Two Mangos

Piendamo – Rosas, Colombia

It wasn’t until later that I realized how important those two mangos were.

Manuel was just standing there – about a third of the way up the hill to Rosas – holding his two mangos. 

As we approached, he offered them to us – along with a whole slew of chatter. I peeled one with my handy pocket knife and ate it on the spot. Mango juice all over my hands, and dripping off my face and jackknife. I started to wipe it onto my new shirt, but Manuel showed me that we could wash off in the rivulet of water running through the gutter. 

But here’s the fun part . . . 

Every year at this time Manuel waits on that hill until he finds a couple on bikes heading up to Rosas. He’s been doing it for seventeen years now. Ever since his wife, Delia, passed away. 

The way I understand the story, 57 years ago Manuel was courting Delia. Manuel lived at the bottom of the hill – by the Rio Guanabanillo. He met Delia at a salsa dance in Rosas and was immediately smitten. He couldn’t dance so he wanted to impress Delia with lavish gifts. 

Now, Manuel didn’t have two nickels – or whatever they call nickels in Colombia – to rub together. He pondered what to do for several months – during which time he never saw Delia because Rosas was at the top of the hill and the river was at the bottom – and Manuel’s family did not own a car. 

(Having just climbed this hill I understand how Manuel never made it up. It’s a brutal three-mile climb . . .)

Finally, one evening Manuel was mending his father’s fence when a mango fell off a mango tree directly onto Manuel’s head. Manuel had a lump on his head, but – like Newton with his apple – the mango gave him an idea. He would find two perfect mangos and bike up the hill to Rosas where he would deliver them to Delia. 

The next morning Manuel climbed up in the family’s mango tree – which was known in the river valley to have the best mangos around – and he found the two very best, most ripe, mangos on the tree. 

If it was today the family would have had a motorbike of some kind. But in the 1960s they were lucky to have even one old bike. Manuel grabbed the bike and pedaled up to Rosas – on a road which at that time was unpaved.

When he presented the mangos to Delia she was immediately smitten. They were married exactly one year later, and they celebrated by eating mangos from the family mango tree. Every year since they pedaled their bikes down to the tree and ate their mangos – making a tradition of biking back to the town of their own volition – which in their later years meant a lot of walking. 

After Delia passed away, Manuel decided that the best way to honor the adventurous spirit of his wife was to find a couple cycling up the hill and present them with two mangos. Sometimes it takes a few weeks – but eventually he finds a couple cycling up the hill. (Based on what we’ve seen there is probably a couple like us that cycles through once a week or so . . . After all, the road up to Rosas is part of the TransAmerican Highway – which pretty much all the transcontinental riders use.)

I guess we came on day 2 this year. Apparently he picks two new mangos each day in the morning, and then just waits . . .

Quite an honor to receive Delia’s mangos. 

They were delicious – we just had the second one as our post-dinner snack. 

In other news . . .

It was another big day of climbing today. I think about 5,000 feet over just 45 miles or so. But boy, was the climbing worth it. The Guanabanillo Valley was absolutely amazing. 

We stopped in the pretty big city of Popayan – which, I guess, used to be the capital of Colombia’s southwestern department (state). The market in Popayan was amazing. Fruits and vegetables. Various food options – including tamales. We had tamales for lunch; they were delicious. And they’re not fried. They’re wrapped in banana leaves – which, I think, Diana automatically likes because it reminds her of various Chinese dishes that she had when she was growing up. 

The market also included folks selling hats and clothes and stuff. I bought a new visor because the Timberwolves hat that Ellie’s boyfriend, Jacob, gave me for Christmas managed to fall off the bike yesterday. 😦

We also found a place that had some shirts, and I bought a few button downs to ride in. So far, much better than my old t-shirts. More breathable. And the best part – I can get them off at the end of the day without pulling them over my head. Doesn’t sound like a difficult task – but I seem to be getting old – as evidenced by . . . well, as evidenced by many things. But, in this case I’m referring to my left shoulder. Hard to get my hand above my head these days. I guess I wrenched it before the trip, and whenever I go in the ocean the waves seem to do a new number on it . . . 

Anyway, difficult to peel wet, sweaty t-shirts off at the end of the day when you can’t raise your arm – thus the button downs. Big investment: three for 20 mil pesos ($5). I probably could have bargained the seller down – but just seems kind of mean . . .

The town that Delia is from – Rosas – is really nice. We wandered around a bit after our ride. It feels kind of like a ski resort – big mountains sprouting in all directions – only missing the snow . . . But they could probably have pretty amazing downhill and cross country mountain bike trails right from town. (Speaking of which, we saw a ton more road and mountain bikers out this morning . . .) 

Between the tamales and a really good dinner tonight this was one of the best days for Colombian food yet. I don’t think we ate anything fried all day!

Sounds like tomorrow might be a little less climb-y again – so we might cover a little more ground. We’ll see. But if it’s half as beautiful as today we’ll be pretty happy . . .

Postscript. I should probably clarify one small point here . . . With regard to Manuel, the story of the mangos and Delia may not be 100% accurate. After presenting me with the mangos Manuel proceeded to talk at me in rapid-fire Espanol with some vigor for quite some time. I’m not completely certain what he was saying – so this story is more of my interpretation of what could have led Manuel to be standing on the mountain waiting to give someone two mangos . . . 

Might be accurate. But we seem to be in a post-accuracy world in any event. And in such a world this story is probably as good as any other . . .