Belém, Pará


Belem is located at the mouth of the Tapajos (Amazon) River on Brazil’s northern Atlantic coast. Founded in 1616, Belem now has a population of around 2,100,000, making it the second most populated city in the Amazon, after Manaus.


Belén está ubicada en la desembocadura del río Tapajós (Amazonas) en la costa Atlántica norte de Brasil. Fundada en 1616, Belén cuenta con una población de unos 2,100,000 habitantes, convirtiéndola en la segunda ciudad más poblada de la Amazonía después de Manaus.

Theatro da Paz

The stunning Theatro da Paz (Theatre of Peace) is rivalled only by Manaus’ Teatro Amazonas; finished in 1878, it was designed by the European migrants who were looking for their fortunes in the Amazon during the rubber boom.


El espectacular Teatro de la Paz es comparable sólo al Teatro Amazonas de Manaus; su construcción fue terminada en 1878, y fue construido por los migrantes europeos que estaban buscando su fortuna en el Amazonas durante la bonanza del caucho.

Ilha de Cotijuba

There are 39 islands surrounding Belem, located at the mouth of the Tapajos River in the Atlantic Ocean. This is Cotijuba Island, just 45 minutes away by boat from the coast. The river is so wide, that it’s impossible to see the other shore from the white sand beaches of the island.


Hay 39 islas rodeando a Belén, ubicadas en la desembocadura del río Tapajos en el océano Atlántico. Esta es la isla Cotijuba, a sólo 45 minutos en barco de la costa. El río es tan ancho que es imposible ver la otra orilla desde la playa de arena blanca de la isla.

Travel / Viajes – 2015-20162011-2014

Nomadic Life: From the Amazon to the Atlantic

Day 1

Leaving Manaus on the morning of December 23, 2015, was not at all what I thought it would be. It’s midnight and I’m sitting on the top deck of the Amazon Star, the boat that will take me to Belém, thinking about how I was robbed last night. Just a few metres away from the hostel, two  men on a motorbike assaulted me and two other friends. It all happened so fast, and although my instict told me to run, the gun the thief had in his pants forced me to eventually allow him to rip my bag off my shoulder.

AmazonStar 3I tell myself it was a life lesson, I tell myself now I know better than to go out carrying things I won’t need, specially at night; as I try to forget all the things I had in my bag–sunglasses, two small note pads, a lock, a USB stick, my phone–I tell myself it could’ve been so much worse. But I’d had a long day and I wasn’t thinking clearly, and being so close to Christmas, the robbery shouldn’t have surprised me. People, desperate to bring presents home, go out in search of easy prey on dark nights in the city centre. I try to forget the robbery by looking up at the black sky of the Amazon.

Despite getting onboard at 7:30 am, there were only a few spaces left; I had to hang my hammock up in the middle of the crowded deck, surrounded by rows and rows of hammocks on either side. I think about how I could not only have a better spot but could have avoided the robbery had I slept on the boat the night before sailing. I know it’s useless to think about all the things I could have done differently to avoid the robbery, or my discomfort on the boat, but I can’t help replaying it all in my head in the darkness of the night.

The lights are still on when I go back down to the middle deck, which is so full of hammocks and luggage, I had to crawl under the sleeping passengers just to get out of my hammock. There are so many people, every movement triggers a tremour that shakes the intertwined hammocks, feet and heads dangerously close regardless of what position you choose. AmazonStar 19

While some people sleep, others read their Bibles and sing Christmas songs; I’m sure it’s hard for them to be stuck aboard a ship over the holidays, so they try to invoke a sense of normalcy during the long journey along the Amazon River. I still have hope that at least some people will disembark at the ports along the way, although I’m preparing myself for the very real possibility of being stuck among the crowds until I reach Belém, a city on the shores of the mouth of the great river.

Day 2

Most of the lights were switched off at 2 am, and past 7 am, they haven’t been turned on despite the darkness on deck, caused partly by the dim, grey sky (or is it smoke again?) and partly by the towels that hang from the ceiling, covering the windows, filtering the little light that comes in. Someone walked around, ringing a bell, just before 6 am to announce the start of the day.

AmazonStar 4

After a shower, I go into the dining room on my level and buy the big breakfast: for $10 Reales, I get juice, milk coffee, bread, ham, cheese, a fried egg, and a selection of fruit. There’s another breakfast for $5 Reales, which is just bread, milk coffee, and some sort of rice pudding. Sitting at one of the five blue tables in the room, I realise I’m the only person having the $10 Real breakfast; other than two couples who are sharing it, everyone else is smothering butter on their $5 Real piece of bread, hoping to make it more substancial.

We make our first stop in the port of Parintins, but only a few passengers disembarked. The day is cold (well, tropical cold) and the sky is completely white, contrasting sharply with the chocolate coloured waters of the Amazon. Lying between the bright hammocks that hang over the floor, which is already littered with garbage, I listen to snoring, crying, singing; I’m invaded by the smell of smoke that comes from the jungle; I keep reading until I fall asleep for the first nap of the day. As I fall asleep, I think about how different my trip aboard the Itaberaba, from Tabatinga to Manaus, was, more than two months ago already.

AmazonStar 13People’s excited voices and the silence of the engines woke me up from my nap. We made a quick stop at the port of Juruti, where I finally see blue skies, free of smoke. Wanting a change of atmosphere, I go upstairs to the top deck where there’s a completely different feeling to the relative silence downstairs: upstairs, where the sun and the warm breeze are strong, there’s music and people are having animated conversations, most of them drinking beers, taking selfies, enjoying the landscape and the journey. But there are so many people I can’t find a chair, so I sit on the floor and look out at the beaches and the dry trees of the jungle. It’s the same landscape I saw from the Itaberaba, although the vegetation isn’t as thick and trees are smaller and further apart, at least near the shore.

After a short but heavy rain, we stop at Obidos, in the state of Para, where there are little yellow school boats moored by the shore, one of my favourite sights so far. There are fireworks at sunset, probably to celebrate Christmas. With the air conditioning switched off and the windows open, it’s unbearably hot in the hammocks, and I’m still praying people will disembark in Santarem to spend the holidays with their families.

AmazonStar 17

I was relieved to see a lot of people were getting off at Santarem when we arrived just after 8 pm. Although I left my hammock in the same spot, I can stretch diagonally now without bumping into feet, elbows or heads, and I can even get out without crawling under everyone else. This is specially good news because I heard we’re spending the night at port.

AmazonStar 14

Day 3

My happiness and comfort of stretching out was short-lived; dozens of passengers going to Belem got on the boat in the morning, although there aren’t as many people as that first day we left Manaus. I also found out they sell hot ham and cheese sandwiches in the little cafeteria on the top deck, which would have been a much better option for last night’s dinner, since I bought (and couldn’t finish eating) a huge plate of meat, rice, pasta, and farinha.

AmazonStar 16

We left Santarem at around noon, and I saw a beautifully unexpected surprise: another meeting of the waters as spectacular as the one near Manaus. The waters here are turquoise and chocolate, and their dance creates a dividing line that contrasts against the green jungle that surrounds the river. My hope to see Alter do Chão now, instead of waiting until I return in nearly two years, intensified and then evaporated with our departure.

A few hours later, talking to a group of women who were tweezing each other’s hairs and popping each other’s pimples on the top deck, I hear we’re not arriving in Belem tomorrow as I expected, but early the following morning. This means spending one more aboard the Amazon Star. To deal with this new information, I drink beer. AmazonStar 23

Sitting there with a cold beer, trying to follow the women’s quick conversations in Portuguese, I notice the river here is much wider than before, giving meaning to its reputation as the widest in the world, even during the dry season which has exposed the riverbanks and beaches of the Amazon. After drinking too many beers, bought by a man trying to conquer one of the women I’m talking to, I finally go downstairs to eat and sleep.

AmazonStar 25Day 4

A lot of people boarded at Monte Alegre, filling up the boat even more than the first day we left Manaus. My anxiety over our arrival is only worsening with the claustrophobia. I slept crammed between the other hammocks, which are so close together it’s impossible to move without bumping into someone, or staying still without my neighbour crashing into me. We’re all on top of each other, and even the hallways are occupied with the hammocks and luggage of all the passengers who boarded over night.

When I wake up from a long nap in the afternoon, I look out the window and see the jungle. I know I’ve been travelling through the Amazon for over two months, but this is the first time I actually see the jungle in Brasil just as you would imagine it: thick, lush, green, vibrant vegetation hanging over the river. We sail by small communities who live in wooden houses that are barely visible behind the coconut trees and mangroves. The indigenous people approach the boat in their small canoes, waiting for the passengers to throw bags of food and clothes into the river. Under the strong sun and the blue sky, we slowly make our way through the narrow channel that gives us respite from the monotony of the last few days. I feel that, although I left the state of Amazonas behind, I only just arrived in the jungle.

AmazonStar 24

We make one last stop over night at the port of Breves and my anxiety hits its peak; I’m desperate to sleep far away from the girls who move my hammock all day and the man who snores all night; tired of the filthy bathrooms and crawling on the grimy floor; done with the R$5 beers and seeing the same curious faces that stare all day; I need to get off this vessel.

AmazonStar 26

Day 5

Unable to sleep among the crowd, I spend the last night awake, watching the sky as it goes from a deep black to a soft purple and eventually a bright blue. I see Belem in the distance, bathed in the light of sunrise, surrounded by AmazonStar 27clouds. The size of the city surprises me; the tall buildings by the river, the clean, modern port. I arrive at the hostel to eat and sleep and recover from this journey which ended up being much harder than I imagined, but also made arriving in this new city all the more satisfying.

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My Nomadic Life

Stories That Cross Boundaries: Leticia to Manaus

I like to live in a world without boundaries, and tell stories that follow that philosophy; I should live like that, too. So here are photographs of my journey over the Amazon River, from Leticia, in Colombia, to Manaus, in Brazil.


Me gusta vivir en un mundo sin fronteras, y contar historias que siguen esa filosofía; debo vivir de la misma manera, también. Así que aquí están las fotografías de mi viaje por el río Amazonas, de Leticia, en Colombia, a Manaus, en Brasil.

Leticia, Colombia
Itaberaba I – Tabatinga – Manaus, Brasil
Manaus, Brasil
Travel / Viajes – 20152011-2014

Nomadic Life: Running Toward the Water

Now that I’m face to face with the start of a nomadic life, I can see that preparing for this change goes beyond travelling light; it means starting from scratch, learning to do things in a different way, and being more spontaneous; it means allowing myself to be guided by what’s inside of me—that thing that doesn’t allow me to sit still. It’s essential that I accept and be content with the (perceived?) insanity that drives me to leave behind stability, and instead choose an uncertain and mobile life.

It probably all started in childhood, on my first birthday, when I took my first steps on the black sands of the beaches of Cartagena, walking toward the sea, hypnotised by the water. I imagine it as some sort of hypnosis or magic spell, because ever since then, I can’t stop chasing tropical waters. All my life I’ve been running toward the water; always going to the sea, or searching for waterfalls hidden behind mossy rocks, or exploring marble caves through which cold rivers run on their way down the mountains.

My fixation with discovering the Earth’s hidden secrets grew with the first maps I pored over, fascinated by the idea that the world expanded further than my house, my city. The first books I devoured were full of animals and exotic places, inhabited by fantastical people, living lives so different to mine, enveloped in other colours and smells, wearing different clothes and speaking different tongues. I’ve always wondered what life would be like on the other side of the world, and I’ve tirelessly searched for the answer, making this question the thesis of my life.

tree coconut beach Hikkaduwa Sri Lanka travel sunset clouds nature horizontal

Hikkaduwa, Sri Lanka

An inflatable plastic globe from the days of the Soviet Union stole infinite moments from me, allowing me to dream that someday I would step foot on those oddly shaped countries. Some captivated me more than others, like Sri Lanka, that tear-drop shaped island that hangs off the Indian subcontinent; or the islands of Polynesia, scattered across the South Pacific like emeralds lost in the infinite blue of the ocean. I’ve been especially fascinated by oases and desert islands—two natural paradoxes found in tropical landscapes. It might have something to do with the implicit loneliness of these remote places, places I saw in photographs that looked like paintings made by artists from other worlds.

I was passionate about geography and my head was filled with questions about these faraway places—so foreign and familiar at the same time; places I could look at but couldn’t touch; places I could study but couldn’t smell their air. Not knowing them, walking on their soil, smelling their smells, was never an option for me, my stubbornness abolishing any doubts that reality dared impose.


National Natural Park Tayrona, Colombia

Travel, the tropics, the jungle, and the ocean, are passions so deeply rooted in my being that they are now part of my very fibre, making me feel that I am made of sand and saltwater. I roam around possessed by the need to see the world; obsessed with holding on to the memories of the warm breeze of every beach I’ve visited; with tattooing on my soul the sound of the ocean crashing on the rocks. I’m so entirely lost in maps and dreams, trapped by hallucinations of turquoise waters that run through seas and rivers, that I have finally decided to let myself be taken away by my attraction to movement, to change, to the unexpected.

In a week, I will set out on a journey through the Amazon, from Colombia to Brazil, from the Caribbean to the Andes and beyond, toward the great rivers that cross the jungle. I’m off looking for who knows what, travelling over the black waters surrounded by every shade of green imaginable; waters that will take me to the sea, to that magical Atlantic coast that still holds the shape that fits into Africa. I want to be there, on the shores of that bellybutton, of that mouth that juts out as if signalling to the old continent, calling its motherland, begging the seas to bring the lands together once again.

Pantano Cayarú

Cayarú Swamp, Peruvian Amazon

I hope to share my journey, from the physical process of leaving it all behind to the dark waters of the Amazon and the enigmatic Atlantic coast. I will document my experience of letting go of material possessions—well, except for my indispensable aromatic spices and tiny wooden spoons—; of the three-day journey from Leticia to Manaus; of the impermanent beaches of the rivers of the Lençóis Maranhenses; of the unexpected and the magical that only the road can reveal.

I’ve been lucky to know many of these places I dreamed of; I’ve been lost in several continents already, falling deeper in love each time with the infinite possibilities that exist when I’m travelling and learning. And soon I will fulfil another one of my dreams—conjured one day as I looked at a map—of knowing what exists between those thin blue lines that transport water from land to the ocean.

Nomadic Life
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PNN Tayrona

Tayrona National Natural Park, located in Colombia’s Magdalena department on the northern Caribbean coast, is one of the country’s most popular parks. Travellers usually begin their journey to Tayrona deep in Santa Marta’s market, on the corner of 11th&11th, where a bus heading north-east shuttles passengers back and forth between the centuries-old streets of the city to the misty mountains of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta.

El Parque Nacional Natural Tayrona, ubicado en el departamento del Magdalena en la costa norte del Caribe colombiano, es uno de los parques más populares del país. Los visitantes normalmente comienzan su viaje en el centro del mercado de Santa Marta, en la esquina de la 11 con 11, donde un bus rumbo al nororiente los lleva entre las centenarias calles de la ciudad y las nubladas montañas de la Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta.


A 2-hour trek through the jungle offers impressive views of the rough open coastline and the dense forests; hundreds of imposing rocks decorate the other-worldly landscapes.

Una caminada de 2 horas por la selva ofrece impresionantes vistas del agitado mar abierto y los bosques espesos que lo rodean; cientos de imponentes rocas decoran los extraordinarios paisajes.


But beyond the songs of countless birds and the endless shades of green, beyond the cool rivers that run down the mountains and into the azure ocean, my favourite things about Tayrona are the natural contrasts that exist within it: a treacherous sea smashing into a tropical wonderland; rain clouds tinting the magnified colours of the sun-drenched forest; caimans that claim their territory between the sea and the mountains; ancient hints of a lost civilisation forcing us to remember those who came before us.

Pero más allá de las incontables canciones de las aves y los interminables tonos de verde, más allá de los ríos fríos que bajan por las montañas para desembocar en el océano azul, lo que más me gusta del Tayrona son los contrastes naturales que existen dentro de él: un mar traicionero que rompe contra un paraíso tropical; nubes de lluvia que tiñen los colores amplificados del bosque soleado; caimanes que marcan su territorio entre las montañas y el mar; pistas antiguas de una civilización perdida que nos obliga a recordar a quienes vivieron antes que nosotros.

Travel / Viajes – 20152011-2014

Mompox: Viaje a la Isla que el Tiempo Olvidó

Nuestro recorrido de seis horas de Santa Marta a Santa Cruz de Mompox nos llevó desde las bahías de la costa Caribe hasta las sabanas del río Magdalena, oscilando entre los departamentos del Magdalena, el Cesar y nuestro destino en el sur del Bolívar.

A Mompox 1 Es interesante bajar desde la costa hasta los ríos de la sabana, ver cómo cambian los paisajes, la vegetación, la humedad y la velocidad de la vida cotidiana. Pero un constante es el vallenato, que se escucha Mapas mompoxdesde las montañas áridas que rodean las bahías de Santa Marta hasta las ciénagas y pantanos que rodean la isla de Mompox.

A Mompox 5

Cruce del río en Santa Ana, Magdalena

Viajamos de la zona bananera a la ganadera por carreteras curvas y planas, pasando al lado de bicicletas y burros, usualmente cargados con más de un pasajero y mercancías de toda índole, esquivando vacas que cruzan de un potrero a otro arreadas por vaqueros–niños y hombres–que van tranquilamente a caballo luciendo sus sombreros vueltiaos.

Atravesamos un pueblo tras otro, sintiendo el cambio en el aire, de la brisa salada del litoral al aire húmedo de las planicies, parando primero en Bosconia y luego en Santa Ana, donde cruzamos un pequeño brazo del río para llegar a la isla de Mompox.

Santa Cruz de Mompox

Mompox 21-2

Calle Real del Medio

Este antiguo pueblo fundado en 1537, nombrado Patrimonio de la Humanidad en 1995 por la UNESCO, resuena en la memoria de Colombia como una isla cargada de historia, que ha presenciado todo desde la Inquisición hasta batallas lideradas por el mismo Bolívar, y que fue olvidada por generaciones y gobiernos.

Llegamos después del medio día y empezamos nuestro recorrido por la Calle Real del Medio, vía principal que atraviesa el centro histórico donde, caminando entre los talleres de filigrana y oro, nos asombramos ante las viejas casonas coloniales, tan bien preservadas como se puede esperar de un pueblo atrapado en la humedad y el olvido. Por años, Mompox pareció estar estancado en el aire quieto de la Depresión Momposina, que evita que la brisa refreseque sus largas calles de aceras altas y tejados cerámicos.

Mompox 12Mompox 23Hoy, Mompox está recuperando algo de su vieja gloria gracias a sus atractivos para turistas tanto nacionales como extranjeros, quienes se ven recorriendo las calles lentamente, sudando abudantemente, admirando las viejísimas iglesias, paredes despintadas, y ventanas y puertas coloridas que adornan el centro y evocan imágenes del realismo mágico de García Márquez y las historias de amor que nacieron en el Magdalena.

En el centro histórico se respira la tranquilidad que inevitablemente resulta del calor y la humedad de la región. Sus habitantes pasean en bicicletas o motos, evitando caminar las largas cuadras en las horas del día. Los moto-taxis pasan recogiendo y dejando pasajeros en las diferentes plazas y parques del centro, todas rodeadas por edificaciones cargadas con capas de pintura centenaria. Los pocos transeúntes que se atreven a caminar buscan la escasa sombra que dan los techos, siempre a la expectativa de la próxima limonada o bolis de corozo para refrescarse.

Mompox 28Mompox 9

Mompox 116Mompox 66 

Aún con muchas de sus antiguas estructuras bajo mantenimiento, especialmente aquellas a lo largo del río, la belleza de los balcones y terrazas, de las cúpulas y los arcos en las iglesias, sobresale tras la lona verde que intenta esconder estos secretos arquitectónicos hasta que estén en condición óptima para enamorar, como lo hicieron alguna vez.

Pero más allá de las casas e iglesias, los parques y sedes gubernamentales e institucionales de Mompox son realmente tesoros históricos, rebosando con relatos de una Colombia que luchaba por su independencia y reconocimiento como República. Sus capillas y patios cuentan de la época de Simón Bolívar quien, después de la Campaña Admirable en 1813, declaró que si “A Caracas debo la vida, a Mompox debo la gloria.”

La Ciudad Valerosa fue la joya del Magdalena hasta los 1800, pero a comienzos del siglo XX se sedimentó y cerro su brazo del río y el comercio fluvial fue desviado hacia Magangué, dejando a Mompox olvidado, abandonado con su arquitectura colonial, un recuerdo imponente y permamente del pasado ilustre de la isla. Mompox 48

Mompox 114Pero su pasado y númerosas iglesias construidas siglos atrás valorizan a Mompox, especialmente para el turismo religioso y cultural. En Semana Santa, miles de creyentes y personas interesadas en la historia y costumbres religiosas del país viajan al pueblo para las elaboradas celebraciones de la Semana Mayor del catolicismo, conmemoradas con procesiones y serenatas a los difuntos, las cuales dicen practicarse en la isla desde mediados del siglo XVI.

Mompox ahora intenta recuperar lo mejor de su pasado e incorporarlo a una ciudad moderna e incluyente para Mompox Cementerio 3los visitantes. Está mejorando el acceso a información para los turistas, al igual que el acceso a la isla como tal, que ya cuenta con un puente por el lado de El Banco, Magdalena, facilitando la entrada terrestre.

Con el desarrollo del turismo, la gastronomía de la isla también ha podido crecer, evolucionar y experimentar. Fue la comida que nos llevó a tomar moto-taxis y caminar más lejos de lo que nos exigían los sitios de interés turístico para disfrutar platos tradicionales como el pato, el bocachico, el galápago (tortuga de agua dulce), el queso momposino (allá conocido simplemente como queso de capas) y el suero, que se puede comprar por Mompox 49cucharadas al lado de la carretera. La curiosidad gastronómica también nos llevó a restaurantes más modernos como El Fuerte, donde un chef austríaco prepara deliciosas pizzas en horno de leña.

Con sus incontables encantos culturales, gastronómicos y arquitectónicos, Mompox Mompox 56se está convirtiendo en un componente esencial de una Colombia abierta al turismo y orgullosa de su legado histórico. Pero la historia religiosa, la amabilidad de la gente y el patrimonio arquitectónico son sólo una parte del atractivo de Mompox y la región sabanera del Magdalena: su entorno natural es tan rico como su historia, e igualmente bien preservado.

Ciénaga del Pijiño

Mapas mompox_2Sabíamos que no nos podíamos perder de un paseo por los pantanos del río, entonces embarcamos en una canoa a las 3:30 de la tarde con rumbo a la Ciénaga del Pijiño, a unos 45 minutos a paso lento del centro. Durante el recorrido vimos numerosas aves acuáticas preparándose para la noche con las últimas horas de luz, pescadores recogiendo sus redes y niños jugando en las tibias aguas pantanosas.

Después de un descanso y unas cervezas frías a las orillas del pantano, regresamos a Mompox acompañados por los colores vibrantes del atardecer, las iguanas silueteadas en las ramas altas de los árboles y la fresca tranqulidad que trae la noche.

Mompox Cienaga 67  Mompox Cienaga 64

Con el sol oculto, la humedad es más tolerable y disfrutamos de caminar por el centro en la noche, admirando las estructuras iluminades por la luz tenue en las calles que dan la De Mompox 5impresión de ser faroles de vela o aceite, aumentando el sentimiento de antigüedad que reina en las amplias esquinas.

Regresamos vía Magangué para tomar el ferry que sale de La Bodega y navega por el Magdalena. De allí viajamos a Barranquilla y de nuevo a Santa Marta.

Mompox es un destino único y mágico para no perderse; como un espejo del pasado y un reflejo del futuro, abarca lo mejor de dos mundos que lo atrapan en el medio. Mompox, la Valerosa, se disfruta más cuando se olvidan el reloj y el calendario y se permite empaparse de su misteriosa realidad, tan ajena a la realidad externa, y que parece desvanecerse al salir de esta isla encantada.


Ver Galerías — Mompox: Patrimonio HistóricoLa Ciénaga del Pijiño

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Palomino, Guajira

Palomino es un corregimiento del municipio de Dibulla en el departamento de La Guajira en el nororiente colombiano. Palomino disfruta de una biodiversidad única y rica gracias a su ubicación ideal entre el mar Caribe y las montañas y ríos de la Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta.

A continuación, fotografías del eclipse total lunar conocido como Luna de Sangre, el hospedaje La Casa de Guadua, la playa, las montañas de la Sierra y la bajada en neumático por el río, su nivel de agua mucho más bajo de lo esperado para la época del año (abril 2014) debido a la larga sequía que ha vivido la región.


Palomino is a small town in the municipality of Dibulla in the Guajira department of Colombia’s northeastern coast. Palomino’s biodiversity is rich and unique thanks to its ideal location between the Caribbean Sea and the mountains and rivers of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta.

Below, photographs of the total lunar eclipse known as Blood Moon, La Casa de Guadua lodging, the beach, the mountains of the Sierra, and tubing down the river, whose water level was much lower than expected for the time of year (April 2014) due to a severe drought in the region.



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Kutunsama & Don Diego, Guajira

I recently had the chance to visit an Arhuaco indigenous community in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta with British filmmaker Jess Phillimore. Below are photographs of the community and the Don Diego River, where Arhuaco leader Danilo is reclaiming indigenous land.


Recientemente tuve la oportunidad de viajar a una comunidad Arhuaca en la Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta con el documentalista británico Jess Phillimore. A continuación hay fotografías de la comunidad y el río Don Diego, donde el líder Arhuaco Danilo está recuperando tierra indígena.




Don Diego

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Cocorná, Tierra de Agua / Cocorna, Land of Water

El municipio antioqueño de Cocorná, localizado a unos 79 km al suroriente de Medellín, por muchos años fue conocido debido a la gran presencia guerrillera que lo azotó durante los años 90 y principios del 2000. Ahora, vuelve a la naturaleza y llama a los turistas con sus abundantes ríos de agua fría y la belleza de sus montañas.

A continuación, fotografías de Cocorná, tierra de agua.


The antioquian municipality of Cocorna, located approximately 79 km southeast of Medellin, was infamous for the heavy guerrilla presence in the town during the 90s and 2000s. Now, it returns to nature and beckons tourists with its abundant rivers flowing with cold water and the beauty of its mountains.

Next, photographs of Cocorna, land of water.

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