The Final Test

This is the final blog post covering our adventures in Colombia. Just as the tempo of those final days, this post seems to tumble through our last adventure and leave you wondering if you really want to visit Colombia. Believe me, you do, just avoid Bogota like the Plague.

Like the back breaking trek into Rio Claro Nature Preserve, getting out was equally, if not more difficult. Piling all our luggage onto our desperately aching bodies, including our son's since the heat and humidity made walking a workout for him, we started down the road to exit the park. With incredible luck, a truck had mercy on us and agreed to toss our bags up onto their load and take them out to the gate, we however had to continue to walk. You know you are under extreme physical strain when giving all your possessions to a stranger sounds like a good idea. But, amazingly, we arrived at the gate at the same time our bags were being dropped. Now it would be the hard part; there at the side of the highway, we were given the task to "wave down" a bus.

Colombia's bus system went on strike the day we left the jungle. This meant we needed to hurry to catch a bus still en-route because when the bus got to it's destination, that would be where it would stay until the strike was over. Finding ourselves in the middle of nowhere, there was no ticket office and the nearest town was too far to walk. In order to get to Bogota, where we would be flying home from, we needed some serious luck. On the other hand, we were reticent to leave so we teasingly said that if we were stuck in Colombia, we were stuck in Colombia! Maybe that relaxed attitude is what made things seem easy.

Standing on the side of the road, the blazing heat covered our bodies in a slick coat of sweat and the humidity kept it there. Hardly any traffic was on this quite highway making the idea of snagging a bus seem unlikely. We started to toss around ideas of paying a person with a car to give us a ride, or maybe we could send my husband to the next town where he could contract a taxi and come get us. All of the options sounded faintly like the plot of a horror movie. Then suddenly, my husband stepped into the road and a bus, barreling down on him, came to a screeching halt! Quickly we grabbed our 3 huge duffel bags and 3 heavy backpacks and jumped on board. A little travel tip here, it is seriously difficult to be nimble when your bags are stupidly heavy. Thankfully we had drank all the wine we had packed into Rio Claro so we were less 36lbs now.

The buses in Colombia are really pretty nice and they get nicer as they get bigger. It is also very inexpensive so when we got to the bus station in the nearby town and transferred to the Cadillac double level bus to take us the 8 hours to Bogota, we didn't much mind where we sat. Well, some of us didn't mind where we sat. One of us (who shall remain nameless), a man that attacked every one of our insane adventure sports and experiences over the 2 months we were traveling through Colombia with ease and delight, was terrified of being on the top level of the bus as it swayed along the curvy steep roads. An additional $5 each bought us safety in the downstairs 1st class. And some amusement to me since finally I was not the one that was scared to death.

1st class on this cross-country bus was kinda like 1st class on an airplane. Huge lounge chair seats with leg rests and private TVs. I had never been on a bus like this and it made the journey through ever changing, gorgeous terrain fantastic! I started to get excited, I dreamed that our time in Bogota would be like a poem; easy and elegant with a hint of mystery. Then we drove into the outskirts of the city and my fantasy was challenged.

Many times through our travels we had seen poverty, serious slums and hardship, yet the people and areas had a glow of humanity to them. The tiny areas that one could call their own, were clean and well presented even in a falling down shack town, but as we came into Bogota, the streets looked mean. Garbage was piled everywhere and the people had hard faces. It looked like the kind of area that you don't want to go to during the day, much less at night...and it was coming into night. We pulled into the ghetto bus station and pushed past people that looked at us like fresh meat. We found a taxi and directed him to our hotel. The taxi ricocheted through the streets into the "cool old town area", the lights of downtown brightening as darkness set in. Each turn and weave gave us a new vantage point of garbage, homelessness and mass graffiti. There had been plenty of graffiti in other areas of Colombia, but always as art, something charming about it, but this graffiti was absolutely not. Care for the buildings and the city in general seemed to have long been forgotten and drug use was out in the open. Not cute marijuana joints or bottles of booze, I'm talking needles and crack pipes. I realized THIS is what people think of as 'Colombia', this chaos. That is when we sped through a crisscross of highway and there in the middle of the road, was a huge blazing fire and a homeless man ineffectively trying to put it out with his foot as two police men stood and watched.

"If you have to visit this crap city, this is the best hotel in this shit place", the memory of the Bogota hotel review I had read slapped me in the face.

A series of issues lead us to wake up in a fairly modern room in a construction site of a hotel that was NOT the hotel we had booked, but by the time we were laying our heads down, we didn't care. We woke refreshed and ready to give the city a second chance with high hopes we would find that cool place we had pictured in our minds. The guide books are very clear in cautioning you to crime and danger in Bogota, unlike any other places in Colombia, so we decided to try out the best of the safe recommendations before getting wild with the "hidden gems".

The University campus was neat with fantastic cafes and restaurants lining the edges. The rumor of Bogota having great food was definitely true so we started to perk up! Maybe it was just being tired that had given us a bad intro to the city last night? We strolled down to what is considered the shopping/ restaurant district, it was literally packed with people. The noise was at rocket launch level as street vendor's music competed with the music blaring from the permanent stores and guys wanting you to eat at their restaurants literally chased you for blocks yelling about how great the food was. Among the things being sold were various oddities laid out on blankets in the street. It started out benign enough, books and dvds, then quickly books, children's dvds and porn. Then a hodge-podge of kitchen items and baby toys, then socks and socks and sock and shoelaces EVERYWHERE! I mean really, what is the deal with so many shopping carts full of shoelaces for sale? My husband remarked that back at home he can't seem to find shoelaces. He decided it was because the entire world's inventory was there, in Bogota.

The day had taken a turn for the worse and we were tired and disappointed. That was when we literally took a turn for the worse and found the streets were filled with trash being sold on these "vendor blankets". Broken toys, used household items, and even...prepare yourself...used old underpants. At that moment, just as I was about to scream over the noise of the crowd that I was done for the day, we watched a dirty (from head to bare foot) man climb out of a dumpster with an item of clothing and lay it on his blanket to sell. It was clear none of us needed to say anything, we all knew this nightmare needed to end.

Close to our ramshackle hotel was a grocery store with a great selection of wine and a strip of great take out food places. We stocked up, went to our room and hid from the crap day in that shit city. Tucked away in our homemade oasis, the 3 of us curled up on the bed and streamed movies while sipping a glass of wine. The beauty wasn't in the city, but it was certainly in our ability to make those most out of any situation.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

One Last Cheap Thrill

Finishing blogging about Colombia has felt like a small death, as if completing the story would cement the fact that we are in fact back. Like acknowledging that fact would make Colombia evaporate into a dream and would disappear having never happened. But, at this point it is just silly to avoid writing about it since new and amazing adventures welcomed us home and I look forward to sharing those too. So suck it up buttercup and get on with it right?!?

Only an hour or so after surviving the Cave of Death (see previous blog post), we were flying through the jungle trees and zig-zaging over the beautiful Rio Claro. Neither myself, my son, nor my husband had ever gone zip lining before, but here we were, doing yet another crazy adventure sport. Like the others, this one started with a terrorizing moment (or 5) before you'd let go and swing off the cliff side. Even my eyelids were sweating out of fear, but it was my sweet baby boy that had been so brave in the cave and on the mountain top when we went paragliding, that was truly distraught. Somehow this combination of elements blew his mind. So, standing in all his gear, clipped to the line, he stood, white faced and trembling.

Now, I am not the suck-it-up style parent (I save that kind of abuse for myself). Between the various things that make up the cocktail that is my young brilliant son, pressure never, ever results in the action you are hoping to get from him. Ask his dad, he has had to learn through trial and much error that this kid MUST make the decision for himself, and no amount of demanding will sway him.

So there I am in a tight perch over the river, trying to talk my son into letting go. Hmmm...that sentence right there just said so much, kinda sums up our relationship. His dad wasn't with me, he had gone 1st to show us that everything was going to be ok (damn, I'm coming up with some great psychological parallels here) so I was on my own. Sorta amusing to think that the 2 people in the family that would be content to never leave the house (der, where do you think he got this "cocktail" of issues from? They are genetic), would be the ones talking each other into jumping off cliffs to fly at lightening speed into the mouths of jaguars on the other side. What? It could happen! It was a Jaguar preserve originally and now it was our "summer camp" style adventure park. Pretty sure there are still jaguars hiding out there. And pretty sure if they are, they would want to attack the cat toy that is a small human dangling helplessly above them.

Needless to say, after some fast talking and the assistance of a Colombian guide that didn't speak any English, our little trouper was flying! I have to admit, there was some element that the other activities hadn't had that made this one challenge the perceptions of fear and fill you with adrenaline. It also was one of the biggest payoffs because it turned out it wasn't scary at all! It was simply a lovely way to see the jungle!

I have no idea how a family that would rather curl up together on the sofa and watch a great movie while sipping a glass of wine, or snuggle under the covers reading a brilliant book...with a glass of wine, or lay on a beach somewhere...with a nice glass of wine (what did you expect? We do own a winery after all. It's called research!) would end up being the Adventure Family of Colombia, but that corny idea to 'embrace life while you can' was being put to the test in a huge way, and we were loving every minute of it. Even, looking back, the moment I swallowed a giant gulp of bird infested cave water had its own glory.

The zipline finished out our time in this miraculous place. If you plan a trip to Colombia, make sure you include Rio Claro Nature Preserve, it is amazing. Now we needed to prepare for our final stop; the very end of our days in Colombia would be in the city of Bogota. We had a couple precious days to explore the bohemian, artistic, University town before we would fly home. Pangs of pain set in fast as we packed to leave the jungle in the morning. How did 2 months go by so fast? Determined to enjoy the last fleeting days in the most amazing country we've ever been to, we started to look forward to the places we'd explore in Bogota and I pushed the hotel review out of my mind that had read:

 "if you have to visit this crap city, this is the best hotel in this shit place"

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

There is Nothing to Fear but...but a Really Scary Cave!

I stood in 1.5 feet of water, in a pitch black cave of marble, soaked from head to foot, trembling. I was not cold, in fact the humidity kept the cave and water of the jungle warm, but my nerves were shot. Birds I could not see screamed a high pitched warning that we should get out and then took to diving near us clacking their beaks into the slick marble mountains on either side of us. My headlamp lit the faint spot in front of me that I would need to climb up and wedge my foot into before I would jump down the next waterfall into another series of dead black pools. The crushing sound of water made it nearly impossible to shout for help, and I gripped blindly in the dizzying blackness for Jesse's hand. Tears streaked down my already wet face; I was in absolute despair. How the hell did I find myself in that situation? We couldn't go backwards, the previous waterfalls and silky smooth rock made sure of that, but moving forward almost had me paralyzed.

Let us pause for a moment and analyse how I did get into that horrific predicament. My husband may or may not have known that there would be a 2 hour hike though the steep jungle to get to the cave. He may or may not have known that there was a decent chance we would be swimming, not wading, through black pools of water. He may or may not have known that we would jump off many waterfalls in the pitch dark. What he did know, for sure, was that he knew he wanted to do this caving adventure long before we set out on this trip to Colombia. Now add in that I was trying my best to be a YES woman,  so I did not complain about the idea of caving, but then I didn't know what was awaiting me so perhaps in retrospect I might have hesitated more about joining in. Instead, blissfully unaware, I asked the desk clerk to describe the caving to me. His description was on the light side to say the least and included telling me I could wear a bathing suit if I wanted. I don't know about you, but when I hear "bathing suit" I think fun, not fear. Needless to say, his description sucked and you most definitely do NOT want to wear just a bathing suit on this nightmare.

Back in the cave: I tried to lower my 11 year old son onto a step just to the side of the next, bigger, rushing waterfall, a spot closer to the inky pool that waited below so that he wouldn't have to jump so far. Jess waited for our son, treading water, promising to catch him. My hand burned in pain as the sharp ridge of the marble dug into my palm, this handhold was the only thing that kept me from sliding down the slick front of the rock and crushing my child. At my turn, I jumped, a sharp zing of fear shooting up my spine and my heart racing a million miles a minute, I crashed into the pool, sinking far below the surface, and did the one thing they said to make sure not to do...I swallowed a giant gulp of water...of dark pool cave water...of bird poop filled dark cave water. Now, if I survived this cave, I could look forward to giardia. As I swam to the ledge, my running shoes making me a spastic swimmer, I thought of how I mocked the guide when he said "make sure you do not drink the water", telling my husband 'who would be so stupid to drink the water?' well, clearly me, I am that stupid.

Finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, (the opening of the cave, not death, although at that point I would have taken that option too) adrenaline swept through me; I needed out of that God damn cave badly. Rushing toward the opening in thigh high water, relief started to tingle in my hands. And that's when I smashed my right knee into a massive, hidden rock with the force of someone running for their life. The throbbing sent a guttural primitive cry out of me. I struggle onto a ledge, water now only up to mid calf and tried to shine my ever fading headlamp at the wound. Just then, as the birds' incessant screeching pierced the few feet we had to move in, a sharp stab hit my ass. One of those rare, freak birds attacked my ass! It was as if the cave was taking one last swing at finishing me off. I pushed ahead of the few other cavers that were trying to make their escape and climbed up onto a look out that would serve as an exit. A rope ladder in the heavy rush of the final waterfall taunted me, this cave just wouldn't give up! Jesse and our son waited at the bottom, holding onto a rope that would guide our swim against the strong current of the river to the banks of safety on the other side. Photos later would show that my leggings were see-through when wet and as I climbed down the swaying ladder, I'd put on a nice show for all the people that had come to the beautiful river to play for the day.

Exhausted we sat in the shallows of the crystal clear water of the river, the fiercely green jungle jetting thousands of feet up around us, and I cried. I wish I could say I was  doing a happy dance, feeling like a million bucks, but I didn't. I cried a good hard cry. I don't think I have ever been subjected to such a long duration of fear and my entire body shook, rattling with the intensity of it.  My husband rubbed my back and tried to give me a pep-talk. He told me how proud he was of me and how well I did, and then, just like that, he said the words that transformed my entire mood, "honey, lets go get you some wine".

*on a side note, I did not cry the entire time I was in Colombia. I seem to be selecting blog topics that were highly emotional...thus all the crying. I actually had a fantastic time and we spent most days NOT doing terrifying things. The large consumption of wine on the other hand, is a completely accurate depiction of our trip.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Scratching That Itch

Waking up in Rio Claro, in our tree-house open air room, was a treat. I was happy to discover that we had not had any slithering visitors in the night, something they said could happen as you were perched in the dense jungle. A little sleep deprived from the crazy toucan that had come to visit and loudly announced his presence in the night (scaring the you know what out of me), but otherwise ready to see more of this crazy place.

After a surprisingly good breakfast, complete with Colombia's favorite rock hard, flavorless "arepa" (a fat corn tortilla kind of a thing), we set out to raft the Rio Claro's crystal waters.

*(a quick aside) Not sure how or why arepas literally swept the entire country as a good idea, but it was the single most unappealing food we'd come across. My husband had taken to making a face of repulsion any time he forced himself to try another one, it was awesomely hilarious.

Being that we live in Dixon, NM, an area known for its fantastic white water rafting, a float down a river was not exactly 'exciting', but rather a fun activity. That is until they steered our raft directly under the torrent of a waterfall. Our son, a kid that hates having water on his head, screamed in terror. He is 11 by-the-way so it was fully HIS choice to climb aboard this raft, it was not his dad and I torturing a small baby...just wanted to make that clear. With water gushing over my face, I tried to console him, yet as the guide kept us swirling in place, the other guests in the boat loving it, I worried that my child was actually going to jump overboard. Needless to say, it was a bit traumatic. One of the most impressive moments of the trip was when we finally emerged from under the waterfall, our kiddo crying, and he quickly pulled himself together setting his mind to having fun again! A pretty amazing thing for a kid with sensory issues to pull off. I was so proud of him.

The rest of the trip was filled with the guide rattling on about who knows what (remember that there is zero English being spoken anywhere in Colombia so clearly it is not happening in the jungle in the middle of nowhere) only my husband and the other Spanish speakers could say. My son happily drifted off into his imagination, staring into the wild juggle we passed. But me? I was still a little sleep deprived and my brain simply could not keep up with the translating, so while the boat full of people seemed to be having a wonderful time with tales of the history and details about what we were seeing, laughing at jokes that must have been amusing, I started to feel intensely lonely.

Just when I thought I might fall into a deep well of self pity, we pulled onto shore at a huge cave that had a current through a deep pool making it like a ride of sorts. By letting your life vest hold you up, you would let the water push you through the channel in a fast whoosh around a central island and find yourself on the other side. Once again the three of us were laughing and playing and that bond that I had envisioned we'd have, taking on adventures together, was back. Yet there was a lingering open space inside me, I realized with ultra clarity, that I had been focusing so much for 11 years on my family, that I didn't know how to be happy just being with myself, finding my own individual enjoyment. It was a strange sensation and one that would have me pondering for weeks to come.

The raft trip came to an end, leaving us standing in an emerald green field filled with white floppy eared, humpbacked cows, waiting for our ride back to the Lodge. No Colombia story would be complete without yet another insane driving detail, so of course, the truck that arrived was a surprise. This truck looked like it was there for the cows, but no, they squished a couple rafts worth of people onto the benches inside its large wooden box attached to the back of the cab, and hurled us down the road. As the truck swerved and screeched around corners, I watched the slates of the floor move and shift; yep, this was a totally ridiculous way to transport paying guests. A fine dust wafted up from the angry dirt road into our faces and everyone began to cough. No longer surprised by the 'vehicles of fear' in Colombia, my husband and I looked at each other, then we looked at our son, and then in unison, we all laughed. As I bathed in the warmth of our private family joke, I thought again about my personal enjoyment verses the enjoyment of doing things with the people I loved. The raft trip would not have been nearly as fun had I been alone, and the stories we shared over dinner not as fun if we had not experienced it together. But the nagging itch at the back of my mind struggled with feeling deserted when large gaps of time on the trip were spent 'solo'.

Safely back at the Lodge, my son and I trudged our way back to the pay-more-so-you-can-hike-more-room while my husband climbed onto the back of a motorcycle and got a 5 star thrill ride down to the next town to be reconnected with his cell phone...that he had left of the bus the day before. I know, it is totally ludicrous that we both lost our phones within 2 days of each other. Yet here we were again at the mercy of the kindness of the Colombian people to help us retrieve our belongings. Jesse would return hours later with a harrowing story of nearly being smashed by semi-trucks out on the highway and of the incredible juggling it took to get his phone back to him. He had the glow of adrenaline shinning in his cheeks as he regaled us with stories. Again that itch at the back of my mind called for my attention, how was it that he could find himself in any situation and always be jovial, engaged and excited, alone or with loved ones? What was his trick? How did he magically connect with other people, instantly becoming the best of friends and disappear into that new relationship? Was it the motherly instinct to always think of others 1st; give up my comfort and interests for the sake of the family? If I could turn that off, would I too be able to do this? Would I really want to?

That day slid into the night and filled with the strange sounds of the jungle. A bottle of wine and quite conversation with my adoring husband, while our son lay reading in bed, and that itch began to fade. Maybe I didn't need to figure it out, maybe I was over thinking it, or maybe, and hear me out on this, wine really does cure EVERYTHING?

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Drinking in The Beauty of Paradise

Rio Claro is a nature preserve in the jungle of Colombia between Medellin and Bogota. The "hotel" inside the park offers open air rooms and is an all inclusive, meaning breakfast, lunch and dinner are all included in the price and served in the main common area...also open air. Probably a good idea to stock up on bug spray. They tout "no alcohol" on the website so of course Jesse and I had some math to do. How many bottles of wine do you smuggle into a place you will be staying at for 4 days?

After a long bus ride from Guatape, we were dropped at the front gates to the park. It was humid and hot as we stood in the sun and tried to understand how everything worked. Wait, what do you mean there is no transportation to the "hotel"? What do you mean we have to hike all the way in with our 3 enormous duffel bags and 3 horribly heavy backpacks? F#@k, why did we pack so much wine?

Loaded down with bags strapped to every angle of our bodies, we headed down the dirt road into the jungle; sweat poured ferociously down my face, burning my eyes. Parts of my body that I didn't even know could sweat, were sweating. The weight of the luggage made every step difficult and soon, our son was in tears. I could completely empathize with his pain and took his backpack and added it to my load. Now I was afraid I'd have permanent back damage as my spine roared in pain.  Dad, always a champ, was carrying the heaviest of the duffel bags and his backpack...packed with bottles of wine. The air smelled of musk and wild, exotic flowers and the sights and sounds let us know that the real adventure had just begun.

We arrived at the check in, a grueling several mile hike done and thankfully gulped cold water. My head pulsed with each racing heartbeat, my body feeling oddly light after dropping the pile of bags dramatically to the ground. I panted heavily and moaned. It was a lovely scene I had created.

We had paid extra so that we could have a "fully open" room, one that would allow us to be a part of the jungle even while in bed. Because the room was so special, it was located at the end of the nearly mile long path. This path lead us up hill on a cobblestone like path. I say cobblestone "like" because cobblestones are usually rounded and these were more a collection of random, sharp edged rocks stuck in cement. After loading the bags back on our screaming bodies, we took on the last hike to our room. Just when I thought I could make it no further, we came to the step climbing portion of hell. Oddly enormous stairs loomed before us, each one making my legs violently shake under the weight of the bags. I wondered if it would be easier to drop and roll onto each step, but the sharp rocks seemed even more painful should they jab my ribs, as it was the wobble of my ankle (the newly recovering one) and the pain of my feet almost made me cry. So far this part of the vacation was awesome.

I do have to say that even in misery, this place was insanely gorgeous. Colombia just kept besting itself! As the name suggests, the focus is Rio Claro, the crystal clear river that the jungle hugs and the summer camp like lodge sits beside. The walk to our room was a challenge, but it meandered through some of the most stunning scenery you can imagine. Actually that you CAN'T imagine, it was that amazing, even your imagination won't allow you to conceive of such a place. Our room did not disappoint either. We opened the door to a dream like tree-house. The mosquito netting was tied charmingly up above the beds and the bamboo railing on 2 sides of the room let you be 100% a part of the tall jungle trees; the river bubbling far below us. There was a quaint table and chairs nestled into the far end of the room and the shower actually had hot water...sometimes...when there was water. Toucans squawked and monkeys screeched while brightly colored song birds sat at an arm's length away. We blinked wide eyed at the glory of this magical place unable to put what we were seeing into words, we each simply muttered "wow". The incredible room deserved a glass of wine, the view deserved a bottle.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Guatape Rocks!

The day after my dreadful 40th birthday, we boarded a bus for a long journey to Guatape. It was more than our massive amount of luggage that weighed us down that day; leaving Jardin was brutally painful. This little cozy blanket of a town had become home in a surprisingly deep and emotional way.

I'll skip the details of the bus ride, the Medellin city taxi ride of death that had even our taxi driver signing the cross over himself and get to the part where our second bus dropped us off in the charming, tourist magnet of Guatape. This hilly town was bigger than Jardin and rose up from the banks of the finger like lakes that separated it from the other islands, into a colorful town plaza. Each cobblestone street that stretched out from the bustling center was filled with high end tourist shops and cafes. There was nothing beachy about this place, yet it felt like the Yucatan towns of Mexico 20+ years ago. The colonial charm was apparent, yet it felt marketed toward us, almost for show rather than inherent. Don't get me wrong, it IS cute, but it is filled with English speaking tourists and you feel the separation from the locals and the connection to the culture we had in Jardin.

Our time was limited so we tried to make the most of it with night time strolls to see the ornately wood carved church light up in different colors, pass the soccer fields full of kids and the delightful lit up decorations of the open air restaurants. During our one full day in Guatape, that we dubbed as my '40th birthday do over', we set out to explore the greater area.

El Pinol is the name of the giant rock that is the #1 tourist destination of the area. I know it doesn't sound exciting, but this sucker is immense! 650 steep steps up the cement staircase (a case of asthma and a heart attack later) you reach the rock-top patio and look out. The 365 degrees of view was pretty incredible and this area is another wonder to behold as the brilliant blue water threads its way between mounds of emerald green land. A dizzying 650 steps back down the black rock and you find yourself in a maze of little shops. My adorable hubby, wanting 'take 2' of the birthday to rock (pun intended, yes I know I am a dork), he encouraged me to pick out several pairs of adorable earrings. It was shaping up to be a great day...until we got back to the hotel and discovered I'd lost my phone.

My phone is my most important work tool and holds every detail of my life. It would be like the panic of having left your wedding ring somewhere, not as horrible as if you had left your child somewhere, but definitely worth a deep belly sick feeling. I know some of you are holding back the urge to get on a soapbox about how reliant we are on our phones, I know, I hear ya, but save it, my phone is practically a part of my body at this point...if only it truly was then I wouldn't have left it...at the top of the big black rock.

Turns out the phone had fallen out of my bag, been found and turned in to someone that worked there who gave it to a taxi driver who waited until we called the phone (thank God I had it off airplane mode and accepting calls for an important work thing that day). One thing about the people of Columbia we found over and over again was that they wanted to take really good care of us. I wish I felt more of that in the United States. Once reunited with my beloved phone and I'd recovered from my panic attack, I needed a glass of wine. Now it really felt like a day to celebrate!

We finished our day with one of the most incredible meals of our trip, looking out over the delightful town, as we toasted to the next adventure, the much anticipated jungle portion of the trip.

*this post is sponsored by the questions: "now that I'm 40 will I start loosing things more often?" and "how much wine does one buy when headed into the jungle where none is available?"

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly 40's

It took me forever to write this post because I was stuck, unable to move onto the major adventure portion of our trip (oh yes, there are some crazy stories ahead)...because I was stuck on the experience of my 40th birthday. Most people say the 40s are great and considering I was in a shit storm (excuse my language) last year with my health, you'd think I'd agree, BUT I am a big baby and having a temper  tantrum. Why you ask? You were in Colombia on vacation after all right? Yes, I physically was in a wonderful place, mentally  however, I was a hot mess.

The big day arrived... my 40th birthday, our last day in the Garden of Eden, and my child got horribly sick. It was the icing on the cake. Now, like all mothers, I took it in stride; there is nothing like seeing your child sick to kick mama mode into gear. So I ignored the birthday plans we'd made and settled in to spend the day in our apartment. We tried our best to make it fun, my husband Jesse seriously rose to the occasion to make the most of the day, running out to get coffee and food and lots of wine, perhaps aware of what boiled under the surface. Yet the overarching symbolism of my loathsome 40th being filled with puke was not lost on me and by the end of the day I was in tears. The end of the year had challenged me emotionally in ways I can't share in this forum (yes, there ARE some things I don't post publicly) that also added to my midlife crisis. It was as if the culmination of the last 2 years, all the emotions stuffed down, couldn't be held any longer and I wept on Jesse's shoulder.

I can sense your eyes rolling at this point. I know, I know, grow up and get a grip. I actually am, but I had to find a way to describe the birthday because that in part, sets up our next leg of the trip as we leave Jardin and dive deep into the jungle.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Sweet Sensations

The 1st time we went paragliding was epic, but it was so adrenaline filled and insanely unique of an experience that it immediately slipped through the fingers of our memory. The sensation, the images, it all faded into a blur and made myself, my husband and my 11 year old son demand another go.

It was my husband Jesse's birthday and while being in Jardin, Colombia was clearly gift enough, we took the opportunity to sail the skies again. Having done it once before, in the neighboring town, we felt like pros as we climbed into the back of the open jeep; gratitude swept over us that it was not the crap van the other company used to try to kill us in. But then we hit the trail and decided that the way anyone gets from point A to point B on the small little roads of the area was to see how close to death they could get. Jess has an CJ jeep at home so we are no strangers to off-roading, but this was something different, even Jesse was nervous. The jeep rocked hard side to side tilting perilously onto the left tires, then the right as we griped anything we could to stay inside. Soon, as we launched off another boulder, we started to laugh at the absurdity of being in the most terrifying of vehicle journeys yet again. Maybe the guide books were right to warn us about driving in Colombia.

We were less nervous going into this round of jumping off a cliff than the first time we decided to, but the full body tingling had been surging before we even got into the jeep. By the time we got to the top of the hill, our hands were shaking, our hearts were racing and we were once again wondering why we were being such crazy asses.

The hilltop we were to fly off this time was not the hellish steep cliff-side from the 1st time, but was a gentle slope, a welcome sight! The wind was perfect and they teamed each of us up with a pilot immediately. This too was a wonderful surprise as this meant we would, all three, be in the air at the same time. Quickly we were clipped in and before we could silently throw-up in our mouths, we were launched high above the Emerald City below; a gentle, warm breeze blowing against our faces.

Sweeping to the right over luscious fruit farms, we began swirling up up up into the clouds, a chill raised goosebumps on my arms and I swung my legs, relishing the sensation of the wind against them. We sailed over dense green hills and through wild jungle filled valleys, past diamond dazzling waterfalls and spun down toward the caramel colored stone town. We floated over the tight lines of coffee farms and blue bagged banana trees, we passed cows on hillsides close enough to almost pet and danced between immense flowering trees. Intermediate butterflies fluttered in my stomach as the currents of air would change, making us wobble and reminding me that I was dangling thousands of feet off the ground. But the sheer outrageousness of being flown through the sky, unencumbered, was addictive. I watched as the golden sunlight moved across the layered mountains and glinted off the tile roofs of the buildings below; an impossible view to behold and yet I was seeing it. The beauty of the world, this country, lodged a lump into my throat and as tears rolled down my cheeks, my chin began to tremble and I took a moment to absorb this amazing experience with every particle of myself. As if trying to record it deep down in my core.

It was a glorious day for paragliding which meant we were able to stay in the sky for an unprecedented full hour. There was only a week left to our stay in Jardin and as we soared with birds and under rainbows, I said a goodbye to this place of perfection. To have had the chance to not only visit this town, but to truly live here among its kind, caring people, felt like a punch to the heart as the ache of leaving set in. Our time in Colombia was anything but expected and more than I could have ever wished for. We set off on this adventure unsure what we would find; what we found was utter happiness.

We slid to the soft grass at the end of our flight exhilarated, a feeling of celebration bubbling from the three of us. We delighted in sharing stories of our individual experiences and laughed as we sipped wine at our favorite cafe. Jess' deep voice full of excitement rippled against my son's infectious smile, wide and bright over his lime/ coconut drink and echoed the pure bliss I felt. Like the Dorothy Parker reading night on the sailboat at the beginning of our adventure, this would be another magical moment I would never forget.

*this post is brought to you by sappy sentiment which I recommend pairing with our San Francisco International Wine Competition winners Aglianico (bronze medal red wine) or Abbott White (Silver medal white wine blend)

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

The Splendor of Love

Living in Jardin, Colombia was like a dream, hazy and easy. Time slipped away silky smooth like the sand in an hourglass. Hours slid into days which slid into weeks. We slept in, meandered to our favorite cafe where we would drink coffee for hours and got to know each other in a way forgotten by most families. The bright sun would heighten the dazzling scent of the blooming roses that packed the center square as children giggled in the distance. A light warm rain, would come every afternoon sending us, along with the locals, back home.  The rain was fuzzy, not the hard cold drops we know of at home, and it cradled you as you moved about in it. The afternoon would be spent with each of us reading a great book as my husband and son curled up next to next to me. As the evening turned the light a rich gold and the droplets of rain made the emerald green of the mountains become even more vivid, we would head to our favorite cafe once more. Our second daily stop at the cafe would be for wine and people watching as the local vendors set up shop and many gathered for an afterwork libation. On weekends the plaza was gently packed with tourists from Medellin, a Colombian city 4 hours away. During the weekdays, the town was as romantically sleepy as a Gabriel Garcia Marquez story. Surprise events would spring up dazzling us with charm and awe and soon we were recognized by the town as permanent fixtures. Our favorite bistros and waiters greeted us even more friendly than before and knew our order as we walked through the door. The love affair we had with this town was deep and passionate and seeped through our veins like morphine.

Over the time we were in Jardin, we talked about things we may want to do; paragliding again, but over the town itself this time, possible waterfall repelling, the little colonial museum, the tiny box they called a tram that crossed the river, the Los Rochas bird sanctuary and a host of bistros we had to eat at. The problem was, as we oozed into life in this jewel of a town, like a fine wine that slips down your throat, enticing your taste buds, tingling your every sense and wooing you moment by moment, we found it increasingly difficult to motivate.

It took several days of talking about the "tram" to finally will ourselves the few blocks to the odd crate that dangled parlously over the immense gorge and river below.  When we finally did, it was like everything in Colombia, a thrill and unexpectedly delightful. The tiny box swayed as it crossed threatening to drop us to our death, yet offered stunning views of the banana farms. When we finally made our way the couple blocks in the opposite direction of the tram to the bird sanctuary, we were embraced by a lush, dense jungle filled with strange birds; benches built into the trees giving you an unbelievable ability to be in their world. When we finally made it to the boutique that was a scant few steps from our favorite cafe, we found the ultimate in Colombian fashion and showered ourselves in items sure to never be found elsewhere. Each visit clearly well worth the effort to seek these things out.

However, it wasn't until my husband Jess' birthday, toward the end of our trip, that we were able to get to the most exciting of all experiences, our second paragliding adventure. Our love affair with Jardin had been like one of teenagers lusting after each other, but once we saw the town from above, caressed her steep hills and coffee farms in this way, did we truly fall madly in love.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Why Don't You Go Jump Off a Cliff?

Even as we sit here, trying to edit paragliding videos, I can't quite put into words what it is like to have this crazy experience. My husband, my 11yr old son and I have now jumped off a cliff twice. I mean who does that? Evidently we do, we do that, repeatedly.

It was as we walked home from our coffee farm hike that we saw the sky filled with paragliders and had the thought that that would be the best way to really see this gorgeous Colombian valley. $40 to jump off a cliff seemed like a great deal so we signed our death warrants and prepared to fly. I can feel you seasoned paragliders rolling your eyes, but try to remember back to your 1st time...weren't you scared?

The morning of our 1st paragliding trip, we climbed into the van full of doubts. We had tried to eat breakfast, but the nerves made it hard to even have coffee. Let that statement just sink in a second...it was hard for coffee addicts, in Colombia, to drink coffee. Those are some powerful nerves. Somehow the idea of throwing ourselves off a cliff, and for me and Jesse, allowing our child to jump off a cliff, was the focus of our fear, but it turns out we had plenty more to worry about.

The van trip took us to the nearby town of Los Andes and way way way up into the mountains. Remember the dangerous car trip we took into the jungle a blog back? Well, we were about to recreate it. It was amazing the rocks that our pilots drove this van over, bouncing us hard off the metal structure of the seats as we careened around blind corners and charged up steep hills. Sometimes the old, tired van was unable to have the steam to make it to the top and needed to roll back down and start again. We would tilt precariously at the top of the hill and then race down and around another corner. At one of these ridiculous curves, I made the mistake of looking out the window, down into the valley below, and see that the van was barely on the road! This made my fear sky rocket and I gripped onto Jesse. It wasn't but a few seconds later that we felt the van sink into 2 feet of mud. The driver gunned the gas and we swashed closer to the cliff's edge, then he backed up and took a running charge at the bog...aiming for the cliff side! All three of us were terrified and I started asking to walk. When the rest of the pilots jumped out to try to push the van, which was stuck again, through the ever growing mud pit, they wouldn't allow us out. I think they didn't quite get how bad we wanted out and thought it best to not have the clients pushing the van. No, no I don't want to push the van, I want to hitchhike back to Jardin and be done with this shit show.

By the time we parked the van at the base of a trail, I was in a full sweat and trying to hold back tears. We hiked straight up the mountain side, feeling the burn in our backsides and emerged from banana trees and coffee plants to a small clearing with a almost vertical expanse of grass that ended in a cliff. This is where we would run down to leap into the air. I could hardly even stand up on this flight path and I was going to have to run down it? This was starting to seem like a really bad idea. Luckily, or maybe not, there was no wind and so we sat for 40 mins, catching our breath and looking at our impending death. However, we all agreed that flinging ourselves off the cliff was a far better idea than getting in the van and driving back down that road. Migrant coffee laborers emerged from the fields to video the crazy gringos that were going to jump off a cliff; we exchanged looks with them as if to say 'I know, this is seriously stupid'.

Finally the wind picked up and we got our son geared up. He repeated "I'm scared" like a mantra, but followed instructions to get in place. My hands were slippery with sweat and I worked really hard to speak in a calm voice. Then suddenly they counted to 3 and ran, with my child, off the cliff. I almost peed my pants.

I was to be next. I looked to Jess for his classic "you got this babe" face and found a pale, worried look staring back at me. Oh crap. "I have to be at least as brave as our son was right?" I asked nervously laughing. "Yes, but I'm scared" was his response. This was NOT good! How the hell do I back out now?

Before I knew it, I was being yelled at "Run! Run! Run!", I leaned hard against the force trying to pull me backward as the fabric filled with wind. My feet slid fighting me and I literally ran as hard as I could...in place. What the hell?!? Then in a sudden burst, I was released down the hill and off the cliff. My heart raced and I thought I might vomit, then that was it, we were in the air! I pushed the straps down and sat in the sling seat. We swept up into the air and over the trees and I couldn't help but cry out in excitement. We swirled over the rolling green hills and farms in an exhilarating woosh that I hoped would never end.

It is absolutely just like you imagine flying to be in your dreams. The warm air against your face, the extraordinary views, and the ultimate sense of freedom. There is also the wobble that sends tingles down your spine as you realize you are only hooked to the pilot with 2 carabiners and a small strap that is loosely over the front of you. It is unlike anything else I have ever done. I'd say it was like scuba diving when you catch a current and fly through the water, but it isn't even close. It is pure magic; you are thousands of feet up in the air, an all too unnatural place for a human to be, and the sensation is indescribable. All too soon, we were coming in for a landing. "Pick up your feet" my pilot yelled and we slid on our butts into a field of cattle, way to close to the cows for my comfort, but hey, I was alive and my cheering boy was beaming at me "Can we do it again?!?" he asked, almost busting out of his skin with happiness. Yes, we definitely needed to do it again; this was hands down the coolest thing I had ever done.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

What's That Sound?

The morning we drove our tiny 'Tic Tak' of a car over the hill and through the jungle, was bright and sunny with high clouds giving us a perfect day to... die a horrible death. The road through this jungle pass was what the guide books had been referencing as "crap", OK maybe they didn't use that specific word, but there was not much to call a road. It was that kind of road that would make a 20 mile trip, take all day. But we didn't care, we had all day, and if needed we could cut the trip short and return to one of the charming road side restaurant/ bars, the ones that had open palapa style patios overlooking the breathtaking town of Jardin. Maybe one of those bars should have been the entire destination for the day, but we didn't know that till later.

As we bobbed up and down, jostled by the holes in the road, we marveled at the grandeur of the cliff-side this road was cut into. Skinny waterfalls snaked through the lush green and sheer drop-offs made our palms sweat. We climbed higher and higher, stopping to take photos of each flower, like Dorothy in the 'Wizard of Oz', in pure wonder of each plant we saw. The road came to meet the clouds and we found ourselves in yet another, somehow new, jungle world. This area was so magical and beautiful that even the cows were gorgeous. At one point, we stopped to watch as a brand new, jet black baby cow was urged to stand on his wobbling legs by his huge mother. Their giant back humps and big floppy ears made them cuddle worthy. Their coats, clean and short, almost shining, made them add to the mountainous countryside view in a picture perfect way.

After a solid couple hours meandering up this now muddy road, we discovered that we would never have time to drive all the way to the next town, and with the road turning to soup with each roll of the tire, we knew the 'Tic Tak' wasn't going to make it; we decided to turn back. It is important at this juncture to mention that as we had climbed ever upward, there had been a specific spot in the road where rocks had fallen, not bad, but enough to take note and to draw our attention to the sudden disappearance of earth to the side of the car which plummeted 1000ft down to a river. Most people would have seen this as an ominous sign, but being that my husband and I are from rural Northern New Mexico (where it is a form of entertainment to try to kill yourself via bad road romping), we did not. However, as we returned to that spot, we found large rocks had since been tossed into our path. Again putting my Northern New Mexico skills to work, I jumped out of the car to throw the largest of the rocks out of the way for my husband to navigate the car through. As I heaved rocks off the cliff, Jesse took pictures of me, suddenly something seemed off about this arrangement. You are thinking it was that I was the one in the road tossing heavy rocks while my husband relaxed in the car, but while true, that was not what gave me pause. In fact it was the low sound of a rumble, slight, easy to miss, then the unmistakable sound of rock bouncing off of rock.

I looked up, hands muddy, just in time to see an avalanche of rocks headed for me. I scrambled over the unsteady ground, my cute leather flats becoming the glaringly wrong footwear for the outing. My heart racing and my eyes almost as big as the rocks the mountain was hurling at me. I don't know if Jesse saw it at the same time or if my panicked running cued him to looking up the steep mountainside, but as I approached the driver's side of the car, mentally willing it to get out of the way, Jess threw it in reverse. For a few yards I ran alongside the reversing car, trying simultaneously to not have my feet run over and not falling down the 1000ft chasm. The clashing of rocks slowed to a friendly ding as the final few came to a resting place in the road and my heart found a resting place in my throat. Jess instinctively looked at our son who sat wide eyed and mouth gaping in the back seat, making sure he was OK. We all, including the 'Tic Tak' were unharmed...other than the massive heart attack I was having. We exchanged nervous, relieved laughter for a moment and then reality struck, if we didn't get across this, we'd be stuck way up this mountain with evening approaching, the clouds getting blacker and no supplies. Jess quickly conveyed the urgency of the situation to me and I carefully tip toed back toward the path of the landslide. I moved as quietly and carefully as I could, not wanting to awaken the beast yet again. The adrenaline had my heart racing and it thumped in my ears. With shaking hands I ran for it, grabbing the largest of rocks and tossing them to the side as I went, Jesse expertly maneuvered through the path I made behind me.

Once back in the car, safely on our way again, we recounted the harrowing experience and how lucky we were. My head started to hurt and I felt nauseous. I felt shaky and my body buzzed with an ache all too familiar. Adrenaline releases cortisol, a potent, powerful hormone that had been the route cause of my symptoms while battling my brain tumor. I recognized the feeling immediately. I sat in silence for a few moments, full of emotion, partly because that was a scary as shit experience and partly because I knew that the cortisol coursing through me, wouldn't intensify, but would pass, and I was filled with gratitude that I was healthy again.

My son hates when I say corny stuff like "I'm going to really live because I thought I was going to die", and I remember rolling my eyes at statements like that prior to my health battles, but when you dream of far away lands and exotic adventures, when you think of how fiercely you love your husband and child, the thought that you could leave them, never see those places, never do the things you kept saying you'd do 'some day', something happens to you. I don't know that I will ever have the words to describe what it is like, but as I sat quite in the car, bouncing back down the road to our oasis roadside bar, excited laughter bubbling from my son and my husband's reassuring hand on my leg, I felt exquisite joy.

Now the trick is to really 'live it up' without possibly killing us all.

* This blog post is brought to you by the large amounts of wine we consumed to calm our nerves. I find that fear pairs best with a cool clean Chardonnay while anxiety pairs best with a bold Cabernet Sauvignon.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Well, That's Weird

I know I left you hanging on that last post, waiting to hear about our drive into the jungle, but I want to take a moment to side track to focusing on the people and the culture of Colombia. Every country I visit, I find it's the little differences that always what make me smile. It's the quirks that give you insight into their culture or, ours by reflection. Here are a few of the funnest ones I've picked up on.

ONE WAY STREETS: Our time in Cartagena was spent among the tiny roads of the old walled city. These tiny roads were a tight squeeze for the surprisingly large, United States style cars, but didn't stop Colombians from attempting to cram them past parked cars or imposing buildings. As you can imagine the network of roads needed one ways because you simply can't fit the cars going both ways. In many circumstances, one way streets can be super frustrating, you want to be where you can't quite get to...always. But the Colombians have a great way to deal with this! You just back your car down the street. This way you are getting to where you want to get to without the hassle of driving around the block, finding the correct alley and navigating a maze. Yes, that is right, simply throw the car in reverse (don't worry, the cars around you will make way) and back into and down the street. Should there be a cop watching you, thinking about giving you a ticket, you have reasonable probability that you were NOT attempting to drive down the street the wrong way, because your car is, in fact, facing the correct direction. The 1st time we saw this was out a restaurant window and we were shocked, what on earth was this person thinking?!? A few more times witnessing it and we decided there was a touch of brilliance to it.

ICE CREAM: I like ice cream, it's a fine treat, but I can take it or leave it. A great ice cream time to time is fabulous, like when you are at the Trevi Fountain in Italy and the world's best Gelato shop is right there. But Colombians, at least where we have been visiting, have a serious thing for ice cream. When in Cartagena, I thought it was because it was so damn hot, made sense that you'd want something cold, but in the mountains where it is cool, that theory had to be thrown out. Maybe the reason why it caught my attention was because in the United States, you rarely see big tough looking men, eating a double scoop ice cream cone. In the USA, macho is going without delicious ice cream...or anything else that could challenge how masculine you are. In Colombia, that is absolutely not the case. Farmers, rough men that are taking a break from their work, congregate and chat...with ice cream cones. Wise old men that have seen more than we could imagine, rock onto the back legs of their wooden chairs and discuss topics of the world...with ice cream cones. Families stride out in the evenings and every single person in the family has an ice cream cone. Once you see that it is a country wide obsession, then it makes more sense why every single place you go, shops, cafes, even bars, all have ice cream.

WAITERS: In the States, at a cafe or a restaurant, the waiters/ waitresses, hover. They are always coming by to up-sell your ticket, see what else they can fetch for you and are at your side with the slightest of head nods. In Colombia, you can sit at a busy cafe for a 1/2 hour before anyone will come to see if you want something to drink. Once you get said drink, you will not see the waiter again. You can chat with friends or read a book for hours and not be bothered. Which is great, if you don't want anything else, but if you are hoping for another coffee or a bite to eat...you could be a 100yrs old before someone checks on you if you just sit there. All our usual tricks didn't work either. Catching the eye of your waitress was beyond difficult, it's as if they are told that making eye contact with a patron is rude unless you have been asked to do so, formally. The whole head nod is taken as saying 'hello', no seriously, they will smile and nod back at you but STILL not visit your table! Know what you have to do? Clap AT them. Maybe you have encountered this in your life, but this was a first for us and incredibly uncomfortable. After watching locals initiate a crisp 1, 2 clap that instantaneously brought a waiter to their side, we figured it out. We felt so weird about it, that we didn't do it correctly for the first few times and since we didn't do it correctly, we didn't get the result we wanted, which made us all the more uncomfortable. We decided it was easier to walk right up to a waitress and ask for what you wanted. But as it is when you melt into the culture around you, you get used to the sounds and activities, and before you know it, without pausing in conversation, I slkapped my hands together in a loud distinct 1, 2 clap and ordered more coffee for us. Once you get the hang of it, it is awesome! They will completely leave you alone, no urging for you to pay your bill and leave or any untimely interruptions, just an efficient, polite exchange, when YOU want it.

WHATSAPP: Given that I am about to be 40 and live in rural New Mexico where people actually fight to keep cell towers out of their towns, I did not realize that the app "WhatsApp" was sweeping the globe. I had heard people ask if I was on 'WhatsApp' or tell someone "I'll WhatsApp you later!", but my reference for it ended there. Now, in another country where I wanted to contact people at home, the absolutely free app that allows you to talk or call if on WiFi, is a necessity. Now, backing up for reference, we really have a crap system for WiFi where we live in addition to crap cell service so I couldn't imagine how this app would work other than waiting until I got back to our hotel each night or something like that, it seemed very limiting. BUT as it turns out, all across Colombia, the cafes and restaurants and center plazas, offer free WiFi! I seriously felt like an old person figuring out this 'amazing new invention'.

CHEESE: For a country that doesn't have much to offer in the way of cheese, I mean in comparison to France which has hundreds of different delicious cheeses, Colombians put cheese in literally everything. Want bread? It has cheese in it; it can range from baked on top to an actual thread of it through the center. Want a sandwich? It will absolutely have cheese on it. Pizza of course has cheese on it, but no sauce...which is really bread with cheese...only flat. Want a doughnut or pastry? Oh yes, it will have cheese in it. It is always the same, white, fresh, un-melting cheese too. I have to say, I love this somewhat potent addition to everything, but if you didn't like cheese and my son does not, then it can be a strange issue to contend with.

There are of course so many other delightful idiosyncrasies that have been discovered on this adventure, things that probably made us glaringly obvious as tourists that we did incorrectly, but it takes time to fall into the rhythm of a place. Now that we have, we love to sit and watch new comers at the cafes. The other day, a group tentatively selected a table and sat down, clearly they had been travelling for some time, a look of being worn in had settled on them, yet as they raised their hands and mildly clapped 1,2,3, we knew they were just starting to 'get it'. I couldn't help but smile as I signaled the waitress with the correct 1,2 paid her, told my husband I'd WhatsApp him to meet up in a little bit and set off to get my daily ice cream.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!

Coffee, Coffee, Coffee

You can't visit Colombia and NOT visit a coffee farm right? Yes, I am right. Coffee is my other go to (hello, wine is my 1st) and one I love greatly yet it became obvious that I really knew nothing about it. Did you know that the coffee plant is a tree and what keeps them from growing into huge trees is that they are cut down keeping them manageable for harvesting the berries...yes berries, the bean is inside the berry. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. In order to appropriately explain a trip to a coffee farm, I must set the scene.

The hills surrounding Jardin (a town 4 hour drive from Medellin) are steep, majestic, sweeping shades of green filled with bamboo, pines, palms, ferns, tropical flowers and coffee plants. The jungle paths that wined up the mountains play peek-a-boo with waterfalls while strange vibrantly colored birds sweep past you. Having hired a "tour" to take us privately to the coffee farm, we found ourselves in the company of a similar man to the Captain of our sailboat from Panama to Colombia, a man of less than a few words. Jesse, my Spanish speaking husband, inquired as we walked, what the trees or birds we saw were called or about the area in general, to which the man grunted one word answers. Luckily the shockingly beautiful views kept us happy. Being that zero information was being exchanged, we had no way of knowing that this hike would be several miles with a steep ascent to the top where the coffee farm was. It was so steep in fact, that my converse tennis shoes started slipping on the moist path making my tired legs strain to keep me upright. However, greeting us at the top was the most amazing view of the valley below and we gratefully sat on the big flower laden porch of the house, sipping freshly made lemonade, smelling freshly brewed coffee and catching our breath.

*As a side note, about half way through this hike, we had the pleasure of touring a handmade tunnel that pierced the rock mountain. After dodging 3 different kinds of attacking bat, this marvel emptied you out under a waterfall. A super cool thing to see if you are OK with vile flying rats. It was a dose of adrenaline for me and comic relief for my boys as I screamed, ducked and dodged the disgusting vermin. Now back to the coffee.

Another group was finishing up their tour of the farm when we arrived so we had the chance to admire their horses. "You didn't want to ride up here?" the other guide asked. We told him we had no idea how far it was or that horseback was an option. He looked puzzled, we felt annoyed, all of us looked at our guide in disbelief. This was definitely a stunt the Sailboat Captain would have pulled. The rest of our time with the guide would be with me referring to him as 'Captain'.

Once our tour started, we were taken into the coffee fields which were behind the house and straight up the hillside. I asked if they needed to wear harnesses and clip in to the mountain to stay on it while harvesting, the farmer thought this funny and continued to march us up the almost vertical face with a warm chuckle. A bucket strapped to his waist, Jesse reached into the lush foliage in search of the red berries as the farmer told us about the process and about the plant. This detailed information is delicious to people that own a winery and vineyards which the farmer seemed particularly happy about. About five million photos of my hubby and son picking coffee and Jesse falling down the mountain (OK he just slid a few feet under a coffee bush, but it was definitely photo worthy and made my earlier question about needing a harness valid), and we were back on safe ground. The shelling, shucking, and drying process is as work intensive and detailed as the wine making process is. Then we have the roasting, which we did by hand in the farm house kitchen, brings out different aromas which I would compare to a wine having barrel aging. All the work that goes into a finished cup of coffee is astonishing and the fact that it is $0.33 in Colombia is really mind blowing. Finally we sat at the table, a view so breath taking you wanted to gauge your eyes out afterward since there would be no point in seeing anything after seeing that intensely beautiful a sight, and drank our fresh espresso. We introduced our 11 yr old son to a mostly milk and sugar version of coffee and discussed the aromas and flavors that made this farm's coffee different than any other. It was magical.

'Captain' lead us back down the mountain and into town 5 hours after our start that morning. We were drained and starving, but the adventure was enough to encourage us to do more exploration of the hidden roads that dove into the jungle. It was agreed, the next day we would take the 'Tic Tak' of a car over the hill and through the woods to the next village. Or so we thought.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Home Sweet Home

Clearly from reading the posts about how incredible the small town of Jardin, Colombia is, it will be
no surprise that we decided we needed to find a rental and make it our home for a full month. Now this seemed like an easy thing to do, however was anything but. The things we wanted, a house with a yard and great view, at least 2 bedrooms (maybe more for visiting guests), close to town and of course in our budget.While it looked attainable on web listings, this needed to be scaled back...considerably. We found the ideal spot, but it turned out the owner listed was no longer the owner and finding the current one was impossible, obviously not the American way of doing business. The other options we searched out online were either ridiculously expensive or ridiculously bad. Feeling like we were hitting a dead end on our own, we enlisted the help of a local professional.

Meeting the real estate lady one evening, she lead us to a close by apartment. The building was modern and echoed in the large hallway, it seemed promising even in a somewhat cold atmosphere. Then we saw the inside. A large room with a sleek, nice kitchen off to the right greeted us and two bedrooms were visible from the doorway...and nothing else. No windows AT ALL and no furniture (other than 2 plastic chairs). Oddly enough, the bedrooms had so many beds crammed in them, that it was almost impossible to walk in. I guess we had forgotten to request furniture? Oh no, she pointed out, "there are these plastic chairs for your comfort". Uhhhhh...this is so not going to work.

I should take a moment to say that even though we loved our hotel, the rooms were all in the center of the building meaning no windows to the outside and the shutter like 'windows' all opened into the center of the common space with the result of feeling like you were in a box when they were closed. Also, because the colonial style building of the area had zero insulation, and I am not being dramatic, ZERO insulation, the noise from the grand Church on the plaza, to which the hotel sat adjacent to, was insane. The Church seemed to ring the bells at all hours of the night and for no apparent reason. The ringing of these Church bells seemed to have no rhythm or song that it needed to adhere to resulting in a clanging of different bells at all different times sending a jarring pain into your muscles as it echoed off every wall and inside your brain, it was down right painful. This all played into my need for a window to the OUTSIDE and a concern about noise...there was literally no other place that could compete with the noise of those bells, but street noise was a consideration.

We were told that there were precious few places available to rent in this adorable town so being picky wasn't an option. She assured us that if we could stay a few more days at the hotel, another apartment in that same building would be available and this one, oh yes, this one had furniture AND windows. My mind immediately pictured a cheap, plastic patio set with the "more" being that the chairs were accompanied with a matching table, but hey at least it would have a table! The trick with this place was it was currently occupied so there was no option to see it, it would be a roll of the dice. One last thing, this apartment was street side so there would be some noise, being a block from the Church should dull the ringing though. My husband tried to explain that his picky-ass wife really wanted a view, windows and furniture. She made some calls and said there was a house that was perfect that she could show us, but it didn't have wifi. Now this was a deal breaker because I needed to work on my laptop and we are a internet loving, movie watching family.

We tossed over the options, disappointment starting to settle in. Maybe we needed to move on to another town? The sting of this thought provided us with the realization that maybe we could go with a less 'perfect' spot simply so we could stay in Jardin. I quickly said "OK, if I can have a window, even just one to the outside and something to sit on...we could even buy it ourselves, I can do it", my son wouldn't budge on the need for 2 rooms (and frankly my husband and I felt that was a necessity as well) and we all agreed wifi had to be available. When we met with the real estate agent again the next day, we were prepared to compromise and asked if there was some way to help the owner of this 'perfect' house put wifi in, she delightfully said yes and we skipped off to see our new place!

Skipping became walking which became hesitant plodding as street after street took us out of the charming town center and into the funky part of town. It isn't that I would say it was unsafe, but I would not be walking alone at night and there would be a complete stop to my son's independence that he was growing to love. We finally arrived at the concrete square that was called a 'house' and went in. Clearly a grandma's home, this place definitely had furniture, it was loaded with furniture! Furniture and Christmas decorations, and Catholic statues, art and crosses were all crammed into every inch of this place. The walls were packed with family photos which oddly made me feel like an intruder and the 4 bedrooms were complete with huge crucifixes that dwarfed the beds they hung over, leaning imposingly away from the wall and into each room. I started to have visions of "The Exorcist" movie. In the center of the home, was a large square open space that was unroofed. Yes, this home was completely open to the elements. Now had we been in Cartagena where it was hot, maybe, but in the high mountains where it rains every day and you need a jacket at night, uhhhh maybe not. The promised windows opened to the sad street and that amazing view was seen only if you wanted to become a part of the sad street seen and point your plastic chairs down the hill to the vista at the end of the road. My husband, Jesse, beamed "what do you think? Yes, don't you think? It's definitely a yes?" hmmmm... I'd say definitely a no. I could see the frustration in Jess' face as he asked why I didn't like it. I felt a knot build in my stomach and I tried not to be emotional. There was no way I was going to walk through the ghetto to get to grandma's exorcist home only to be rained on...while inside. I reasoned that if there was no view at this house and no view at the mystery apartment we had yet to see, then at least the apartment was extremely close to the town square and we could spend most of our time at a charming cafe. What was the point in staying in Jardin an entire month if we hated where we lived?

It was time to involve our kiddo. His sensory issues being at the center of our concerns, he needed to weigh in and let us know where he would be most comfortable and I assured him that we would make any spot work. I've become a pro at stuffing my feelings as much as possible in order to buoy my son in uncomfortable situations. After a long heart to heart, all three of us agreed to roll the dice and rent the mystery apartment.

Move in day we were all on pins and needles. I had started searching out cheap furniture shops in the days leading up to moving in and we all started talking up how sitting at cafes 100% of the time would be great. We walked our heavy bags from the hotel, across the central plaza park, down a short street and around a corner to our new home. The over sized door swung open and like contestants on a game show, we held our breath in anticipation of what we'd 'won'.

We entered a large modern room with a open kitchen to the left, a stainless topped island with charming chairs in the center and a black leather sofa to the right. IT HAD FURNITURE!!!! Relief swept over me. The two bedrooms faced the street, a charming colorful, safe street, with large wood framed windows. Yes, plural 'windows', two windows in each room! It also had two large bathrooms, a washer, closets and our own private patio which was really where you hang your clean laundry to dry, but allowed for windows (I know, MORE windows!!!) in the kitchen and bathroom to fill the rest of the apartment with light. It was Shangri La.

Naturally, to celebrate, we opened a box of Chilean wine and turned on Netflix. Ahhhhhh yes, we were home.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Welcome to Oz

Another small town that was on our list to visit in Colombia was called Jardin ("garden") and was, like Santa Fe de Antioquia, touted as a must see. Since our experience in Santa Fe was lack luster, we had trepidations of going to Jardin and honestly wondered if we should have ever left Cartagena. But hey, that is part of the adventure right? Not knowing what we will encounter and taking it in stride is part of the deal.

Our little, tiny, white hatchback, now jokingly called 'The Tic Tac'  (please use a Colombian accent when saying the name) because it was about the size of the little mint candies, zoomed through the tight, ever climbing country roads. Luckily my husband likes to drive like he is playing a video game, swerving around massive potholes, dodging thousands of motorcycles and speeding around buses on what should be considered a one lane road. It seemed impossible, but it just kept getting greener! It was dense with vegetation and yet had massive vistas that shot out over cliffs and slid down steep coffee covered mountains. It is an unbelievable experience to be in awe of a color in nature. I 1st had the experience diving in Cozumel, Mexico when I saw cobalt blue in the depth of the ocean. It shocks the senses to see a color so vivid and unusual starring you back in the face and as I peered out the window at the sea of greens, so many hue changes I lost count, I was deeply moved. I could say 'emerald green' or 'lime green' or 'olive green' or even 'forest green' but these names simply point you in the direction of what some of the colors we were seeing were like, but are completely lacking in accuracy. I could add words like 'deep' or 'rich', 'bright' or 'saturated', but these too fall short. It was a majestic array of color that we do not have names for yet. This area is, simply put, GORGEOUS. Even when we hit stand still traffic for 2 hours (due to a landslide), it was difficult to be upset as we took in the huge flowering trees and slap-yourself-in-the-face amazing views. As we climbed up higher into the clouds and up ever bigger mountains, the road tightened, twisted, rolled and finally released us into the valley of Oz.

Jardin is truly the Emerald City. It is bathed in rich jewel tones of green (see? I keep trying to describe it), splashed with vibrant flowers of every sort; orchids, bougainvillea, hyacinth, roses, and a billions others I've never seen before. The town is super small, easily walk-able and centered entirely around the town park...which is filled with unusual plants, shade trees and beautiful flowers, all labeled with plaques as if in a botanical garden. The cafes, hotels, shops and bars that line the cobblestone streets surrounding the center park ooze charm in a way the travel books couldn't possibly describe sufficiently. We found our hotel, one right there in the action (with a bakery to one side and a ice cream shop to the other), and let ourselves get excited, this was definitely beyond our exceptions. We were greeted by lovely hotel staff who welcomed us with the signature coffee of the area (swoon!) and carried our bags up to our room for us. Hell freaking YES! It was so the right choice to leave Santa Fe.

Unable to resist the buzz in the air as locals filled the plaza park, we hurried out of the hotel to drink it all in. Stepping out into the fresh, cool evening, we were stunned to find the sun setting with a golden light that twinkled off the damp foliage and held up high into the mist covered mountains, a perfect, end to end, vibrant rainbow overhead. I am talking a rainbow so bright you almost needed to wear sunglasses. I literally had my jar drop open and said "Oh. Come. On!", it was absolutely unbelievable. The beauty was so much that it brought tears to our eyes and my son exclaimed "I don't think I have ever cried over something being beautiful before". As if to push us right over the edge, a chorus of clopping horse hooves danced over the cobblestones making a delightfully playful sound, one you don't hear in daily American life. The locals, in fact, the most burly, strong men of the community, literally prance their horses through the streets. Knees tight and high with heads held down, these horses showed off and so did the riders. It wasn't a special show for tourists, this we would come to find, was every evening's entertainment and the most common mode of transportation for locals. Traffic in Jardin, is literally a group of horses being pranced down the street intertwined with adorable little moto-taxies. We took our seat at one of the brightly colored tables with matching metal umbrellas, like you'd see at Disneyland, and marveled at this picture perfect paradise.

Instantaneously we knew, we had found home.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Happy New Years...What???

Trying to decide where to visit in Colombia is ridiculously difficult. The country is huge and so diverse that it offers literally anything a traveler could want. Warm, stunning beaches, dramatic mountain towns, stark colonial towns, bustling cities, jungle and so much more. My little family of 3 had been researching for months where we wanted to go, and the list was long, but now, everything seemed upside down. We didn't know what we wanted to do.

After a full week in beautiful Cartagena, we scrapped our plan to drive along the coast visiting beaches and decided to head out of the heat to the cool mountains. In order to save ourselves a 3 day drive, we opted to fly from Cartagena to Medellin. We'd heard that Medellin was a city to spend some time in and seeing its gorgeous steep mountains dazzling green in every direction, it was easy to see why. But we were interested in Colombia's little towns, so we rented a car and drove out of the city and into the hills toward Santa Fe de Antioquia. The photos of this area simply do not do it justice. It is the start of the Andes so mountains aren't just mountains, they are steep, dramatic, impressive, daunting walls. They shoot straight up from the towns and cities and make you think of the tribes that believe spirits reside inside them; you could certainly understand the need to be in awe and have respect for these shockingly beautiful formations.

We drove out of the mountains into the stark colonial town of Santa Fe where we had rented an Airbnb apartment. Santa Fe had at one time been the capital of the area and promised to be a charming little place. We had stayed at Airbnbs before, with friends, but had never done it ourselves, the actual booking of it I mean, and this 1st experience was not what we expected. The place was a short walk to the town center and a few steps from a local farmers market. It was clean and modern and came with a best friend evidently, but not with a kitchen sponge. The photos had looked like it was a 2 bedroom which was a big draw since we had shared a cabin on a boat for 8 days and then shared a hotel room for another 6 days in Cartagena. We were ready to stretch out. Turned out, it was one bedroom, and was adjoined to the owners home with a special open air feature that left part of the roof open...open right into the owner's shower. Ya, I know, it WAS weird. You couldn't see anything, but you could heard everything. We were tired and disappointed by the end of the tedious check in (yes, we sign off that there are 4 small plates and 6 large plates and seriously guy, we promise we won't steal your dishes!), but the owner was insistent that he help us settle in. It was really very sweet, but we rented a place because we wanted to be on our own. We were excited to explore and discover the area, but it was late in the day and my husband, Jesse, was coming down with a cold so we excused ourselves as politely as possible and tried to get comfortable.

As dinner time came upon us, Jesse and I ventured out to find some groceries. As we stepped out the front door, around the corner came the owner. He wouldn't take no for an answer, he had to show us the farmers market personally. Then, because we said we were headed out for food, he started to insist that we sit at a restaurant and have food with him...or a beer...or a quick snack...or... or give it a break guy! We untangled ourselves as best we could explaining that we had left our son at the apartment and needed to get food and get back ASAP. It was a touch unnerving to have him so involved in our stay, but he was really very sweet and we could tell he meant well by it.

A half hour later and we were cooking dinner, starting to relax, when there was a knock at the door. Did we have everything we needed? Would we like a fan? The owner asked. He left, then came back with a fan. Then later came back with the need to show us how to open the balcony doors. Then came back to ask if we would be going out because the town was really all about going out at night and we needed to see that. Then the next morning he came back to give us a blender, then hang a hammock for us, then tell us he would bring us tamales (which he never did), then to tell us that he would be leaving to spend New Years with his family. That guy must have visited us about a thousand times. It was as if he personally, came with the apartment.

Luckily, the owner did leave for the weekend and we finally felt like we could have the place to ourselves. The guide books say that Santa Fe does a great New Years Eve celebration so we were really excited. Our 11 year old son, Denim, had been a wonderful sport with a lack luster Christmas where our biggest "gift" was that we were off the 'Death Boat', but now we were going to be able to really celebrate. The days leading up to NYE, locals were setting off private fireworks and the festive decorations were larger than life promising a truly magnificent celebration.

Champagne in hand (love that you can walk around with booze openly through the streets) we walked through the tunnel of lights that signified the transition of 2017 into 2018, a huge structure that lit up the whole town center. Music blared and couples salsa danced in the streets. We found a spot in the crowds on the church steps and awaited the count down. A band playing Colombian rhythms ushered in the New Year...without stopping to do a count down...not saying a word about it. There were no fireworks. Nothing special happened at all. Suddenly, all around us, people were kissing, old men were hugging, teenagers were making out and while I wondered if we had found ourselves in a weird 'Eyes Wide Shut' situation, it did not occur to me that THIS signified that it was now 2018.

Jesse turned to Denim and I and said "Happy New Year!". I starred at him blankly and our son burst into tears. We gathered ourselves up, a ragged mess of depression, and went back to the apartment as the rest of the town sucked faces and partied into the small hours of the morning.

Needless to say, Santa Fe was not the gem we had hoped for and as we nursed colds and our wounds of disappointment, the cold stone town fought a loosing battle to enamor us. We packed up after 4 days and hit the road, once again in search of a place to call home for the next month.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Gentle Persuasion

As if to tell us that it was OK to leave Cartagena, smooth out our worries that we would be disappointed with a new place, the cruise ships landed. About a billion people poured into the streets, clogging the sidewalks and caused the street vendors to heighten their sales tactics, yelling over the crowds, making our tranquil little hamlet a roaring, hot, crowded yuck fest. OK maybe that is a bit severe, but the people that descended on the old city were anything but appreciative of its gifts. These loud, rough, people that plowed their way through the shops and cafes said things like "it's the same old shit" or "where are we this time?" or "when can we get back on the boat". It was depressing.

In an effort to leave the crowds of the old city, we ventured outside the protection of the walled cocoon and into the "real" part of the city to see an ancient fortress. This 'sight to see' was located in what many might consider the true city since it is where most locals live. It is filled with high rises, car horns and poverty. Now we weren't staying in the old walled city proper, our area wasn't all gold and lace, in fact our area had prostitutes and drunk toothless men on stoops and yes, my husband Jesse was asked if he wanted any drugs... twice. BUT the prostitutes were friendly and while their faces definitely were hardened from their life experiences, they were gentle and kind to us. The toothless men greeted us politely each time we passed and the drug enthusiasts asked in the most friendly, nonthreatening way, if we wanted anything. No, seriously, it really was so safe feeling and wonderful. But now we were in a foreign land, the "outside", and walking, alone.

We found ourselves at the fortress, a mammoth stone pyramid/ castle, that let us see the rest of Cartagena and the sunset. It was a fascinating glimpse into the past and worth the steep, sweaty climb to the top. As the sun dipped and the skyline became an array of twinkling lights, we headed back home...now in the dark.

Most people are probably thinking "oh crap! I knew it, this is when all the stories I've heard about Colombia are going to happen to this poor family", but it is actually the opposite. The streets, even in a questionable area, were big and bright and were filled with friendly people. Sketchy places that had us looking at each other sideways in daylight, turned into fruit sellers and coffee vendors by night. Happy laughter filled the air in these areas of town as European backpackers and locals shared drinks together. It was remarkable. Now that said, we try to be smart about travelling and kept our passports locked in a safe at the hotel and I didn't carry a purse, but I also watched as Colombian tourists to the area, wore big bold jewelry and European tourists openly asked directions showing their vulnerability. It is a significantly different Colombia these days and the locals try to tell you that every chance they can.

We turned the corner onto our hotel street and  it was as if time slowed, becoming a thick dough you try to move your hands through. The brightly colored flags above our heads reflected the street lights and the entire street seemed to glow warmly. Every shop owner and vendor smiled big and nodded their heads hello, recognizing us as we moved past their doorway. The sweet, warm air was thick with the familiar smell of flowers, fried food and cigars. We inhaled each moment, each step, until we reached our hotel. reticent to have the evening end.

As we stepped up onto the sidewalk and out of the more pedestrian friendly roadway, we were greeted by a brand new Italian Restaurant! Jesse and I were married in Italy and last year took our son to Italy introducing him to the family obsession. Turns out the owner, an Italian man, and his wife moved to Cartagena recently and decided to open this little bistro. Lucky us, we stumbled upon them on opening night! Handmade pasta, Italian wines and exquisite presentation made for the most endearing final meal in a city we fell in love with much like we did with Italy.

There is no denying that Colombia has had a frightening past, but they have done so much to change the atmosphere of the country and its troubled cities in the recent years. They are welcoming to tourists, excitedly sharing where new travelers should make sure to go and compassionately help those that speak Spanish as deplorably as I do. They are a wonderful people in a gorgeous country and I highly suggest you plan a visit.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

The Sweetness of Perfection

The days we spent in Cartagena dripped over us like warm honey. Life moved slow there, sticky with sweat as the gold tinged light rolled over us. The heat of the afternoon each day would drive us off the cobblestone streets of old town and into an air conditioned oasis; museums, stores, cafes. And as each evening stretched its long fingers across the city, the vibrantly colored flowers dazzled like jewels of every color. The hours slipped into night as slowly buildings and trees illuminated our way, hanging thick with holiday lights. It was at night when the streets were full of people and vendors, food and music, but never in a manic way like many other cities, more in the way of New Orleans, smooth and sexy. We slept in, had incredible coffee from cart vendors at each shade dappled plaza park, ate fabulous food sold by little old men in fedora hats and soaked in the warmth of the people. It was swoon worthy.

One of these sleepy, dreamlike days, took us into the Chocolate Museum. A couple small adjoining rooms packed with the history of chocolate and the process from tree to finished bar. It was well done, and like everything in the old city, charming beyond words. The intoxicating aroma of the shop and cafe attached to the mini museum kept us there for hours more as they lavished us with sample after sample of every kind of treat they had. It was a real life Willy Wonka situation as they delighted us with various types of hot cocoas, teas and coffees, bars, jams, sauces, candies, fruit covered delicacies and everything in-between. They even had chocolate flavored cigars and chocolate liquors. Most chocolate liquors I'd had previously were something you might add to your coffee or sip with dessert, but these, oh man, these were potent little aphrodisiacs mixed with spice and thick chocolate. It tasted like Cartagena, smooth and rich and utterly seductive.

You'd think that we would have had enough chocolate after the endless flow of samples, but since most of what they made at this little shop was not sweet, it didn't render a headache or twist your tummy. Instead, like a lullaby, it rocked us gently... gently into their cafe where we had a menu of chocolate infused items to choose from. We sat in a center, shaded garden and laughed as we played with the fondue and sipped chocolate mint iced teas. It was absolutely delicious in every sense of the word. Well played Chocolate Museum, well played.

The rest of the day we meandered the tiny European like streets, walking by Gabriel Garcia Marquez's home (a highlight for 3 fans of the writer) then fell into a bookstore/ cafe/ bar tucked into a nook down a small side street. My son's current obsession is books, great literature, so a bookshop to him is actually better than the Chocolate Museum. For my husband and I, the heat and slow stroll had worked up a thirst and since in Colombia they sell beer at ice cream stands, the bar at the bookshop was a lucky occurrence, but not a surprise. The 3 of us lost a couple more hours as we sipped chilled white wine and discussed the classics.

As sunset approached we sought out the top of the "old wall". This ancient wall is about 10ft thick allowing for a huge walkway that offers gorgeous views of the old city on one side and the ocean on the other. Originally serving as protection for the city, the wall is now a must see for tourists. We watched the sun set and the city light up and wondered if we should ever leave.

Each day was the same, yet different; the Museum of Gold, the Museum of Emeralds, the Museum of the Inquisition, a special little cafe, a stroll through the streets. All aspects of our former reality melted away and even struggling with my cell phone didn't seem to matter. Each easy day rolled into the next until we didn't know the date or time. As Americans this was a strange and opulent way of being in the world and we drank it up.

It was with heavy hearts that after 6 days we decided we needed to leave. It was our duty to leave. We had 2 months afforded to this adventure and Colombia is a big country. If we were to explore some of the vastly different areas and have time to pick one to settle down in, we needed to get going.

Saying goodbye to Cartagena felt melancholy, yet, as we sat on our hotel balcony, surrounded by vivid bougainvillea, wrapped in the warm humid air, smoking a Cuban Cigar, the streets below burst into salsa music from a impromptu marching band. Little old men and hard looking women always seemed warm and welcoming here and as the locals filled the streets, you could feel that love of life float up to us. It was as if the city was sending us off with a poetic kiss. It was a perfection.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com