In the morning I decided to try out my alcohol stove. I rustled up some porridge only to be ushered inside to calls of “Ross! Ven! Desayuno!”.
ross logan
What Comes Down Must Go Up
Keen to avoid the mistakes of the day before, I set off in search of a hearty breakfast. And I found one. Calentao, which literally means “reheated” is a popular staple in Antioquia, traditionally comprised of yesterday´s leftover rice, beans and whatever else. Accompany it with beef, scrambled eggs, cheese, a mini croissant, and a coffee (which was conveniently served in a handle-less bowl like a soup) and you’ve got a mighty fine breakfast. Even the chili that came with it was near Mexico-level spicy, which is a rarity in Colombia.
“Lucky lucky lucky on your first day”
“A donde vas?”
“Uruguay”
“Hijueputa…y cuantos son?”
“Estoy solo”
“Hijueputa…”
*Hijjueputa roughly translates to son of a bitch, but carries a bit more weight here in Colombia
MontevideoMontevideoMontevideo
About 5 years ago I went on a 2 week cycle trip through Europe. Starting in the Bavarian town of Donauwörth I worked my way south along the Claudia Augusta, the first Roman road through the Alps. I passed through the likes of Innsbruck, Florence and Verona, wild-camping along the way, before arriving in Rome where I gorged myself on pizza and gelato.
ROSSED IN TRANSLATION 