I arrive in Pasto hungry. Just like in every town in South America I’ve seen so far, Pasto has more restaurants than you can shake a fork at. The first place I see has a whole roast pig in the front counter. How can I go past that? It’s got to be pork for lunch.
Pasto is a relatively small city by Colombian standards. It’s in that fascinating transitional state between traditional and post modern culture. There are old trucks and jeeps from the WW2 era still in use as freight vehicles and taxis – even handcarts and pony wagons.
My couch surfing host, Carlos, meets me in the city. I introduce myself and apologise for my abysmal Spanish. He smiles graciously and promises to teach me as long as I help him with his English.
We walk at a brisk pace through the town, and up into the steep suburbs in the north of the city.
The geography of Pasto is quite bautiful. The town is scattered across the valley, right at the foot of a simmering volcano. Reminds me of Baños.
(What is this thing in South America with building towns right under volcanos? I have a feeling that it’s just that there are so many volcanos around, you can’t avoid them..?)
That’s Carlos and his mum, Carmen, standing on their front doorstep (above). I want you to notice the dogs on the roof. This is standard dog placement in Pasto. As you walk down suburban streets, the dogs bark at you, but not from behind a fence, from up on the roof!
Carlos’ whole family make me feel welcome straight away. There is a lot of good natured chuckling about my height and Spanish skills, and we have a typically huge Colombian lunch.
On Saturday, Carlos leads an expedition into the hills around the volcano. I want to go to see the lava and stuff, but Carlos tells me it’s too dangerous, and anyway the top of the volcano is off limits to the public.
Hiking through the hills is a pretty sweaty affair but fortunately in Colombia, like Thailand, you are never far from a street vendor who can supply you with fresh fruit juice, sausages, roast nuts or whatever else you need to sustain your energy.
The reward at the end of the hike is a home made swimming pool nestled in a creek bed up in the hills. The view of the valley is beautiful. It’s a perfect sunny day. I’ve been in a lot of cold windy weather since I got to South America, so it’s nice to get my skin in the sun and melt out the travel aches.
The water is cool and very clear. The sky is blue. The volcano is disappointingly but safely inactive.
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Walking back to Carlos’ house in the twilight is a really picturesque experience.
The volcano soars into the clouds on the horizon, and the constant soundtrack of salsa music coming from shop fronts and passing busses makes me feel like I am in an exotic romantic movie.
Carlos’ mum, Carmen, calls me into the kitchen for a combined Spanish language and tortilla making lesson.
We knead and roll the sticky dough. Carmen adds flour, sugar and eggs, adjusting the consistency of the mix, and teaching me the Spanish words for each ingredient.
When the dough is just right, we squeeze and press it into flat disks, and lower them into a skillet of boiling oil. In a few minutes the dough swells and turns golden.
Carmen serves the tortillas with home made Colombian hot chocolate. The chocolate starts as almost black sticks of dark cocoa, melts in the milk, and then stings your tongue with bitter sweet intensity.
Carmen’s tortillas crackle and flake on your tongue, richly flavoured like a good donut, but crisp like a potato chip.
Incredible food. Incredible.
As well as tortillas Carmen makes a traditional and very hearty soup, with corn, chicken, potatoes and beans.
By nine o’clock my eyelids are sagging.
Sometimes sleeping on couches can make me restless, but after climbing a volcano and eating Carmen’s food, I pass out like a baby.
Monday morning I pack my bag and strap on my boots again.
I don’t really want to say goodbye to Carlos and his beautiful family, but there’s so much of South America to see, and I have to get on the road again.
Anyway, I need the exercise. If I live in Colombia for a while there is a grave danger of obesity I fear.
Next stop: Cali.
