.
But, and it’s a big but ( :) ), surely there’s no better place on earth to be looking out of a bus window. In only one country we’ve seen glaciers, vineyards, the Andes, the biggest waterfall on earth, jungle, desert, a Delta stretching for hundreds of kilometres, Cowboys, the Atlantic, salt lakes and normal lakes, rolling hills and pine wood forests.
It’s not very often that the cheapest place in a country is it’s capital city. We were only in Buenos Aires for two days and I’m already planning where we’d live when we moved there permanently and ate dulce de leche for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Less dog poo than Paris and not as smelly as New York, it’s my favourite city in the whole of South America. And I’ve been to six at least.
Apparently, Argentines have a bit of a reputation for thinking they’re a bit better than their South American counterparts. We’ve found this not to be true. We’ve been welcomed into their homes, offered to share their dinner, helped when we lost our camera (and I lost my shit) and generally made to feel very welcome.
Even when the subject of a certain war between our two countries has been raised, we’ve smiled sweetly and said innocently, “well, we weren’t even born then” and it’s all been swept away amicably. We’re just not going there.
It’s kind of impossible to travel through Argentina on a budget. But save your pennies and come anyway. Because nowhere on earth, aside from the United States which is almost too big the other way, can you see so much in one place. And the wine and steak are definitely better and cheaper here.
I'm on a one woman mission to tell the world - go to Colombia. There are many reasons I could list for travelling to this devastatingly misunderstood country, not least because my Dad lives there and he seems to like it. If unspoilt Caribbean coast line bores you or cultural cities are not your thing then look no further than the small, quaint Colombia town. We had the privilage of visiting a handful of small Colombian towns and they were some of our favourite places that we've visited anywhere. Coming from small towns (or big villages - sorry Bensonians), we found ourselves at home. When your travelling, it’s so nice to be a place where you can walk to find some food, or to see the sights, without having to get a bus or taxi. And they are so safe.
In a country with houses made of corrugated iron and cement, Santa Fe de Antioquia, Jardin, Barichara, Villa de Leyva, Salento, El Retiro, Santa Elena and Finlandia really stand out for their architectural beauty and the incredible views across infinte mountain ranges.
Jardin has horses that come through the town at night. The horses trot like they are running on hot coals and the riders look like badass motorcycle riders, wearing leathers and menacing expressions. When the sun goes down, people gather in the main squares for a drink and a chat.
Santa Fe de Antioquia has lots of old stuff like churches and a bridge. And it’s hot so there's not much for it but chilling by a pool during the day and eating and drinking in then town at night.
The square here is also buzzing at night.
One of my favourite places was Villa de Leyva. When we were there, they were holding the annual kite festival. All day and all night people were flying kites in the main square.
Barichara was another town, sprawled across the side of a mountain which is undeniably picturesuqe. It's kind of fancy and the local delicacy are crunchy ants which taste as good as they sound.
Salento is already thought to be one of the most touristy towns in Colombia. And there’s a reason for that. With the arresting Valle de Cocora nearby, as well as coffee farms, horse-riding and mountain-biking, there’s something for everyone. Every night we went and drank in the square, until some kids challenged the guys to a football match then we had to avoid the plaza so they didn't have to play.
About 10 miles away from Salento is Filandia - less touristy as its famous neighbour but equally as lovely. We stayed on a bonafide coffee farm.
And it’s not like towns are free from their share of weirdos either. Even on a Sunday afternoon in El Retiro there were a few very drunk men dancing along with a band.
But they are very good for parties, as we found out in Santa Elena during the flower festival in August.
It feels a bit cheeky writing anything about a place I was only in for three days. And even then we spent most of our time in one bar, the Lazy Lizard (apt you could say). But after such a short time in Caye Caulker in Belize, which is roughly two streets by four streets, you're basically a local. You recognise people in the street, who at least pretend to remember you.
So there’s not much to do anyway, aside from snorkel around the Split - where the island was cut in half by a hurricane - and drink. I saw a man single-handedly make a whole beach around those of us milling around sipping cuba libras with nothing better to do. Wasters, the lot of us. Even this dog couldn’t be bothered to make an effort.
After a few crazy weeks in Guatemala, we wanted a place to stop for a bit. And yes, the irony is not lost on me. A holiday from a holiday, oh woe is me. Pass me the bucket of sangria as I watch the amazing sunset, again, there’s a good boy.
We weren't even supposed to be going to Belize but for the sake of our sanity and our relationship, we just couldn't force ourselves to take a Tica bus all the way back to Panama from Guatemala. It would have taken about three days. I could just envisage me chucking Dan off the bus somewhere south of Nicaragua in an inevitably sleep-deprived state because of a minor infringement, like breathing too loudly.
So to Cancun it was, via Belize and Tulum and Isla Mujeres in Mexico. As it turned out we were heading to the USA version of Benidorm. Although, far prettier and less English, despite Belize being an English-speaking country. Visiting Mayan ruins in Tulum felt like queueing for Space Mountain at DisneyWorld. But not as good.
We had the feeling I suppose a lot of visitors to Stonehenge have had, "is that it?" (And they're idiots because Stonehenge is awesome). It's just that after Tikal, Tulum is rubbish. I mean, rubble.
Tikal was empty. When we visited we basically had the whole place to ourselves except for some crazy Colombian nuns who were making a music video. (Now, I’m basically a celebrity in Colombia after my two television appearances. But who’s counting?)
And Tulum was packed, like sweaty butt to sweaty butt packed. This all means it's a bit expensive, another reason why we didn't get up to much in Caye Caulker aside from sitting in the sun, swimming in the sea and sipping rum. Where there's rum, there's a way.
Most of my favourite places in the last seven months have been the places in the Caribbean we've visited. I believe there's been some tragic error whereby the stork dropping me off on some beautiful Caribbean island had a broken sat nav and ended up in Hayes, West London. Surely, the only logical explanation.
It would be paradise save for Dan being attacked by vicious animals. A rogue iguana sent him crashing through a jetty and a bite from a dog belonging to the owner of the Airbnb we were staying in had him googling symptoms of rabies. Belizean animals obviously aren't fans of his. (Dan has been ‘bitten’ by dogs 3 more times since I wrote this last month.)
I've been plagued by animals of a different kind. I completed my flasher hat trick in Tulum in Mexico, after previously scoring twice in Colombia. Dan and I were on bikes visiting a cenote and a bloke decided I looked like a good person to get his tackle out for. I must have impeccably bad timing or a sign on my back that says “get your willy out” which Dan put there as a joke. We didn't get to Spanish swear words in our classes so I'm hoping the gaging sound I made gave the right impression.
Although there was nowhere we wanted to be less than Cancun we were flying out from there so we booked two nights in a cheap hotel near the beach. Which we went to once for about 5 minutes. It was next to the best supermarket in the world. Like the USA’s Whole Foods but, dare I say, better. We dined there often.
More importantly, debatably, it was stumbling distance from one of the craziest clubs in the world, Cocobongo.
Our wonderful friend Rhian bought us two tickets as a gift and insisted we go. I was worried when I was dragged up on stage to have tequila poured down my throat, well, mostly over my face. But its hard to take yourself too seriously in a place like this, what with adults (and dwarves) running round dressed like the Mask and Beetlejuice. I can’t imagine anyone under 21 understanding who they were. I loved it all the same and it, and the supermarket, were well worth a visit to Cancun.
Bye to our lovely friends who joined us for our adventure. #colombia is @forbes coolest places visit in 2016 so we're all ahead of the curve @graceflorasmith as ever! #santamarta #ciudadperdida #lostcity #tayrona (at The Dreamer Hostel)
It was with some relief that the large, grunting Brazilian woman was the first to drop out, although to do so within 100m of starting was a poor effort by anyone’s standards.
The air around Antigua – Guatemala’s colonial tourist hub – is mercilessly thin at the best of times. Hiking up a volcano in the early hours only serves to accentuate the conditions.We knew we were in trouble the moment we started. Everyone did. A diet of rum and beans does not an athlete make. But still – 100m into a 4km hike must be some new ignoble record. The locals who follow idiot backpackers up the volcano with horses, waiting to help any fallers for the equivalent of a week’s salary in this impoverished country, couldn’t believe their luck. She muttered something about bronchitis. Who knows. She definitely looked chirpier than the horse did.
Being stalked along the trek by these strange vulture-horses actually gave us new impetus, and we coughed, spluttered and bitched our way to the summit, slowly. And it was wonderful. We even got to roast marshmallows on the fierce lava flow which was extraordinary, mainly because the lava wasn’t at all fierce and it didn’t work.
Guatemala was definitely a country I had never previously given a moment’s thought to. Has anyone, if we’re honest? Name one famous person, or a typical food, or any historical resonance beyond the ugly civil war which once threatened to destroy the nation.
Ignorance, obviously. If you can point me to a more beautiful country, I’ll pretend not to understand you.
The paradox here is that, while you’re most certainly on the backpacker trail, you’re entirely divorced from mass tourism. There’s no package holidays here. Travel outside of towns and you stumble immediately upon the type of genuine poverty that shocks and makes you feel like a middle-class wanker who’s come to gawp at the poor people. And it’s still dangerous. We didn’t encounter anything, and in fact walked many miles on roads we’d been warned were full of banditos. We’re idiots, albeit lucky ones, a point reinforced by the amount of stories we heard from people who had been targeted.
But none of this alters the fact that Guatemala is stupendous. The vistas, the mainly indigenous people, the festivals. If I had to urge you to go anywhere, I’d say Guatemala in a heartbeat.
Tikal, the greatest of the Mayan ruins, where we got caught in a lightening storm and flooding so dramatic that at one point I screamed in an octave I didn’t perviously know possible.
Semuc Champey, with its perfect river pools with those horrible fish that bite your feet and river tubing where the local feral kids hustle you for overpriced beers with a charm and humour which meant I didn’t entirely resent the little bastards. And where I taught a Rastafarian chap a thing or two about Fifa 2015.
Lake Atitlan, which is as perfect a place as I expect we’ll see in our year away. Active volcanos rising above tranquil blue waters, with little hippy villages dotted rounds its shores. So tranquil was the setting that I found it within myself to tolerate the two daft American women we met who were on a yoga retreat, banned from talking for a week and thus communicated with us entirely in mime.
And Antigua. The type of glorious colonial town which Nicaragua just doesn’t get quite right.
Getting drunk watching lava explode from a nearby volcano, or getting drunk with an 70-year-old Canadian ex-fighter pilot, who drank only neat tequila and had to help us to bed. Or getting drunk with Milton, an extraordinary El Salvadorian who has called the place home for 30 years and who gave us an impromptu bar tour of his town. And it his town.
Or Day of the Dead, Guatemalan style, in a small town 30km from Antigua where people build huge kites and drink among the graves of their loved ones. To see it happen, to be welcomed in by the people, was a quite remarkable privilege and I didn’t even feel like laughing when a huge gust of wind swept in and broke their kites.
A wonderful place. Do see it.
For more of our photos of Guatemala, have a look at our Flickr account.
On an island only 20km long, it is surprisingly easy to get lost. We followed the one road out of the only town on Utila hoping to find the tallest point on the island – Pumpkin Hill. A good Spanish name that. Yet we drove the quad bike we’d hired for the day further and further along what can only be described as dirt tracks.
Finally, we emerged on what we thought was the other road on the island, checked that the coast was clear and pulled out. ‘What an excellent road’, I thought, ‘and so wide, and so empty, so un-Central American…’ Then I saw the tower. “Dan, I think we are on an airport runway”, I shouted in his ear (he was driving). He laughed nervously (or hysterically) and floored the quad bike as I looked around desperately searching to see if a plane was coming into land. Luckily, it was just us, our two friends on their dirt bikes and two friendly army officers with huge machine guns who helpfully let us out of the main gate.
Utila is part of Honduras and where we decided to go so I could fulfil my dream of becoming a mermaid. It is such a small island you feel like a local after three days. And you’ve met most of the locals after four. Most travellers stay longer because it’s the cheapest place to scuba dive in the world. We were there for about a week.
Dan fancied going fishing and befriended Zorro, the local fisherman who offered to take him on an early morning trip. “Be shur ta be at da darck at fa tamarrow”, he said in his English creole drawl. Dutifully Dan was there waiting at 4 the next morning but no sign of Zorro, who had obviously had a big night the night before, not unlike us. A proper Caribbean storm raged overhead and with a hangover to match Dan crawled back to bed.
About half an hour later the whole hostel was woken up to the sounds of Zorro walking around shouting, “Ya wana go fishin buddy”, and knocking on everyone’s doors. I nudged Dan, who had fallen back asleep instantly and told him his ride was here. He told me to stay quiet because they was no way he was going fishing in this weather and didn’t want to give away our location, should Zorro get a crow bar and kidnap him from bed.
Utila is a real mix of people, which makes the island a fascinating place. We spoke to locals with accents that had twangs of Scottish or Northern Irish and who spoke mainly English and their version of Spanish. Then there are Hondurans from the mainland who mainly speak Spanish and some English. Then there’s travellers from all over the world, teaching diving, learning to dive or running local businesses. We spoke to though are firmly islanders first and Hondurans second.
This Caribbean island has it all. Even whale sharks at certain times of the year. Sadly, not in October. On one of my four dives a nurse shark decided to befriend me. My instructor gave me the signal that there was a shark so I turned around and it swam straight up to me. I know they won’t hurt humans but I still put my flippers up in self-defence. Happily, it was just saying hello.
We finished off our time in Honduras in a lodge in the jungle, in the shadow of Pico Bonito mountain. For my birthday I had the choice of a 16 hour bus journey to Guatemala or hanging on in Honduras for a few days. Having been surrounded by people for the previous month it was strange to find ourselves in a totally empty hotel for my birthday. Pretty much the only day you wouldn’t mind a crowded hostel bar. Dan gallantly played cards with me for a few hours and we were sleeping soundly by half 10. That’s turning 31 folks!
Waking up in #antiguaguatemala after 4 buses and 18 hours of travel. It's cold enough to wear trousers! I'm too excited about this (at The Terrace Hostel)
Nicaragua. Home to revolutionaries, volcanoes and surfing. We started in the seaside town of San Juan del Sur, raved about in Lonely Planet and by people we had met but in my opinion, a bit overrated. Yes, the surf is great but as anyone who knows me can attest, I have about as much balance as a one-legged giraffe so surfing is not my thing. Neither is it Dan’s which this photographic evidence can attest to.
I tried it anyway and sure enough I was still rubbish, even after my week of surf lessons in Bali all those many moons ago. The other sights of San Juan are well...it's hard to tell because it's a bit too dangerous to walk around after dark. But the sunset is good, just make sure you get off the beach after dark so you don't get robbed or shanked.
I did walk up to the Christ the Redeemer statue and SJDS is beautiful from afar. The other thing SJDS is infamous for on the Central American backpacking scene is Sunday Funday. Unfortunately, being over 30 now we surmised that an all day pool party might not be the best use of our time. And aside from games of beer pong, it didn’t sound like we missed much.
We caught chicken buses to the Isle of Ometepe. I can testify that chicken buses live up to their name, with much tweeting and chirping emanating from boxes around the bus. Ometepe, in the midle of Lake Nicaragua, has two volcanoes - one them still active. You can hike them but I decided against it, mostly because I’d been suffering with the shits for two weeks. I did however get a good look at a number of Ometepe’s lavatories so please contact me for any recommendations.
We stayed at El Zapolite, a kind of kubbitz turned treehouse where we got the real authentic experience with organic food, yoga, a long-drop toilet and scorpions. Friends rented motorbikes but we didn’t as I promised my mum I wouldn’t. I’m 31 by the way.
A brief stop in Granada for a day of sightseeing, as frankly, that is all you need. It’s a beautiful old city which they’ve restored to its former glory. But a city is a bit of a push. Dan and I had our first day away from each other in five months. I choose to spend the day at Lake Apoyo, a lagoon in a crater of an old volcano. Dan went to an all-you-can-eat breakfast and then to the pub.
Our attempts at volcano boarding brought us to Leon, a student city with a bit more life about it than Granada. Volcano boarding is as ridiculous as it sounds - you hike up a volcano, sit on a bit of wood and hurtle down the side. I was desperately trying to go as slowly as possible but the more I dug my heels in the faster I seemed to go. I was quite sad to be the second slowest in the group, at 20km/hour as I really want to smash that slow record. The fastest person went down at 69km/hour. It wasn’t Dan (40kmph, dammit - Dan).
After feeling like Panama, Costa Rica and Nicaragua were all quite similar, it was lovely to spend time in Leon where it felt like it wasn’t all geared up just for travellers. Obviously, we’re on the tourist trail so it is to be expected but Leon was a welcome relief.
We took a holiday from our holiday to go to Surfing Turtle Lodge near Leon, on of my favourite spots in Central America so far. As though the great food, company, sunsets, beach volleyball weren’t enough, you get to release newly-hatched turtles as well. Unfortunately, there’s still a few people in Nicaragua who like a tasty turtle soup so the Lodge tries to find or buy eggs to protect and incubate from the nasty poachers.
My turle seemed like a real warrior. Despite having been dropped by me within the first few minutes of life, he trundled quite happily into the sea until the huge waves went and took him away. See you later little dude. And sorry for the potential maiming!
We had our first experience of ‘twat tax’ (as Dan calls it) last week. I rented a bicycle in the Panama’s Caribbean island, Bocas del Toro and it got nicked from outside the house we were staying in. Yes, it was unlocked, for the 10 minutes it was out there.
Our twat tax was $150. And that’s after three hours of trying to negotiate, being driven around by the police to see if the bike shop owner would let us buy him a cheaper bike, getting the justice officer (only in name unfortunately) involved and being threatened with not being able to leave Panama. So, although, it was all utter rubbish, we had to pay.
Nevertheless, I love cycling and I’ve loved riding around the different places we’ve visited. I just won’t let a hire bike out of my sight ever again.
We got free bikes at the hotel we stayed at in Provincetown, Cape Cod, USA. There’s proper bike lanes there, albeit with sand over much of them.
Dan with our Long Island, New York, USA, couchsurfer hosts Matt and Clare, cruising around town.
Free bikes, which had seen better days came with our Airbnb house in Austin, Texas, USA.
Bike tour of Bogota, Colombia, to see the graffiti and learn about bits of the city you would normally miss. It did involve lots of cycling straight across four lane roads and going the wrong way up one way streets.
Villa de Leyva, Colombia. We hired bikes for the day and only got lost once. A personal record.
Saying goodbye to the next #jedward (my little brothers) as we're on to Part 3 of our travels - #centralamerica (at José María Córdova International Airport)
Phase three of our travels will soon be underway. On Monday, we leave Medellín, our home for the last fews months, and set off for the Caribbean and Central America, taking in Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras and Guatemala and then back to Medellín for Christmas.
I’m going in search of turtles, humpback whales and manatees. Dan is going in search of places that show the Rugby World Cup or have a good internet connection and spicy food.
Medellín has been good to us. After nearly two and a half months here, we’re still no experts. It’s still half chance when we get on a bus that it will take us to the right place and we still haven’t been to a proper salsa bar.
Nevertheless, we’ve had the chance to see a bit of what the city of eternal spring has to offer. And here’s what we liked:
Parque Explora – The best bit of any science museum is the interactive element where you can learn science without even realising it. We had the added fun of trying to translate the instructions as well.
Best bit: The aquarium with all sorts of creatures from the Amazon.
MetroCable - A cable car that goes somewhere. Imagine that Londoners! Rather than build a cable car as some sort of penis extension (most men just buy a fast car when they have a mid-life crisis, Boris), consecutive Mayors of Medellín have incorporated cable cars into the public transport system to enable people living in the poorer barrios to get to work.
Best bit: It’s a brilliant view of the city for about 50p.
Parque Berrio and Museo de Antioquia – Fernando Botero is Colombia’s most famous artist and he has donated much of his work to his home city, Medellín. I like his voluptuous, cheeky and out of proportion paintings and sculptures very much, which can be seen outside and inside the museum.
Best bit: Sit on the steps of Parque Berrio and watch the world go by.
Real City Tours – If you come to Medellín, you must do this tour. It lasts over four hours and it’s free, but not really as you have to give a tip at the end unless you’re a real bastard.
Best bit: Our guide, Pablo, was one of the best storytellers I’d ever heard and he gives you warts-n-all accounts of Colombia over the last few hundred years.
Museo Casa de la Memoria – We’ve felt very safe in Medellín but we know that’s not always been that way and had we rocked up in the 80s or 90s we would have seen a very different side. This museum shows just how far Medellín has come in the last 30 years.
Best bit: First-person accounts of victims of the violence, and it’s free.
Parque Lleras – We’ve had more than one night out in Parque Lleras, the only place in Medellín where you won’t be stared at if you look like me. There’s plenty of bars to choose.
Best bit: Bogotá Beer Company, for the beer, El Social, for the atmosphere, Pergamino, for the coffee and El Cielo, for the amazing food.
Universidad EAFIT – We loved our month at Eafit University, learning Spanish. The teachers were great, our classmates became friends and as students you can use all of the university’s facilities. Dan joined the rugby team, albeit for one session before they broke him. If you want to learn Spanish then this a great place to do it.
Best bit: Having a swim in the pool after class.
Ciclovia - Cycling is big in Colombia. There are hundreds of MAMILS (middle-aged men in lycra) climbing the mountains around the city on the weekends. And to promote cycling, healthy living and exercise, the city closes the autopista that runs through the part of Medellín on Tuesday and Thursday evenings and Sunday mornings.
Best bit: The autopista (or motorway) is pretty flat!
This list looks pretty short for people who have lived somewhere for a few months but we kept ourselves busy volunteering at the brilliant Marina Orth Foundation, teaching English, making beer and spending time with our family.
We’ll be gone ‘til November. (So give a kiss to my mother.) Until next time, Medellín, thank you and goodnight.
Deconstructed empanada and a shot of maracuya and #aguardiente #guaro at the best restaurant in #Medellin #weddingpresent #colombia #elcielo Thanks for the 10 delicious courses (at Restaurante El Cielo)
