February 12, 2010

(continued)

Okay, well fed, my ride back to Popayan starts in earnest.

It’s beautiful scenery, along 150 +/- km of dirt roads, and I am loving it.

Some days I don’t make very good time because I stop and take so many pictures. I love these days where I just *travel*, not have an overbearing schedule I need to keep up with, or a set time to be anywhere, just as long as I am there before dark.

CHIVA!

I’ve learned that when I see a flock of motorbikes along te road, it usually means there’s a road crow working up ahead…

I rise up into the Park…

Bad baby cow! He was trukking along down the road….no momma cow in sight.  They might have to  put a second stick on this one…

Wish I’d'a seen one of these critters.

“Bridge in Bad Repair”

It seemed like I roose up and down and went through about 4 distinct goegraphical changes along the way…the landscape was really quite remarkable…

Down into a neat little valley…and had TWO cups of local strawberries and cream for lunch.

Sheesh, the scenery just kept getting better and better. It was turning out to be one of “those” days…unforgettable days of the trip.

This was the most amazing day In the space of a day I rode from Mountains to Jungle to Pampa to Flatlands.

About halfway through the day an idea struck me: Why not lead a boutique tour of 5-6 motorcyclists that want to see this fabulous country, but do not want to do it alone? I now have the insider knowledge and contacts through Asturias Motos and other people I’ve met to make it happen…

I was so excited about this idea I could not wait to share it with Cata and the Villegas family.

February 9, 2010

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 not 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)

February 6 & 7

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…

February 4, 2010

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.

February 3, 2010

I had a great time in Manizales with Adolfo. It was fun to walk around together, and nice to get to know him a bit (finally! we’d been so busy we did not have much time to talk until yesterday)

Today he wanted to visit a friend in Periera…we decided to ride together to Periera, but I was undecided about what to do… Adolfo had three weeks to toodle around Colombia and Ecuador, and I needed to head south if I was going to beat the Penguins to Tierra del Fuego.

Off we went back down the mountain…

PEAJE.

PEAJE.

There is a crazy moto-culture here…they are like swarming gnats everywhere you go. They have about the same flight patterns as gnats too–you really have to be careful!

Downtown Periera, where we wait to meet Adolfo’s friend.

I am invited to stay, I toy with the idea., but in the end I feel the need to keep moving so I shove off.

But not before  going to the town square and seeing the famous “Bolivar Desnudo” — the only nude sculpture of Bolivar (riding a horse–ouch!)

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I am off, and alone again.

I go get gas, and do a little deferred maintenance: chain lube, tire pressure, etc. make sure I am good to go.

It actually feelt quite good to be riding solo again..I like. I like. Adolfo did spoil me, but I’d adjusted to doing everything MY way, and I don’t know. It was really nice to have company, and it was also nice to be alone again.

I rode for a little over two hours and stopped for lunch just north of Armenia…

I had a plate of yummy bananas…

and this stew concoction that was a highlight of my trip so far!

while having lunch, I whipped out the Lonely Planet book and read about this cool little Valley–Valle de Corcora. It sounded like a cool place to go, and since I was now riding solo, I could choose to change directions again. I did.

And I was treated to the most spectacular little valley / nature preserve / wildest was palm landscape you’d ever want to visit. I was in heaven.

Thescenery just took my breath away.

Milk day!

I rode to the end of the dirt road (well, as far as I wanted to go on it…)

There are all sorts of tourtic opportunities…Jeep rides, horseback rides way up into the Valley, etc.

I opted for a coffee at this place instead.

And while I was pouring over my maps retying to make myself move on when I really did nto FEEL like it, Bruno comes up and says hello.

Bruno and his wife Nathalie are on their honeymoon…they are Brazilian, living in Switzerland, married almost a year ago, and now are traveling 6+ months around South America on this little motorcycle. (Wait ’til youu see it PACKED in a few days…)

Theya are absolutely lovely, and we communicate in a variety of Spanish, Portugese, English and German. It works, and they tell me about the incredible finca they are staying at…and offer to lead me there.

The road is a little rough Bruno says…

Well, it was pure hell on a heavily loaded bike, and at one point Bruno had to PUSH me & bike up a rocky incline over the river (the other one we forded) .

Luckily Nathalie opened all the gates.

Well we finally get there and I tell him I am not leaving. I mean, that  he has to ride with me back out to the main road because with my overloaded bike I do not have the guts to  do it solo. He laughs (I’m serious!)

Then the mikman comes.

Bruno tells the farmer his wife needs a job (I do not understand until I take the pic)

These wee ones are chained out front of our rooms. (Not especially clean but the view is to-die-for!!!)

So here’s my view from my room.

Worth $15.00/night including breakfast?

It was soooooooooo peaceful here.  Bruno and Nathalie went back into town (I asked them to bring me dinner–no WAY was I riding down that driveway again until i had to leave!) I couldn;t really work, I just sat on my bed and looked at the amazing view. AND took som pictures for you to enjoy.

Ah, breakfast the next day. How delightful that they serve you a WHOLE BOWL of coffee! I saw the kitchen and refused to eat the breakfast (snuck it to the dogs) but I figured tthe coffee wouldn’t hurt me…

I was sad to leave. Beautiful, eh?

I stopped in the little town of Solento and took some pics…

This one’s for Adolfo…

Then a little further down the valley I stopped for breakfast.

Well, I was as enchanted with these folks as they were with me…I tried jugo de panela ( sightly processed sugar cane hot drink) for the first time, ate some rice and empanadas and had another coffee for $1.50 PLUS I got a tour of the kitchen.

What a great way to start the day. Super nice folks.

Everything said and done, I have to admit while I found the  whole Panama City experience very stressful, I had it SUPER easy.

What a lucky turn of fate that I got introduced to Adolfo, and that he happened to be shipping his bike the same week

I’d been corresponding with a couple other moto-travelers, and for a few weeks we’d all been trying to research– independently, and then sharing information–how to get across the Darien Gap both economically and efficiently. It was frustrating trying to juggle that with the daily travels, and quite stress-producing actually. many folks on ADVrider.com and HorizonsUnlimited.com advised that all would become clear in Panama…that basically you arrive in Panama City, do a little sightseeing, check your options, then wait for your selection to leave/embark/whatever you choose.  Now I am sure that seems easy enough reading it here in my blog, but I assure you when you are traveling, and are faced with a big logistical problem, it haunts you all the time until it is impossible to relax about arriving somewhere and working it out (which, ironically, is one of the HUGE lessons that long-term travel teaches you–that you will work everything out in due time)

Anyway, I was terribly grateful to Adolfo to have solved my logistical problem so easily and efficiently. especially in light of reading my friend Ben’s blog and his “adventure” crossing from Panama to Colombia. Here’s a link to his journey if you are interested:  http://afewmoremiles.com/2010/01/28/mutiny-on-the-bounty-crossing-the-darien-gap/ . Igor also finally made it across, and you can read about HIS adventure here: http://afewmoremiles.com/2010/01/28/mutiny-on-the-bounty-crossing-the-darien-gap/ (he also mentions our time together in the Darien, with HIS pics)

Anyway, on with MY Story.

Adolfo and his wife Marta picked me up at my hostal and we all rode together to the airport.

In order to save $150 I booked a cheaper flight on a different airline than Mario, so he dropped me off at the curb and we agreed to meet at migracion.

Well, I cleared security really quickly, and waited…and waited…and while I was sitting there waiting I took a look at my passport…I did not have the “exit” stamp for my bike in my passport ike I was supposed to….uh oh…so I asked the Aduana agent there if he could stamp my passport..um, calls, consultations with other officials, and some 20 minutes later he said the only way to get it was to go down to the Aduana office and get it from the main Aduana dude. “But what if he’s not available?” I asked. He asssured me that the man was available.

At this point I had 20 minutes until boarding time for my flight…do I wait to meet Adolfo ike I am supposed to and “wing it” when I get to Colombia potentially not having the right paperwork? Perhaps never being able to enter Panama again without a big  fine? Or do I take a chance, walk a 1/4 mile in full motorcycle gear is the 956 degree head, and get my stamp?

I decided to set off as a brisk pace and allow myself PRECISELY 20 minutes…if I did not have my stamp in exactly 20 minutes, I would leave. My flight was $250 and I did not want to miss it–not did I want to miss Adolfo and my motorcycle on the other side.

Well, I should have known, especially after traveling in Central America already for 3 months,  should have been smarter than to think that I could rush ANYTHING in Latin America. but I am American, yes a gringa, and a perpetually optimistic one at that. I find the office, of course the furthest one away, and of course the official was busy! I explained my plight, in a rather agitated way, to one person after another, until I had the entire office consulting on my dilemma: here was my paperwork that the bike had shipped to  Colombia, yet I did not have it stamped out of my passport. Ack! My 20 minutes was up, but they had my passport…I was soooooo close…I was pacing…hurry up…hurry up…weird looks from office stamp whose usual order of business is ‘tranquila‘ (translate: relax!–It’s widely overused here and widely overrated!)  they said he was stamping…25 minutes…pace pace…try not to pace…30 minutes, …………………….. ……………………………………..

done!

With the admonition that next time I should alllow more time. YES M’AM! no problem. Yes, next time, I will allow more time!

And off I ran …  in the now 976 degree heat.

Only to arrive at the gate and see the nice surprise of JP (who I met at the Nicaragua / Costa Rica border) waiting for the same flight…

He informs me that the flight is running 30 minutes  late…great!

JP heads for the tarmac.

I know it’s prohibited, but I am a picture-taking m-a-c-h-i-n-e by now…

Sacked out on the plane…

Landing.

Ah, Colombia. Land of coffee. Girls at the airport sit around with a thermos and will sell you a tinto.

After much confusion after landing (Adolfo is not waiting for me–wait, we did not see each other again in the Panama airport, so he does not know what flight I am on, does not know when I am arriving, does he even know my last name to ask for me?) — an hour later we run into each other and I rush up and surprise him with a hig. Sheesh. For a while there (an hour to be exact) I was a little worried…

Well, we’ve missed a valuable hour and cannot complete the bike paperwork tonight, so the airline agents (for the bikes) bring us to a local hotel. we order a chicken in a box–quite a curious thing–delivered,  no less– and have a good sleep.

The  next morning at the cargo office

I am greatly relieved to see my Suzi arrived safely and in one piece. wow, just two days apart and I realize I really missed my bike!

Sorry the pics aren’t that good…you are not supposed to take pic int he hangars…but how cool is this?!?!?

We repack the bikes, gather our paperwork

get directions to the local chuleco shop (these horrid orange vests that Colombian motorcyclists have to wear with their number plate on them–supposedly to eradicate drive-by moto-violence)

We get our chulecos made

And get directions out of Bogota.