Plans change. I wake up and am feeling awful. My time in Medellin starts to pass passes through fits of sleep, rolls of tissues, head colds and to make things worse stomach cramps. 2 days passes and I donít know where they went. Friday I call BMW to check on the status of the fan: they still donít have it. Friday night I talk to a lovely Romanian couple on a KTM and a 650GS who convince me that after their day of on the cheap bike repairs I should be able to find a cheap fan and doctor something to fit. I am still feeling sketchy and I am a little unconvinced I have enough mechanical skills or Spanish skills to pull this off. Then Al tells me that Monday is another holiday and if I donít get the bike tomorrow I will be waiting till at least next Tuesday to ride south. My time is ticking by, Huzar flies into southern Peru in seven days from now, and I was hoping to meet him in Nazca a few thousand km from here. I am feeling the pressure.
I go to BMW early Saturday, missing out on a ride with the Romanians and Al to the highland lakes. I sit and persuade the BMW people to do something. If the new fan is not in, as they say it isnít, fix the old fan or give me a fan from another bike. Then they tell me that they close today not at 5pm but at 12.50pm; in an hour. My options are not good but each day is another day lost and a more dangerous ride south, so they reluctantly go to install a second hand fan, though stating they have to charge me the full $380 price for it! Was that BMW/ Bring my wallet? I feel sick.
At 12.30 they suddenly come through the door bearing a new fan they Ďjust foundí. They install it and thankfully I am on my way. After checking out of the pub I am on the road by 3 winding my way through the mountains. I hope to reach Salento which I have been told is beautiful, but time is against me. I wind my way through the lovely hills.
The third lane is for motorcycles
But it takes longer than I thought and as it gets dark I decide to pull into my first í24 hour love hotelí. Much to the surprise of the young lady that ran it; It was just me and the bike. She told me the prices: 4000C an hour, four hours for 15,000 or we could have until the morning for 25,000 but she looked at us again. Ok 20,000 . A man comes over from the next door pool complex and watches as I negotiate the bike into the room, and invites us both back to the pool to eat Mango and have some drinks. The hotel lady is young and has a 6 year old child that lives with her family. She asks questions of my relationship status and my travels. Her eyes widen and she tells me she is looking for a good man, but would like to travel as I do. Another bike pulls up and two men get off brining beer, and Rum. One of them becomes deeply engaged with the hotel lady, and the other rides off in the darkness after a few drinks to Ďget his girlfriend from the local villageí. The Pool man starts to complement my poor Spanish and I decide its time to leave the party, and make use of the fact that my bike is securely stored in my room, beside my bed of all things, cook some dinner, and get to work on sorting out my bike.