Last Saturday we set off for Jardín (Spanish for garden, hence the heading), a town about four hours south of Medellín by motorcycle. It’s been raining most afternoons lately, and because of some communications issues we didn’t get going until quite late in the day, and were overtaken by the showers. Hoping it would pass, we made a stop in Amagá, a town situated on a steep hill, giving it quite a fascinating topography. From the main road long, narrow and steep streets lead down to the main square, where we took the opportunity to have a bite to eat. On this first day on my new experimental diet I was immediately confronted with the challenges of finding vegan food on a traditional Colombian countryside restaurant menu, but I also quickly discovered possible solutions. I ended up with a splendid meal of (improvised) vegetarian bandeja (a dish that deserves its own post), and was introduced to mazamorra (more on this as well later), an instant favourite.
The rain continued, though not quite as heavily, so we put on more clothes and continued too. By the time we passed Cerro Tusa and crossed the Cauca, the rain was more or less gone, but so was the light, so the river remained a rustle in the dark below. I’d never travelled this far by motorcycle before, but I found the experience rewarding. When traveling by car, the landscape flits by outside the window; air travel I love, but it is a marvel of a different kind, and doesn’t really give me a feeling of connection with the land gliding by below, or any real sense of distance. On the motorcycle I felt like the surroundings moved in closer, and all my senses were involved in experiencing them. Clothes had to be rearranged as sharp changes in temperature and humidity marked the transitions from one micro-climate zone to another, we passed through sudden pockets of smell or music, and the bustle of people going about their lives in towns and villages, and hidden wildlife going about its life in forests and valleys could be felt, not just observed. If I could just have managed to take photographs from tehHowever, in addition to more and stronger sensory impressions, there’s physical effort involved in keeping oneself upright on a motorcycle for several hours, especially one moving along hilly and winding Colombian country roads. It crept up on me slowly, unnoticed at first, but by the time we drove into the main square of Jardín I was quite tired.
The fatigue wore off a bit at the sight of the town. 200 years ago, this kind of architecture would have been normal in Colombian towns, but by now very few have much left, and rarely is it as well maintained as in Jardín. The whole central square is surrounded by beautiful two-storey buildings: pilasters and window frames, doors and railings all painted in vivid colours, elaborate balconies dripping flowers. In between the trees and stalls selling traditional street foods like empanadas, papas criollas and rellenas (I promise I’ll get back to the food), a multitude of colourful small wooden tables and chairs cover the square. On Saturday night it was crowded, even with rain in the air, the streets all around bustling with people, mototaxis, and straw-hatted riders proudly showing off their horses’ ambling gaits. We strolled around for a while, then retreated from the rain into one of the bars and bought a couple of drinks as an excuse to sit and take it all in and be part of the scene.
We spent the night a few streets off the square, with one of the many local families who rent out spare rooms to travelers. Sunday dawned with sunshine and we breakfasted on cereal, fresh fruit and coffee at one of a wiggly-cheerful square tables, surrounded by old men in hats and animated discussion. All that was left of the morning, and part of the afternoon, we spent taking photographs, never moving more than a few steps from that square.
The sheer luxury of it ...
From the fruits stalls I had my first taste of guama and chontaduro, the latter one of those foods I immediately wonder how I will ever again survive without, now that I know it exists. Settling down for lunch in one of the restaurants I was surprised to find they actually had a vegetarian dish on offer. The seitan was quite new on the menu I was told, but apparently there had been a demand.
There is hope.
Less than a half hour’s drive from Jardín is the town of Andes, and a starker contrast could hardly be found. The lay-out of the place is confusing, but interesting – if we’d had more time I would have liked to go exploring – but the place is dominated by noisy traffic, there is hardly a trace left of the old architecture, and the chairs in the square are the cheap, plastic variety (sadly) found all over the world. We didn’t linger, having set off relatively early to make sure we would see the river by daylight this time. Besides, it was nice to know we had time to stop if any unmissable photo opportunities should reveal themselves along the way, if the need for hot chocolate (the Colombian version is dairy free and delicious) should arise, or if the passenger (that’s me) should, at any point, fall asleep, which, I was informed, is not the thing to do on the back of a motorcycle. Luckily, and strangely perhaps, the sleepiness wore off as it got darker, and before I knew it we were passing through Caldas, back into the lights of the metropolitan area.
