Greetings from Mykanos.
Gosh, it has been ages since I last assaulted your good taste with my miscellaneous musings. I should have written earlier but there has been quite a lot happening to keep me from the keyboard.
We are currently in La Traviesa, the small coffee season, which is why it was best to get things unrelated to coffee done before things got too busy.
For a start, in January, we had a confluence of old friends who just happened to come and visit us at the same time. Neil and Zuz were long in the planning for a visit, whereas Sandy and Rob, happened to be in Colombia for a job and dropped in to see us. Neil has a very successful company for whom I did a lot of writing a decade or so ago, whereas I had not worked with Sandy since 1985, my first year in London, so it was very special to catch up after 40 years.
We accommodated both couples in the house at San Antonio, which worked fine, except for the fact that Sandy and Rob had no mirror in their bathroom. Adriano had one installed which was welcomed except that it was set at Colombian height, which meant that Sandy had to stoop to use it as she exceeds standard Colombian height parameters,
We took them on a jeep journey, ate very well in and out, and celebrated Sandy’s birthday with a gala dinner. I believe a good time was had by all.
When all guests had departed we took a short break in Medellin.
We were only there for a few days which gave us time to enjoy the Botero sculptures in the main plaza, eat in our favourite restaurants and, for the first time, to visit Comuna 13.
Comuna 13 is a neighbourhood once run by Pablo Escobar and the Medellin Cartel. It had such a high murder rate that it was considered the most dangerous place in the world’s most dangerous city. The cartel’s control was enhanced and then replaced by Paramilitaries and the FARC and ELN guerrillas, as it was strategically located for the exportation of cocaine and importation of weaponry. These illegal groups controlled the neighbourhood and acted as police, judges, and arbiters of punishment, deciding, in too many cases, between life and death. It was an intolerable situation and the government took them on in the 2000’s with the full weight of the army and police, making it a bloody battlefield for more than a year. These days it is a graffiti covered, kaleidoscopic enclave whose steep terrain is serviced by electric escalators, teeming with tourists being shepherded by local guides and souvenir sellers … all of whom have stories to tell of the history of their neighbourhood. Our young guide told us how he had lost an elder brother in the battles and had himself taken a bullet in the stomach.
Our mini-odyssey then took us to Guatapé and Santa Fe de Antioquia.
Guatapé is a very popular tourist area set aside the giant man-made Peñol-Gutapé Reservoir, which is a haven for water sports enthusiasts. In the midst of a series of lakes sits the area’s notable landmark, the Piedra del Peñol (the Peñol Stone) which reminds me of Sugarloaf mountain in Rio de Janeiro, or Uluru in Central Australia. 702 steps take the adventurous and excited to the top, once they pay the admission price, but I decided I was quite happy to view it from ground level and avoid the massive crowd of masochists in favour of a nice lunch in town where the colourful moto-chivas provide the public transport through streets delineated by very brightly coloured traditional houses.
By contrast, Santa Fe de Antioquia is monochromatic … overwhelmingly white traditional colonial buildings that date back to the town’s establishment in 1541. Just two years younger than Anserma it was founded by the same conquistador, Jorge Robledo, and was a centre for gold mining. Similar to other colonial towns, like Cartagena for example, the houses present very blank, nondescript facades to the street, but open up to big internal courtyards, often with swimming pools and fountains, and lounge and eating areas inside.
March saw me back in Bogotá for a book promotion at Bookworm, Bogotá’s leading English language bookstore.
It was a double promotion, both for my ‘Better Than Cocaine; Learning how to grow coffee, and live, in Colombia’ and for the launch of ‘The Mompos Project: A Tale of Love, Madness and Hotels in Colombia’ by Richard McColl, who also happens to be my publisher. Apart from being a fine writer and journalist, Richard also has two hotels in the historic town of Mompos, which was made famous for its historic happenings and for inspiring Gabriel García Márquez’s fictional town of Macondo.
We actually have a lot in common: originally Richard did not expect to become a hotelier any more than I expected to become a coffee grower, but we both got great books out of it. I certainly recommend you read ‘The Mompos Project: A Tale of Love, Madness and Hotels in Colombia’ … straight after you read ‘Better Than Cocaine; Learning how to grow coffee, and live, in Colombia’. Both are available worldwide through Amazon. Hopefully soon you won’t have to visit Colombia to find them in a bookshop.
To finish off April, and make the most of our potential free time, Adriano and I spent 10 days in Rio de Janeiro, my very first time in Brazil. Adriano knows it well so was an excellent guide and we stayed downtown, by the beach, up in the hills and on Copacabana itself. It’s lucky we went when we did. One week later some 2.5 million people enjoyed Lady Gaga just in front of our hotel.
Downtown was like Bogotá but more relaxed and warmer, and mostly populated by attractive people in fewer clothes and wearing thongs/flip flops. One can easily see why Havaiana is such a successful brand.
Cariocas (citizens of Rio) seem very relaxed and always up for a good time. On the evening of Good Friday we walked through crowds of locals drinking, dancing, partying. Beer and bonhomie was much in evidence, as was quite a lot of bare skin, which really does define the beaches of Rio. Tanned, sculpted bodies, both male and female, are everywhere and not concealed beneath modest clothing. I must admit that I kept my shirt on and eschewed Speedos.
The locals are so friendly, the smiles so plentiful, I can see why Rio is one of Adriano’s favourite cities.
And yes, we did visit the statue of Christ the Redeemer atop Mount Corcovado, overlooking all of Rio. I was not keen, as I tend to avoid what I regard as ‘overcrowded clichés’, but I am glad we did. Busy yes, and I can’t imagine what it is like on the weekends, but the day we went, blue sky and sunny, was perfect and the view astonishing.
Back here, in La Traviesa coffee harvest, I am glad to say we are doing OK at the moment, although I wish we had a bit more to pick. As I am sure you know, coffee prices are way up and not just Arabica, which we grow, but also Robusta, which is used widely for processed and instant coffee. Climate change and some adverse weather have reduced Brazil’s output and there is no longer a cushion of stored coffee to fill demands. Moreover Vietnam, the major producer or Robusta, has cut production significantly. If you have read my book you might remember how Vietnam planted masses of coffee in 1975 due to finishing the war with the US and a spike in prices due to a frost in Brazil. Well now, Vietnamese farmers are replacing a lot of those coffee crops with durian fruit to cash in on a rapidly emerging market. Vietnam’s durian market share in China alone almost doubled between 2023 and 2024 and it is estimated that the durian crop is five times more lucrative than coffee.
A smelly delicacy, very popular in Asia, durian is not allowed on public transport in case it offends too many noses. I had it once when working on a job about a huge paper mill in Riau province on the Indonesian island of Sumatra. My client took me out one evening to sample it. The flavour was good, the smell inoffensive. However on my return to our hotel I did notice a sign by the front entrance banning durian and prostitutes, neither of which were permitted on the premises.
Fortunately I had neither with me then, gracias a Dios, but just as fortunately we do have coffee to sell now and the price is good.
Onwards and upwards.
Love from him and me
Barry
