Stats: 104.73 miles, 15.5 avg, 6:45 hours

Since I had stayed an extra day in Aracataca, I wanted to get as far as I could to get back on schedule to make it to Bogota on time to meet Jessica when she arrived. I left Tim at 7:30 am, stopped at a panaderia to get some bread for breakfast, and then got on the road.

Northern Colombia is mostly flat but the heat was intense. It was at least in the high 90s and I was feeling like I was going to explode under my helmet. When my body temperature became unbearable, I would hurry to a spot in the shade, and throw off my helmet and sunglasses with urgency.

After going over 100 miles, I was happy to stop in San Roque. It was a tiny town close to the intersection of two roads. I got hotel for 7000 pesos ($3.50) which included a private bathroom and a fan.

I walked around the town looking for some jugos naturales – I lived for these things. Every chance I got, I stopped for one. But San Roque was barren. People stared at me as I walked by. I’m sure they were wondering how this lone gringo got here, and why he was staying. I asked around about the jugos, and I was directed to an empty table outside someone’s house. An older guy came out and I asked if he served jugos naturales. He said he did. I told him I wanted a mora, which is like a blackberry juice. He scurried off to a nearby store to get the supplies, and I waited. This was typical of Latin American small business – really casual. Not keeping supplies in stock, and not having any change when you paid with a pretty small bill, like $10.

Webcam shot in my residencia in San Roque

Tim brought me into his tiny apartment. Front room > Hallway > Bedroom. The two rooms were tiny cubes with a tiny bathroom in between off the hallway.

There were a few odd things about the bathroom. The first was that there wasn’t any door on it. So Tim might walk by the bathroom as I was taking a poo. Another weird thing was that the water was on for only a few hours each day, so Tim had a garbage can underneath where the water trickled out – out of a faucet that was high up on the wall, like a shower head. But it was nothing like a shower head. Even when the water was on, I tried to turn the handle to get more flow, but it only trickled.

Tim said I could sleep in the front room on the concrete floor. I pulled out my sleeping pad and sheet – it was so hot, I didn’t need a sleeping bag.

I showered in his humble, door-less bathroom. I stood there, exposed, dipping a basin into the water bucket and pouring it over me.

There was no furniture in the front room except a white patio chair. I offered Tim the mangoes I picked up off the road earlier that day. We sat outside – Tim on the patio chair, me on a concrete block – eating mangoes and entertaining a couple of the local crazy people who came up and wanted to talk. One guy kept shouting a word, like “Tica! Tica!” which didn’t mean anything, and seemed to want Tim’s t-shirt.

We walked into the center of town, a couple of blocks away, and got some jugos naturales. The ones I got in Aracataca were probably the best I had in the entire trip, and they were $0.60. It was incredible. Tim and I sat there drinking the nectar of some weird fruits for a while. I treated him to seconds.

Tim had a plan for eating within a tiny budget – his money comes from tutoring English to a few students (definitely not in demand in Aracataca), and selling his poetry on the street. He brought me to a meat stand where they grilled weird cuts of meat. I ate some nasty shit. Some tough, weird-textured thing, like the lining of a stomach or something.

Tim told me I could stay as long as I liked. I got a sense that Tim was lonely in Aracataca. It was a really poor place, and most of the people were uneducated. He told me that there are places to rent there that cost only $25 per month. Although Tim was a little isolated, he planned to stay there until it became a huge tourist attraction. He believes that Aracataca, the birthplace of Gabriel Garcia Marquez is the true Macondo, the fairytale place that Marquez wrote about in his books. Tim believes that heaps of tourists will visit and he’ll be able to give them tours, and start a hostel. I figure he’ll be waiting a long time.

Tim came out to Colombia from the Netherlands to start a trip through all of South America, but he spent a year in Santa Marta, and six months already in Aracataca. He’s really taking it slow, but figures he’ll get around to seeing other countries eventually. He hasn’t been home or seen his family for about two years. And he told me an interesting fact about the Netherlands. It’s not correct to call it “Holland” because Holland is a province within the Netherlands. A lot of the Dutch immigrants that came to the US seeking religious freedom were from the Holland province, so that’s how the misnomer evolved.

The following day, Sunday, he and his friend had plans to float down the river, not on a boat, or an inner tube – just float with your body. I joined them. We walked a few miles up the river, working up a sweat, and then we got in. It felt awesome. The river was really shallow though and we had to prop ourselves up over the rocks most of the time. It took us about two hours to float back to town. At that point, I was exhausted, and ready to get the hell out. As we approached our exit, there were crowds of families making soup on the banks of the river. Apparently it’s a Sunday custom.

When we got back to Tim’s place, we realized that we’d left his white patio chair outside when we left for the river. It was gone. His only chair. His only piece of furniture. He was pretty disappointed since he didn’t have the money to buy a new one. So now his only option for sitting was on the concrete block outside his place.

Stats: 78.83 miles, 13.6 avg mph, 37.2 max, 5:45 hours

As I was hiking out of Tayrona National Park, I was anxious to see if my bike was still at the guard’s station. I didn’t like leaving it there, but I had no other choice – I just had to trust it. When I arrived to the station, my bike was there, but not the pannier I had left. My heart sank, and I stumbled through trying to ask for my “bolsa.” After a few tense minutes of searching around, the guard found my pannier locked in a cabinet.

On my way back towards Santa Marta, the road was littered with mangoes. They lay in the gutter along the road, and no one seemed to want them. Starving for food after being in Tayrona for a couple of days, and with a big appreciation for mangoes as an exotic fruit, I stopped and loaded up with as many mangoes as I could fit in my panniers. I left with about fifteen.

I passed Santa Marta and got on the road towards Bogota.  580 miles to Bogota.

My goal that day was to get to Aracataca, the town where the famous writer of 100 Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, was born. While I was in Santa Marta, I had contacted a hostel through CouchSurfing in Aracataca that offered free camping to see if they’d be available to host. They hadn’t gotten back to me by the time I left for Tayrona, so I assumed it wasn’t going to work.

Late into the afternoon, a cyclist passed me going the other direction. A few minutes later, he caught up to me. He had turned around on his ride to cycle with me. Cristian was a 26-year-old psychologist who was living in Aracataca. He rode with me 10 or so miles, the rest of the way to Aracataca.

I suggested we get a drink, so he brought me to a restaurant that had a lot of photos and paraphernalia of “Gabo.” I was tired from the ride, and Cristian was frustrated with my poor Spanish. As we sat there, Cristian was discussing something with the owner about a Dutch guy in town who spoke English. The owner sent someone to get the English speaker.

A tall, Dutch guy in his mid-twenties with a shag of blond hair showed up. Tim seemed really spaced out, but he spoke English really well. “I think you contacted me a few days ago, and if you like, you can stay with me. It’s not a problem.” He was the CouchSurfer I had contacted!! The only English-speaker in town, and the only CouchSurfer in town. I guess the odds were good.

Every time I would stop to fill up my water bottles, I would have to go through the same routine. I wanted to know that the tap water was okay to drink, and I had to explain that I didn’t want to buy bottled water.

“El agua esta bueno para tomar?” – The water is good to drink?
“No, no quiero agua para comprar. Solo agua regular” – No, I don’t want water to buy. Only regular water.

Many times it was slow to get my point across. I needed a key word.  I needed the word for “tap water.”

On my way up the mountains to Tayrona National Park, I stopped at a roadside snack shop and got a Pepsi. While I was there, I wanted to get my bottles filled up with water, so I went through the same routine. The lady didn’t understand that I didn’t want to buy water, but I had noticed a hose that was giving them a constant flow of water from the mountain, so I pointed to that. “Ahhhh, agua pluma!”  Agua Pluma!!  That was the word.  After confirming that it was good to drink, I filled up.

Video evidence of a Windows 3.1 Launch Party from October 1992. This segment highlights the Photo Wizard that came bundled with Windows 3.1. The VHS was excavated from a time capsule and released 17 years after its creation, As the tape confirms, celebrating the release of a new Windows operating system with a “launch party” is a time-honored tradition. Although it’s an old idea, the Windows party is as lively as ever.

Special thanks to Kevin O’Leary for filming, and Ian Corey for the Photo Wizard screen shots.

When I got back, I really wanted to eat my pasta, but I didn’t have a stove. I asked a couple of guys who were walking by if they had one. They were two jovial American guys, Matt and Tim. They said they had a stove, so they invited me to come over to their campsite later.

When I arrived, I found Matt and Tim on top of a huge rock playing guitar and singing. I joined them on top, and Matt offered me an Argentine tea drink. We laughed a lot and got into some deep discussions about our hopes and dreams.

Claire and Jose were Matt and Tim’s neighbors at the campsite who were going to make dinner too, so we decided to combine forces. Jose was from Argentina and he was dating Clair who was from England. I hate English people. Jose started a fire, and Clair wanted to know what we were going to cook. I had my two small bags of pasta. “Oh,” she said, “I was going to cook pasta too, but if we’re already cooking two bags, it’s probably more than enough for five of us, right?” I told her that I was really hungry and I could probably eat a whole bag myself. So a compromise was struck: “Well let’s cook your pasta and if we want more at the end of it, we can cook up my bag.” I knew this wouldn’t happen. After cooking over a fire, and eating, no one’s going to want to start the whole process over. And I couldn’t stake claim on her bag of pasta for myself if I was the only one who was still hungry. Claire knew she would win. “Oh, and you have sauce too. Great.”

We sat around the fire drinking cheap rum as we cooked the pasta. The most notable point in conversation was when Matt asked Jose if he noticed a difference between American and UK English. I don’t even remember if Jose was able to answer. I just remember Claire jumping in to say that American English is incorrect and difficult to understand, and that Jose was learning “proper” English. She was saying this to an American audience – Matt, Tim, and I. I personally hate the sound of an English voice. Most English accents are ugly, and a few non-native English speakers have told me that it’s difficult for them to understand the UK English accent. But I wouldn’t have told Claire that because I know it’s rude.

Hey guys, great news, the Windows 7 Party Pack arrived!!  So let’s meet up on Friday evening as planned and I’ll run you through some of the tutorials.  I’m really excited to show you all the new bells and whistles.

Which theme should we go with?  PhotoPalooza, Media Mania, Setting up with Ease, or Family Friendly Fun.  I’m leaning towards PhotoPalooza.  I know all you Media Maniacs out there won’t be too happy.  Kyle, I’m looking at you.  HAHAhAH!!

Here’s what came with the Party Pack:

• One limited Signature Edition Windows 7 Ultimate
• One Deck of Playing Cards with Windows 7 Desktop Design
• One Puzzle with Windows 7 Desktop Design
• One Poster with Windows 7 Desktop Design
• Ten Tote Bags with Windows 7 Desktop Design for hosts and guests
• One package of streamers for decoration
• One package of balloons for decoration
• One table top centerpiece for decoration
• One package of Windows 7 napkins

I’ll put together a party favor pack for each of you guys and you can leave carrying a full Windows 7 tote bag.

Contents of the Party Pack:

See you Friday!!  Time to rock and roll.  Can you say “LAUNCH PARTY!”?

I like this.  Bruce is a great storyteller.  Windows sales team rocks!

There’s another section of the Windows 3.1 Launch Party that will be released next week.  It’s a tutorial on the Photo Wizard included in Windows 3.1, a fairy-tale image enhancer where you can “vector” in to a photo without any quality loss.  It’s a simple interface with a smiley face tool which “does whatever I’m talking about, thinking about, or being told to do.”  Amazing usability.

Video evidence of a Windows 3.1 Launch Party from October 1992. The VHS was excavated from a time capsule 17 years after its creation, and released on the official launch date for Windows 7 — 10.22.2009. As the tape confirm, celebrating the release of a new Windows operating system with a “launch party” is a time-honored tradition. Although it’s an old idea, the Windows party is as lively as ever.

“When at a Windows Party …. “