Who's there?
Filandia.
Filan ... Who?
The world is full of guides, often found in quite unexpected places. Finding our way on this journey means being open and willing to listen. Along those lines many of our newly found Salento friends have pointed us towards the nearby town of Filandia.
Yep, we also thought they just left out the "n", but not so. The name means "daughter of the Andes".
It is not as touristy or as developed as Salento, but may well be its rival in the future. The consensus is that land prices there have not yet risen like they have already in Salento. As a matter of fact, several expat restauranteurs in Salento wish they'd chosen Filandia to invest in.
So off we go on a little bus side trip down the twisty mountain road to the Panamerican highway. The bus driver made sure we understood how to catch the bus to Filandia; simply cross the highway and stand by the flower shop...easy.
As he drove off he swerved back to the side of the highway and again hung his head out the window, (AND his assistant and a passenger at the same time) ALL pointing vigorously that we needed to cross the highway. OK already! We really did know what to do (this time) and were just waiting for oncoming traffic to slack off.
But no matter: we've grown accustomed to being baby-sat, and more often than not it has proved to be a blessing. We waved back at them and ran for dear life across the PanAmerican Highway.
It was a bit of a wait, but we succeeded in catching the right bus (after flagging down a dozen or so of the wrong ones) which delivered us near the main plaza in Filandia. We begin scouting the town.
Habitually now we say "Buenos dias" or "Buenos tardes" to everyone we pass. It's a common courtesy and a lovely habit to get into. After greeting one man in Filandia this way, he spun around and chased after us smiling from ear to ear and saying "Gooooda Morninga!" in his best English. He wasn't selling anything or being obnoxious, he just wanted to make sure we felt welcome in his town - and that we become aware that he knew some English words.
Well OK then. That's a real good start. These are not eyes-down city-folk. Cool. And although they seemed fully aware that two "tall", white foreigners were in their midst, at least they didn't stare.
We sat down for a cup of "cafe tinto" near the plaza and surprise! It was not the usual instant coffee or some bottom of the barrel grade coffee. It was the real quality, full strength, expresso stuff. Filandia, you're starting to look pretty good. You serve the same coffee that you grow rather than exporting ALL of it.
We set off walking towards a large observation tower built as a tourist attraction right outside town. From the top we got a panoramaic 360 degree view of the Cafetera, Colombia's coffee-growing region; beautifully green with rolling hills and river valleys.
The land all around was dotted with tile roofed haciendas. Being the fickle farts that we are, we turned our noses from Salento and began dreaming of living in a Filandia finca. Surely there must be at least one old, tired coffee grower that would love to part with their treasure.
Eventually we got hungry from our day. We stopped into the best restaurant we could find (that means clean and orderly) and shared a large plate of "Bandeja Paisa". Apparently this is the traditional meal of the country from back in the days when people ate only one cooked meal per day. My goodness the calories!
So this is what we were faced with trying to eat: large portions of potatoes, rice, and red beans accompanied by generous slices of avocado and fried plantain. Then for meat the plate included some grilled skirt steak, a large sausage, a type of ground, cooked meat and something that appeared to be a chunk of deep fried pork/bacon . Between us we ate the whole thing, didn't get sick, and we still felt well-fed far into the next morning..
Filandia, you are on our map.
