A day of water. Usually I avoid water, as anyone who's seen me in a whisky bar knows (hello Mark and Si). But, along with Tracey, a fellow inmate at the hostel, I went white-water rafting this morning. On a sunny day it seemed too good an opportunity to miss, especially at just 30000 pesos (under a tenner) for 45 minutes of delightful, mostly gentle, floating downriver amid San Gil's lovely scenery, occasionally practising our technique for hauling people out of the water.
No pics of the rafting, but pictures of course of lunch (pic) in the local market. This is your typical Colombian almuerzo: a hearty soup followed by an equally hearty plateful of rice, cassava, lentils, salad, and well-stewed, randomly-shaped chunks of meat apparently chopped in anger.
In the afternoon, along with Paul and Faye, an entertaining English couple on a big trip, we took a bus to the local swimming-hole near Curiti. This was excellent, and we had the place to ourselves (pic). Just as well, as our in-jokes around English popular culture circa 1984 to 2010, over our beer from the downriver stall, would have bored everyone else.
In response to a request that has been pouring into my email inbox, here's a rare picture of me (pic, right) showing off my cyclist-pattern tan. Let that be a lesson to you all.
Our walk back to the village to get the bus was enlivened by a lift from a man transporting eggs in a pickup truck (pic). Given the state of many back streets here, it was probably an omelette when he arrived. Colombia is a nice place.
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