What better way to celebrate a warm summer evening in Salento, Colombia than by blasting cumbia and downing a few pints of aguardiente? The group of vacationing Colombians I earlier saw drunkenly riding horses is now split into hip-swaying couples, certainly a precursor to some baby making. I´m choosing to partake tacitly, as a bystander on the edge of the town square, reveling in the beauty of small town serendipity.
The past two night I´ve run across two people whom I had met earlier in the day, all by chance--Cristiano from Brasil on the bus from Armenia, and Cynthia from Argentina at the coffee farm of Don Elias. I spotted Cristiano wandering this tiny pueblo, drank a beer with him, and accompanied him on a mountaineering equipment-rental expedition. Tonight, upon entering a recommended restaurant to savor a lonely meal, I hear my name (of course pronounced in that cute latin manner, ¨Dah-veed!¨) Cynthia had already eaten, but gave me the pleasure of her company as I destroyed a delicious trout. With both I had the option of speaking English, but spoke mostly Spanish and did it pretty damn well. Both encounters ended with a pleasant stroll and a warm embrace.
The magic of solo travel is powerful. During these first two days it´s been particularly evident, as I´ve been so suddenly drenched in the sights and smells of Colombia--sufficiently jolting to crack the frigid shell of Virginia winter, and thrust me, reborn, into this flavorful world so swollen with possibility.
The past two night I´ve run across two people whom I had met earlier in the day, all by chance--Cristiano from Brasil on the bus from Armenia, and Cynthia from Argentina at the coffee farm of Don Elias. I spotted Cristiano wandering this tiny pueblo, drank a beer with him, and accompanied him on a mountaineering equipment-rental expedition. Tonight, upon entering a recommended restaurant to savor a lonely meal, I hear my name (of course pronounced in that cute latin manner, ¨Dah-veed!¨) Cynthia had already eaten, but gave me the pleasure of her company as I destroyed a delicious trout. With both I had the option of speaking English, but spoke mostly Spanish and did it pretty damn well. Both encounters ended with a pleasant stroll and a warm embrace.
The magic of solo travel is powerful. During these first two days it´s been particularly evident, as I´ve been so suddenly drenched in the sights and smells of Colombia--sufficiently jolting to crack the frigid shell of Virginia winter, and thrust me, reborn, into this flavorful world so swollen with possibility.
Excellent read! I've heard folks are so friendly in Latin countries that it's easy to make friends. At least a friend of mine from Peru says so...
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