Last week I was on vacation in Armenia, Colombia, visiting my wife’s family. We stayed with them in their home, and lived like locals.
We shopped at the supermarket and took our kids to play in the big plastic ball pit nearby. I ate a lot of incredible bread, drank a lot of great coffee, ate delicious fried chicken from Frisby’s (the Colombian version of KFC, but better), and threw back a few Aguila’s (the local beer).
We went to the Parque del Café: an entire amusement park devoted to the story of how coffee is grown and produced in the region. We went to a nearby finca, traversing through dirt roads, to get to a horse ranch owned by a Spanish man who made his career teaching horses in Spain to walk paso fino style. I watched as my soon to be three-year-old rode a pony around the ranch for an hour, loving every minute of it.
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