(no subject)
Instituto geografico Agustin Codazzi- final stop in Bogota before heading
out. A building with maps of all imaginable kinds. Caught the 7am bus to
Cali.51,000 pesos (roughly $22). Snack vendors get on and off at each traffic
jam,urban and rural alike. We zig zag ferociously up and down steep
mountainsides,along a 2 laner, blanketed by a range of lush groves- guanabana, coffeebean,papaya, banana into arid dunes of huge aloe vera-like plants, and the
occasional cactus. Plenty of military checkpoints the entire way. Men must step out and get briskly frisked against side of bus. All bags searched like possums going
through pails of rubbish. Part of the anti-guerrilla battle. Here and now a cow,
sporting leash and muzzle, laying between steep cliff and an outpost or the road.
Youngsters walking, purposeful, along similarly narrow paths of barb wire with empty buckets and rubber boots. So lucky am I to have a window seat.
Chauffeur has on the radio: traditional Bambuco; soothingly melancholic...
up until the screens come on with one mindless, dude-oriented action movie
after another, all poorly dubbed in Spanish. Ear plugs come in handy and it´s time
to focus on the paisaje. Entire skinless cows hang from front porches. Sackfuls
of yam piled up on the roadside. Small shacks specializing in things like
homemade birdhouses, miel de abejas, and rabbit sandwiches. A lumber yard of strictly bamboo poles. Campesinos come out of nowhere and wave us through, as if lending permission to pass. This is their way of requesting that spare coins be thrown out windows of passing cars. Quickly they reach down to collect. Though no one´s MPH slows one bit. Fresh pebbly creeks flow past Ibague and Fusagasuga. I love names given to Colombian towns, not to mention the authentically clever expressions they use in every dialogue. Watching bicyclists stop and adjust the weight of their awkward cargo loads on every corner is fun. Surprised to see a local bus in reverse, to pick up a running passenger. Or a bottle of juice get passed down the aisle, on behalf of a fragmented family, care of strangers. No words, just nods.
Clouds make love to the mountains in these parts. Signs say things like
"el armadillo puede transmitir lepra. no lo mates". A motorbike pulls a
bicyclist along at dangerous speeds. We arrive in Cali at sunset. Bus terminal teems
with hustlers of all sorts. It´s necessary, yet heartbreaking to avoid eye
contact with just about everyone. I walk into the streets of a sketchy city and an hour later I´m confronted by a man who appears to be asking for change. I open mi boca and the accent is noticeable. All of a sudden he aggressively demands an enormous sum, or else. My reflex is to jump in front of a passing taxi and get in. Cabbie immediately notices what´s happening and almost gets out to go beat the jacker up. Says that´s what taxiis in Cali are famous for. But instead swallows his pride and takes me back to the bus station.
Plan B; overnight trip to Equador. 8 people in a 16 seater. Zooming through
the darkness, until we come across another bus, between Popayan and Pasto, whose
driver dozed off and skid 100 meters, before being halted by a tree. Our driver takes those bewildered passengers (no serious injuries) north while we wait for
another southbounder to come along. It´s pitch black and damp with mosquitos in the
southern valleys of Colombia. A couple hours into the sunrise we make it
into Ipiales, the border town. Equador proves to be a much less violent and
chaotic, much more humble and calm country than the last. TO BE CONTINUED.....
This story does indeed become more positive. From an internet cafe,
safe and sound in Quito, I love you. Please ask if you need any
spanish and/or pompous words I used translated for you.
out. A building with maps of all imaginable kinds. Caught the 7am bus to
Cali.51,000 pesos (roughly $22). Snack vendors get on and off at each traffic
jam,urban and rural alike. We zig zag ferociously up and down steep
mountainsides,along a 2 laner, blanketed by a range of lush groves- guanabana, coffeebean,papaya, banana into arid dunes of huge aloe vera-like plants, and the
occasional cactus. Plenty of military checkpoints the entire way. Men must step out and get briskly frisked against side of bus. All bags searched like possums going
through pails of rubbish. Part of the anti-guerrilla battle. Here and now a cow,
sporting leash and muzzle, laying between steep cliff and an outpost or the road.
Youngsters walking, purposeful, along similarly narrow paths of barb wire with empty buckets and rubber boots. So lucky am I to have a window seat.
Chauffeur has on the radio: traditional Bambuco; soothingly melancholic...
up until the screens come on with one mindless, dude-oriented action movie
after another, all poorly dubbed in Spanish. Ear plugs come in handy and it´s time
to focus on the paisaje. Entire skinless cows hang from front porches. Sackfuls
of yam piled up on the roadside. Small shacks specializing in things like
homemade birdhouses, miel de abejas, and rabbit sandwiches. A lumber yard of strictly bamboo poles. Campesinos come out of nowhere and wave us through, as if lending permission to pass. This is their way of requesting that spare coins be thrown out windows of passing cars. Quickly they reach down to collect. Though no one´s MPH slows one bit. Fresh pebbly creeks flow past Ibague and Fusagasuga. I love names given to Colombian towns, not to mention the authentically clever expressions they use in every dialogue. Watching bicyclists stop and adjust the weight of their awkward cargo loads on every corner is fun. Surprised to see a local bus in reverse, to pick up a running passenger. Or a bottle of juice get passed down the aisle, on behalf of a fragmented family, care of strangers. No words, just nods.
Clouds make love to the mountains in these parts. Signs say things like
"el armadillo puede transmitir lepra. no lo mates". A motorbike pulls a
bicyclist along at dangerous speeds. We arrive in Cali at sunset. Bus terminal teems
with hustlers of all sorts. It´s necessary, yet heartbreaking to avoid eye
contact with just about everyone. I walk into the streets of a sketchy city and an hour later I´m confronted by a man who appears to be asking for change. I open mi boca and the accent is noticeable. All of a sudden he aggressively demands an enormous sum, or else. My reflex is to jump in front of a passing taxi and get in. Cabbie immediately notices what´s happening and almost gets out to go beat the jacker up. Says that´s what taxiis in Cali are famous for. But instead swallows his pride and takes me back to the bus station.
Plan B; overnight trip to Equador. 8 people in a 16 seater. Zooming through
the darkness, until we come across another bus, between Popayan and Pasto, whose
driver dozed off and skid 100 meters, before being halted by a tree. Our driver takes those bewildered passengers (no serious injuries) north while we wait for
another southbounder to come along. It´s pitch black and damp with mosquitos in the
southern valleys of Colombia. A couple hours into the sunrise we make it
into Ipiales, the border town. Equador proves to be a much less violent and
chaotic, much more humble and calm country than the last. TO BE CONTINUED.....
This story does indeed become more positive. From an internet cafe,
safe and sound in Quito, I love you. Please ask if you need any
spanish and/or pompous words I used translated for you.