What has happened with my fellow colleagues who have come to Medellín before me is that Gonzalo and Yolima would rent a hotel room one of the resorts, spending the weekend there. They own a townhouse in Santa Fe, but normally have it rented out. I was pretty lucky since this past weekend, nobody had rented out their place, meaning that for the first time in 7 months, they would be able to hang out in their townhouse. As well, since they own it, they invited the studio to come join in the fun as well. I think that there were 11 or 12 of us in total, so a nice little party.
I have eaten at a few nice restaurants and enjoyed some pretty good food overall, but to get a taste of some daily cooking is something I was looking forward to. As I found out over the course of the weekend, I would not be disappointed.
This pool is massive, and perfect for everyone. At each corner there is a different depth, depending on your interests, and throughout the middle it comes up to the middle of my chest. Aside from our night swimming venture, this was the emptiest the pool had been all weekend. Perfect weather had everyone at the resort either poolside or in the water. Of course, this didn't change the gong show that made up the pool area. People jumping in, splashing everywhere, balls and other projectiles being tossed all over. We were the worst of the bunch, playing what could be the most lame game of "keep-up" with a soccer slash volleyball in a big circle. I think that 7 times was our record, but Gonzalo would count out loud and add in a few numbers every now and then, maybe for positive spirit. Or maybe just to cheat and break the Santa Fe record, I don't know.
Here's me with my horse, umm, I can't remember his name. It wasn't something conventional, like Pepe, rather a 5 syllable word that meant nothing. Had it been named Snoopy, my fate as a successful cowboy would have been sealed and an immediate career change would occur, since that was the horse I rode at Teen Ranch (in Orangeville) and felt that I was pretty f'n good back then. Nope, no matter how often I would kick my heels into his sides, he would do his own thing. The guy leading us gave me a really thin branch, about the thickness of a straw, to hit the back of the horse. Thanks buddy, now the horse is probably just laughing at me.
Here was our riding group - our leader on the left. He had Gonzalo's camera for the ride, so I'll have to get photos from Gonzalo one of these days. I'll mention that while steering the horse is easy, maneuvering was quite tricky because of the terrain and various obstacles. Every now and then I'd hear our leader yell something, and Santiago would translate "watch out for your knees!" I would look ahead and see this narrow pass, flanked on both sides with some rusted barbed wire. Great...if only I was riding Snoopy, this would have been a breeze. Later on, I'd hear things like "watch your head" and various safety issues that certainly had me spending a lot of time watching my immediate surroundings instead of the breathtaking view of the mountains.
We stopped a few times to just take it all in, which was really nice. One place in particular, was in the middle of a river. After heavy rains, the whole riverbed is flooded with water and a pretty strong current. Since it hadn't rained, we were fortunate enough to cross small parts of it and simply chill out on a rocky shoal. Looking around, it felt like I could've pitched a tent, had a fire, drank moonshine all night while telling stories of conquests of yore, ready to plunder the next village we would happen upon. That's when my horse stopped moving to take the longest piss ever, killing my special moment as a cowboy. Thanks, jerk.
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