2-20-10 Medellin, Colombia.

We got an early start, saying goodbye to James and Torben who were headed northbound to Cartagena for a while. Tom, Mark and I, skipped breakfast till an hour or so down the road where we quickly got to know the Colombian people. They're unbelievably friendly and very engaging, always looking to start a conversation.  Numerous people in the little cafe offered suggestions on what to try as it was all new cuisine for us.  The coffee was excellent as was the mini pig-in-a-blanket as well as some sweet pastries.

Further down the road we encountered our first military checkpoint.  These have never gone well for us but we'd heard good things about the Colombian military.  These guys were very professional, addressing us as 'gentlemen' and speaking properly. We got to talking and they were just as interested in us as we were in them.  In the end we took several pictures with them and their guns before they took out a camera to take a few pictures with us and our bikes.  It was a strangely symbiotic experience leaving everyone content. 

The road darted through thick vegetation, switching between dirt and asphalt at inopportune times.  Potholes were stuffed with cobbles to lessen the blow which was a nice touch. We slowly climbed out of the jungle onto an arid ridge with cliffs on either side of us providing quite the view despite hazy conditions.

Dropping into Medellin was impressive, it's a large city in a bowl, surrounded by mountains.  We found a moto cop and asked him for rough directions to our hostel as we had no idea.  He led us through traffic, running red lights and splitting between cars before pointing to a main road that would get us close.

The hostel was a good one. Casa Kiwi, owned by a fellow motorcyclist from New Zealand is located in the Zona Rosa district, a lively suburb teeming with nightlife.  There were excellent coffee shops scattered throughout as well as our beloved Proximo which had everything we could want all packed into a store smaller than a 7-11.

Our first order of duty was to get our customs work processed as we couldn't do so when landing in Turbo as it was on the weekend.  We took a series of taxis to three different offices.  The first wouldn't let Tom or Mark in as they were wearing shorts. The security guard said that we could change outside, taking turns wearing my pants.  Inside, however, I was told we were at the wrong office. We went to two more before being told that we needed no paperwork for our bikes to be in the country which we knew wasn't right despite the friendly and reassuring Colombians telling us so. 

We made a few phone calls and sent out some emails to the States and were put in contact with the right people. The DIAN office. Oh how I hate the DIAN office.  We went there three consecutive days trying to figure out what needed to happen. The root of the problem was that the customs agents didn't really know the procedure for processing us as it's rarely done in Medellin. They wanted us to ride back to Turbo as that's where we offloaded the bikes. Then they wanted us to ride back to Capurgana as that is where we had our passports stamped. They weren't aware that Capurgana couldn't be reached by road, but by water only.

We'd frequently get pulled into a small office with three people from customs where we'd be put on speaker-phone with other offices where we'd tell our story then leave as they discussed the possibilities.  We'd go back outside and sit on the ground where we learned how to make origami polo shirts out of a dollar bill.  Finally, after about 25 hours of waiting we were instructed to ride our bikes down to the office where a lady wrote down the VIN numbers and gave us our entry papers giving us a reason to celebrate.

Our next objective was to get some work done on the bikes.  We were referred to Mr. Bike, an excellent shop that went above and beyond what we expected of them.  My bike was detailed to a level I've never seen before, simply spotless.  I had the fuel filter changed, cleaned the injectors and fixed some electrical issues.  The owner of the store gave me some spare parts for my bike as he used to own the same model.  He also gave me a beaded seat cover which looks like it belongs in a NYC taxi but I don't care, it's shockingly comfortable.  I also recovered my seat and changed my tank decals to a black/grey theme. New continent, new colors. I also washed my riding gear and helmet pads as they'd taken on an evil aroma circa Nicaragua.  Unfortunately I was charged by the kilo which turned out to be an expensive affair.

Despite the problems with customs, Colombia quickly became my new favorite country, ousting Japan.  Medellin, specifically, is brilliant; on the same par as London, Tokyo, San Francisco and Sydney in my books.  The people are phenomenal, very helpful and friendly. It's a safe place too. I felt safer here than any other country on my trip thus far and look forward to returning some day.