If you get tired, learn to rest, not to quit – Bansky

After one or two short rests, we have reached the first beautiful viewpoint (Mirador).   A local farmer is selling roasted cacao beans and fresh orange juice for exhausted trekkers.  I pick up and bite a free sample cacao bean.  It is bitter at first but then the very familiar chocolaty taste is spreading in my mouth.

 

Our guide, Carlos is pointing down the valley, explaining the local farming of cacao, bananas and, yes cocaine plants -not for narcos, but for local consumption.   It actually is easy to spot cocaine trees.   It is said that chewing and leaving the leaves on your gums for 15 minutes will re-energize your tired body from your long walk.  It is an acquired taste for me, but it does not do the same magic on me.  Leaving the Mirador, the trail condition changes as we walk from uphill to downhill: it starts with white sand, which provides a soft, cushion on the bottoms of our feet, then changes to red mud.   

 

 

ehhh,,,,

Carlos holding a cocaine tree branch

Simply delicious

Feeling the pressure on my knee, hiking down the trail, I contemplate the trail.  Reddish colored mud deeply formed by previous rains has now dried to make an uneven and difficult walking surface for trekkers.    Imagining that I would have to walk and climb back this trail on our return, I sigh and mumble to Nohemi, my fellow trekker.  She reminds me that the return trekking has not yet happened.  “Sona, porque preocupas ahora?  Disfruta este momento” (Why worry now, enjoy the present moment)”.  Nohemi’s words  have echoed throughout  my trip.

Finally, having reached the first camp site for the evening,  I secure my bed then rush to the shower.   The simple shower room which only has single water faucet without light, yet it feels like the most luxurious shower after a long walk on the dusty, rough trail.   While waiting for the dinner to be ready, one by one, we gather around the dinner table area: sipping coffee, having a smoke, chatting, etc.  Everyone looks happy that the first day has  been completed and the day’s dust has been cleaned off with a nice shower.

Upon finishing the meal, Carlos, our guide, explains  the 2nd day’s schedule and we withdraw  to our beds.  While my body is tired, my mind is so wide awake that it is hard to fall asleep.   The thin mosquito net separates us from the jungle in Santa Marta.    In the night’s darkness, whisperings of the forest echo through the night, and the fresh evening air feels clean.    

HOME

This is an old essay I wrote for a creative writing class at Utah State University long time ago.   Being away from my family, home and Korea, I remember how I missed the familiar things and felt quite nostalgic.  I like to share it with friends again.  It has been so long….  And I am still far away..

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Home

The best moment of a day during the summer is when the sun goes down behind the mountains.  My footsteps head for where the farmers walked back wiping sweat off their faces, tanned from the scorching summer sun.  It is so peaceful to walk along the plains full of rice plants, potatoes, corns and beans.  There is no single appearance of the peasants on the fields.  Their footsteps are left on yellow soil for tomorrow’s work.  The road is hollowed by cow’s and farmers’ footsteps.

I pass by an orchard.  Apples under the leaves ripen through the colors from green to red.  Pears season through their sweet smells.  Chestnuts’ ripeness is shown by their growing size and sooner or later they will open their beautiful brown color to show off their fertile harvest of a year.  It was the orchard where my uncles, aunts, and cousins bought fruits to offer to our great grandparents’ tombs for the memorial service on Chu-Suk Nal, which means Harvest day (Thanksgiving day in the United States).  We contended with each other to get the biggest pear, but our contest was interrupted by the oldest uncle.  He reminded us of respecting our ancestors.  The biggest and the best quality of fruits were reserved for our ancestors to thank them for watching over our crops of a year.  I leave the orchard behind me and enjoy my footsteps toward the mountains.   Mountain after mountain, the road is not paved.  I just follow the footprints left on the road.  Despite of the modernization brought to the village, it could not touch the grandeur of the mountains that have been there from the countless time.  I struggle to walk through unseen roads and suffer from brambles and tall trees, which scratch my legs and arms.  Every Chu-Suk Nal, going through these unpaved and hidden roads, I was led by my father and my uncles who protected me from pricking.

I approach the end of the rugged road, and I see two tombs of my great grandparents.  The surrounding area of the tombs is nicely organized with green grasses, and two stone tables in front of the tombs show my great grandparents’ names and their burial dates.   I look at my dress again before the tombs and bow twice to greet my ancestors as I always did with my cousins, following the oldest uncle’s instruction.  I never knew them personally, but I knew they were my grandparent’s parents.  They came to this tiny village to settle down, where my father grew up.

As I turn around, the dark blue summer evening is covering the village.  Hazy smoke rising from old house’s chimney adds to the coming cool and fresh summer night.  Inexpressible peace around the tombs embraces me.  From a distance, I can hear birds chirping.

Suddenly, my heart becomes full.  It is my home.  A faint voice is calling me.  It is the voice from my great grandparents’ village that calls and takes me back to the village.  The village is old, nevertheless it offers me no other cosmopolitan cities can—Peace and my ancestor’s love for their posterity.  It’s Home.  Standing there, it always rejoices at my homecoming.

 

Road to La Ciudad Perdida

Getting Ready

Meditation comes in different shapes…  For me, it is through hiking in the nature.

The unforgettable moment of solitude I found at the glacier lake in Patagonia during Torres del Paine W Trek in Chile has always been cherished.   During the trip research on Colombia, I came across to “La Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City).  Well, more likely Google AI had figured out relevant topics and brought it up to my search list.  The fact that this city was built 650 years prior to that famous Machu Pichu in Peru was impressive.  But the more thrilling part was the thought of walking through the dense forest for four days!  Total trek is about 44 Km (28 miles).  I yearned so earnestly for this four days trekking to disconnect me from the world, but to re-discover and re-charge myself that has been burned out.    

In the excitement & nervousness for the trip, I found myself at the campsite without any trekking gears I had prepared for, but woke up to realize it was only a dream!! 

After making my first stop in Medellin for three days, I flew to Santa Marta the day before the trekking.  Picked up my luggage, I took a cab from the airport and went to the old town.  Driving through the winding roads, I saw the white buildings and people crossing, inhaled salty scent from the Caribbean sea and felt tropical breeze on my face.  All of these were reminiscent of my past time living in Panama and working in the Caribbean islands.

After all the yearning and determination, I was having second thoughts on the eve of the trekking.  And it was all because of this potential encounter with a snake in the jungle!  Silly, yet it was a bit daunting to me at that moment.  A quick texting message from a friend erased this thought.   Gracias a Dios, no lo vi en el camino!

Day 1, Putting the first step on the trail

There are six agencies in Santa Marta that organize this almost daily trekking group to the lost city.  Baquianos was the agency I went with.   In the morning of the first day, they picked me up from the hotel and took me and the others to their office while finalizing everyone’s entry documents.

After we left the office, the driver picked up three guys on the road then two more joined us at the lost city ticket office.

We were total of 14 people: guide-Carlos, chef-Carlito, interpreter-Andrea, five Austrians, two Germans, two Colombians, one Scottish and myself-Korean.   The beauty of traveling is meeting new people in the most natural and admiring way.  We come as strangers, but soon we build the comradeship which sometimes turn into a lifetime friendship.   I thought of faces of my dear friends from the past trips.

After a lunch that was prepared at a local restaurant, we all put our backpacks and started walking the trail.  The first few miles on slightly inclined hills felt like my usual weekend hiking in California.  Back at home, I hiked carrying my twelve years old dog, Alex on a backpack.  Must have been a good training for this, I was thinking!  The green landscape in every step was indescribable.  The vibrant color of green in the jungle simply can not be labeled.   A subtle different shade is forming depending on time of day and sunlight.

The trail became steeper and harder.   Soon these mules were passing us, transporting the foods and other necessities for our four days’ consumption.   The mules and horses are invaluable to the locals and the trekking group.  Yet… I felt bad watching this poor mule sweating to carry the heavy sacks and boxes.

To be continued…..

 

 

 

 

Colombia!

The excitement to explore a new path was unstoppable!

Three different yet, in my humble opinion very Colombian pressed my curiosity buttons  before I arrived in Colombia for a short trip.

First, it was “Arabica coffee beans” which what the majority of Colombian coffee is made of.  Its smooth, silky yet nutty flavor has won my taste buds.  More than half of my entire life, I did not drink coffee, then was introduced to “Latte”, yeah for the serious coffee drinkers, this is not the best way to taste its flavor, but that was how it started for me

Second, it was “NARCOS“,  yeap, Netflix’s infamous TV series.  Although I lived in Colombia’s neighboring country, Panama from 1998 through early 2000, I did not pay any attention to its terrible drug traffic history or its guerrillas.  I did remember the tight security I went through at Bogota airport coming back from Curacao to Panama, but it was not my interest at the time.

And at last, the discovery of this challenging sound of trail to “La Ciudad Perdida (the Lost City)” in Santa Marta.   Ove the years, I have became a huge fan of hiking in nature.  Hiking is a way of meditation for me.  This four days of trekking in Jungle sounded adventurous and exciting.  Therefore, it was not hard to add it to my Colombia list!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton