The Colombian Lunch and Tap Water Theories



This is a typical set lunch in Colombia. To the right is a soup called Mute Santandereano, a kind of kitchen sink soup as it has just about everything in it.
Above is yucca (Am I right in that yucca has minimal nutritional value?) rice, beans, salad, plantains, chicken and a drink, all for 5500 pesos, which is a little less than US$3.00. There might be a gringo surcharge, but I doubt it. I had a similar lunch in Bucaramanga for 3500 pesos, but this was better tasting. I ate in the market, which is always good policy and an epicenter for me anywhere I go. The market is usually my favorite part of town.

It is odd that there are a zillion places to have a fixed lunch like this and nearly impossible to find a fixed dinner. The similarities between Brazil and Colombia never cease.

That drink is a fruit juice, lulo, as I recall, which is squeezed fruit mixed with some water. In this case I could see that the tap had a filter, but in other cases you take a leap of faith.

There are a couple schools of thought about water. I am deluded into thinking that I won’t get sick again since I got sick once and now am familiar with the local bacteria, not that I outright drink tap water now. Along this line, some people think that upon entering the country you should purposely drink the water, get sick, then you are fine the rest of the time. Some say to drink a tiny bit, a little more incrementally every day, and that will give you a sound foundation. Colombia is a special case because in the big cities the water is not only potable but excellent, and not everyone agrees on whether you can drink the water in a place like San Gil.

Fruit Superpowers

In little San Gil I am advised against drinking the tap water, but on TV I can watch the Masters golf tournament, the NCAA final four, the European soccer championships, and several American pro baseball games. Quick question: in 10 years which TV will be worth more?

Colombia is seemingly totally self-sufficient in food.   It is a shame there aren’t more exports to USA, particularly for fruit.   Eliana thought it is because of the opportunity drug smugglers have in all those shipping containers.   All of the off-season fruit I see in California comes from Chile, but Colombia has both Pacific and Caribbean ports and could easily usurp that business.

Colombia is like Brazil in that it should be a richer country just in fruit exports alone.   Fruit-wise the two are powerhouses.   A fruit competition could pit Colombia with its lulos and uchuvas, while Brazil could counter with acai and acerola—plus quite a bit more. Brazil really is the world fruit superpower, I have to admit.

I am a big fan of guanabana, but I would like to get my hands on the person who gave it the English name, soursop.   Soursop?!   Who thought of that? An outrage.   How can you get behind a fruit called soursop–and it’s not even sour!

The fruit I eat most is granadillas, a brother in the passion fruit family.   4 for 1000 pesos (US$.60).   Maximum deliciousosity.

I played a guitar for the first time in a long while and got blisters very quickly. It has taken me three hours to type this sentence.

When I grow up I want to be a big ass ant farmer

Who says you can’t build a tourist industry around ants?

I bought a pirated DVD of the movie “Up in the Air” for 3000 pesos ($1.50) on the street, but I dutifully gave the address of Paramount Pictures for the vendor to send a royalty check. Pirated DVDs are a growth industry here, so much so that I doubt it’s possible to buy a legitimate DVD in Colombia.

I hung out most of the day with Eliana whom I met on Couchsurfing. Couchsurfing isn’t just about staying at someone’s place. There are plenty of people who want to meet travelers but can’t or don’t want to host. I ate with the family and we watched 3 straight DVDs in a row.   Slothful.

Big Ass Ants—Delicious!


Down they go!This is a plate of  Hormigas Culonas, or, quite literally, Big Ass Ants.   They are a speciality of the Santander region and taste better than they look.   Protein!

It’s funny to me that they have a season, that they aren’t found just any time of year.   This kind of ant has wings that are plucked before they are cooked.

This isn’t some weird thing to freak out outsiders.   People really eat these and I saw several roadside vendors on the road between Bucaramanga and San Gil. They have a nice, quasi nutty taste.   I can see them taking off as something to drink beer with, but it would be a Herculean marketing effort to make that happen.   There are restaurants that serve steaks with an ant sauce.

The Least Intrepid Traveler—4 cities in 3 weeks

San Gil by night with a little photo experimentation

I’m in the running for the prestigious Least Intrepid Traveler award; I am back in San Gil.   I had fully intended to go to Venezuela, but I am glad I went by the consulate this morning in Bucaramanga.   In a converted garage on a nondescript street, it was confirmed that I don’t need a visa, but I do need a sort of tourist card.   It is free, but I need to submit a photo of me with a blue background and it takes three(!) days to process.   I asked if I could get it immediately at the border, but he shrugged inscrutably.   Last time I went to Venezuela I wasn’t let in and I had to go back to a consulate and get a visa.

I don’t think the photo is for the card itself.   I don’t know why they ask for it.     Next year the requirement will be a photo of me in a pink tutu and blowing a kiss, which is only for their Wall of Shame in a back room.

I decided to come back to San Gil which will likely take me back to Bogota and a flight somewhere eventually.   I dreaded that nauseous bus, aka The Long Barf Express, but this time no one heaved, and I smartly ate very little beforehand and listened to a Bill Simmons podcast on the way.   It’s an amazingly varied scenic trip for a distance of less than 100km.

Psst! You want a travel tip from kentfoster.com–absolutely free? When you have a chance of taking one of several buses to your destination, go with the bus with the oldest driver. I’m telling you, you don’t want some young hotshot overdosing on testosterone careening around those corners. Free tip! Who says you can’t get something for nothing these days?

The Gift of Blab, The Curse of Insomnia

I didn’t manage to see this bar open, but I guess Easter morning was a bad time to try.

There’s a guy from Chicago here at the hostel and I really hesitate to say anything unkind about him as he’s very nice and personable, but he will not SHUT UP!   He talks and talks and talks loudly without end.   I knew his life story the first time I talked—no, listened to him.   He’s here to woo a local girl, and the poor thing, what she must put up with.   Again, he’s a nice guy, means no harm, but he makes me insane and I avoid him strenuously. If I have to stay one more night in this hostel I will go rope shopping tomorrow and hang myself.     Just my luck I’d probably accidentally buy bungy cord.

I don’t know how anyone can sleep in a hostel.   This one is typical.   There’s construction next door, mosquitoes buzzing around your head all night, the bed is too short and too concave, but the other guys in my room sleep soundly.   Maybe it’s because they’re drunk.

Another guy here told me that he stayed in La Via Candelaria hostel in Bogota until one morning when the owner told everyone they had 24 hours to leave.   He had rented it out to a large group.   Surely he had arranged this far in advance, but he told everyone at the last minute so he could make the most money.   It didn’t go over well as it was just before Easter and most of the people had been staying for weeks or months.

The Sheep and The Purple Klansman

Unlucky sheep in the Bucaramanga central market

I walked around Bucaramanga and nearby Giron, seeing what I could see.   I stand out.   Even before I open my mouth,  I don’t pass for Colombian.   Even without my Serbian t-shirt and goofy Colombian floppy yogurt promotional  hat, I’m too tall and the way I walk probably gives the vibe that I’m a bad dancer.

This is inside a church in Giron. I know nothing more.

Anyone know the secret to sleep?

Sleep is hard to come by.   Even though I am not running around as fast as I normally do, in the last 18 nights I have slept in 10 different beds. If anyone has some sleep secrets, please pass them on.

It was a nauseous ride 100 km north to the big city of Bucaramanga over a Grand Canyon-like desert landscape. I am dreading spending the next 3 days here, but it’s Easter weekend and everyone and their mother is running around the country.  

This "table" is in the hostel common room

Colombian Cleavage, Kebab Economics and Hitchhiking

This woman grills meats and corn on the main square.   Sam claims she nets thousands of dollars a month based on each stick costing her about 400 pesos and selling for 2000 pesos.   (1900 pesos = $1).   I’m now convinced the Colombian grilled meat sellers and the Thai cut fruit sellers use the same timeshare in Switzerland for their vacations.

This photo somehow reminds me, when you come down from the highlands, Colombia is all cleavage, all the time.   And since wearing loose clothing appears to be a federal offense, making pockets impractical, plenty of women store their cell phones in their cleavage.   Some have enough room for a whole pay phone.

I can’t resist taking photos of people acting idiotic.    In this photo to the  right is the path to a very nice waterfall, this part  being steep and slippery, hence the rope to the left, but this retard was too impatient to wait so he tried going up with a frightened girl on his shoulders.   I couldn’t bear to watch him ungracefully try and ascend.

I hitchhiked back from the waterfall in two rides.   The first guy had a big family in his new truck and I knew he would take me for free.   (I forgot to give him a 1990 Colombian soccer card.)   The second was a young guy in a beat-up car, and I knew to ask him how much he wanted.
Hitchhiking is the greatest invention ever.

It was penthouse to outhouse in San Gil as Sam had a group coming so a few of us went to El Dorado Hostel.   San Gil was packed to the gills today.   It was fight after fight in the corner of the square where the liquor stores are. Are Colombians hotheads? Is that a difference between Brazilians and Colombians?

Barichara Barcelona, 2 weeks gone

El Rio Fonce

The River Fonce in San Gil. Huge vultures not seen in this photo. Is a so-so photo better than no photo?

I doubt I have ever stayed at a hostel for a whole week.   I am not such a youth hostel fan and I am too restless to stay anywhere for too long, but it was a perfect storm of events that kept me here at Sam’s.   I would stay the weekend, too, if it wasn’t booked up.

I certainly have never stayed in two hostels over 12 straight days.   Granted I was sick, but still.

There must be respiratory problems here amongst the women as everyone wears skin-tight clothes, but local hospitals have not reported a surge in admissions.

I went to Barichara today for the afternoon, about 40 minutes away.   It is a very pretty colonial village, but so languid I watched the second half of Arsenal-Barcelona in a shop.   This town must have some money from the upscale tourists because it was a small, nondescript shop selling the basics and patronized by salt-of-the-earth people, but it had a large flat screen TV for anyone who wanted to watch the game.

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