Despite my last randomness post this is part IV, not V. some of you may still be trying to figure out why I’m writing Colombia so far after the fact and why I didn’t want to ‘jinx’ it while I was there. Jinx was not referring to my safety or any sort of negative. The trip through and the people of Colombia had been amazing up that point and I didn’t want to ruin the bounty I’d stumbled upon.
Yet again, however I need to begin with a digression. One of the largest dilemmas I’ve had since starting this harebrained scheme back in May was Venezuela. How would I make it safely there, were the beauty, ruggedness and amazing spectacle of the 4x4 Fun Race worth the potential risks? One of the aces I had hidden up my sleeve was the land cruiser connection. Cruiser owners willing to show me the back country and avoid some of the more hazardous areas. The risk was worth the pay off until I got to Costa Rica. Then a couple of things happened to derail the agenda. I’m typing without and internet connection but a quick Google or cnninternational.com search will give you the full story. First Chavez lost and election that would have made him essentially ‘president for life.’ This started a bit of turmoil within his own party and inspired confidence in his detractors. I tried my hardest to ignore the US Media propaganda when it came to Chavez. But locals and credible print media are enough to let you know the guy is driven by fame, his loathing of US policy and values, and his not so hidden desire to be seen as a modern day Simon Bolivar. Yep that is me summing up the entire situation in one sentence what would really take volumes to delineate. Obviously I don’t know the whole truth but had to base my decision NOT to go to VZ on what I knew. However, even after the election my route still included VZ. Then the Emmanuel situation happened. That chaos spurs yet another hostage negotiation with FARC (look them up for sure, labeled my most gov’t as terrorist and a scary group regardless of title, Noam Chomsky be damned) that succeeded. Chavez acknowledging the guerilla group is a slap in the face of the Colombian democratic process. A few conversations with Colombian locals only confirmed this. So with a contentious border zone, Chavez reeling from his electoral loss and headlines being made of the Chavez/FARC relationship I decided to save VZ for another trip. I felt right about it then and still feel right about it now.
And with that I find myself, climbing groggily out of bed in clothes from the night before in lovely downtown Medellin. After checking out and finding my truck intact and safely parked where I left her I decided to bail on the inversion choked City of Eternal Spring and heads toward Bogota. There were plans to go wheeling on Sunday and I figured if got there Friday night I could enjoy the city on Saturday on foot. The road form Medellin climbed aggressively to over 9k feet. Near the airport in the high mountain valley is a series of new round-a-bouts. None of which had signage yet. After going around in circles, literally, I pulled over and looked at my map again. As I was doing so 2MPs rolled up on a 175cc motorcycle. My experience with the military in Colombia had been very positive but after the lowlife crooked police of Panama I was still skeptical of all uniformed ‘authorities.’ I explained my dilemma. I needed gas and the road to Rio Negro. They agreed to show me the way. So I followed them to the gasolinera, filled up the tank, bought a Coke for me and two Gatorades for them, then explained I needed to find an ATM for all the tolls between there and Bogota. Yep I know risky thought. ‘hey follow me to the bank.’ But I was out of cash and knew I would need it. So they took me to the airport. Told me to park in front of the terminal. I asked if it was okay and one replied ‘you’re with us, you can park wherever you want.’ So I ran in to the airport, got my cash and climbed back into my car. They then led me 8 MILES! to the right turn off. All going 45mph in the thin air and rainy streets. Once I got to the turn off I ‘arranged’ my money so I make it easy to give them a low cost bribe. They got off the bike, shook my hand and wished me well on my trip. Just like that. 20 mins police escort through the hills east of Medellin.
Back on the road I rambled through hills, valleys, farms, river, towns, on my way to Bogota. About 40 mins outside of Bogota I pulled over to look at my map, organize my truck and plan my route of attack for the city. Venturing into large foreign cities is quite the adventure. Luckily Bogotá was one of the more organized cities I’ve visited. But typically I always stop outside the city, memorize the route I want to take and a few of the larger arteries, accept the fact that I’ll be lost 10mins into the it and get my mind right for the ensuing chaos. Bogota is over 8million people and was by far the largest city since Mexico City. Even more exciting I was hitting it right at dusk. Dusk and rush hour but I’ll take some daylight and congestion over darkness any day.
So I descend into the valley and onto the streets of Bogota. 10mins in per usual I am somehow in express lanes going toward the city. Okay that works. Wait a minute. It’s only me, buses and taxis. How did that happen? I know I followed a normal car in here. Okay just roll with it. Oh crap these lanes go into the transit center. Guess I’ll roll with them. Sweet a few thousand people out on the curbs waiting for taxis and buses. This CAN’T be right. Hey I’m right, that police officer is flagging me down. I explain to him I have no idea what happened and just took a wrong turn. He stops all traffic, that would be a grand total of 16 lanes while I back out of the terminal, across 6 westbound lanes and 4 east bound lanes to the proper area. 100s, if not 1000s of horns blaring. Sweat dumping off my head, my back, my netherlands, everywhere. The gringo in the big truck always draws stares, that night it was stares, smiles, laughter and a bit of guile. Expedition Americas in its finest and in retrospect one of its most humorous moments. Back on track I kept heading east into the city. And heading east. And heading east. This is a big town. I find an artery and head south. Once I find the area, La Candalaria, where my hotel is I realize I can’t go left. So I make the 3 right turns to get to my hotel. But find myself on another bus only road. Dammit not this again. It’s pitch black by now and I’m tired and lost. But I keep driving around. All the roads lead OUT of where I want to be. So I give up and pull an Amazing Race. I ask a cab driver if I can follow him to the hotel. He says sure and we agree upon $2. Once there ,they’re full. I try 2 more. Full. Find a 3rd, they have a room and parking. I take it. The 5 mins turned in to 25 but the driver still only took $2. It’s now 10pm and I just want to sleep. So I climb INTO the sheets this time and go to bed. The next day would bring new friends into my life, a tour of an amazing city and yet another example of Colombian hospitality.
For you, my dear readers, that will have to wait for another day. It’s 1am and wrote 15 emails tonight before starting this post so my burning eyes need some rest. Enjoy and more tomorrow.
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