I’ll never fault a traveler for only visiting Cartagena and Medellín if they have limited time in Colombia. Those cities are at the top of the list for a reason. But for anyone with time and an itch for getting off the beaten path, here are three wonderful places that visitors tend to ignore or miss outright. 

Zapatoca

In Colombia’s interior, you can find many pueblos built around a central plaza and a small cathedral. Jardín, Villa de Leyva, and Barichara are among the favorites, known for their well-preserved Spanish architecture in the form of adobe roofs, white plastered homes, and cobblestone streets. While they draw you in with their small-town charm, these pueblos have built robust tourism infrastructure for the thousands of international and domestic visitors they attract every year. 

Tucked away on the western edge of the Chicamocha Canyon lies the pueblo of Zapatoca. Its charm is in its mountain tranquility and an older and slower way of life. If you’re looking for a version of Barichara untouched by the masses, this is the place. 

To get to Zapatoca, my wife and I took a mini-bus from Bucaramanga. The roads were steep with long views down into the mighty Suarez River. We arrived in the enchanting Plaza Mayor, where children played, and adults chatted on benches. We checked into our private room at the lovely Hostal La Batea with its vaulted ceilings and wooden trim, true to the original Spanish style. Then, being the coffee fiend I am, I set out in search of a cafe for some local brews. 

Prices for lodging and food are astonishingly cheap in Zapatoca. The first evening, we found a homey restaurant and ordered two appetizers and an entrée apiece. When I looked at the total on the bill, I thought the waitress must have been mistaken. It was only COP 35,000 (roughly $10). 

The next day, we hiked out of town on a dirt trail toward the Mirador Guane Zapatoca in search of a sweeping view of the Chicamocha Canyon. The trek was empty—only once did we run into another troup of hikers. The day, which started sunny, quickly turned overcast. At the lookout, we were discouraged to find misty clouds blocking most of the view of the valley below. We turned back, and it began to rain. At the edge of town, we found a tienda and bought a packet of wipes to clean our mud-caked boots. After changing out of soaked clothes, we popped into a crowded eatery on a corner near the plaza for a hot bowl of ajiaco, a hearty chicken and potato stew, and agreed we should have checked the weather beforehand. 

Zapatoca invites you to slow down and appreciate the little pleasures of life. That evening, we strolled aimlessly through the quiet town. Near the northern edge of the square, we crossed paths with an elderly gentleman with a warm smile, the kind that draws you into conversation. Playfully, he asked us to guess his age. With no visible walking impediments or hunching, and only modest wrinkles, I said seventy-something. “Ninety,” he replied. Amazed, we asked about his secret to longevity. “I have only had one borrachera (drunken night out) in my life,” he smiled. He went on to tell us he had lived in Zapatoca all his life, surrounded by family, and took walks every evening. 

Cali

It’s Colombia’s third-largest city, not exactly an unknown, but tourists often pass it over. Perhaps it’s the history of drug cartels and guerrilla activity, or maybe the lack of a Spanish-colonial center like Cartagena’s.

But I’m all in on Cali. The city has a rich musical tradition, which they celebrate in festivals throughout the year, culminating in the Feria de Cali at the end of December. There’s an underrated arts scene going on here. Take a walk in the neighborhood of San Antonio, and you’ll find more than a few traces of it. And another thing I love about Cali? The city stays out late. 

A friend and I arrived at midnight after hours of flight delays. Hungry and moody, we checked into our hotel and then hit the streets to find something to eat. Bars were packed, the music turned way up, and caleños of all ages chatted loudly at the late-night eateries that lined the streets. I found a vendor who was slow-cooking meat and ordered a plate of succulent pork with boiled potatoes that hit the spot. 

Cali is the capital of Colombian salsa. It’s the home of Grupo Niche and Orquesta Guayacán, whose songs are everywhere from the corner tiendas to the discotecas. I had heard that caleños are the best salsa dancers in the country, so one evening we went to La Topa Tolondra, perhaps Cali’s most famous salsa bar, to test this theory. Though my salsa moves are passable, I was not prepared for what I found. Inside, I witnessed couples who knew six, seven, or even eight spins and pulled them off effortlessly in combination. Colombians say that to dance well, you must have sabor—flavor. My friend and I found an empty table and marveled at the sabor all around us. 

After a few rounds, I finally mustered up some courage and sought out a dancing partner. I learned salsa on the Caribbean coast, where couples hold one another in a close embrace, their steps slight and always together. Rarely do Colombians on the coast spin one another. “It’s dancing, not karate,” they like to say. But here in Cali, I took my partner’s hands and held on tight as she spun left, right, back, forward, and around. 

The next morning, I took a bite of my pan de bono, a local pastry with a mild taste of dry cheese, and vowed to level up my salsa before returning. 

Buritaca

No trip to Colombia is complete without a stop on the Caribbean coast. Parque Tayrona will always be an obvious and sensible choice, but drive half an hour east and you’ll come across the little town of Buritaca. It sits at the mouth of the river from which it derives its name. At first glance, there’s not much to it. Concrete houses with chipped paint, stray dogs lying near the road, and motorcycles operated by teenagers in flip-flops who look a little young to have a driver’s license. But beyond the highway toward the sea lies one of my favorite hostels in Colombia, perhaps in the world. 

El Viajero Hostel is tucked away in a small clearing between palms and banana trees, which open up to a wide beach. The sand is darker and the water not as clear as in Parque Tayrona, but its beaches are empty and the roar of its waves soothing. The hostel comprises thatched-roof huts with white plastered walls. There are bunk beds with cubbies and plenty of outlets for a new generation of travelers who don’t take vacations from their phones.

The huts surround a long blue-tiled pool, which is lit up with atmospheric lights from beneath the water’s surface. Next to the pool is the bar, covered with a minimal awning that looks to be made from bamboo shafts and a waterproof canopy. Tropical beats produced in a Santa Marta studio radiate over the guests in their swim trunks and bikinis, wading in the pool or dipping their feet in.

In Buritaca, I’ve tubed down the river, humiliated my buddies in ping pong, drifted in and out of naps in the hand-stitched hammocks strung up between the palms, and shared an abundance of laughs and cocktails in the pool. I come expectant and leave reluctantly. Everything in between is tropical bliss.

<p>The post Underrated and Overlooked: 3 Stops for a More Authentic Colombian Experience first appeared on Travelbinger.</p>