The drive to the finca was stunning. The most gorgeous views of the mountains yet. We couldn't just see the mountains, we could feel them - we were climbing them. The vast spans of undulating mountains with more shades of green than you could find in a stack of Sherwan-Williams paint chip samples. It was shocking, breath taking, and humbling. I felt tiny but somehow empowered and at peace next to and within these massive piles of earth. After a drive that I didn't want to end, came the arrival at the finca. None of us expected that finca to look like this.
We all imagined a farm in the middle of nowhere with a pool somehow worked into the ground. But, no... as the three of us who drove in a compañera's car entered the finca, we were surprised. We saw the pool, with a beautiful open house situated behind it, in the middle of the rustic and gorgeous Santa Fe. The finca consisted of three huge, open bedrooms, a beautiful patio housing collections of antique sewing machines and typewriters, a huge birdcage, a modest kitchen, washing room, eating area, pool, turtles awkwardly and slowly wadding around, and so many flowers - especially birds of paradise. We always ate three homemade meals a day ... always a breakfast, lunch, and dinner even if breakfast wasn't ready until one in the afternoon, lunch at five, and dinner at ten, it was always cooked in our own kitchen. My favorite meal included deliciously fresh guacamole (props to Cassidy), mango salad, roasted chicken, rice, and patacones. Between these laborious and delicious meals, walks through Santa Fe, hunts for helado and pastels de guayaba, watching a wedding in a local church, salsa dancing, swimming, card games, mosquito bites and sunburn, and so much music, the finca was a solid success.
We got to know our compañeros and we met their friends. I had a great, exhausting time at the finca and I hope we have the opportunity to wander the cobbled streets of Santa Fe again.
