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