Colombia

As soon as we got off the plane at Cartagena (pronounced Carta-hey-na) the heat hit us like walking into greenhouse in summer. By the time we got to our hotel I was already looking like I’d been melting like a snowman. "Please let our room have air con. Please let our room have air con." I was chanting under my breath. Luckily it had air con and a fan. I didn't want to leave the room but we had a city tour booked, so we got back in the sweaty minibus and drove around the city. There's no denying, this is a beautiful place. It is a colonial city located on the Caribbean Sea. It was built by the Spanish using the local tribes and slaves from Africa and these influences show. The building types in the old town are a mix of Spanish colonial, post-colonial South American, Caribbean and African styles. Cartagena is traditionally a very rich port as it was on the main trade route between South America and Spain. All the gold that was stolen from the natives passed through this town, which made it a prime target for pirates. There is a total of 14 forts in this town, huge city walls and a harbour that is half blocked off for protection. The city has been under siege 5 times, mostly from the English. Sir Francis Drake was the only successful one and he stormed into the main square with a cannon and demanded that everyone give up their jewels or he will destroy the beautiful cathedral. After an hour he was still not satisfied so he fired a shot through the cathedral doors and soon enough, everyone brought out their treasures. Doesn't it make you proud you to British?

We also went up to the highest point in the city at 150m. We had to pass through the rough area of town to get there and when we got out we were bombarded with sellers trying to sell us stuff. One old guy had a smiley sloth which you could have a photo taken with for the extortionate price of £5, but it was so cute it was worth it. I turned a blind eye when the owner pinched its neck to get it to face forwards for the camera.

We also visited the largest fort which guarded the main entrance to the city.

It was a public holiday in Colombia that weekend and a couple of the plazas had stages set up for a free festival. We ate at a restaurant called Crepes & Waffles, which seemed to be the only reasonably priced restaurant within the city walls, and then headed towards the music. The beer sellers on the street looked at Dee like she was nuts when she asked for wine and after journeying around for a long time looking some, she went home while I stayed with some others and drank good ole beer.

The next morning we headed out to the city beach at Bocagrande. We were told this beach was dirty and busy, but we liked the atmosphere and the water was warm and (seemingly) clean. Every few seconds someone would appear trying to sell fruit, ice creams, beads, arepas, 'real' ray bans, ashtrays, crabs etc. Dee liked it because it was like shopping but without having to walk round shops. I spent almost all the time in the bath-temperature sea until we had to go back for our trip to the mud volcano.

An hours drive from the city took us to the mud volcano; a 25m pillar of mud rising from the ground with steps leading to the top. A quick change into our swimmers and the 9 of us scaled the steps to the platform at the top. The mud pool was full of grey, sloppy, clay-like mud. We descended down the ladder (me first) into the warm mud below. The mud is 400m deep but it is impossible to sink below your chest. Even trying to hold yourself under is hard. Moving around is almost impossible, except if you lay on your back and let someone push you. Whatever position you move into, the mud supports you and you float in that position. Within minutes it was hard to tell people apart as they all look like scary stone statues with lifelike eyes. It is supposed to be good for your skin but I don't know if that's true. Entry is free but there are a lot of people who work there and they all expect tips. There was a kid helping me down the steps into the mud, 2 masseurs in the mud, a photographer who took my camera and sandals, and some women who washed me when I got out. There had been a storm brewing for quite a while and when it started raining the mud splattered into everyone’s eyes. The masseurs screamed "Peligro!" (danger!) - the rain was making the mud splat up into our eyes, so we climbed up the ladder, holding onto our swimming costumes for dear life, as the mud was heavy and pulling them down. We skated down the steps to where women were waiting to lead us to a warm lagoon and wash the mud off our bodies, out our ears and even asked us to get naked and gave our bum cracks a quick rinse. It was definitely one of the weirdest things we have done on this trip.

That evening we went back to Crepes & Waffles again because Dee liked the cheap salad bar (only £2 for a serve-yourself salad).

The next day in Cartagena was spent on the beach again and that night ventured outside the city walls to Bocagrande in search of a cheaper restaurant, but managed to find one that was only slightly cheaper.

After the meal we all decided to go to the casino. I changed up the £1.50 I had left from our daily budget and stood with the others at the roulette table, much to the disapproval of Dee. I was happy to stand back and watch for a while, while the others lost their money. Randomly, Dee wanted me to put some money on black 10. To humour her I put 1 chip on that number and amazingly, it came in! I won nearly £5 on my first bet. She wasn't as lucky again, so I cashed in my (or, now according to Dee, 'our') winnings and bought a couple of beers at a bar before heading back.

Our last day in Cartagena was also spent on the beach and that evening we tried to go to a different restaurant, but couldn't afford it, so went back to Crepes & Waffles again.

We stopped at the delicious stawberries & cream place on the way back to Bogota and the coffee table bedded hotel. We were going to see the new Indiana Jones film that night - a film I had been excited about seeing since it was released a week ago. A lot of the group went to eat at Hard Rock Café which we couldn't afford (£12 for a burger) so we met them after. The film was good clean fun and me and Dee went back to our separate dorm rooms because there was only one double bed in the whole hotel, and it was the other couples turn that night.

I don't really think we have made the most of Bogota. There's a lot that the city has to offer (like the world famous gold museum), but on our budget of only 50,000 pesos a day, there's not much we could get out of it.

So we headed out of Bogota on a local chartered coach to the town of Villa de Leyva. A small town, popular with tourists, it was built in the seventeenth century then abandoned after the revolution and not lived in again until the 1950s, so all the original architecture and cobblestones still exist.

Half way into our journey we stopped at the Salt Cathedral of Zipaquirá. Here the miners had decided to honor the productivity of the salt mine by building a cathedral underground. Not all the group went - Ollie thought this wasn't worth paying £4 to see, but I was intrigued. We headed down into the opening of the mine to be greeted by carved salt steps, with blue lights illuminating the crystals in the angel and cross carvings. It was a labyrinth of high corridors and huge chapels with giant salt alters. I thought it was mystical and impressive, some Catholics thought it was offensive (being underground where hell is meant to be - freaks), either way, well worth my 4 quid.

The next stop Ollie enjoyed and I hated, we stopped along one of the highways to buy fresh strawberries and homemade cream. I had some strawberries; Ollie had mainly cream with a strawberry topping.

Dusk was fast approaching as we pulled into Villa de Leyva. It took us a long time to reach the small hacienda we were staying in, as the narrow streets challenged the skills of our coach driver, but we made it in the end. The hacienda owner took us on a quick town tour (it was dark by this point, by the end of it we still had no idea what Villa de Leyva looked like) but we did see the old mill, old brewery and church. And fell over the old cobblestones.

Back at the hacienda a local band greeted us and played music around the campfire while we drank the local sugar cane alcohol 'aguardiente' (like weak sambuca) served warm with cinnamon.

The next morning we were going rapelling so got into our mucky clothes ready for a 50m decline into the La Romera cave. 6 of us got into the back of a small jeep and endured the hour long drive to the cave location - remember roads are pot-holed dirt tracks here; the drive was painful. We all got into our harnesses and one by one abseiled down into the cave. After the cannoning the other week I felt like a bit of a pro, jumping down most of it and really enjoying it. Ollie went smoothly too, however one of the guys just couldn't get the hang of it and basically ended up upside down, lying sideways on the rock face, infact any position that you can't actually absail in. We walked for an hour or so in the cave that was actually more of a huge cavern once you were down, saw a family of bats sleeping and got really, really muddy. As I was walking through the cave the guide told us it had only one entrance and exit, (the way we entered) they used to chuck unfaithful females in the cave as punishment. Nice. Never the mans fault is it?!? This is when it occurred to me - how the hell do we get out. He said climb, I laughed "no really- how we get out?". Straight-faced "climb" he repeated. I learnt there was a small pulley system, but people had to climb out first to use it. Ollie volunteered to be one of the first to climb out unaided to help with the pulley. "Crap", I thought, we're doomed to live in cave, but fair play to him he lived up to his monkey man name and shot up the 50m cliff like Spiderman on a sugar rush. The last guy was the one who couldn't absail, he can't climb either. It was taking an average of 10mins to get up, 40min in he was hanging half way up saying he couldn’t feel his arms and the guys on the pulley couldn't lift him without his help. I couldn't do anything but laugh, I know, tempting fate, cos I'd not had my go yet, but it was seeing his dead weight dangling and the guys sweating and swearing on the pulley that had me in stitches. When it came to my go I think the pulley boys had a bit of a system going cos as soon as the guide said 'ready' I found myself launched halfway up the cliff in some kind of cartoon reverse bungee, telling them to slow down while I tried to avoid oncoming branches. I made the top in less than 2min.

We stopped at Angel Step on the way back that afternoon. It was pouring with rain as we followed a small path on top of a ridge between two valleys. As we came to the highest point the path narrows to only 30cm with a 150m sheer drop into a river one side and a 250m sheer drop the other. The guide told us to walk over it on the right, as the left was overhanging and unstable. I looked at it, turned round, and refused to walk over it. If I’m not jumping off it, or abseilling off it, hell, if I've not got a rope attached to me I'm taking no chances.

The next day I realised I must have done some climbing when I had to get Ollie to help me get dressed cos I couldn't lift my arms above my head.

Our flight from Ipiales to Bogota was delayed so we played cards at the airport till the propeller plane arrived to take us to the Colombian capital. It was lunch by the time we got to Bogota so we ate a quick bite at the airport (my second McDonald's in 10 years, and the same price as England) and got a minibus to our hotel. The Jewish-run hotel we were at had beds with mattresses harder than coffee table. Actually, I think coffee tables are softer. Dont do what Tamar did and jump onto the bed to relax - youll end up breaking your arse bone. We didn't have time to relax though, as we were met by the tourist police to be taken on a tour of the city. It felt funny walking around with 3 too-young looking, armed policemen as they showed us the important buildings in the Old Town area. We stood and had photos taken with the president's guards outside his presidential palace. A couple of street sellers and beggars came up to us in the main square and they were scared off by the tourist police's stern stare. Simon Bolivar is an important man in South America, as he headed the resistance against the Spanish and eventually won independence. He was from Colombia and nearly every important building or statue has something to do with him. Even the country Bolivia is named after him.

Because of the McDonalds we had earlier, we couldn't afford to go out for the group meal so had some disgusting local food called 'arepas' instead from a dirty local restaurant. Arepas are basically flour and sweetcorn mashed up and grilled, with salt-flavoured cheese inside and melted margarine. Dee liked the bland, powderey taste however and she ate mine while I went hungry.

The border crossing to Colombia was uneventful. This was the last trip in the truck for a while and Tamar and Noel handed the keys over to an ex Dragoman driver who was arranging the transport through Colombia. On the way to the border town of Ipiales we stopped at a church which is built at the bottom of a valley, the Sanctuary of the Virgin of Las Lajas. There is a stone in the wall of the valley which is apparently able to perform miracles, and the church is built around it. There is also a small museum which we didn't go in but apparently has a dead 5-legged cow inside. I'm not sure what that has to do with either the church, God or miracles, but maybe its the next evolutionary step for cattle. It would certainly make the Sunday roast go further.

If there is one thing you must learn about Ipiales it is that it is a dump. We went out to a restaurant for a group meal and to our dismay it was as expensive as Chile. A steak dinner with 2 beers was over £10 - and this was a cheap & nasty local restaurant. Our £15 a day budget wasn't going to go very far in Colombia.

On the way back to the hotel we noticed a lot of armed forces around our hotel. We were thinking Colombia is taking this crackdown on crime seriously and when we got into our hotel it was full of men in uniforms with huge AK47s. Some people were visibly very scared by this, as the men were banging on doors and demanding loudly in Spanish to see passports. We had been warned that the national guard sometimes take tourist's passports and demand money to return them, so we were hesitant to hand them over. Tamar explained that kidnapping from Equador into Colombia is common, so they wanted to see our passport stamps to prove lawful entry. Once we started to show the passports they got disinterested and left, but, for a while, we thought we were in some big trouble.