This edition of Notes from Paradise is all about the personal happenings in my life here in Colombia. It’s only been a few weeks since my last newsletter, but so much has happened! So sit back, grab a coffee or a glass of wine, and catch up with me.
First of all… I sold my truck.
Who knew she would turn out to be so valuable? She was not pretty. In fact, as they say in Spanish, fue muy feo.
I constantly had to lift the hood to add water just to keep the engine running, and every time I filled the gas tank, I also added a quart and a half of oil. We are talking ancient.
Did I like this truck? It’s complicated.
Did I drive it with fear? YES.
The mountain roads here are steep and narrow, and I always imagined she might give up halfway up a mountain. To be fair, she never did, but that thought haunted me for years.
When I first moved to Colombia, my farm needed a rugged vehicle because the roads were all dirt, mud, holes, and ditches. She handled it perfectly. But over time, the municipality paved most of the road, and my life here changed too.
My glamping business has become more peaceful now. People come to unplug, enjoy the views, and relax in nature. Adventure can still be arranged, just without me driving an ancient truck that sounded like it was falling apart.
The moment I posted “One For Sale,” she suddenly became desirable again. I sold her in two days. Adiós!
I’m hoping the new owner sends me photos after restoring her. In the meantime, I bought myself a beautiful, gently used car that fits my style perfectly. Now she’s getting her own little garage because, unlike my old truck, this girl deserves a roof over her head.
¡Bienvenida, Dorothy!
Last month, I also had the pleasure of hosting a remarkable woman at Cristal House. Gabriella is an ophthalmologist with a generous heart and a beautiful habit of giving back.
She arrived in Colombia carrying a huge suitcase packed with eyeglasses and medical supplies for people in Valle del Cauca. Customs apparently had many questions when she arrived.
Before beginning her volunteer work, Gabriella and her friend stayed at Cristal House for a few days. They hiked the countryside, visited coffee farms, watched parrots gather in the pine trees at dusk, and even attended a community meeting.
During that meeting, Gabriella invited people from my pueblo to come for free eye exams she would be giving in Palmira through the nonprofit Sight Is A Right. This nonprofit takes donations and volunteers if you want to “see the world”!
When she arrived at the clinic, every appointment was already full. But she still made time to see every single person from my area who had traveled there.
That, to me, is the true meaning of giving back.
In a world where so many people ask, “What can I get?” it was refreshing to meet someone who asks, “How can I help?” Gabriella arrived with a suitcase full of glasses, but she brought something even more valuable: kindness.
And finally, two of my most interesting guests recently arrived looking for adventure.
They came roaring up my driveway on brand-new motorcycles that looked ready to conquer the planet. Turns out, that was basically the plan. They had bought the bikes specifically to tour South America all the way to Ushuaia, Argentina, the famous “End of the World.”
I stayed in touch with them during their journey, and wow… what a ride they had.
They reminded me of myself when I first moved to Colombia: chasing beautiful views, surviving mishaps, and meeting unforgettable characters along the way. The only difference is that they packed their chaos into a few months. I’ve been living mine for fifteen years.
Along the route, they sent me incredible photos, crazy stories, and updates that occasionally made my heart stop. One of those updates involved a serious accident that left one of them with eight broken ribs.
While riding Route 40, the longest route in the Americas, they hit loose gravel on a high mountain pass. Rain had carved a deep wash across the road that appeared out of nowhere.
There was no time to stop.
Mark hit it hard, flew over the handlebars, and the motorcycle landed on top of him. Ken thought his friend was dead.
Then Mark started moaning.
Thank God for moaning.
A jeep tour luckily appeared and rushed him to a tiny clinic, where an X-ray confirmed multiple broken ribs. Most people would have gone home.
Not Mark.
After only two weeks of rest, he climbed back on the motorcycle and finished the ride. I still cannot imagine how.
Not every part of the journey involved near-death experiences, thankfully. Along the way, they met hilarious new friends, including a couple of Chilean riders who taught them how to sneak onto a sold-out ferry by casually waving the wrong tickets at the ticket collector.
Somehow, it worked.
Later that night, everyone ended up squeezed into one tiny room with one bed during a rainstorm in the middle of nowhere. Between couches, chairs, and the bed, they somehow made it work and traveled together for another week.
The adventure continued with broken motorcycles, bridge construction, weather delays, detours, and all the unexpected chaos that comes with trying to ride to the end of the world.
In the end, they never made it back to my place for the return trip. But they promised that next time they’re on my side of the Equator, they’ll be back.
And knowing adventure riders, they probably will.
“If you enjoy these little glimpses into my life in Colombia, subscribe below. I promise there will be more stories, more laughs, and probably a few more surprises.”
