Four years ago, I finished a master’s in development economics. I applied for the program because I was inspired by economists like Esther Duflo who designed randomized control trials or experiments to reduce poverty and increase wellbeing for the world’s poorest — experiments such as universal basic income.
I was fortunate afterwards to work on applying universal basic income among other interesting economic policies in Khartoum. You may recall from my last newsletter, I was posted in the lovely family-run Acropole hotel, and it was there, from the multitude of “TDA” stickers on the office windows that I first learned about TDA or Tour d’Afrique, the tour company organizing our adventure.
The accommodation after the boat ride was a rest stop for truck drivers, and I was delighted with my small windowless air conditioned cell but not as much with the greetings from the insects.
I put my pillows in the sun to disinfect them and slept snuggly in my sleeping bag above my tent ground cover as a makeshift bedsheet to minimize contact with the bed.
I could have camped outside in the humidity but for $5, it was a small price to pay for the air conditioning before the climbs to Medellin.
You get what you pay for…
The next day we rode almost entirely in friendly rainfall that made all our fingertips look like we’ve lingered in the swimming pool for too long. The ride was 120km, the first hundred were smooth sailing that we covered in under 5 hours with a lunch stop around 80km and a quick sock change.
I feel infinitely grateful to the gentlemen at the bike shop in Palo Alto who insisted I take a few pairs of their premium waterproof socks that feel like a warm hug after the rain.
The next 20km, however, take me close to two and half hours as we conquer our first proper climb of the tour, a windy ascent through lush greenery and waterfalls gaining over a mile of altitude.
I find myself thinking about the decrepit room I slept in the night before while climbing as I try to shift my attention away from the GPS below me reminding me of how much longer I still have to the top. Despite its lack of hygiene they still had WiFi courtesy of Starlink.
After my time in Sudan, I learned that although projects such as UBI are well intentioned they can become muddled in politics and bureaucracy. And while I was inspired by the experimental nature towards improving livelihoods, I resolved to find that in the private sector - investing in startups or bigger experiments that can promote wellbeing and also make money.
As I slowly climb, pedal after pedal, I wonder if another “UBI” or universal basic internet could do to the countryside of Colombia?
I climb at a glacial pace, and for a split second my eyes find those of another cyclist whoosh by me, as he’s holding a rope attached to the back of a lori truck.
I think to myself if UBI, or giving people money has the same economic boost as that rope?
I wonder what analogous projects for the electricity/energy sector similar to Starlink for internet could look like?
Do we want to live in a society full of ropes on the back of trucks?
Finishing my first big climb was euphoric. I was thrilled to be over with it and more thrilled not to be sharing a road with so many trucks and busses.
The thought of doing double the incline the following day is unfathomable. Comical.
Fortunately, we have beds and an incredible view from our rest house.
After warm soup, and during the evening rider meeting we’re briefed on the following day’s +3,000m ride profile: three major climbs and not too many descents, and with the help of our support car, we have a few options if we want to skip a climb or two. But we are warned if we want to attempt the whole thing the only caution is to arrive before 5:45 pm rider’s meeting.
I think to myself: if I start pedaling at 6:30 am, should be enough time I think...
“You ready for the hills?” I ask Will, as we pack up our bags and head to breakfast.
“Yeah - just need to pay a visit to the crapola first” he replies in his strong British accent. I think of how the crapola and myself have not been the best of friends lately; and I’m apprehensive about how my stomach will handle the day’s climb.
We crack on. A fair number of riders elect to start the ride after the first or second of the big climbs. But, others like myself and Tom (70, documentary writer from Toronto, who only started cycling a few years back on the tour from Cairo to Cape Town) attempt the whole thing.
“How you feeling?” I ask Tom as I find him on the first of the three climbs. A beastly 20km of steady pedalling that takes me over three hours of zig zagging to the top.
“I’m moving. Slow and steady.” He replies between catching his breath. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to finish the while ride, but I will go at my own pace and see how far I go…”
I love his attitude and adopt a similar view as I push through from corner to corner.
“You’re a damn hard-headed rider.” Says Jim (an American who retired five years ago, and bike tours full time around the world now). I am the last rider and rock into the camp at 5:35, 10 minutes before the rider’s meeting.
“Thanks.” I respond. “Yesterday was my biggest climb…”
“So today was your biggest, biggest...”
“You got grit kid.” He says offering me a high five.
The ride takes me 8 hours and 38 minutes, not counting the millions of stops along the way for photos, Cola, or aloe vera juice (a new favorite for Will and myself).
After an ice cold beer and an icier shower, lights out at around 8:30 pm.
The following Sunday morning, we had the best ride of the trip so far, a beautiful 30km of winding roads and rolling hills we had all to ourselves, before we started another 35km descent into Medellin. I was pleasantly surprised by the presence of other cyclists on the road, and bike lanes as we got closer to the core of the city.
“Medellín es la mejor ciudad (best city) de Colombia.” Suggests my Venezuelan Uber driver later. I learn from him there is a strong inflow of economic migrants from Colombia’s eastern neighbor.
“¿Por que? I ask.
“La clima… y la gente (the people)… mucho mejor (much better) que Bogota.” He says. I wonder if there’s a rivalry between the two cities, and curious what their residents of each-other.
My first impression of Medellin on our descent was spectacular:
But as we lost altitude, and got closer I realized she looked more beautiful from afar; up close Medellin looked more grungy, and carried some attitude.
If it was a music genre, I thought it would be loud punk rock, with the spiky hair and leather etc.
“House music, jazz, rock and roll” thought Katie, Stephan, and Klaus respectively, the “jóvenes” or youngens of the group.
“Does this remind you of India?” I ask Nithya, a dear friend and classmate from the development economics program who fortuitously was in Medellin during our rest day.
“Yes! Of course…although we add more cardamom in ours” she replies as we dig into our rice pudding.
“No, I meant being here in Colombia?!”
“Oh yeah for sure - does it remind you of Egypt?”
“Definitely…it’s got that developing country vibe…” I reply thinking of the grilled corn on every corner, the way people drive, and the messiness.
“What is it about Medellin that brings back that feeling?”
“Oh, it’s the chaos, the crowds, the sounds, smells…you know what I mean” she continues as we wander around in search of some fresh “jugos naturales.” I opt for a lemon (sadly no mint) and Nithya goes for the fresh Guanabana juice.
“Why is there such a big community of Venezuelans here?” I ask my third Venezuelan Uber driver during our rest day.
“la economia y la moneda (currency) en Venezuela es una mierda (💩)…” he says.
At the end of the day I suppose the shittier the currency, the sweeter the juice.
Next stop: Bogotá