Minca

I'm sitting in our hostel, almost 9:00 am, listening to the woman next door wash her dishes. We share a wall, and because of the hot climate, the top of the wall is open, allowing for air, and sound, to flow. I am recovering from a mild fever, taking it easy while Brian enjoys a morning walk. 

I've been taking it easy for the past 24 hours, and when I awoke this morning, it felt as if the fever had run its course. An amazing system, our body. I, however, decide to forgo this morning's walk and opt for more rest, but rest is morphing into restlessness, and my mind is beginning to wander. I listen to the woman of very few words go about her morning routine. I stay quiet, not wanting to encroach, listening to subtle sounds as they depict the scene: dishes rattling in the sink, water dripping, a towel drying, cabinets opening, drawers closing. She is oblivious to my presence, yet, the closeness is comforting. A sense of home fills our shared space. It's hard to share a space without sharing a part of your life. The connectivity is nice for the moment. My mind drifts to images of my own parents going through their morning routines and I feel a slight pang of homesickness. I think of family often. 

I leave the comfort of my bed, with the fan blowing cool breezes, to sit on the porch overlooking the surrounding mountains. Everything looks so dry. El Niño. They say it has rained once since the beginning of the year. 

The birds appear unaffected. So many different kinds of birds. I wish I knew their names, but I can only describe them by their colors. I spend 10 minutes trying to take a picture of a particularly exotic guy. He is hyper AND shy, so you can imagine my luck. It's then a little yellow breasted cutie sits beside me to watch what I am doing. He looks at me, then to the bird I am trying to capture, then back to me, before shaking his head in amusement and flying away. He poses before taking flight as if to say, "What does he have that I don't?"  I smile in agreement  as he departs. 

It's 10 am now, and the temperatures are gradually increasing. The rise is slow, almost unnoticeable, until you catch yourself wiping sweat from your brow. At 2:00 pm it is debilitating. All one can do is sit beneath a shade tree with a comfortable chair, or hammock, and wait for the heat to pass. By 5:00 pm the breezes begin again, breathing life back into all who need resuscitation. Sunsets here are not an ending, but instead a beginning. 

The town of Minca, where we are now, is up the mountain from Santa Marta, on the North Coast. Brian, unfortunately, has been alone in his explorations of late, but I hope that's about to change. Tomorrow we have plans to head to our first working coffee farm via mules to stay with a family who offers rooms to rent. The mules come with the room.  Pictures are sure to follow. 

Best travel partner ever. Pulling double duty while his wife recovers.