No matter if your floors are dirt and your roof is thatched, when the Mundial is on, you will find a way to hook up the big screen and watch some futbol.  I have to say that I have never really been into organized sports and much less soccer, but experiencing the World Cup Colombian style was quite exciting.  The whole country was just so into it.  As Colombia kept winning more and more games, more and more yellow, blue, and red was displayed all over the place.  It seemed like all of Medellín was in a jersey.  And despite the fact that Rio Cedro seemed very isolated from the rest of civilization, the whole village gathered around television sets to support their country on game day.  I may never fully understand the point of chasing a ball back and forth across a giant field, but seeing people proud about their country brings on a kind of simple joy that is contagious.

Now that we are all back to our "normal" lives with deadlines and stress and long distance relationships, the thought of braving nightly mosquito raids or having to paddle a kayak a few miles into town to replenish precious beverages sounds like a small price to pay for the opportunity to spend time with friends in utter tranquility.  Soaking up the sun and salt spray and searching for sloths.

I cannot take credit for any of the photos in this post.  I have been a bit lazy with my camera lately, I've got to work on that, but thankfully friends very nicely captured our adventure in Rio Cedro.  Cam, Marek, Jess, Tane, Aga, Erwan, the whole lot of you, I am eternally greatful!  I'll take gigas of fotos over gazillions of trinkets and soon-to-be-tossed souvenirs any day.

UHmazing sloth photo by Jess

When we arrived we found that the effort to get there was well worth it.  I have never before been to such an equally remote locale.  There were beaches that stretched for miles with no one but perhaps a donkey and a local man to urge him on.  We fourteen were like the Swiss Family Robinson, all living together in a great jungle with only our imaginations to entertain us.  And while we did not have to make our own house out of ropes and driftwood and whatnots, the one in which we stayed was equally unique and impressive.

Our beach-side bungalow which was constructed by Pablo's father, was built in the style typical for this region of Colombia.  The house support consists of simple concrete with slatted walls made of durable palm trees.  The open walls maximize the flow of ocean breezes, which are the only cooling mechanism on steamy nights.  The entwined palm frond roof adds protection from tropical storms while allowing the house to breath and surpluses of hammocks provide relaxing spots to read a book, drink a tequila, or converse with friends.  The front lawn extends just far enough to provide a soccer pitch and an area for the chickens to roam.  And just beyond that, lies the ocean.  Crashing against the shore, singing you a lullaby to sleep.

After the wedding, we boarded our private jet and flew off into the sunset to spend a week in the lap luxury, sipping strawberry daiquiris festooned with little colorful umbrellas while cooling off in infinity infinity pools.

errr .... not exactly....

While libations were had and sunsets abounded, we forewent the popular honeymoon ideal and instead... two days after the wedding (yes we might be out of our minds)... we embarked on a full throttle adventure... with twelve other people.  I coin this insanity, The Friendsmoon.  And while the terminology is similar, let us not confuse The Friendsmoon with the traditional matrimonial voyage, because, ladies and gents, there will by gosh be a honeymoon, complete with ridiculous cocktails and ZERO other people (besides us that is).  I think this first private trip as a married entity is, indeed, a worthwhile venture (and perhaps a necessity, post wedding-craziness, that I might have overlooked), but we decided that since so many of our friends had traveled across the globe to come to our event, by George, we were going to show them a good time in Colombia, especially considering that we do not know when we will ever all be together again.

So, at the crack of dawn on the 16th of June, we, all fourteen of us, headed to the airport for a quick flight to the bustling metropolis of Montería, Colombia.  From there, unbeknownst to many of us, we would board two rickety old trucks fitted with bench seats in the bed, which would carry us three hours into the middle of nowhere.  And from there, as if the town of Rio Cedro (population 100 humans, 45 donkeys) was too crowded, we would walk another half an hour through the jungle, in the blazing heat, with a week's worth of gear, to our final shangri la...  Photos below are scenes from the road...