Monthly Archives: March 2012

  • Three bottle of rum and a breath of fresh air

    I’ve got chipwood in my mouth as I wake to the dulcet tones of Mancunian accents, as the hostel buddies from last night are preparing to leave. For a few minutes I contemplate staying in Cali to simply recover from my nocturnal escapades, then it dawns on me that I would be staying in Cali.  …

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  • A Swede!

    “Cali has an edge” claims the Lonely Planet.  If it does it’s the only thing it’s got.  We take a dander into the ‘old town’ and discover a sweaty, smelly, dirty, polluted, vehicle infested city centre with maybe two decent looking buildings.  There is nothing here.  It’s going to take some serious persuading from the …

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  • Waxy palms…

    With the best of intentions I set my alarm for 6.30am.  I’ve heard that the trek to the Valle de Cocora is best during the morning, as it’s most likely to rain over lunchtime, with you returning like a drowned rat.  Alas I’m still in my pit at 10am, mainly down to the incredibly comfortable …

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  • The devil makes work for idle thumbs

    I’d managed just under a week of no boozing when all of a sudden I find myself awake at 3am trying to build a bonfire in the middle of a field by a hostel with an Aussie, a Canadian, an Irish and an English girl.  It had to be some kind of joke.  I have …

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  • Remembering dad

    My new travel with pace mantra is working wonders.  I’m out of the door by 9am and on a bus to Salento with the kind of speed where you know you’ve not dressed yourself properly.  It’s a glorious day and freeing myself from the shackles of drink has me bouncing along like a fourteen year …

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  • Caffine high

    I have no idea where I am when I open my eyes.  Then it dawns on me I’ve got to be up to look around a coffee plantation.  Finally I’m doing some touristy stuff.  The cold shower doesn’t dampen my spirits, because I don’t get in it.  I’d rather smell for the day. I’m picked …

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  • Change of scene

    The sleep is an uneasy one to the point of I don’t know if I’ve actually slept at all.  I vaguely remember the revelers coming in, and it seems it’s only a few short hours later until I should be throwing back the garish blanket.  I’m staring at the wooden slats of the bunk above …

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  • Trying to the last

    The Pit Stop hostel is once again full for a Saturday night.  There is the usual hub and bustle of excitement as guests arrive in numbers, all anticipating the club scene ahead.  Raised voices discussing tactics, plans, options, and pub crawls echo through the dorms, bar and court yard.  Where the girls are, the best …

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  • The end of the chapter?

    I’ve known for a while that something about my recent lifestyle needs to change.  Today only seeks to emphasise this point.  I sleep horribly, with a nasty hangover and nothing to do but ride it out.  It’s all the fun of the fair when you’re living it up when the sun goes down, but boy …

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  • Same ol’ same ol’

    I know, I know, I know.  I know I said last night was my last night out here, but tonight is actually my last night as I am planning on leaving tomorrow.  Nick, Jim and myself settle in for a few games of pool in the hostel bar.  It’s a ‘farewell Stuart’ sort of vibe …

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