Hot Regions


We soon found that the best accommodation is out of town. Truck stops or ‘love hotels’, where amorous couples can rent a room by the hour for a little loving. At these places for just a few Euros each we can have a basic room with air-conditioning which is pretty much essential for sleep in this climate.

The hills are not so longand the roads are good but constantly undulates, short up, short down, short up, short down. The daytime temperature is mid to high 30s measuring up to 40 on the bicycle computer when we are riding.

In a small motel where we stayed last night, there was lots of coming and going in the room next to us which led us to wonder if one, or two, have to book the love room in advance.The young family running the place were lovely people, we helped their young daughter with the English names for animals and then entertained them with the cooking of Osmosno Pasta. They thought that the Primus stove was just fantastic, as was the smell of the pasta. ‘¿Que es esta?’ ‘es Osmosno Pasta’  we told them, and then we had to run through the ingredients.


The following morning as we looked at the map they asked where we were heading. ‘Probably El Jardin’ we say seeing this place a hundred kilometres along the road. ¿Es tranquil?’ we ask. They look thoughtful and discuss the situation amongst themselves, ‘Es peligroso’ they reply. ‘Ohh lovely’ I say. They seem a bit puzzled by my response, ‘I think they mean dangerous’ says Sebastian. ‘Oh!’ 

They go on to explain through mime that El Jardin is a hot spot for kidnapping. Six years chained to a radiator in a mosquito infested jungle hideaway is not what we are after. We promise to take care and  take our leave.

A while down the road we stop for lunch. A chap greets us in English, we chat for a while and he asks where we are heading. We suggest that we will stop in the vicinity of Caucasia, the next town. He looks grave, ‘no no no’ he says. ‘that is not a good idea, that is a dangerous town. Best you carry on. El Jardin would be a good place’.

We eat, on the TV are images of hostages being released from jungle camps after some years in captivity. Well, at least they are being released. We ride through Caucasia which strikes us as a normal enough sort of a place and stop for the night at a truck stop just the other side of town. As always with truck stops the people are friendly, curious about us and what we are doing, and once we begin cooking, very curious about the aromatic Osmosno Pasta.
Ohhh, Sebastian got a puncture.


Ohhh, Sebastian got a puncture.


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