In my last country, Colombia, of this trip, my long and never-ending list of “lasts” has started. The last exchange rate I have to learn (Bolivia, $1USD = 7.3 Boliviano; Peru, $1USD = 2.9 Nuevo Sol; Ecuador, $1USD = $1USD, as they actually use US currency; and Colombia, $1USD = 1900 Pesos), last entry stamp (one of the most boring along with Ecuador), the last section of my guide book that I have to reference (or at least what is left of it, after tearing most of the pages out),… but now having completed my last overnight bus ride, to and now in the last city of this trip, Bogota, everything now seems so final and real.
After leaving Huanchaco, I finally and for the first time (that I can recall) missed my stop on a long bus or train trip, and had to back track. Originally due into Mancora at 4 am, I woke sometime around 6 am, to find the bus pulling into the depot at Tumbes, just south of the Ecuadorian border, known as one of the most hassle burdened official border crossing in South America. As I exited the station, a group of drivers swarmed around me and literally followed me, as if I was a celebrity and they were the paparazzi, in hopes of taking me to the border. After constantly refusing their services, I escaped by running across the street and hopping in a tuk-tuk that was rolling by, and eventually located a micro (mini-bus) headed two-hour south, back to, Mancora. Sometime after 8 am, I finally arrived at the brand new, not quite completed The Point Hostal, located less than 50 paces off the beach. I than spent three and half days in Mancora, reunited once again with my bud Linda, along with some new found friends, whom I affectionately called the United Nations and the Lonely Wolf Club, as we were all traveling alone, the members: Michael (England), Joana (Portugal), Katarina (Germany), Johan (Netherlands), Tamara (Switzerland), Mark (Canada) and Elad (Israel). To be honest, it was some of the most relaxing and fun I had in awhile, a vacation within a vacation of sorts, as we all got along so well, and seriously enjoyed each other’s company. The days were spent, lounging on the patio, and of course the beach, followed by a trip into town for lunch, than another trip to the beach, where we watched the sunset each night. A couple of the top highlights, was our improvised Sunset Olympics, watching a sea of birds (literally thousands) diving into the sea at once in search of food, and spending each evening at a bar, on the side or even in the middle of the Pan-American Highway.
Not wanting to leave, but feeling pressured on time, Michael, Joana, Katarina, and I hopped on a bus headed for a 16 hour plus journey for the Ecuadorian capital city of Quito. Unlike most other South American countries, with the exception of Brazil, the capital city of Ecuador is not it’s largest city, as that distinction goes to the coastal city of Guayaquil. While in Quito, the four of us, battled various severity of altitude sickness and stomach bugs, and eventually took in some sights, including: the many plazas, the Virgin Statue looking over the city, the Basilica, and of course a side trip to step on, over and multiple times across the equator. Known as the Mitad del Mundo (Middle of the World), Ecuador boasts that this portion of the equator is unique due to it’s vicinity to a populated city/capital, and it’s terrain and accessibility, as water or rain forest cover most of the remaining portions of the equator. Little did we know, that there were three places that argued over the distinction and location of the actual equator. The monument celebrating the line, where majority of the tourist visit is said to be 240 meters off the mark, recently confirmed by GPS. Just a block or so away north, with a fair like ambiance is the Inti Nan Museum, where they pledge is the actual location of the equator, originally located by a past indigenous civilization. A visit to this small fair, actually cost more than the large official monument at $4, but you are entertained and slightly amused by the “scientific” experiments which are suppose to demonstrate the strength of the gravitational pull between the northern and southern hemisphere, and the resulting reduced strength of gravity at the “actual” equator. Not to be out-done, between these two locations, is another museum, which discusses the historical significance of the Equator, to the local people, and more importantly to Ecuador, which directly or indirectly derives it’s name from this line. There we met, a mad scientist, who on the verge of scolding, told us to see the truth from the rhetoric, and to view the equator in a whole new light, and that for centuries we have been drawing the world and globe in the wrong orientation. Feel a bit puzzled? Well that is how we felt coming out, but we were just glad to have escaped still in one piece, and not two hemispheres.
Later that night, I left the remaining members of the Mancora crew, and headed for Colombia. After more than 20 hours, I arrived late in the evening in Cali, famous for their love of Salsa (the dance not the condiment). Unfortunately, I only stayed for a day and half, but was able to squeeze in a quick Salsa class, and again was lucky enough to meet some great people to spend the only full day I had. Next, it was off to Medellin, the previous home of Pablo Escobar, the notorious cartel leader. As, I arrived just after the completion of a 9-day Fiera Festival, the town and hostal was quiet, trying to recuperate from the week long parties. Four days later, along with a couple new friends, Michael (Oz) and Dan (England), we headed for the Caribbean Coast of Cartagena. Considered by most Colombians to be their favorite city, amongst single backpackers/lemmings it was just a pretty colonial city, where the beaches closes to the city, were not the draw to the town. So, on the second day, we took a small boat to Playa Blanca, located 20km from Cartagena, and finally got to enjoy the beach back in the northern hemisphere. The following day, we hopped back on a bus to Santa Marta/Taganga, towards the famous Tayrona National Park, where the rain forest meets the coast. A bit tired from all the traveling, since I left Pisco, I took a full day off to rest in Taganga, before Michael and I traveled to Tayrona, as Dan was much to sun burn from our day at Playa Blanca. Tayrona, did match up to the hype, as the water was warm, and the palm trees stretched deep into the sand, as if they were extending out to touch the crystal blue water. Than there was the sand, like no other that I have seen to-date, as the grains were a mixture of white and gold, living up to the history of the gold in Colombia. Indeed, Tayrona was and is beautiful, one of those places, that made me feel like, maybe I should have saved this place for later, when I meet and travel with that someone special, no offense Michael.
Upon returning to Taganga, after pseudo-camping at Tayrona, I was quickly reunited with Joana, but had to say Ciao just hours later. That is when, the finality of this trip, started to set in. There was only one more destination left, and the chances to reunite with an old traveling mate, was running out, it had seriously been a great run. That night, I hopped on the aforementioned final over-night bus, to my final city, Bogota. And instead of being re-united with a friend from the road, I was met by a great friend from home, Nick B. Spending a few of his youthful years in Bogota, he was back for a short trip to visit his parents. Nick has been a great friend for years, working in the same industry, so part of our time together, was spent talking shop in an attempt to re-introduce me to the industry vocabulary, and to catch me up on current events. Seeing Nick, also reminded me, of some of the reasons, that I took on this trip/adventure. For years, I shared with Nick, my interest and desires to visit his other homeland, but for many past years, his response was always the same: not now. Than, just a year before I left home, he finally said: go for it. Now, thousands of miles from home, during the last week of my trip, I again got to see a familiar face in a different country, a different continent. Thanks, Nick and Mr. Biro, for your hospitality and willingness to show me your beautiful city of Bogota.
Now, in my final hostal, with one last time to pack my backpack/rocksack, and less than 48 hours to go, before I am on a plane headed for the States, I am filled with varying emotions and thoughts. Although, I may actually shed a tear when I finally fill my seat on that plane, I can guarantee you that no doubt it will be accompanied with a smile.
This has been an adventure beyond words, although I have probably used more than a hundred thousand, trying to share and describe it to/with you. If, I had to choose one word to describe this whole experience, which is as impossible as picking my favorite place (which is the fifth most commonly asked question), surprising to most, it would not be: amazing, instead I think “grateful” would be the most appropriate word to use. I will not even attempt to share all the reasons with you, as that could take another hundred thousand words, but I will say this: I am grateful that you have been able to follow me with this blog (and you are probably as well, for the following reason), otherwise I would have to re-tell these stories a hundred times and no one would ever be able to shut me up 
Thank you, for all your e-mails and comments, along the way, they always made me feel a piece of home, and meant more to me, than you will ever know.
Hope all is well.
P.S. This is not the end… (entonces, feel free to check back).
