Roaming South America

My South America Journey - A Brief Summary - Part 3

November 26, 2025

I’ve finally settled into Roldanillo, Colombia, where I’ll be for at least five months. Maybe longer, maybe not, residency is technically an option, but I doubt I’ll spend my days wrestling with immigration offices when I could be drinking coffee in the plaza. Besides, residency in Perú and Ecuador is easier than in Colombia. Before I get too comfortable, I want to rewind and share the trip that brought me here: a winding route through Peru, Ecuador, and into Colombia.

First, a brief history: I lived in Colombia for about 10 years, then I left on a backpacking journey that took me through Ecuador, Perú, Chile, Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay, and a handful of Brazilian border towns. Then I reversed it and took a mostly different route back up to Colombia. After 6 months, I headed south again, on a mostly different route, and that trip ended with a couple of months in Paraguay. Then I reversed and returned to Colombia, and after 3 months headed south yet again, this time to visit friends in Chile, then other friends in Perú, and now here I am, back on familiar turf - Colombia. So, here we are picking up from leaving Mazamari, Perú, after visiting friends there.

Peru: The Long Road North

I started in Mazamari, tucked into Peru’s Selva Central (the eastern side of the Andes Mountains). From there, the road led me to Villa Rica, a coffee capital where caffeine feels less like a drink and more like a lifestyle. You’ll find coffee shops serving the best Geisha and Bourbon Rosada coffees in a variety of brewing methods.

Huancabamba was my next stop, and it felt immediately welcoming. The people were quick to greet me, children and adults, a warm contrast to the next town, Pozuzo. Pozuzo itself looked tidy and well-kept, its plaza practically manicured. The town had the air of a wealthier, middle-class community, but the people seemed a bit less inclined to say hello. I remember laughing to myself, it’s not every day that I find a town where the architecture is friendlier than the locals. German-Austrian heritage is the selling point here, though really, it’s mostly just the architecture left to prove it.

The road from Pozuzo to Codo del Pozuzo was a mixed blessing. The scenery? Absolutely stunning. The condition of the road? The kind of nightmare that makes you vow never to travel again, until you find yourself remembering it fondly a week later.

The route wound through Tingo María, Juanjuí, and San José de Sisa before landing me in Yurimaguas, a river port where the jungle opens wide and boats replace buses.

Lamas was perched on a hilltop, charming enough, but Tabalosos left the stronger impression. Its plaza was probably the smallest I’ve seen in all of South America, more like a pocket park than a plaza de armas. Most of the streets weren’t paved, but the people made up for it: smiles, greetings, and genuine friendliness. Of course, the ever-present moto-taxis did their best to ruin the peace. One redeeming point: the highway runs alongside the town instead of cutting through it. I remember thinking, “Finally, a Peruvian town whose heart hasn’t been bulldozed by a highway.”

Moyobamba was another reminder of why it’s on my short list of possible long-term bases. It’s a livable town, full of charm, though the roads in and out of town make it less cyclist-friendly than I’d like. Actually, the roads are not cyclist-friendly at all. Still, if you can overlook traffic and moto-taxis, Moyobamba has a lot going for it.

From there, it was a string of valley towns: Soritor, Rioja, Calzada, Yantaló, until I reached Pedro Ruiz Gallo. Small town, maybe 5–6k people, but somehow boasting three banks. (Only one ATM, though, which tells you everything about banking priorities in small-town Peru.) Just outside were waterfalls and lagoons, easy side trips that reminded me why I keep wandering. Getting back to Yantaló - it’s a suburban community outside of Moyobamba, maybe a half-hour walk. Very rural, very quiet, and very pleasant. I had thought of living in Moyobamba until my second visit, and the moto-taxis spoiled it, but living in Yantaló, now that’s a possibility.

Then came Chachapoyas, high in the Amazonian Andes. Cold nights that chilled me to the bone, but blessedly free of moto-taxis and horn-honking. Imagine: a South American town where silence exists. Nearby, the Fortaleza de Kuélap was still under excavation, buzzing with archaeologists, the past literally being unearthed while tourists like me poked around the ruins. Though you only get to look around in groups. I like the archaeological sites where I could roam freely, and there are some in Perú, just not many.

Through Cajamarca, Chota, and Cutervo, I made my way down to the coast and landed in Lambayeque. The name, I learned, means “the one that becomes a bird.” Fitting, since I felt like one by then, constantly flapping from one stop to the next. Lambayeque’s museums are some of Peru’s finest, but wandering through the residential Alameda Real (a suburban housing development still in development), I noticed overgrown parks and half-empty blocks. It felt like a neighborhood that started with ambition and then just… stopped.

Piura was my last Peruvian stop. Founded in 1532, it’s home to Admiral Miguel Grau, Peru’s naval hero. His childhood home is now a museum, and you can’t walk through the town without bumping into one of his statues or busts. Grau is everywhere in Peru, so much so that I half expected his face to pop up on the money (it doesn’t, but give it time).

Ecuador: Familiar Ground, Fresh Surprises

Crossing into Ecuador was like returning to familiar territory. My first stop was Catamayo, and I was instantly reminded why I keep this town high on my “home base” list. Quiet, warm, with zero moto-taxis, which automatically makes it more livable than half the towns in northern Perú. The air is cleaner, the cycling easier, the people friendlier. It’s not as green as Moyobamba’s mountain valleys, but peace and quiet make up for that.

About an hour drive east and up into the mountains is Loja. It is much larger, full of cultural buzz, and is popular with expatriots from all over the world. Then came Zamora, a small town that showed off its cathedral. Yantzaza, founded only in 1956, calls itself the “valley of the fireflies.” I never saw any, maybe I should’ve stopped typing in my hotel room at night and gone looking.

The Oriente (eastern jungle region) towns blurred together a bit: El Pangui, Gualaquiza, Sucúa, Macas, but Puyo broke the monotony. Coffee shops everywhere, some shockingly using French presses, pour-overs, and just about every other type of brewing device. The odd part? A few locals didn’t recognize the phrase café filtrado. In Ecuador! That’s like forgetting what potatoes are.

Baños de Agua Santa (Baños for short) delivered the usual: hot springs, volcano lore, and crowds of tourists taking selfies in every direction. Nice, but not really my scene. I’ve learned I prefer the smaller, more authentic towns where people aren’t holding camera sticks in front of their faces.

Onward through Ambato, Babahoyo, Quevedo (all in Central Ecuador), La Concordia, and Puerto Quito (the Northcentral mountains) until I reached Los Bancos, where a church beside a school wasn’t even marked on Google Maps. That sums up South America’s mapping problem perfectly: you can try to help update Google, but they’ll reject your submission even if you send photos, coordinates, and your firstborn. I’ve given up; unpaid labor for billion-dollar companies isn’t my hobby.

Mindo was, as expected, green, lush, and full of birdwatchers with binoculars the size of telescopes, and lots of rain. At Calacalí, I stood at a quiet equator monument, far better than the chaos of Quito’s “Mitad del Mundo.” Then came the oil towns: Loreto, Coca, Joya de los Sachas, Shushufindi, Nueva Loja (Lago Agrio), where pipelines and drilling define life more than plazas and parks. And, where I developed an allergy to the refinery residue and particulates in the air.

Colombia: Feels like coming home

Crossing into Colombia at La Hormiga felt like a milestone. From there, it was Villagarzón in Putumayo, and then Garzón, a town with a name that means “heron.” Friendly, relaxed, and unhurried, the kind of place where time forgets to move quickly.

Through Natagaima and into Guamo, I discovered a town small enough to see in a couple of hours. The highway forms the busy district, while the plaza side remains quiet. There’s river access, but no malecón or park space to enjoy it. An abandoned train station still stands and has never been refurbished. Guamo is full of hundred-year-old houses, but it’s not exactly calling out to tourists.

El Espinal, Girardot, and Cartago, a town I lived in for 4 months a few years ago, were stepping stones, each one a little larger, a little busier. And then finally: Roldanillo.

This route, from Mazamari to Roldanillo, was stitched together by contrasts: tiny plazas and sprawling cities, towns where greetings were returned with warmth and others where silence was the norm, roads that tested my patience but rewarded me with scenery I won’t forget. From the Selva Central of Peru, across Ecuador’s Oriente and highlands, and into Colombia’s Valle del Cauca, I’ve flapped my way north like some restless bird.

Closing Thoughts

This route, from Mazamari to Roldanillo, was stitched together by contrasts: tiny plazas and small cities, towns where greetings were returned with warmth and others where silence was the norm, roads that tested my patience but rewarded me with scenery I won’t forget. From the Selva Central of Peru, across Ecuador’s Oriente and highlands, and into Colombia’s Valle del Cauca, I’ve flapped my way north like some restless bird.

Now, for the first time in months, the journey pauses. I'll spend a few months in Roldanillo, Valle del Cauca, and probably head back to Perú. Of all the 100-or-so towns I have visited in Colombia, this is the only one I would choose to live in. But, due to the immigrations department not always giving residency visas or renewals as expected, I probably won't be staying. But, only time will tell.