Sunday 5/11/08 Bogota, Colombia

Week 31 Stats

Start city: Villa de Leyva, Colombia
End city: Bogota, Colombia
Total distance traveled: 125.5 miles
Days on the bike: 3
Average miles per day of riding: 41.8 miles
Longest day: 52.8 miles
Shortest day: 36 miles

Total money spent: $782.50
Average per day: $111.76

Laptops purchased: 1
Weight of the new laptop: Just over 2 lbs.
Nights spent camped out in a public park: 1
Rest days in Bogota: 3…so far
Highest elevation reached: 3,100 meters !!! (a trip high so far!)
Movies watched in the theater: 1, Ironman. Silly plot but awesome special effects
Movies watched in our hosts apartment: 1, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Awesome!!!
English National Geographic magazines purchased in the flea market: 1
Cost for the NG mag: $1 U.S.
Number of loaves of German chocolate bread consumed this week: 3, one each morning in Bogota!
Days of riding in the rain: 1.5
Salt cathedrals visited: 1

Above:  Rob with ice and snow, Turkey

Rob Thomson is one of my heroes.  Rob has been traveling by bicycle and skateboard for almost two years now and has crossed Asia, Europe, and the U.S. in the process.  His website is inspirational and full of good information, anecdotes, videos, and photos.  The piece below was taken from his website.  Some of the points in it hit close to home for me. 

Above:  Rob Thomson´s skateboard rig in China (with a sweet tailwind!)

The Explorer-Adventurers

We have an insatiable thirst to experience the world firsthand.

We derive intense satisfaction in challenging, difficult, insecure, and uncomfortable environments.

We take the time to observe and absorb, because we are not racing. We are not competing with anyone but ourselves.

Our encounters with vastly different environments, lifestyles, and beliefs profoundly expand our interest and awareness of the world.

Witnessing meager standards of living forever changes our perception of the Western preoccupation with striving for material wealth.

When we return home, we feel delighted at regaining the little pleasures that have been denied to us in faraway lands.

We have frequent flashbacks of our expeditions and take pleasure in telling others our experiences.

We become tolerant of petty annoyances or discomforts and become patient in our projects.

But the ceasing of discovery and strong sensations precipitate in us a long emotional slump.

Sensations we once held to be exciting become less so.

Is it worth it?  Like they say, “It’s better to have loved (traveled) and lost (come home) than never to have loved at all.”

Once we have eaten from the tree of knowledge, we cannot go back to ignorance.

While on expeditions, our attention is intensely focused and nothing else matters, but back home it is difficult to concentrate on what we are doing.

Our successes strongly reinforce our self-esteem. We can do anything, but we find we don’t really want to do anything but explore.

We dream of more adventures, and when preoccupation turns to obsession, we are bound to realize them.

We are fascinated with the stories of other explorers and we plan our expeditions to avoid their misfortunes.

Are we escaping from something or have we been unfortunate with normal life? The true weight of these factors lies hidden from us.

What do we search for?   We don’t really know, until we find it.

Ultimately, we explore to find ourselves.

Our passion for adventure continues…

from Chris Goulet on
http://www.nucleus.com/%7Egouletc/01-Exhilarating_Freedom_in_the_Andes.htm

Above:  Pius and Stefan a bit dirtier than usual

Just uploaded a bunch of pictures today from Pius and Stefan´s memory card.  I created a new Colombia photo set on my Flickr page.  Check out the pics here.

The countdown begins until my friend Mikey arrives for a visit on May 29th!  We´re going to meet in Quito, Ecuador.  Oh yeah, and he´s bringing me a digital camera and a tiny new laptop!  Wooohoooo!

Sunday 5/4/08  Villa de Leyva, Colombia

Week 30 Stats

Start city:  Bucamaranga, Colombia
End city:  Villa de Leyva, Colombia
Total distance traveled:  175.9 miles
Days on the bike:  5
Average miles per day of riding:  35.2 miles
Longest day:  47.5 miles
Shortest day:  19.9 miles

Total money spent:  $105.75
Average per day:  $15.10

Highest elevation climb in one day:  1,750 meters  (1.08 miles!!!  A trip high so far!)
Nights in hotels:  6
Nights in an empty classroom in a school:  1
Number of Swiss army knives Pius and Stefan gave the caretaker of the school as a way of thanking him for letting us stay:  1
Number of knives they still have left:  14 or so! 
Other cyclists met:  1, Danny, heading south
Times interviewed by a TV station:  1
Times appeared in local paper:  1
Best day of cycling for me:  Riding into Villa de Leyva—in 20 short miles we passed through three very distinct environments.  Beautiful gorges, high plains, and rolling hills of farmland.

Thursday 5/1/08  San Gil, Colombia

The corner store was packed with small groups of men crowded around tiny circular tables.  All were staring up at the TV hanging in the corner of the shop.  All were mesmerized.  Colombia´s national soccer team was playing one of their rivals, Venezuela, and, thanks to the fact that the following day was a national holiday and no one had to work, the vibe in the place was charged with an almost tangible optimism, an edgy eagerness.  Co-workers unbuttoned their collars, put their ties in their pockets, and laughed in ways they never could in the office.  Taxi drivers parked their cabs and motorbikes outside, deciding that 15 or 20 minutes spent watching the game was worth a few missed fares. 

Everyone synched up to the game.  A nasty push by a Colombian player was met with instantaneous cheer; one committed against him brought angry yells and fiery grunts.  Colombian goals brought people to their feet while Venezuelan ones made them sink in their seats in silence. 

In this scene, Stefan and I floated.  Prior to the game we had little knowledge of the workings of Colombian soccer, so as we watched, we pestered two Colombians behind us with questions about Colombian league play.

All of the sudden, like a lion´s roar ripping through the silence over a stretch of quiet grassland, an English sentence cut through the muddled fog of Spanish chatter around us.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I smoke?”

A shrewish little man in front of me was holding out an un-lit cigarette for me to see.  A small, sharp, hooked nose rose from the plain of his tiny face like the tip of a craggy mountain summit poking through a flat sea of clouds.  His eyes were brown and intense. 

“No, of course not,” I said.  Pause.  “You speak so well, where did you learn English?” I asked.

“Thank you,” the man said.  “I learned in high school only.  I never studied in another country or anything.  I like English music and that helps me a little.  U2 is my favorite.”  Pause.  “But I have always felt like English is easy for me.”  Pause.  “My name is Nicolas.”

“Andrew.  Nice to meet you.”

We shook.  His hand was small and convex-shaped.

As the first half slipped away from the soccer game, Nicolas, Stefan, and I talked about Colombia.  I couldn´t resist asking about the one topic U.S. news stations love to cover:  The actions of Colombia´s most feared guerrilla group—the FARC.  Thanks to cocaine production and export, the FARC generates enough money to buy the weapons and cocoa it needs to both fight the Colombian government trying to suppress it and pay local farmers enough to stay quiet and continue cultivating cocoa.  As the Colombian government focuses more and more on cocoa eradication with each passing year, the FARC enlists farmers to grow cocoa in more remote and environmentally sensitive areas.  Some of Colombia´s most pristine park land is fast succumbing to the agricultural chemicals and clear-cutting techniques used by cocoa farmers to convert dense jungle into arable land. 

“Before we came to Colombia,” I said, “lots of our family and friends warned us about the FARC.  Some said we should just skip Colombia all together and fly straight to Ecuador.  Do you think that—”

Nicolas smiled and cut me off.

“I know, I know—all you guys see in other countries is negative stuff when it comes to Colombia.  Let me guess–before you came to Colombia, all you had seen of Colombia were pictures of cocaine packages being pulled off big boats, kidnapped people in the jungle, and armed paramilitary groups, no?  This is not Colombia.  Sure, it´s a part of Colombia, but a very small part,” Nicolas said.

“Yeah, I´m sure.  It´s a shame that those types of things are what come to mind when most people in the U.S. think of Colombia.”  Pause.  “But, the FARC is here.  Maybe not everywhere, but they are still here, right?  Are there certain areas of Colombia that you think are still really dangerous because of the FARC?”  

“Well, most parts are safe now.  Even five years ago, that wasn´t the case.  But since President Uribe took office, he´s made big progress with the rebel groups and with safety.  He´s made Colombia so much safer.  We can all feel it.  But let´s see…unsafe areas…hmmmm.  I´d say Putumayo in the south near the Peruvian border is still very dangerous.  And also the Darien area near Panama.  And sure, there are FARC in other small places around the country, but those two areas are worst, I think.  But really, most other areas are fine now,” Nicolas said.

Just then, everyone in the store jumped to his feet; a Colombian player made a clean shot, sending the ball barrelling into the top corner of the net.  Stefan and I laughed and started applauding with everyone else.

“They get so excited!” Stefan remarked.

“Yeah, of course.  This is Colombia!” Nicolas explained, smiling and feeling a bit patriotic.  “You know, in Colombia, soccer is our religion,” he said.  “We have many churches from the Spaniards and many people say they are Catholic, but really, soccer is what most Colombians believe in.”  Pause.  “But yeah, what I was saying earlier about Uribe, he has really made a difference.”

“So you think most Colombians would support him if he tried to run again for a third term?” I asked.

“Yeah sure, I think so.  Even though he´s a friend of Bush and he´s right wing, no one can deny what he´s done for Colombia.  He has done what he promised he would.  People feel safe, our economy is growing very quick, and we are excited about Colombia´s future,” Nicolas said.  

Nicolas excused himself and went to the bathroom.  I thought about what he said, about Colombians being excited about their future, about a president delivering on promises he made.  Nicolas returned.

“You know, I have to admit, I´m a bit envious of you,” I said to Nicolas.  “Actually, I think a lot of people in the U.S. would be envious of you, too.  This feeling of optimism you have about the future, your country, the economy—I think many Americans don´t feel that same type of optimism because they feel smothered by all of the negative things that have happened over the last seven years under the Bush administration.  Our economy is not doing well, the perception of America in many other countries is not at all a positive one thanks to our invasion of Iraq, and lots of young people are feeling jaded about their chances of bringing about lasting, positive political change,” I said. 

Nicolas gave me a look that I´ve gotten before during similar conversations, one that revealed our mutual perplexity, our frustration at being frustrated with no clear relief in sight.  He felt sorry for me, for America.  I decided to change the subject.

“So how do you think Colombia should deal with the whole cocaine thing?  I mean, as of now, Colombia annually produces 80-90% of the world´s cocaine supply, right?  Despite how optimistic you feel about the future, don´t you kind of think that Colombia is going to continue to have problems with safety, with corruption, with rebel groups as long as people continue to produce such large amounts of cocaine here?” I asked.  

“Oh sure,” Nicolas said.  “Yeah, it´s a huge problem.  The way to deal with it, though, is to educate people.  To educate people not only about how cocaine affects Colombia, but educate people about how beautiful and amazing Colombia is.  How safe it is.  How friendly Colombians are.  If we can convince international companies that Colombia is a safe, welcoming country, then international investment will increase.  But the main education needs to be about cocaine,” Nicolas said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, think about it.  How often do Americans think about cocaine when they are snorting it or buying it.  I mean really think about it.  About how cocaine makes our mountain towns unsafe, makes kidnappings more common, makes corruption increase.  If we could only teach Americans about how cocaine destroys us here, they might be less likely to buy it in America.  And then, if the demand slows down, so will the production.  I hate to blame you guys in America so much, but you are our largest customer when it comes to cocaine.  It´s up to America to stop consuming so much.”

*****

When we said goodbye to Nicolas that night, he invited us to a small colonial town in the mountains the following day.  We accepted his invitation and spent a few hours walking around Barrichara with him.  To say you go back in time when you stroll its streets would be an extreme understatement.  You are time when you go to Barrichara.  You are the modernity absent in its cobble-stoned spirit. You are the artifacts of a distant future, symbols of the speed and hurry missing in the shadows that bob gently along its white-washed walls.

Above:  Me on the streets of Barrichara

Above:  The streets of Barrichara

Above:  The cathedral in Barrichara at sunset

Above:  Builders building a house the old-fashioned way in Barrichara.  Huge, thick, mud walls.

Sunday 4/27/08  Bucaramanga, Colombia

Week 29 Stats

Start city: Santa Marta, Colombia
End city: Bucaramanga, Colombia
Total distance traveled: 349 miles
Days on the bike: 6
Average miles per day of riding: 58.17 miles
Longest day: 72.7 miles
Shortest day: 30.5 miles

Money spent:  $103.00

Average money spent per day:  $14.71

Nights spent in cheap hotels:  6 !!!  (a trip high so far)

Average cost of a night in a hotel:  Around $3 US

Nights spent camped out on a 1,000-cow dairy farm:  1

Number of cows we spotted while camped out at the dairy farm:  1 or 2

Number of armed guards dispatched to protect the dairy farm from bandits/guerillas:  8 or 9

Number of times we remarked how suspicious the dairy farm was:  A bunch

Number of times I held on to passing trucks while climbing in the mountains so I could hitch a ride to the summit:  5  (Pius and I decided this cycling technique should be called trucksurfing)

Number of times while trucksurfing that I felt like Michael J. Fox when he sneaks truck rides with his skateboard in Back to the Future:  Every time!

Flat tires:  Uggggh, I prefer not to say.  I had trouble with a tricky puncture on my trailer tire, one that was right on a seam in the tube.  A few stops were made this week to fix the bugger.

Movies watched in a movie theater:  1 !!!  First of the trip!!!  Charlie Wilson´s War–very good.

Sunday 4/27/08  Bucaramanga, Colombia

Trying to force my feet into the beautiful rhythmic stomp that makes salsa the emotive hypnotic dance that it is was like trying to drive a monster truck through a supermarket without knocking a single thing off the shelves.  Hopeless. 

But still, Vanessa, my acquaintance-turned-salsa-teacher tried her hardest to teach me without losing her cool.  I stepped on her toes.  I bumped my hips awkwardly into hers, making her grimace in pain (my hips are bony and sharp like rusty medieval weapons).  I even sweat profusely like a bank teller in a hold-up.  Yet still, Vanessa tried to teach me.

Maybe she did it out of sheer boredom.  After all, we were in St. Veronica, a tiny tourist town on the Caribbean coast of Colombia struggling to stay afloat during the off season.  And it was a weeknight. 

The humidity hung so thick in the night sky that it softened the sounds of the insects, of the waves crashing on the beach two blocks away.

Trying to teach three foreigners how to dance a dance that is completely alien to them but near-instinctual for her had a slight appeal to Vanessa, in a watching-a-three-legged-dog-chase-a-cat sort of way.  For a slow night, it was a passable form of entertainment.

¨No!  No, no, no.  Like this, watch me,¨Vanessa said, laughing and looking into my eyes.

I watched her.

She waited for the beat of the song to come around, for a starting point to emerge from the melody.  When she heard something I didn´t hear, some coded signal, she started moving.  She stepped to one side with her foot.  Her hips swayed just a bit, just enough so I was sure she didn´t even recognize she was moving them.  She took a small step and then moved back.  Then, she repeated the move with the other foot, with the same slow shake of the hips.  She closed her eyes, smiled, and waved her hands in front of her. 

For a long, thick minute, Vanessa slipped into the depths of her own rhythmic steps and hip swaying. 

Lost in the beat of the salsa tune crackling through the small travel speakers on the picnic table beside us, Vanessa morphed from the still, reserved young woman who introduced herself to us 30 minutes earlier into a creature of melody, a fluid, swaying manifestation of the spirit of salsa.  And this movement, this hypnotic swaying and arm waving and smiling and eye closing that could drive both men and women alike crazy with envy, with a type of movement envy, a synchronization-with-the-world envy, was exactly what Vanessa wanted me to watch and replicate with my own body.

There was a break in the music.  Vanessa opened her eyes and floated back down to Earth.

¨Just like that, OK?  It´s easy.  Let´s try,¨Vanessa said. 

We both laughed at the absurdity of this idea, of me doing anything even remotely close to what she just did.

She held my clammy hands in hers and tried to lead me into the first step.  My feet were clumsy and felt heavier than usual. 

Ï can´t get my feet to move like that.  They don´t move like that!¨I said, laughing.  Ït´s impossible!¨ I turned to Pius and Stefan, my Swiss cycling amigos who were watching me sweat, stumble, and make a fool of myself, and felt the need to explain away my dancing inadequacies.  ¨Guys, I´m serious–this is impossible.  There´s no way I can move like her!¨

A few minutes after I said this, however, Stefan stepped up and revealed his salsa prowess, showing Vanessa he was capable of learning all the moves I fumbled over.  Then, after Stefan tired, Pius put on some strange European polka music and showed Vanessa a few dance moves that he claimed were popular in Switzerland.  She believed him, tried to mimic his spastic arm flailing and hip jiggling, and then told him he was a good dancer.  By his own account, it was he first time anyone had ever complimented him on his ´dancing´.

When at last our exhaustion from the day´s cycling caught up with us, we said good night to Vanessa and made our way into our tents.  Camped out behind a closed restaurant on soft grass and within the confines of a security fence, we slept like tired people do in such places–deeply at ease.

*****

The food in Colombia is beyond good.  It´s better than spectacular.  In fact, we don´t have an English word to properly do it justice.  So, with all due respect to Will Ferrell, I´m going to steal a word he invented to describe things that are superamazing–scrumtrulescent.  Colombian food is highly scrumtrulescent. 

For cyclists, I doubt any other country on the planet could provide such perfect cycling fuel.  Arepas, deep fried dough pockets filled most often with a cooked egg, are fatty, filling, cheap, and delectable.  Papa rellenas, one pound fried balls of mashed potatoes, herbs, veggies, and either meat or egg, each cost about $0.50 US and fill you up in no time flat.  The set lunches and dinners served in restaurants, usually a plate of rice, fried plantains, salad, yuca, and either meat or fish, often come with large bowl of soup and a fruit drink and cost around $2-3.00 US. 

*****

I am now riding with two Swiss guys whom I met in Panama City, Stefan and Pius.  Riding with them has been a welcome relief from the cycling and conversational monotony I had grown accustomed to while riding alone.  Although they are both much stronger than me and keeping up with them is sometimes difficult (they like to ride 100 kms, or about 60 miles, a day when possible and push themselves to ride quickly while on the bikes), it´s been a lot of fun spending time with other people at night and during meals.  Usually, we don´t talk while on the bike, as this time is reserved for thinking, focusing on the road, and taking in the scenery.

Stefan and Pius are riding recumbent bikes.  Because these bikes are not common outside of wealthy countries (and even there it´s hard to spot them), the guys draw lots of attention when we ride.  Colombians are constantly whistling, waving, laughing, and taking pictures of Stefan and Pius as we ride.  When we roll into towns at night to look for a cheap motel or fill up on food or water, a crowd flocks to the bikes like bears to honey.  So far, the biggest crowd sparked by a stop in a small town was about 35-40 people. 

These small town crowds always generate a lot of questions, and although we like speaking to local people when we ride, it can be incredibly exhausting to answer basic questions about our ride at the end of a long day and from the middle of a mass of people.  Often, these situations make us feel like animals in the zoo, as most people are pointing at us and staring at our clothing, parts of the bike, or Stefan and Pius´freakishly blue eyes.

But nonetheless, the crowds that form and the people we meet on the road are friendly and fascinated by our trips.  For this, I´m grateful. 

Technology news update thingy:  My laptop is being fixed and will be mailed to me in a week in Bogota. Once I pick it up, I´ll be able to go back to typing at night in the tent (ie. easily creating more content for this site.) 

My friend Mikey will be meeting me in Quito on May 29th to ride with me for a month.  He´s bringing a bunch of camera gear from the states for me.  Until then, hopefully I´ll be able to steal a few pictures from Stefan and Pius´ memory card and upload them to my Flickr page, just as I did for the sailing pictures from Panama to Columbia. 

I hope everyone is doing well.  We are heading out for Bogota tomorrow and should be there in eight days or so. 

more to come as life unfolds,

Andrew

Sunday 4/21/08  Santa Marta, Colombia

Week 28 Stats

Start city: Cartagena, Colombia
End city: Santa Marta, Colombia
Total distance traveled: 158 miles
Days on the bike: 3
Average miles per day of riding: 52.6 miles
Longest day: 55.9 miles
Shortest day: 52.2 miles

Money spent:  $93.00

Average money spent per day:  $13.29

Border crossings:  1

Amount of money I had to prove I had in my bank account to get a 60 day visa for Colombia:  $2,000

Days spent in Cartagena with a Couchsurfing host:  4

School presentations made:  4

Mud baths in a natural mud volcano:  1

Campsite salsa dancing lessons:  1

Number of times I actually executed something that looked like a salsa move:  Maybe once…by accident

Nights camping:  2

4-25-08

I haven´t been posting much to the site lately because I don´t have my laptop.  The computer refused to boot-up last week and I dropped it off at a Mac repair place in Baranquilla.  Looks like I´ll have to replace the hard drive…again.  I thought the new one I put in last year was supposed to last longer than a year.  Doh!  Hopefully I´ll be able to pick it up from the Mac store in Bogota in a week or so.  Keep your fingers crossed. 

Ugggh.  In the last couple of weeks, all the electronical things I brought with me on the trip were either stolen or now refuse to work.  Frustrating.  Everything is getting sorted out, but it´s frustrating. 

I´m about a day away from Bucaramanga, Colombia now.

Monday 4/21/08  Santa Marta, Colombia

I don´t have much time left here in the internet cafe, but I wanted to post a few things:

1.  The northern coastal areas of Colombia are hot.  Really hot.  I´ve been drinking around 6 liters of water a day and sweating all of it out on the roads.  If you knew my scent and could somehow travel with your nose an inch from the pavement, you could track me down in Colombia with only your sense of smell.

2.  I´m now riding with two Swiss guys.  It´s nice having company.  And drafting while riding is a pleasure.  Check out their website (it´s in English).

3.  The other day I learned that when someone turns 16 in Switzerland, if his/her parents are registered Catholics, that person is automatically registered as a Catholic as well and hence required to pay a type of ´Christian tax´ to the government.  In order to be exempt from this, one must officially declare a reason for exemption and ask to be taken off of the government´s list of Catholic nationals.

4.  People in northern Colombia have been amazing.  So incredibly friendly.  When we ride, people are always waving to us, honking and saying hello, riding next to us on their bikes, or trying to get us to stop and talk.  As I expected to be the case, the Colombians I have met aren´t accurately represented by the media that Colombian rebel groups generate.  Just like anywhere else, the people here, too, are people–they smile, they cook dinner with the radio on, they wake early to send their children to school, they adore their children, they laugh, they love music, and they work and rest each week.  More to come as we move on down the road in Colombia.

5.  Arepas, a type of dough pancake found in Colombia, are spectacular.  Sometimes filled with egg or cheese, they are perfect for cyclists–cheap, fast, fatty, and yummy.

6.  My laptop died.  Uggggh.  I know–lots of technology problems for me in the past few weeks.  Such is life.  I stopped at a Mac store in Baranquilla and dropped off the computer.  They are going to do some tests on it, fix it, and then mail it to Bogota where I will pick it up in two weeks.  Keep your fingers crossed.

7.  I´m in Santa Marta now.  We are staying just outside Santa Marta in a tiny village by the sea called Taganga.  Tomorrow we´ll start heading south toward Bogota.  It´ll be a long slog to the city, but one that promises some good scenery.

8.  Thanks again to the students at Colegio Jorge Washington!  Thank you for the comments.  You guys are awesome!