Fearing that I was getting sick, I stayed two and a half days in Bucaramanga with a family that had found me on the internet. The mother is opening up a restaurant soon, and had to test the various dishes, for which I volunteered. If you make it to Bucaramanga, I highly recommend the restaurant Mimi Chocolate.

   Feeling healthier, I followed the road out of Bucaramanga over the Andes, climbing to 10,000 feet and above the clouds. In the town of Berlin, at 10,500 feet, I became sick, and spent the next four days in bed, resting, and blowing my nose.

   While in town, I met a number of police officers. Berlin, a town based on onion farming, has 800 residents, yet 60 police officers, all of whom carry hand grenades and M16 rifles. According to a few locals, the guerilla drove the police out of town 20 years ago, and town has been lawless since. The 60 police officers, who were sent about a month ago, seem to have fixed that problem. The road is the main road to Venezuela, and the police are also there to search cars for contraband and drugs.

   When I entered Colombia, I wrote that president Uribe is incredibly popular because of the increase in security. Since then, I’ve talked to a number of people, notably middle class people in the cities, who oppose the president’s policies. They complain that all the investment goes into the army, and that funding for hospitals and education have been cut even as taxes have increased. ‘The root of the problem is poverty, and the army will not solve that.’ I am not sure what to believe, as although 60 police officers seems excessive, I can now travel in the country, and before president Uribe’s investment in the army and police, I am not sure I could have.

   (Note on U.S. relations with Colombia: The government receives lots of aid from the United States, largely for the military. Uribe and president Bush share similar conservative values, and subsequently U.S. aid for Colombia has increased under the Bush Administration. This makes Bush popular for some people I talked to, while others complain that the U.S. orders Colombians what to do, and carry out very destructive campaigns to destroy cocoa crops, which are the source of cocaine. More here. )

   Feeling better, I continued over the mountains to the city of Pamplona, which was celebrating its yearly independence festival. I stayed with a family and danced in the central plaza with the locals. Continuing on, I descended into my final city of Colombia, Cucuta, where I spent a day and was interviewed by three television stations before continuing on into Venezuela.

   After a week in Bogota, I departed the city, leaving behind what almost seems routine at this point – a group of new friends, a newspaper appearance, and a city that I hope to return to someday. I was escorted out of town by Bruce, an American who helped me out while in Bogota.

   Heading northwest towards Venezuela (map), I first stopped in the colonial town of Zipaquira, where the locals have converted a salt mine into an underground cathedral. Continuing on, I was told by everyone that this stretch of road was safe, and I proceeded to camp in the countryside next to families.

   My first night I camped next to Marco’s family’s house. Marcos cuts clay out of the roadside next to his house, then forms the clay into bricks, and then cooks the bricks with coal to harden them. The majority of Colombia’s buildings are made out of bricks, and apparently this is where they come from. I helped cut some clay (video center), but I think I was more a source of entertainment than assistance.

   Camping next to families in the countryside, I am inevitably asked about money and about what life is like in the U.S. I try to explain that there is a difference between standard of living and quality of life, and that while you make more money in the U.S., things are also more expensive (just say what rent in Palo Alto is). But, while most families I see seem to have good family and community lives, the health care is poor and they have nowhere near the options that I or my friends have — minimum wage her is $200 a month. (More thoughts on this in my first comment on this post.)

   Heading north, I camped next to the houses of a few more families, and followed long scenic valleys and canyons up and down until reaching the city of Bucaramanga, another of Colombia’s major cities.

   I entered the city of Medellin, Colombia’s second largest, on a Sunday morning. Every Sunday in Medellin, they have the ‘ciclovia,’ where a number of roads are closed to cars (see video on left). I rode in quite happily, and met a local, Lucho, who showed me around to the city’s many parks before afternoon rain showers.

   Most people in Medellin asked me how the city compared to what I had heard about it in the news (‘how does Medellin seem to you in comparison to how it is painted on television?’) I of course tell the truth – Medellin is a beautiful city, and I felt just as safe in the city as any other city on this trip. It is clear to me that Colombians are upset about their reputation, and, especially in Medellin, I felt like they all wanted me to go home and tell everyone what a great place it is.

   In Medellin, I stayed three nights with the firefighters, who showed me the town (this time in a fire truck), helped me get in the local paper and on television, and set up a presentation for a group of teachers. I also now am carrying five items that say ‘Bomberos de Medellin.’ Thanks again to this group of firefighters, who are definitely on the ‘receive a letter from Argentina’ list. (Can you spot the ‘fake bombero’ in the picture on the left?)

   The video on the right above shows how a bombero celebrates his birthday.

   Leaving Medellin, I followed the road over the mountains, into the Magdalena river valley, and then back up into the mountains towards Bogota. It has rained heavily almost every day, but when the rain has stopped, I have received vistas of steep mountains or large rivers high from the recent rains.