Feb 25, 2026 · Late afternoon
San Rafael — Arrival
Made it. The ride from Guatapé was everything — an hour through the Antioquia highlands, curves and green and altitude, fully present the way only a motorcycle makes you. Then, turning on a steep street near a concrete drain, the moto tipped. Broke the right brake lever. The rest is fine. The moto got me here and then broke, which turned out to be the point. Stella said: "Now you'll really get to contemplate." She's not wrong. Parked it, sent the rental guy a message in Spanish, and now I'm here — in San Rafael with nowhere to ride and no reason to rush. The assignment just enforced itself.
Feb 25, 2026 · Early evening
San Rafael — River Listening
Sat for an hour next to the parked bike, waiting for the rental guy to come swap it. Just me and the sound of the river. And it hit me: the river sounds like one's inner voice — like intuition. When you're close to it, the signal is clear. You can even go into it. But when there's rushing traffic — loud thoughts, intrusive sounds, things from outside you — the river gets harder to hear. River listening. The practice of clearing the interference until the signal underneath becomes audible again. Beginners need a waterfall. Masters can hear the river under anything. I wouldn't have found this if the bike hadn't broken. The forced stillness wasn't a delay. It was the curriculum.
Feb 26, 2026 · Morning
San Rafael — The Chain Falls Off
Took the moto out. Rode about 15 minutes up the road, realized I'd gone too far, turned back. Stopped by a restaurant — and then the chain fell off. No impact, no reason. It just popped off. Pushed the bike up against the building, put the chain back on with dirty hands, went inside to wash them, and thought: I could just eat here. A sweet woman made eggs with arepa and queso and a bowl of hot chocolate. Trickster energy. The bike disables itself just long enough to sit you down and feed you.
Feb 26, 2026 · Midday
San Rafael — The Waterfall That Wasn't
Went looking for La Honda waterfall. Followed Google Maps up a road into what turned out to be someone's farmland. Not lost — just in the wrong place entirely. Spotted a farmer. He didn't speak English, I didn't speak Spanish, but I said "La Honda?" and he said "No aquí" — and then walked me there. Under fences, through fincas, across property lines. No shared language, no reason to help. He just did. Got to the waterfall. Went in, rested for a while, ate some snacks. The water and the stillness were the reward after the wrong turns. Then began the long walk back. Technology pointed wrong. A human pointed right. On a trip about developing better perception, the lesson wrote itself.
Feb 26, 2026 · Afternoon
San Rafael — The Long Walk Back
The waterfall was worth it, but now the bike was parked up a road on the other side of the hills. Walked back down through farmland asking strangers for directions to the main road. Shoes absolutely ruined. Exhausted. Assignment from the Odyssey Works group is on the theme of contemplation. So: contemplated. The walk back was the session. Sometimes the field study is just putting one wrecked shoe in front of the other.