with a gigantic chestnut tree； a well kept garden； and a corral where goats； pigs； and hens lived in peaceful munion。 The only animals that were prohibited； not just in his house but in the entire settlement； were fighting cocks。
？rsula’s capacity for work was the same as that of her husband。 Active； small； severe； that woman of unbreakable nerves who at no moment in her life had been heard to sing seemed to be everywhere； from dawn until quite late at night； always pursued by the soft whispering of her stiff； starched petticoats。 Thanks to her the floors of tamped earth； the unwhitewashed mud walls； the rustic； wooden furniture they had built themselves were always dean； and the old chests where they kept their clothes exhaled the warm smell of basil。
Jos？Arcadio Buendía； who was the most enterprising man ever to be seen in the village； had set up the placement of the houses in such a way that from all of them one could reach the river and draw water with the same effort； and he had lined up the streets with such good sense that no house got more sun than another during the hot time of day。 Within a few years Macondo was a village that was more orderly and hard working than any known until then by its three hundred inhabitants。 It was a truly happy village where no one was over thirty years of age and where no one had died。
Since the time of its founding； Jos？Arcadio Buendía had built traps and cages。 In a short time he filled not only his own house but all of those in the village with troupials； canaries； bee eaters； and redbreasts。 The concert of so many different birds became so disturbing that ？rsula would plug her ears with beeswax so as not to lose her sense of reality。 The first time that Melquíades？tribe arrived； selling glass balls for headaches； everyone was surprised that they had been able to find that village lost in the drowsiness of the swamp； and the gypsies confessed that they had found their way by the song of the birds。
That spirit of social initiative disappeared in a short time； pulled away by the fever of the magnets； the astronomical calculations； the dreams of transmutation； and the urge to discover the wonders of the world。 From a clean and active man； Jos？Arcadio Buendía changed into a man lazy in appearance； careless in his dress； with a wild beard that ？rsula managed to trim with great effort and a kitchen knife。 There were many who considered him the victim of some strange spell。 But even those most convinced of his madness left work and family to follow him when he brought out his tools to clear the land and asked the assembled group to open a way that would put Macondo in contact with the great inventions。
Jos？Arcadio Buendía was pletely ignorant of the geography of the region。 He knew that to the east there lay an impenetrable mountain chain and that on the other side of the mountains there was the ardent city of Riohacha； where in times past—according to what he had been told by the first Aureliano Buendía； his grandfather—Sir Francis Drake had gone crocodile hunting with cannons and that he repaired hem and stuffed them with straw to bring to Queen Elizabeth。 In his youth； Jos？Arcadio Buendía and his men； with wives and children； animals and all kinds of domestic implements； had crossed the mountains in search of an outlet to the sea； and after twenty…six months they gave up the expedition and founded Macondo； so they would not have to go back。 It was； therefore； a route that did not interest him； for it could lead only to the past。 To the south lay the swamps； covered with an eternal vegetable scum and the whole vast universe of the great swamp； which； according to what the gypsies said； had no limits。 The great swamp in the west mingled with a boundless extension of water where there were soft…skinned cetaceans that had the head and torso of a woman； causing the ruination of sailors with the charm of their extraordinary breasts。 The gypsies sailed along that route for six months before they reached the strip of land over which the mules that carried the mail passed。 According to Jos？Arcadio Buendía’s calculations； the only possibility of contact with civilization lay along the northern route。 So he handed out clearing tools and hunting weapons to the same men who had been with him during the founding of Macondo。 He threw his directional instruments and his maps into a knapsack； and he undertook the reckless adventure。
During the first days they did not e across any appreciable obstacle。 They went down along the stony bank of the river to the place where years before they had found the soldier’s armor； and from there they went into the woods along a path between wild orange trees。 At the end of the first week they killed and roasted a deer； but they agreed to eat only half of it and salt the rest for the days that lay ahead。 With that precaution they tried to postpone the necessity of having to eat macaws； whose blue flesh had a harsh and musky taste。 Then； for more than ten days； they did not see the sun again。 The ground became soft and damp； like volcanic ash； and the vegetation was thicker and thicker； and the cries of the birds and the uproar of the monkeys became more and more remote； and the world became eternally sad。 The men on the expedition felt overwhelmed by their most ancient memories in that paradise of dampness and silence； going back to before original sin； as their boots sank into pools of steaming oil and their machetes destroyed bloody lilies and golden salamanders。 For a week； almost without speaking； they went ahead like sleepwalkers through a universe of grief； lighted only by the tenuous reflection of luminous insects； and their lungs were overwhelmed by a suffocating smell of blood。 They could not return because the strip that they were opening as they went along would soon close up with a new vegetation that。 almost seemed to grow before their eyes。 “It’s all right；？Jos？Arcadio Buendía would say。 “The main thing is not to lose our bearings。？Always following his pass； he kept on guiding his men toward the invisible north so that they would be able to get out of that enchanted region。 It was a thick night； starless； but the darkness was being impregnated with a fresh and clear air。 Exhausted by the long crossing； they hung up their hammocks and slept deeply for the first time in two weeks。 When they woke up； with the sun already high in the sky； they were speechless with fascination。 Before them； surrounded by ferns and palm trees； white and powdery in the silent morning light； was an enormous Spanish galleon。 Tilted slightly to the starboard； it had hanging from its intact masts the dirty rags of its sails in the midst of its rigging； which was adorned with orchids。 The hull； covered with an armor of petrified barnacles and soft moss； was firmly fastened into a surface of stones。 The whole structure seemed to occupy its own space； one of solitude and oblivion； protected from the vices of time and the habits of the birds。 Inside； where the expeditionaries explored with careful intent； there was nothing but a thick forest of flowers。
The discovery of the galleon； an indication of the proximity of the sea； broke Jos？Arcadio Buendía’s drive。 He considered it a trick of his whimsical fate to have searched for the sea without finding it； at the cost of countless sacrifices and suffering； and to have found it all of a sudden without looking for it； as if it lay across his path like an insurmountable object。 Many years later Colonel Aureliano Buendía crossed the region again； when it was already a regular mail route； and the only part of the ship he found was its burned…out frame in the midst of a field of poppies。 Only then； convinced that the story had not been some product of his father’s imagination； did he wonder how the galleon had been able to get inland to that spot。 But Jos？Arcadio Buendía did not concern himself with that when he found the sea after another four days？journey from the galleon。 His dreams ended as he faced that ashen； foamy； dirty sea； which had not merited the risks and sacrifices of the adventure。
“God damn it！？he shouted。 “Macondo is surrounded by water on all sides。？
The idea of a peninsular Macondo prevailed for a long time； inspired by the arbitrary map that Jos？Arcadio Buendía sketched on his return from the expedition。 He drew it in rage； evilly； exaggerating the difficulties of munication； as if to punish himself for the absolute lack of sense with which he had chosen the place。 “We’ll never get anywhere；？he lamented to ？rsula。 “We’re going to rot our lives away here without receiving the benefits of science。？That certainty； mulled over for several months in the small room he used as his laboratory； brought him to the conception of the plan to move Maeondo to a better place。 But that time ？rsula had anticipated his feverish designs。 With the secret and implacable labor of a small ant she predisposed the women of the village against the flightiness of their husbands； who were already preparing for the move。 Jos？Arcadio Buendía did not know at what moment or because of what adverse forces his plan had bee enveloped in a web of pretexts； disappointments； and evasions until it turned into not