So when Humberto dropped me off,  he told me there’s a colectivo (collective taxi) that leaves every 10 minutes from the museum to the town…just grab that to get back to my hotel.

Well, of course when I am done there is no colectivo.

There’s an ambulance there, and since there is no one else around, I start chatting with the driver and the nurse…

turns out they had a private duty run and delivered a patient nearby, and were going to overnight locally. They said they were heading back into town and offered me a ride…

We laughed and joked and had a good ‘ole time…and took pics and had a really nice goodbye…

and they rolled by with full lights and sirens just to make me laugh…

Well I decided to “splurge” and rent a horse (and guide) to tour San Agustin. There are 4 sites that are up in the backcountry that I hoped would make it worthwhile.

Having owned horses most of my life, I explained to my guide, Humberto (who works at the tourist office in San Agustin–is that a conflict of interest?!?) I explained to Humberto that if he showed up in the morning with a skinny, maltreated horse I was not going on the tour and I was not going to pay him. I said I was only going to give my money to someone who took good care of their animals. He thought I was nuts, but he did show up with a horse that had a little flesh on it…

First Stop: La Caquira

This tour is obviously geared towards tourists…we walk around a museum, and Humberto tells me I have to pay the lady $2 for the tour. Then he offers me a banana.

Old instruments to squeeze the juice from the sugarcane.

Old brazier for the sugar juice.

Old still.

Old instruments.

Old something (I forget).

Off we go again…

My view for most of the morning.

My guide, Humberto.

Yup, everyone in Central and South America has a cell phone. It still cracks me up to see indigenous women using them for some reason…

I now have a new favorite fruit: Lulo. Heres a Lulo plantation.

ah, the bad cow. Whenever you see a cow wearing one of these it means he’s been bad (usually an escape artist). Humberto laughed when I said “vaca mala“.

These figures are dug up from graves. They are placed in front of the body in the tomb: if the buried person is male, they get a female protector. If female, they get a male protector.  Note that they all (except the owls) have Jaguar teeth. Jaguars were an important part of the culture.

This carving is significant: it still retains vestiges of the paint from when originally interred:

Motifs from the graves recur on “modern” houses.

After 5.5 hours on horseback, I was ready to get off. Humberto ended the tour at the Parque Arqueologico, where I (thankfully) hed to walk for a few hours.

Here’s a pic for my friend that appreciate weird vegetation:

I took over 200 pics inside the park. To spare your computers endless bandwith usage, I am just going to give you the complete tour of the statue forest (35 sculptures).

Enjoy!

I am staying put one day just resting. Diarrhea two days ago (2nd time this trip) and now a cold. I am 6 hours ride from Lima and need to get some things looked at on the bike…my chain broke and stranded me last week, and my intuition is telling me to get it looked at again before another big problem occurs…

Hopefully I will get caught up on the blog, too.

But first? HAIRCUT!

It was a nice ride down the mountain (dirt roads) and along the river…

With interesting wash-outs to navigate…

CHIVA!

This cracked me up…
Willie’s Juice Mobile…powered by bicycle

I got onto some pretty neat back roads.

PEAJE

Fun Curvies…
Yup, that’s my road below..

Well this day I seemed to pass countless cows in  trucks…I nicknamed it “National Bring Your Cow to Market Day”

These were parked at a town square.

Ah. Someone told me about this sculpture…
That is looks real nice until you take a close look…

And see she is holding a man’s head. If I remember the legend correctly, she was a native woman who fell in love…The lover was jealous and killed her son, she went after him and beheaed him…and brought his head all over the country to show people her revenge…

I circled ’round for this pic…I want a place like this. Happy land.

So as I am rolling through the countryside, in Pitalito,I begin to see these roadside murals…done by Colombian artists. Chevere (cool)

Colombian biker chic…note the heels!

I haven’t talked about the women of Colombia yet…let me just say they are ALL MADE UP. And SILICONE RULES! And the guys are all a-ga-ga over Colombian women.

Yup, DEFINITELY “National Bring Your Cow to Market Day”

At last, my destination.

For the record, this was a depressing day in terms of road carnage: 2 dead dogs (one so gruesome I missed my turn to San Agustin and went 40 miles out of the way), a dead cow and my second dead horse seen.

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In town at the Hostal, I bump into Charles, who I met in El Salvador (he’s traveling with Ben, who I also met in El Salvador)

I woke up in the night to the sound of POURING rain. Torrential. Stupendous.

It was still pouring when I got up…Oofa. I did not want to stay another night in this dump, cheap as it was…

I walked to breakfast clinging to the sides of the buildings trying nott to get wet. I wasted time. I watched the meat truck deliver several dead cows. I watched the dogs nonchalantly try to steal pieces of meat. I wondered why the cow’s head was just lying there on the sidewalk.  I wondered how long it would take before the meat went bad just hanging there. I wondered why there was a pile of cow skins on the sidewalk. I was too morbidly fascinated to take any pictures. Darn.

It got a little dryer around 10, so I decided to make a run for it.

(Turns out I was only 9 miles from my destination.)

!!

It was a beautiful ride.

Tierradentro is a place in Southern Colombia where unusual tombs have been discovered…turns out the practice, back in the day, was to not bury you once, but rather twice. First time, for 1-2 years, just enough time to rot the flesh off.  Then, when you were reduced to little more than compost, they placed your bones and all your riches in an urn, and placed you with a bunch of other in urns, well below the surface of the earth.   When the tomb was full, they covered all of you up and there you were.

But wait, the Spaniards came along, and so did the tomb raiders, and then  the practice became to  crack your urn, throw away your bones, and steal your treasures. If you are looking for any of your stuff you are missing in the afterlife, at least a goodly portion of it can be found in the Museo de Oro (Gold Museum) in Bogota.

Funerary urns in the museum.

Ok, so the tourguide – cum – security guard tells me a tale.

The practice, still to this day, in the local indigenous culture, is for the man and woman to live together a whie before getting married. The point is to see if the female is fertile–and thus worthy of marriage. Wait, there’s more…

See the really tough and hard cow hide on this bed? It’s said that the woman truly loves you if she sleeps ont he bed with no complaint…

Ha! I told him Id never get married because I like a thick comfy mattress…

Well, I tour the museums, and then I am told its lunchtime. Come back in an hour…

OK, so I go and ecplore the lovely little town of San Andres a few km up the hill.

Outside the thatched cathedral was a fellow drying coffee beans…he was quite animated and gave me the full tour, even posing fr my pics…

I was told the best place to eat in town is the bamboo house…I took lots of pics because I was so impressed with the structure. (Sorry, Edward, I think I prefer this to the metal container we are talking about living in…)

After lunch, back down to the park, and the climb up the hillside to the tombs…

Local cows taqking the time to chew their cud and take in the  great view.

This was the deepest of the tombs…believe it or not,  I got vertigo and could not go down. It was supposedly the “best ” one too. Dang.

Back down the mountain…

Finished with my tour, I walk back up the street to “Ricos Jugos”, and order two fruit juices since I cannot decide between my two favorites–Lulo or Mora.

On the way  here I meet Marie-France and Brian, two moto travelers on an 1150 GSA. They’ve been on the road for a coule of years, and are full of great advice and good ideas. You can read their blog at www.2uprtw.com

Here we are getting to know each other and idly watching the juice place owner’s garndson play with his plastic bag…

She admonishes him when we laugh and say in English “you’d never see THAT in the United states”… (They’re from Canada)

We have dinner together that night. As it happens, my hotel room door opens into the dining room of the only eatery in town…it would have been hard to miss them!

xx

“Secure” parking at my hotel…

My humble hotel…

The next morning I ride up to the last of the tomb sites I will visit. (I opt out of the all-day hike up the other mountain)

Because of all the rain, I was concerned about the ride to Tierradentro and beyond…I knew it was many miles of dirt roads, and it haad been raining for days…Cata offered to let me leave my luggage at their house…whahoo! I love a light bike!

So I rearranged all my stuff, and off I went!

Cata’s Dad gave me directions to San Andres (Tierradentro)…I should be there in two hours…

Isn’t Colombia gorgeous?

CHIVA!

CHIVA!

CHIVA!

Um…I’m in Silvia,  and I have been riding for more than two hours…

The scenery is so spectacular, and  am having one of those magical riding days, so I really don’t care if I am lost…

But every once in a while the sky threatens…

Weird landscape…what the heck is it? At least it photographed well…

I stop in front of this place to take some pics…it’s like heaven on earth. Well, Next thing I know thee farmer is coming out of the finca and downt he drive…I aam not threatened, rather, I dont want to bother him. SO I explain that I think where he llive is the most beautiful place on earth and I wanted to take some pics, and  I am sorry I have disturbed him…well he asks me the A#1 question of my trip, am I traveling alone? yes. He wishes me a great trip, says to take care of myself, shakes my hand, and heads back up the drive. Typical encounter with these wonderful people.

My road:

Oh yeah, I stop for gas in the middle of nowhere…there’s a store next to the gas station office…they sell…nothing that I need.

The fabulously elaborate and really hard to understand map of the area. I was confused… even more so after looking at the map.

CHIVA!

So I roll into a little town, and find a little hostel. It’s 8000 pesos for the night ($4.00) Why do I stay here? Because it’s 4:30, I am tires, I have no idea how close I am to Tierradentro, and the woman at the hostel has one ear and seems to have a hard time understanding me, and I her, and I am scared to go on as I have not seen another town for 3+ hours riding in the back roads of Colombia, and I DEFINITELY do not want to ride here after dark…

So I stop. It’s cheap, and although I am scared to take a shower,  it’s cheap.

Note to self: Do NOT get up in the middle of the night and turn on lights…you may be electrocuted.

Best to use the flashlight.

My solution? Go to bed so dang early (8 pm) it doesn’t matter how icky the hotel room is. It’s cheap.

<smile>

So the next day Cata and I met for breakfast…jugo de mora, juevos revueltos con perico, arroz and arepas. $2 each.

Popayan is a beautiful colonial town known for its whitewashed buildings.

Let’s take a tour…

My beautiful tourguide…

So back in Colomial timmes, Popayan had two bridges…one for the wealthy Spaniards, and another for the slaves. The one for the slaves was much lower and very often covered with water…

There’s a tiny replica of Popayan up on the bill aove the “real” town…kind of a tourist place…we went there too.

And I tried an oblea for the first time…
two wafers, with arequipe(a sweet sugar cane derivitave) and marmelade in between…

Kind of like fried dough at the state fair…

In the afternoon we head back to the factory for lunch with Cata’s folks, then we’re off agai through downtown Popayan to see if any of the (all closed) churches are now open…

Check this picture out…two things to note:

1. Look at the delicate flowers being transported on this little motorbike…

2. It’s a BIG DEAL to turn 15 in the Latin countries….huge coming-of-age party.

Well its rainy and wet and a good think I decided to stay another day.

I actually end up staying another TWO days…I really like Catalina and her family. Cata and I are fast friends, she’s like the  sister of my heart…not by blood but by choice. Plus looking back I guess I needed some “girl time”. I really miss my good girlfriends back home.

Day two breakfast: Tamales!

back to the factory…it’s Sunday and we bring lunch to the guard and to the dog.

I really respect the Villegas family and their work ethic and their commitment to being nice to their employees (and dog!)

Colombia has a definite moto culture!

So we’re riding down the bock and I see this guy in a doorway. I LOVE HIS HAT! i am mesmerized by it. We back up, and I ask him if I can take a picture of the hat.  It’s a part of the culture of one of the provinces in Colombia…I dig it.

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Ok, now take a close look at the signs on the street…arrows each directions…how on EARTH do you know, as a tourist, which direction to go?

Lunch…arroz con pollo…rice with chicken.

A selection of “typical” sweets…

Well, as nice as Casablanca hostel is, I got a rotten night’s sleep…I am a light sleeper, and in a dorm room of 10 people…oofa.

I missed my 9:00 am appointment at Asturias Motos (if you need a mechanic in Cali, Colombia, definitely stop here: they service ALL brands!) due to a lack of sleep, but luckily when I showed up at 10:00 they took me right in, and Jorge surgicated my windshield mount (it had rattled loose somewhere along the way and was driving me N_U_T_S and I did not have a hex wrench with me to fix it).

I spent another good long time taking to Sory, who is just great. She (also a motorcycle traveler) gave me lots of ideas for other cool places to see in Colombia. Wheen I asked about the road to San Augustin, she immediately called a friend in Popayan (another Jorge, and also a motorcyclist) that she knows drives that road once a week…

Well, us all being motorcyclists, he said to her to give me his phone number, and when I got to the outskirts of Popayan to call him and they would meet me.

Now this is all very cool.

Sory arranges for one of the guys in the shop to lead me out of town on his little motorbike, and we say goodbye.

On the way out of town I see two horseback police. These are the nicest animals I have seen on my trip.

I’m off! I take a picture of this because its crazy…yes, i am in the fast lane, but it’s worse than a “jersey barrier” in the USA…shorter too!

Back on the panamericana another sugar cane train…

CHIVA!

I’m taking my time because it’s a short distance to Popayan…

I stop for a roadside brunch, I am getting caught up on my journal, and this German traveler (part of the crowd last night at Asturias) roars by…then turns around and we visit a bit.  He is also riding a DR650 (but not nearly as s-w-e-e-t as mine thanks to Twisted throttle and Cogent Dynamics   )

A close-up of the little devil critter on his front fender…

Well, as he is about to take off, along come my friends Bruno and Nathalie (from Valle de Corcora two days ago).  So the happy German unsuts, and we all visit and go over maps and take pics of each other…the folks running the restaurant probably think its a darned convention of moto-tourists!

Off they go on down the road…I am the last to pull out.

So I get to the appointed place in Popayan, and give a call. (Remember those cell-phones-on-an-a-chain? Mighty convenient when you need to place a quick call…cost me a whopping 20 cents instead of the $4 it cost me in Mexico when I had to call rube from a cabina…)

So Jorge’s daughter Catalina answers Jorge’s phone when I call…she’s a thirty-something Colombiana that has been living in London for the past 9 years, and is back in Popayan for a bit staying with the family and working in their wine operation. (Jorge thinks I need help with my Spanish / translation services because I had a hard time understanding him on the cell phone.)

Well I am delighted.  Catalina hops in her little bug and leads me to their house. What do I need? How can she help? What can she do?

We end up chatting for over an hour, she helps me find a hotel that she approves of (not in the Lonely planet book, and not in the red light district)

I quickly bring my things to my room, change into street clothes, and then she takes me to the  fabrica, wine factory, that her parents run.  her Mom makes me tinto (coffee)…and laughs at me for taking pics of c-o-f-f-e-e (which they will eventually get used to–me taking pics of everything!!!)

Goddess Bless Colombia, because this is the way coffee SHOULD be…

Strong coffee…warm milk…and a bowl to mix them to your own personal satisfaction…

The final product:

Cata’s Mom gives me a tour of her garden…the fabrica has been in the family a couple of generations…

An outdoor oven (like I saw a coupe of days ago) where they cook their Turkeys at Christmas…

A tour of the fabrica:

I love how they leave a candle it for Mother Mary…

After the tour of the fabrica, Cata and I go out to dinner. We order a jugo, a fresh juice, and I decide to expand my palate and try the Lulo. But I keep asking what Lulo is…how does it translate, and nobody can help me. Cata, great girl that she is, asks the waiter to bring me one, and a knife. Meet Lulo…my (new) favorite fruit…

Dinner is this rad combination of sumptuous veggies over maduro, fried mature bananas (sweet). OMG, I am in heaven! Colombia has the BEST food! (Little do I know but Catalina and I will take the culinary tour of Popayan and Colombia for the next several days…)

I am now exhausted, well fed, and ready for bed. Cata invites me to stay for another day and she wil take the day off from work and give me a personal tour of Popayan…I’m IN!

Back out the Valley road back to the Panamericana.

Nice pass on the double yellow…

PEAJE.

The road was hot and flat and pretty straight. I rode through miles and miles of sugar cane fields.

Then I see this sign…I understand “tren” (train) but canero? i am puzzled…

Until I see this.

That’s right, folks. Count ‘em, FOUR semis full of sugar cane being bpulled by a single tractor. How do they steer such beasts?

Well they re downright FUN to pass…just take my advice and go fast enough so one does not pass YOU! With so many articulations they are wobbly beasts!

A cut sugarcane field…hence the “tren”. This one’s just been cut. They burn these fields afterwards–and most often they are right beside the road. I’ve been warned to be really careful when they are burning.

Next I get passed by this guy…I have to pass him again to make sure I saw that right…”Prohibited to transport women and children”…

Next I get passed by a 950 KTM Adventure.  He rides alongside making a variety of hand signals which I do not understand, and then I finally get it when he pulls ahead and pulls off the road. I do, too…

…and I meet Ricardo Rocco, owner of Escuela de Motos in Quito.  He’s headed into Cali, knows the town, knows some people there, and agrees to let me follow him. Where he’s going is just a couple blocks from the Cassablanca hostel I’ve been recommended to.

We arrive at Asturias Motors. Hs friends Sory Con and Jorge run Asturias, a repair chop for all makes and models of motorcycles. The place is bustling–it’s obvious they do a whopping businesss and know their stuff. They also have a shop next door that sells parts and gear for riders–an ideal combination.

On my way to the bathroom I take a tour of the bikes in the shop and fall in love with this one…they don’t import them into the UUSA so I can only dream of riding a Tenere in foreign lands…

Sory and Jorge checking out my bike. They ask if I have anything that needs fixing.

Well the pplace is a people-and-bike- magnet with the enigmatic owners and their riding buddies, all the travelers they help, locals whose bikes they service. Plus, Sory and Jorge are world travelers themselves, so theyy just attract cool motorcyclists. The crowd out front grows.

And grows.

And grows. It’s fun to be yakking with all these motorcycle people, many of which are going over maps with me, giving me ideas of where to go, things I cannot miss over the next few days.

Well finally the crowd dissipated, an ricardo and I packed up. Ricardo gave me his business card and invited me to Quito….luckily for me offering to meet me outside the City and escort me in (yeah! I hate cities–I always get so lost).  He led me to my hostal,  where I got the last bunk in a dorm room of 10 people for $9 I think. There were two other motorcycle travelers in the room–that was kind of cool. But I did not sleep well at all, too many people in too small a space. Plus everyone was partying til the wee hours.