John was always up and gone before I crawled out of the bed.  Looking around, I was amazed at how few things he possessed.  Such a simple life.  Might not be for everyone, but it suited him well. I was carrying more on the bike than he owned.  Sleeping in the forest in Argentina back in 1974, I was robbed of everything.  At first it was the end of the world, but within a couple of days it was like a breathe of fresh air, owning nothing with nothing to lose.  

Soon I would be leaving Tari and I needed to see if there was anything available that would help delay going back to roasted roots.  John made sure we ate well the entire time I was there.  Probably to avoid listening to my complaints about the root.  He liked them, eating them regularly, and always got a laugh out of my grimace when offering me a chunk.  I was planning on stocking up with raw veggies before leaving, but I could only carry enough for 5 or 6 days.  After 5 or 6 days of mostly carrots only, they can lose their appeal as well.  I had peeked inside every open doorway in Tari and saw nothing to stock up on, which made it hard to even think about leaving.