Talking Story with Arlo

Arlo, at 49, felt like he'd lived a thousand lives. The concrete jungle of New York had finally choked the last gasp of its allure from his soul.

He’d traded the sharp suits for faded tie-dye, the boardroom battles for sun-drenched beaches, and the soul-crushing commute for the open road – or in this case, the open skies.

His online business, "ArloCoffees.com," selling premium coffee and "ArloTeas.com" tea sourced from the globe's hidden corners, was his ticket to perpetual adventure.

His heart, though, remained a relic of the 60s, a swirling vortex of peace, love, and righteous rebellion.

He'd been a metalhead with a hidden soft heart, a paradox that fueled his rock-infused love songs and his gentle, wandering spirit.

This trip was to Colombia, the land of emerald mountains and rich, dark coffee. He'd booked a first-class ticket, to ensure he arrived refreshed and ready to immerse himself in the culture. and because 1st Class is "Bitchin"

He wasn't just a coffee buyer; he was a pilgrim, seeking the soul of the bean.

Stepping off the plane in Bogotá, Arlo felt a surge of energy. The air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and freshly brewed coffee.

The warmth of the Colombian people was immediate, a genuine embrace that melted away the last vestiges of city stress.

The coffee buyers he was with were efficient and professional, focused on contracts and logistics. Arlo, however, was drawn to the rhythm of the streets, the vibrant murals, the soulful music spilling from open doorways.

He’d brought his battered acoustic guitar, a constant companion, and soon found himself jamming with local musicians in a small, smoky bar.

His long, silver-streaked hair, his weathered clothes, and his easy smile were met with genuine curiosity and warmth.

It was as if the Colombians recognized something in him, a kindred spirit that transcended language and culture.

"You are like the 'hippies' of the old times," a young woman with bright eyes told him, her English accented but clear.

"My grandmother, she tells stories of the travelers who came with flowers and music, who spoke of peace. You remind me of them."

Arlo was stunned. It wasn’t just a passing observation; it was a deep, resonant connection. He found that the older generation in Colombia, especially, held a reverence for the hippie ethos of the 60s and 70s.

It was a time when they felt a sense of global solidarity, a shared dream of a better world.

He found himself welcomed into homes, sharing meals, and listening to stories of revolution and resilience. He toured coffee plantations nestled in the Andean foothills, learning the intricate process from bean to cup.

He surfed the turquoise waves of the Caribbean coast, feeling the raw power of the ocean beneath his board. He even took a day trip to a snow-capped mountain, experiencing the surreal contrast of tropical heat and alpine chill.

His guitar became his passport. He’d play his metal-infused love songs, the raw emotion resonating with the passionate Colombian spirit.

He’d also play softer, more melodic tunes, songs of peace and unity, and the Colombians would sing along, their voices blending in a harmonious chorus.

The women, especially, were drawn to his gentle spirit and his musical talent. He was a respectful admirer, appreciating their beauty and their strength. He danced with them in salsa clubs, shared stories over cups of tinto, and walked with them along moonlit beaches. It was a connection built on mutual respect and shared joy.

One evening, he found himself in a small village nestled deep in the mountains. A group of elders had gathered to share their stories and their wisdom.

They spoke of the ancient indigenous cultures, of the connection to the land, and of the importance of preserving their traditions.

Arlo listened, his heart filled with a sense of profound connection. He realized that his journey was more than just about coffee and tea; it was about finding a place where his soul could truly resonate.

He played a song for them, a slow, soulful ballad about love and peace. When he finished, there was a moment of silence, and then the elders began to clap, their faces filled with warmth and appreciation.

"You have the heart of a shaman," one of the elders said, his voice deep and resonant. "You see the beauty in the world, and you share it with others."

Arlo smiled, his heart overflowing with gratitude. He realized that he had found not just a source of exceptional coffee but a community, a connection to a deeper truth.

His time in Colombia was a whirlwind of experiences, a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and emotions.

He had surfed the waves, skied the slopes, explored ancient ruins, and tasted the finest coffee in the world.

As he boarded the plane to return home, Arlo felt a sense of peace he hadn't experienced in years. He had found his tribe, a community that understood his heart and appreciated his spirit.

He knew he would return, not just as a buyer, but as a friend, a brother, a fellow traveler on the path of peace and love.

He knew that the spirit of the 60s was alive and well, not just in his own heart, but in the hearts of the Colombian people.

And as he looked out the window at the receding landscape, he smiled, knowing that his adventure had just begun.

Groove is in the Heart - Arlo