That moment of YES on the bike

After two tumultuous days, this one has been glorious, both in comparison and in its own right.

Since I arrived I have not ridden the bicycle (except in wide-eyed wonder from the airport to the hostel), as I was still acclimating, letting my senses come to terms with what felt safe and what was uncomfortable. I stayed with my musketeers and walked.

But today! I got on the bicycle and set off solo to navigate the city. Finally, on my wheels, the rhythm of pedals and the pulse of the incomprehensible scenes as I flowed past and within them. The taxis, donkey carts, salsa music, the smells of chicken frying, the blaring sunshine. It was a soul-swelling moment of YES, yes I am doing the thing for why I came here. 

I love city bicycling, although my musketeers do not, and in fact it is best done alone for those micro-moment decisions and swerved avoidances.
Without paniers I am swift and maneuverable and joined the flush of humanity headed to central city. This involved some biking up one-way streets, hopping onto sidewalks, lifting the bike over medians. For me it is a zen experience, where I cannot concentrate on any one detail (avoiding potholes, looking for street signs, smiling at an old lady carrying fruit, etc) too much, but must fan out my senses and be aware of all of it at once. And a gentle awareness, too; I actually am not stressed out, because then in stress I'd seize up and lose the joy of it. And most drivers and others on the road are not full of rage, everyone is just going where they need to go and holes in the flow organically produce themselves, and you get around the man pushing the fruit cart while the bus behind you slows down just enough.

I think I'm picking up on one unspoken rule necessary to this, though, which is the Fifth and Sixth Laws of Thermodynamics: objects appearing to make motion in a certain direction are expected to continue in that direction, and, the movement through space of objects should be at steady velocity. Meaning, that if I pull off the sidewalk into the street I should do so smoothly and steadily with conviction, without suddenly changing my course; if Mr Mule Cart looks like he's going to turn left, he is expected to indeed turn left.

It is an un-correographed dance of transport.

I passed through the thickness of the city mess and rode around the jauntily shaped peninsula of Boca Grande and there the streets widened out and it was all ocean views and the ostentatious resort buildings giving me delicious shade. What a blissful little ride that was. Experiencing that area was the high-heeled, well-heeled, air-conditioned turismo Colombia, the preened beaches and numerous taxis; I've been staying deep in some barrio at a sweet hostel for USD$8/night and seeing this side of the city was fascinating contrast.

For the logistically minded:
Tomorrow Lady Elise and I set off on bicycles to begin the actual journey portion of this adventure. We are riding east along the coast, towards Barranquilla, where we will be the weekend for one of the grandest festivals in South America. The festival itself is a UNESCO event. Musketeer Laura will be meeting us there, as she is having her own version of her time in Colombia (bussing and working on a farm, rather than bicycle tripping).

Returning to my bicycle after an afternoon of trotting about the old walled city, and looks like he'd made a friend.

The walled city held such delights for me. I was revelling in the ease and beauty of the day, basting my eyes in the Spanish architecture, enjoying a splurgy Colombian cappuccino (well, just under USD$2 splurging that is), and walking lazily along the top of the fat stone wall encasing the old city. I bought a pair of hideously patterned floofy pants (not shown) and a tiny baby made out of sugar (below). 

Sugar baby.

This guy.

Characteristically colorful street in the walled city.

A Secret Garden, burgeoning out into the street, in the walled city.

Plaza in the walled city.

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