Little did we know how impactful our visit to this little Colombian mountain town would be on us. After braving the four hour bus ride through the mountains south of Medellin, over the often unpaved road that twisted through stunning landscapes, dodging landslides that covered portions of the highway in several spots, we arrived into town. Two blocks from the bus depot we found our small hotel that would be home for the next three nights (no way would Heather get back on a bus for the return trip in any less time than that). As we entered, we caught a glimpse of the bell towers that rose from atop the huge cathedral that fronted the main plaza, just half a block away. ‘Beautiful view’ I thought to myself. Later, as those bells loudly pealed the hours, starting at 3am and then erupted in a chorus of ringing announcing the first Mass of the day at 5:45am, I cursed them, and would do so each morning thereafter.

We had read how laid-back Jardin was – a place where the caballeros, the local cowboys, would come to from surrounding areas to socialize, shop and sip coffee at the numerous cafes surrounding the plaza. And it was just as we had read: this small town of 14,000 people had so many cafes and bars around the square, each with its uniquely colored tables and chairs, and each filled with men, dressed in jeans, button-down shirts, topped by a cowboy hat and their poncho folded and draped over their right shoulder, propped back in a little wooden chair, sipping tiny cups of coffee. Later in the day, the coffee cup would be replaced by a bottle of Aguila or Club Colombia, two of the popular beers, or even a small glass of aguardiente, the Colombian anise-flavored spirit. Fortunately, our first night in town happened to be a Saturday, when horsemen and -women ride into the plaza atop their paso fino horses and prance back and forth while the horses exhibit the fast short step for which they’re renowned. As we sat outside of one of the bars, we couldn’t help but marvel at our luck to partake in this small-town tradition, watching a slice of rural Colombian life in a scenic village almost completely devoid of other tourists.

Our first full day we were keen to get in some walking and explore the countryside surrounding town. With Google Maps we were able to find our way to the starting point of the Reccorido Herrera, a walking trail along a cobbled path that took us south out of town past flowering shrubs and well-kept cottages to eventually join a dirt road that followed a river. Just past a pretty little waterfall, Cascada de Amor, we crossed the river and began to climb. The thick growth along the riverbanks eventually gave way to expansive views of the valley that held Jardin. Coffee shrubs and banana trees covered the ground, occasionally broken up by an orange or guava tree, their limbs dripping with fruit, the air scented with their perfume. When we passed a house, it would be nearly covered in potted plants, the yard a profusion of colors from the different blooms. At one, an elderly couple sat together in chairs along the roadside shucking beans together. Without exception, each resident greeted us with an “Hola!” or “Buenas dias!”. We marveled at the friendliness of the paisas, which, even back in Medellin, we had been told were the friendliest of all the Colombian people. As we passed one open field, we stopped to look for the birds we could hear, but not yet see, calling out. As we scanned the trees another walker strode up to us, camera and binoculars both hanging around his neck. An avid birder from Indiana, he enlightened us to the species we were hearing and finally caught glimpses of. “1,900 species of birds in Colombia, more than any other country on Earth!” he chirped (pun intended). Eventually we continued on our separate ways, our path winding downward and back into town. Returning to the plaza we sought out one of the fruit vendor stalls and gorged ourselves on slices of juicy-sweet papaya and mango. Other days we would sample the pineapple or indulge in a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. A perfect way to refresh after a sweaty hike.

That evening we dined on roast chicken, steamed potatoes and arepas at a little local hole-in-the-wall, two of us unable to finish all the starchy sides (no way we weren’t finishing off that tasty chicken though) of our $4 meal. Then it was back to the plaza for beer and mojitos. A perfect day!

Our last day started with a morning hike up the opposite side of the valley to a lookout back over town. On the way we passed a trout farm (they offered the option to catch your own trout which they would then prepare for your lunch or dinner – too early for us though) and pastures holding cattle and horses before topping out at the abandoned upper terminal of an old cable car. After enjoying the views and fresh fruit juices from a lone cafe, we descended back to town. We strolled the streets to see more of the town’s colorful buildings before making a much-anticipated visit to a small private nature reserve on the edge of town. For some reason, a rare bird, gallitos de rocas, or cock-of-the-rock, returns to a grove of bamboo and other trees next to a woman’s home overlooking the river. At about 4:30 each afternoon she welcomes visitors (and asks for a small fee) to her property to view the birds as they screech and flutter about. Small sitting areas had been built where we, and five or so others, sat and watched as up to ten of the bright-red, fluffy-headed birds frolicked in the trees. A couple other attractive species also made appearances. It was a beautiful sight.