Adventures of a Sun Seeker: In the middle of our own road: Valentine's Day riding

Before our colons overcame us, however, we had some lovely days of riding. And since I, or rather we (and guests), are on a bed, resting quietly with air conditioning, we are quite content and there is nothing I'd like more than to write you about riding bikes in Colombia.

Valentines Day, for instance, was a lovely day for riding. The day began like all days, with the Filling Of The Bottles. We leaned our bikes in the middle of the dogs, coffee vendors, cheese vendors, lemonade carts, and resting taxis, and took turns padding in to the tienda to buy bolsas of water.

I came out of the tienda, cradling my bolsas of water, to find Mr Queso Vendor, his flat box of white curls of cheese set before him, wordlessly and without expression holding Elise's bottle as she poured into it. He must have thought to steady the bottle for her. I set my bottle down on the same table, and began to pour. He reached out and held mine as well, this brown wizened man of cheese, holding the bottles of these two strange traveling women. He said nothing. But I wished him good morning when this whole ritual was finished, and he gave me a polite nod.

Bolsita de agua

Then I ate the last of my dark chocolate, ever-melted, with a spoon, before 7am, in honor of Valentines day. Unlike even Southeast Asia, the Colombians don't do much about Valentines Day. They have their own version in September apparently.

But on the road later, we saw a beautiful bit of love-note graffiti, striking because of its location on a guard rail above a collection of garbage ridden hovels. In Spanish it said, "I love you for a thousand forevers."

Love is everywhere.

There was a new road being built next to the old one, a flat expanse of virgin pavement barricaded off, so us bicyclists effectively had an entire highway to ourselves, being able to slip around the construction barriers and glide onto this empty space. Once past the barricade I curved glorious graceful swoops on my bike across these unused lanes, enjoying not having to mind the trucks, although the truckers on the other road honked happily in appreciation to witness my antics. It was a cyclist's dream, really.

Our own cyclist's road

Fun with yogi bicycling selfies

Eating passionfruit in the middle of our road. Even looking at this photo now seems bizarre--"get outta the road!"--but there was nobody!

These wide-trunk trees always capture our interest. I think this is a kapok (Ceiba) tree.

The landscape we passed through was orange with dessication, an undulating sun-broiled landscape. We climbed slight rises, to be met with views of orange and brown hills stretched out before us, cattle and horses grazing. What a change from the green lines of bananas and palm oil plantations we'd been passing through just days earlier. I felt like it was the equivalent of New Mexico or the dessert of California.

It seems like towns go by themes, all the roadside vendors in that one town selling the same stuff. Thus we passed through Cheese-ville (local speciality: soft spongy cheese served with guava paste), and Watermelon Town (Mrs Watermelon was so pleased to have us she posed her sons next to us and our bikes for photos), and even the Hamlet of Tangerine. There are large dips in the road, spaced to slow down drivers as they pass through the town, and around these dips congregate vendors holding up bags of fruit juice or wads of cheese to sell into the windows of drivers, taking advantage of the available market.