November 14, 1997 Santander, Colombia - {Hotel PanAmericano} Our suite was so nice, that we decided to stay until we were kicked out. After a nice late room service breakfast, we started to pack. We left around 1:00pm, We drove South to Palmira. We stopped at a gas station to check directions. As what usually happens in public throughout Colombia, we attracted a big crowd of men interested in the motorcycle. Throughout Central America, people are interested in the large off road looking bikes, however Colombia seems to be full of motophiles the likes of which we haven't seen yet. They ask, how much does it cost, how big is the engine, how many gallons of gas does it hold, what's in the boxes, Do you carry pizzas in the boxes? etc. Replying to all the questions with a friendly smile is almost always to our benefit as we can then ask for help in directions to the point of some people taking the time to draw a map or even lead us to where we want to go. We didn't see a hotel in Palmira, nor did first impression give us any reason to stay, so we went on to Candelaria. All of these towns are within twenty miles of Cali. Candelaria turned out to be a town of farm workers. The surrounding area are sugar cane plantations. Huge train trucks pulling 4-5 cars were used for transporting sugar cane. The paved roads are covered with mud and dropped sugar cane from harvesting. As we were driving by one of these huge train trucks, a sugar cane spear fell out of the truck narrowly missing the bike. Candelaria and surrounding villages appeared to be 95% African descent. However where the Caribbean Africans we met in Central America speak Garifuna or English Creole everyone here speaks Spanish as their first language. Rather than fighting rush hour in Cali entering the city, and looking for a hotel, we decided to look for a hotel along our detour off the PanAmerican highway. We stopped at all the hotel/motels along the way and found them all to be little love motels that rented for around $6 per night. Some of the rooms came equipped with mirrors on the ceiling. Many of them would be very loud with zero audible privacy. The situation wasn't near desperate enough for one of these. Santander had the first normal hotels again since Palmira. We staid at the PanAmericano. The owner let us roll the bikes into the hotel just barely fitting through the doorway and down the hall. filling up the only two alcoves in the hall that her hotel had. She showed us a postcard of someone who had rode a bicycle from Prudoe Bay, Alaska to Tierra Del Fuego, and apparently sent postcards to all the hotels he stayed at along the way. While I believe North America alone is enough to demonstrate one's studlyness, Central America and Colombia is a test of one's karma... Not to be tried if you're a lawyer. We went out to dinner, As we were walking a thunderstorm blew in. We quickly picked the first restaurant with shelter. We ordered a meal that we hardly touched. After sampling everything, I ended up with a plate of rice and beans which I enjoyed. Sharon picked up some yogurt. As we waited out the storm, lightening struck several times and the power flickered. The public address sirens went off a few times. Back home in the mid-west, this means a tornado has been spotted. And from experience I know this could mean one has as little as 10 seconds to find cover. I have no idea what this siren means in Colombia. No one in the restaurant was showed a hint of hearing anything. It seemed as disturbing as a bus horn. We did as the others, and ignored it, meanwhile listening for a tornado, and planning our dash route to pseudo-cover. We waited at the restaurant until we couldn't stand the cold anymore in this open air eating area. We finally called a cab to take us back through the pouring rain that was too much for our umbrella, the 1/3 of a mile we had walked. Hormiga culona - specialty of Santander, Colombia. large fried ants. Available only in season. They serve frozen. My chance at pay back for all the poison ant bites I got in Texas and Mexico. We weren't able to find this Santander delicacy since it was out of season now, and it's not a food they freeze. Notes on Colombian food: Typical breakfast includes scrambled eggs with tomato and onion, side order of yellow plantains fried in butter, coffee and bread. black coffee is called 'tinto'. However this caries with it the connotation of a small portion. Almost always a half cup of coffee is brought out, and refills are not free. Locro de choclos - this is often eaten for breakfast as well as dinner and lunch. It's a potato soup always with corn sometimes on the cob. Sometimes it comes with chicken. good. Ajiaco de pollo - I had this in Bogota. It's a delicious thick potato soup with chicken, corn. and cabbage with cream and capers added. Consome de Pollo - chicken broth, sometimes with cilantro, and always with a chunk of chicken, often a thigh and a leg. Arepas - small flat white disks made from a soft corn meal. They are usually dry fried. Sometimes made with cheese inside. green plantains - unlike the sweet yellow plantains, the green plantains are starchy similar to a potato or yuka. Often they are served cut smashed and baked or fried. The closest description I can think of is an odd shaped french fry. panela - often eaten as candy. They are sold as cubes, and taste similar to a sugar flour and butter combination, but not as good. Often it is added to coffee as a sweetener. arekipe (sp?) - also sold as candy, sometimes an ice cream flavor. sweetened condensed milk mixed with sugar. November 15, 1997 Popayan, Colombia - {Hotel Casa Grande} We drove the 72km to Popayan, and stopped at a nice restaurant on the outskirts of town. We were thinking Sharon could wait here while I scouted out a hotel in town. The restaurant was full of waiters wearing tuxedos, and the clientele were wearing suits and dresses. We wore our T-shirts and black muddy riding pants and wild helmet hair. No way was I wasn't going to miss out on a rare nice restaurant due to improper attire. I sat down with Sharon, and we ordered a light lunch since we had just recently had breakfast. As we ate. Three excellent acoustic guitarists all wearing suit and ties strolled by each table playing and singing music that sounded more Spanish than Colombian. While one guitarist showed off his skill picking off intricate Spanish style counter melodies to the singing, the others played chords. Very nice. After asking around, we got our bearings, and decided to both ride into town. While I watched the bikes in the center of town, Sharon scoped for prospects. I must have had a crowd of thirty men and women standing around the motorcycles. Again, each asked where I was from, where I was going, how big the engine is, How big the gas tank is, How much does it cost, What brand is it. How fast does it go, and what is that thing (bike-to-bike communicator). Sharon found us a beautiful Spanish colonial courtyard hotel with indoor garden, hard wood floors, lots of character, and hot water. Strange thing we've noticed with Colombia is that hot showers are rare to find even in expensive hotels. Also, even in expensive hotels, we haven't seen shower heads. When we have, they are partially disassembled such that the effect is always the equivalent of taking a shower under a garden hose. The water doesn't seem to be hard, so I don't think the lack of shower head is due to lime in the water clogging the head. Enigmas abound. We went looking for an ATM since we were getting low on pesos. ATMs are common throughout Colombia. They've been pretty easy to find both on the Plus system and Cirrus. Most of them advertise that they won't keep your card should something go wrong as if this were a big concern to a potential customer. Nice to know if I was borrowing someone else's ATM card and forgot the PIN. November 16, 1997 Popayan, Colombia - {Hotel Casa Grande} I attempted five times to send E-mail from our hotel this morning. However, they had a funky phone that I wasn't able to get the acoustic coupler to connect well. AT&T access here is free and easy from any phone. Cost on military saver plan is $1.19 on the weekends per minute, and $1.43 on the weekdays. Same rate applies to Ecuador and Peru. We walked around town for a little while, but since it was Sunday, most of the stores were closed. Popayan is a Spanish colonial town. with regular spaced square blocks. Almost all of the buildings are painted white. Most nicer residences or hotels have two stories with inner court yards Spanish style. There are several old Spanish churches. One we stopped in had, rather than a jesus on a cross in back of the pulpit, a giant plaster earth, with a plaster jesus twice it's size hovering over. Both feeling lethargic, we just hung around the hotel, and watched movies in English off the movie channel. We watched Johny Mnemonic, Mol Flanders, and Jumanji. November 17, 1997 Popayan, Colombia - {Hotel Casa Grande} My rear brakes have not been working since we arrived in Bogota. I suspect that oil some how got in the drum during the flight over. The front brakes work fine, however since their sizzling overuse going through stop and go traffic in Quindio pass I've been getting a little nervous. Sharon has had some quick stops where I end up passing her on the side trying to stop, with only half of the breaking power. Back in the US, I'd go into any auto parts store, and buy some brake cleaner. Here, I haven't been so lucky to be able to find any. In third world countries, generally the rule is, make do. Fortunately, I have some Bacardi 151. When I bought a bottle of this rum, complete with built in flame arrester installed in the bottle to prevent accidental explosions, I had liked the concentrated nature (151 proof) which meant a little goes a long way, and thus great for travel. I had no idea I might be using this as a substitute for brake cleaner. I removed the rear wheel, and yep, the brake shoes were in a puddle of oil. I cleaned the pads and drum with alcohol, ground the pads a little on the cement floor, and reassembled. They now have probably about 40% of the braking power they use to, which is infinitely greater than with the oil on them, and something I expect will get better the more I use them. I put in new spark plugs and rejetted the carburetors for altitude driving. I found a place that sold Mobil 1 synthetic oil and had plenty in stock at the cheapest I had seen it since I left the US. This sells for $4 per quart in the US. Throughout Central America and Mexico, if I could find it, it sold for $9-$11 per quart. Here it was $6.50 per quart. I bought 8 quarts, and changed the engine oil, oil filter, transmission, final drive and drive shaft. As a drain pan, I used a gallon size water bottle with the side cut out, and then poured back the old oil into the quart size bottles that the new oil came in. I was getting tired and hungry, and so went back to our hotel room where Sharon was napping. We went to a Colombian food restaurant that had been recommended. I ordered their menu of the day which consisted of potato corn soup, rice, beans, fried plantains, higado, and a glass of guayava juice. I had no idea what higado was when I ordered it, and asked the waitress. The only thing I understood her to say was that it was meat. I suspected it might be a special cut, or prepared a special way just like in English how fillet mignon, pot roast, or flank steak isn't called beef when that's what it is. The food was wonderful. I enjoyed the soup, although a beer would have gone better than the grapefruit soda or the guayava juice I had. The beans and rice were excellent and so were the fried plantains. The higado looked good, and so I took a bite. There are two things known to me that the slightest molecule on my palette make my stomach heave.... liver and pickled beets. One chomp into the higado, and I almost lost my meal. It was liver. I'd sooner eat tripe and deal with manure breath. Two minutes later, as I was still attempting to regain an appetite, a ~9 year old kid came in the restaurant asking for some food. This has not been uncommon in our travels so far. Excellent timing! I handed him a half pound liver steak, and he was beaming, munching on it on the way out. Afterwards, we picked up a bag of ten croissants at the same bakery we had bought some the day before. It rained all evening, so we stayed in our hotel. While watching Bill Murray's Ground Hog Day on the movie channel, I had peanut butter and jelly on croissant while Sharon ate peanut butter on club crackers for dinner. November 18, 1997 R80G/S 31652 Pisimbala (Tierradentro near Inza), Colombia - {Hotel Luzerna) Tierradentro is an area in the mountains between Popayan and San Agustin. The pre-Colombian indians of this area would dig underground burial chambers sometimes as deep as 30 feet. Some tombs in the area are painted in intricate geometric designs. The area is now an archeological park. We decided to make a side trip out there despite the rough roads connecting to it. We left the side panniers off the R80G/S and our luggage at the hotel. The R100GS we left behind all locked up and covered in an underground secure parking garage. Packed with two days change of clothes, toiletries, mosquito net, a bag of croissants, and a can of tuna fish, we took off for Pisimbala, a little town just East of Inza inside Tierradentro area. We drove 9km North of Popayan along the PanAmerican highway to the turnoff to Totoro. The 24km of dirt, gravel, and mud road looked like it had recently been worked on, and there still was construction going on. I had read Doug Ruth's journals the day before where he had also driven this stretch. According to him, they were working on this 10 months ago too. As we drove into Totoro. one odd thing I noticed about this remote village, was that there seemed to be too many people just standing around along the side of the street. They looked at us as we passed almost expressionless. If I tipped my helmet towards them, or waved they usually returned the gesture but seemingly with hesitation. Then I saw what was going on. The police station had been blown to smithereens this morning. There was rubble through out the street. Steel grid wire that had given support to the cement ceiling had been blown clean of cement, and now just hung like a web over the rubble. All that remained was part of an outside wall that had painted on it the national police insignia. The person who planted it knew exactly how much explosive to use as the police station was totally obliterated while the adjoining buildings appeared to have little if any damage. An army platoon had arrived in a truck, and the soldiers were sitting outside along the street. Everyone in town was standing on the streets waiting to see what was going to happen, however no one seemed to be doing anything. At the end of town I asked Sharon if she wanted to stop and get a drink since it would be our last town out here in the boonies for the next two hours. Out of her mouth came a firm, curt "No." I didn't argue. Two weeks ago, I had read in a Miami Herald I bought in Panama that only 60% of the country was controlled by the government. The other 40% was controlled by two different guerrilla factions. The story was about the coercion of elections by the guerrillas, and how in certain districts all of the candidates had resigned. In others most were killed. international neutral poll watchers were being kidnapped. In one part of Colombia, the guerrillas had declared all the roads closed for the weekend of elections. Any vehicle on the road would be considered a military target.... so the article went. Until today, we haven't seen any signs of violence. The road drove through scenic vistas to an altitude of 10,520 feet. As the road became higher in altitude, it became more narrow and we encountered more mud. I drove in the truck tracks through the mud. The bike squirmed as it road over muddy rocks. Fortunately the road under the mud was firm. It was a nice dry morning to drive on this road. I don't think it would be possible to do on a motorcycle on a rainy day. Meanwhile, the clamp holding the exhaust pipes to the muffler came loose and the exhaust pipes were rattling with every bang. About 90% of the 97km (59 miles) to Inza was done in first gear. It took approximately 3.5 hours to drive the full 110km to Pisimbala including four short breaks. The scenery was beautiful along the way. Walls had been carved into the mountain making way for the road years ago, and were now covered in moss and ferns, occasionally with small stream waterfalls running down the sides. In several places there were thirty foot vertical walls with moss in red, pink, tan, brown, and gray with occasional ferns spread through out. We checked into a little hotel called Residencia Luzerna run by an elderly couple. They moved some tarpaulins aside they had in the grass yard sun drying coffee beans, so that I could pull the motorcycle around back, inside the gate. The hotel room was spotlessly clean, and had a flower garden in the courtyard. We paid 7500 pesos ($5.85) per night. In the morning, this would include free home made coffee. or for 1500 pesos more, a giant glass of fresh squeezed orange juice freshly picked from their yard that morning. November 19, 1997 Pisimbala, Colombia - {Hotel Luzerna} Our hotel owners get up at the crack of dawn. When I got up, it was raining. They were in a corner of the courtyard sifting through green dry coffee beans separating out all of the bad beans. Since the hiking we planned to do today would be no fun in the rain. Sharon slept in, while I got caught up on the journal in the courtyard garden. The owners brought me a cup of homemade coffee. Delicious. After the rain let up, and a breakfast of scrambled eggs with tomato and onion, rice and bread, we went over to the Tierradentro museum, where we bought tickets to hike the park. The hike climbed the mountain of the valley we were in. At the peak of one hill up the mountain is Segovia where there are approximately 20 Tierradentro graves. Dug into the sedimentary rock are 6'-10' diameter circular or oval holes with stairs carved along the side. Some of these holes go down about 10 to 30 feet. At the bottom is a burial chamber sometimes with up to three pillars supporting the ceiling. People would bury their relatives in the tombs. Some tombs would house families with one niche in the wall per person. Some of the larger ones had geometric patterns painted on the walls, and trapezoid shaped death like white faces carved into the wall. The tombs were all cleared out except one that still contained large ceramic pots which appeared to be filled with coal and once housed the bones of a someone's relative. Each of the tombs now have a corrugated metal roof over it to protect it from weather, in addition to a lockable door. Some of the more interesting tombs have been wired for light such that we didn't need our little pen lights. We hiked further up the mountain to El Duende, and saw a few more of the same. The view along the way of the valley below was beautiful. At El Tablon, we saw the Tierradentro large faced stone statues some of which stand almost seven feet high. We had lunch in San Andres de Pisimbala, which Sharon later declared she thought was the best in all of Colombia. Sharon didn't care much for Colombian cuisine at the restaurants we found. Like other restaurants in this little village which had some of the best food we enjoyed in the country, one walks in and asks if they have any food. Because this is not tourist season, the reply is either, "It'll take a while, and this is what I'll make....", or "This is what I have made for our family". For lunch today, we downed four Quatros (Fresca), four beers, spinach soup with cilantro, bread, rice, french fries, fried sweet plantains, a thin steak filet, and a salad we didn't eat. Pisimbala is a nice small quiet friendly town. The main mode of transportation is walking followed by horse, and then motorcycle. Houses in this rural area are commonly made from bamboo and mud. First one makes a grid structure support of bamboo. A roof frame is then added made of bamboo which typically then supports a corrugated galvanized tin roof. The open bamboo walls are then filled with mud to the bottom of the roof leaving plenty of ventilation. The mud dries hard and sometimes cracks. Some houses are finished with a final layer of mud which makes the surface of the wall smooth and regular. Since temperatures are constant around here (the equator), none of the temperatures in the houses are regulated, and most are designed to allow free flow of air for ventilation. Bricks are also used in construction, however they are not hardened to a high temperature and so easily crumble. After the brick walls are built, they are then encased in a layer of cement to protect the bricks. In Tierradentro, I've seen some brick/cement homes later painted mud brown to resemble the bamboo mud homes. Structures in the city are almost always made of brick and cement. The mountain sides in this area have carved out terraces stretching all the way up the mountain. This terracing is so extensive, it looks as though it took centuries to create, or the population of this area must have been much greater. Today, none of the terracing is used for farming, and looks like it has been in disuse for many decades. Nov 20 1997 La Plata, Colombia - {Residencia Margarita} R80G/S 31738 We had breakfast at Restaurant 56 which is a little 400 square foot house which includes lobby, dining area, kitchen and sleeping area. The restaurant overlooks a beautiful river, from which *the* dining table has an excellent view. As with the other restaurants in this town, no one has a menu. We just show up, and say "I'd like some breakfast", and they'll tell us what they can make from their ingredients on hand. We had some scrambled eggs with tomato and onions, an assortment of breads, orange juice, and excellent coffee... all for $1.50 each. It rained most of the morning. We checked out the museum, by the time we were done the sun was shining. The exhaust pipes had separated where they connect to the muffler, and had been rattling on the way in. I attempted to fix this by tightening the exhaust pipe clamp, but for some reason this didn't hold before I thought I might break the bolt in the clamp. An aluminum beer can used as a shim around the exhaust pipe, and we were ready to go. Beer cans and high octane rum are keeping the motorcycle running these days.... It was 12:30 by the time we were on the road. A late start, but we figured we could still make it to San Agustin before dusk. The first 7km were rough. A road scraper had just swept a bunch of loose gravel and dirt over the road making the dirt and gravel very soft, rocky and dangerous. We stopped for a moment to notice that the top box right support had slipped off it's rail. No problem, we just pounded it back into place. I noticed that the motorcycle cover that I had in a plastic bag strapped onto the top box with a bungee cord was missing. It must of rattled loose from the constant jolting. Sharon who wasn't enjoying this dirt road hopped off and waited as I back tracked. I ended up driving all the way back to the hotel searching for it which was only 7km (4 miles), but 20 minutes back. No luck, it was gone. I consider the cover one of the most important security devices we have providing security by putting the bikes out of sight and out of mind. I'll have to order one, and have it delivered to Quito which will likely cost an extra $100 for shipping plus the cost of the cover ($45). On the way back to Sharon over the rough road, I noticed a very bad sickening feeling from the motorcycle as I hit certain bad bumps. The bike would occasionally have a strong torque jolt around the Y-axis (yaw) as I hit bumps. Yaw is a motion that should never exist on a motorcycle unless one is on ice trying to do smooth 180's or 360's. However this feels very different from what I was now experiencing. At first I suspected something seriously wrong with the suspension, but didn't find any thing wrong when I looked. 500 meters further, I stopped again. The top box luggage system left support had completely torn out the metal that it was screwed into leaving approximately a one inch hole. The yaw torque hits I was feeling when the bike hit a bump were due to the left side of the top box which was not secured flying up, pulling the bike to the right. I strapped the left side down with some strong nylon string I had. I removed the contents of the top box and stuffed it into our day pack we had and rode with it on my back. I picked up Sharon who had been waiting for the past 50 minutes in the shade, meanwhile getting several offers from people driving by for a ride somewhere. With the left side of the top box held on by string, and the right side damaged with rips in the metal we limped on. I rode with the day pack on my chest (backwards). Fortunately, the road got much better. If we didn't have these problems, we would likely be going 30mph. As it was I had to drive between 10 to 15mph. The road ran along a beautiful rather wide river which was very scenic. The slower pace allowed us to enjoy the scenery more. Sharon kept moral high while I stressed over the deteriorating bike and rough road. When we arrived in La Plata which seemed to be much further than we expected. We pulled into a gas station to get our bearings. As far as we could tell from our map we had 60km (36 miles) of dirt road to go until we got to pavement, and it was now 3:30pm. At our present rate with broken luggage system, it would be well past dark before we made it to pavement. Next to the gas station were three separate welding shops. Welding shops are a place I enjoy visiting. The welders obviously seem to enjoy fixing whatever problem I have, are good at what they do, and are cheap for how much time they spend. I've been averaging one visit a month to a welder on this trip so far. This was the second time I had to have this top box support plate welded together. The first time was in Belize where I had the welder rebuild the ripped out holes that the screws screwed into, and add extra long beads of metal for additional support. This turned out not to be enough. I asked the welder to weld on two heavy plates reinforcing the holes. He cut two thick plates from metal flat bar he had, drilled the new holes, welded them on, and then painted it, and asked for 3000 pesos ($2.35). What a bargain... When I reassembled, the brackets I had to clamp the top box to the top box support plate which no longer fit, due to the increased size of the reinforcement. I went back to the welder, and had him make two new brackets. The brackets have to be made to just the perfect dimension in order for them to work. They're a real pain in the butt to get right. I had spent 3 hours making them back home. For the next two hours, I sat back and supervised as two guys attempted to make two new brackets. They usually close up shop at 5:30 when the sun sets since they don't have any light. I got out my penlight and lit up the area so they could work. When they were done, they asked for a US$1, but were strongly hinting at being able to take the bike for a spin. Instead, I gave them a US$1, and P5000 ($3.90). Later, I could see that the brackets didn't have nearly as tight of a fit as the previous ones so I ended up shiming them using aluminum strips cut from another beer can. By 8:00pm, we were checked into a hotel, and grabbed a bite to eat. At the viking restaurant, I had a hamburger, which I ended up tossing the meat and eating the bun and dressing. Sharon had a beef tenderloin, which only a third of it was edible due to grizzlyness of the meat. Considering we hadn't eaten for 11 hours, I'm sure it tasted much worse than we thought. November 21, 1997 San Agustin, Colombia R80G/S 31778 We didn't sleep well, and got up early. We were on the road by 6:45am. We drove from La Plata on the dirt gravel road to Pital 32km (20 miles) which took about an hour and 15 minutes however seemed a bit rougher than the road from Pisimbala to La Plata. After Pital, according to our map, we expected another 28km of dirt road to Garzon. To say we were pleasantly surprised to find it was newly paved road would be an understatement. The road was perfect smooth asphalt with lots of twisties that are fun on a motorcycle, and with almost no traffic. >From Garzon to San Agustin, was 103km (60 miles) of mostly nice paved road. We were in San Agustin by 10:30am. We checked into a hotel for P6000 $4.70. It had a pretty porch overlooking a garden. Our room which came with bathroom had four beds. was spacious. The owner had given it to us so we could park the motorcycle in the room. This is the most secure parking we've had yet. Excellent place to work on the bike, however, in the past week, I've done just about all the maintenance that can be done on it. I didn't realize until that evening how much gasoline fumes evaporate from this porous plastic gas tank. blah... While I initially thought the hotel was fine, Sharon tells me I'm losing my standards. She was a bit miffed to find out after we checked in that the shower in our room is cold only, and that the only hot shower is the general use one for all the hotel guests which is only hot from 7-10am, and 7-10pm. This is a problem when one finds out at 10:30am. Later, I went to request some additional toilet paper from the hotel owner as Sharon had obviously consumed a curious culture contained in some un-cooked contaminated Colombian cuisine. The hotel owner reluctantly gave me a half a roll, and proceeded to educate me on how expensive toilet paper was. Through out the evening, Sharon discovered an old sock behind one bed, and later a sanitary napkin behind another and told me so as if to drive the point that we really did need to move. I had already hesitantly agreed to move. When we discovered that we only had one polyester sheet on our bed we slept in our clothes and then I was readily willing to move up to a nice $8 per night room with 24 hour hot showers, nice atmosphere, full cotton sheet set, and all the toilet paper we could consume. We went out for breakfast at Brahama, a vegetarian restaurant. Sharon had a giant pancake made with blackberries and pineapple, while I had eggs, coffee, and a garlic cheese torta. They brought me a cup of Nescafe instant coffee. I asked the waiter if they had any Colombian coffee. He said "of course", as if I might have forgotten where I was, and took my coffee away. Twenty minutes later he came back with a cup that I suspected was a Colombian brand of instant coffee. Obviously the proprietors are not a Juan Valdez fans like myself. San Agustin, is the main center for all the archeological parks to visit various pre-Colombian stone relics in the area. It's a traveller mecca in Colombia, and the first place we had seen other travellers since Bogota. Too physically exhausted from our ride in to check out the sites today, we put this off until tomorrow. We walked around town. There are quite a few leather working shops, that make leather items. I had been looking for one these to have some front saddle bags made for the bike to replace the one cordura one that had been stolen in San Cristobol, Mexico. Unfortunately, the only remaining one which I had kept as a template was now in Popayan. For a leather item that takes about a day to make they charge $9 including material. We had dinner at a traveller oriented restaurant called the Bambu Restaurant. Sharon had spaghetti and a side order of delicious mashed potatoes. I had a deep fried burrito which came with rice and guacamole. At 12:30am, my gastrointestinal system griped, "What is this great glop of green guacamole goo gushing into this gullet? It has a covertly carried curious culture that must be of contaminated Colombian cuisine." Heavy heaving hurled the horrendous hors d'oeuvre hence from this human in haste. My friendly flatulent flora had found a fiend to fight for a few nights. ---- Dave Thompson thompson@pdnt.com www - http://sdg.ncsa.uiuc.edu/~mag/Thompson Net-Tamer V 1.09 Palm Top - Registered