Up The Hill To San Gill

It is indeed one of those moments when a person such as myself, from a relatively well-off country such as mine, lives and breathes the haunting truth. The tragic reality of life in another not-so-fortunate country.

The currency is Colombian pesos. 2, 000 pesos is just under 1 American dollar. The other day a guy from my hostel bought 2 packs of cigarettes, a 2L of Cola and a banana for 5, 000 pesos.

A good day is one in which if I go out, I do not have to pay half a dollar to use the toilet.

I buy water in 5L bags to fill up my 2L bottle and tote it around with me like a camel, and I just hiked through an area in which military surveillance was compulsory.

I would just like to say that I think us Canadians in general are a little ungrateful and ignorant about what kind of place we live in, what kind of opportunities we have. Need I remind everyone about the last time there was unrest in Canada, the near infamous city of Vancouver. Sorry, what were those riots, those acts of angry, senseless, useless, destructive violence all in the name of again?

HOCKEY?!

All Canadians to be deported to Colombia. EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. Go have some real problems.

I digress.

LONDON!!! (You dense, blatantly idiotic offenders, self-serving looters!!!)

...I continue to digress.

The name: San Gil The game: Activities. Until you can't move.

(Of the city) (What to do here)

Day 1: 1pm-5pm: Paragliding. Tandem.

Lovely day for a fiesta in the sky. My tandem partner was a little advanced in years, but I wasn't going to hold that against him. He did a wonderful job of uplifting himself and I high above the dense, jungle canopy into a world of free-floating and weightless green bliss. I think he fancied me a bit. We glided for what seemed only a minute. We would suspend, as if completely halted in mid air, then spiral downwards left and right like a pendulum. A sensational feeling of flying, as if nothing is holding you. We had already ever so ungracefully landed before I even realized our romantic rendez-vous was over. I tumbled hard into the groin of a man twice my senior, smack dab in the middle of a tobacco field.

Day 2: 8am-1pm: Rappelling down a waterfall. 60m. 3pm: Bungee jumping. 35m.

The Juan Cury waterfalls, located a short bus ride outside of San Gil. Very beautiful, but you don't really have time to sit back and enjoy the scenery as you slip-slide on rock, heavy volumes of water pelting down on you while belaying yourself for 60m. You do this by yourself, the guides are merely watching you. No experience necessary, there is no crash course. You are wearing a bracelet to identify your body if worst case scenario happens and you are washed away. I must say there is a certain liberating feeling that comes with that.

I figured you can't just pass up the opportunity to jump off something as well. Bungee jumping hardly needs an explanation. The feeling of sweet release, falling through space. For a small moment in time you feel nothing, you are nothing. Awesome.

Day 3: 10am-4pm: White-Water Rafting the Suarez River

This is one of the strongest rivers in Colombia for practicing rafting and kayaking, with class IV and V level rapids. For people who don't know what this means: extreme. Our guide said he uses this river frequently to practice for world kayaking tournaments. It was 2 hours of... there are no words. Wicked awesomness with a side of rad. Hold the fear, pour on the adrenaline. Mmmmm.

They didn´t offer skydiving. I was a little bit put off by this.

I have met yet another charming young fellow who I just can't find a reason not to tell you all about. An American named Kevin. Without a doubt he is one of the nicest people in history. Your textbook being: The Chronicles of Miss Skaret, Volumes I-V. One day we went out for lunch, a german was with us. We eventually ended up going round the table, talking about ourselves as all the countless number of travellers always end up doing, and he told us the reason he came to South America. A family member died a while back. After I had gotten over my sufficiently lost appetite, I asked if he cared to elaborate. When he was 5 years old, a cop accidentally shot and killed his mother. Naturally when something tragic and despairing such as this happens, money seems to just appear from the gods. As if to make everything better for those left behind, "Here you go dearie! You can´t have your mother back, putting you to bed, watching you go through life, but here`s enough money for you to buy something really, really nice!!" $4.5 million to his family. Kevin is 31 years old and has never had to contribute an honest days work in his life. (And he has, simply because he felt like it was the thing to do.) He has been officially retired for a large part of his life, and plans on staying in South America long term because of the lifestyle he leads here. Of course the loss, the deep sense of sadness I could still feel coming from him wasn`t particularly uplifing. But he also said to me that he has always felt set for life, like he can never go wrong. Quite obviously. Lucky son of a chico.

So, Mom? Dad? Which one of you is going to.... no? Bad joke??

Now, this is how it must be from now on. I am going to attempt to send you all 2 pictures followed by a video, separate from this email. If you do not receive them, there is nothing I can do for you mate. I'm sorry, you will just have to use your imagination.

Miss Skaret.