It turned out that taking a boat from Panama to Colombia wasn't meant to be. After spending a week in Panama City waiting for updates on the sailboats, I eventually found that it was going to take at least 10 more days for any boat to return from Cartagena. Even then there was no guarantee that the first boats to return could take a motorcycle. Disappointed that I wouldn´t be doing one of the things I had looked forward to most, I woke up early on a Saturday morning and rode to the airport to check out the less exotic and less interesting alternative for getting to Colombia. There were two airlines that could take the bike. The first, Girag, had a cargo flight leaving the next day and could do it for $910. The other, Copa Carga, didn't have a flight leaving until the following Friday, but they were charging $625, and I could leave my bike with them on Monday. Since it wasn't important to have my bike with me in Bogota, I went with the latter, and said goodbye to my bike at the cargo terminal that Monday: Not really sure if I would ever see it again. Being strapped to the pallet with the bike was not an option, so I flew out of Panama city on Tuesday, and arrived in Bogota that evening.
Bogota was so much more than I had expected. Aside from finding a great hostel with a good group of people, the city was really pleasant to walk around. I'm not much of a city person, but Bogota didn't feel nearly as congested as the others I've been to. I felt perfectly safe walking around the city. Of course I took cabs at night, but that's standard protocol for locals as well. Check out the phone booth in the pic below.
The most striking thing about Colombia has been the people. They are by far the friendliest I have met on this trip, and they want nothing more than to share their country with you. I´ve used more Spanish here than anywhere else simply because everyone is so friendly. For example, while at Monseratte in Bogota, a point overlooking the city, I met a group of 20 college students from Bucaramanga on a class trip. They invited me to join them on their afternoon excursion to a farm outside of the city. So an hour later I was riding to the farm on their chartered bus and my head was spinning from the immediate and intense Spanish immersion. The farm itself wasn't anything to get excited about, but it was a nice way to spend the afternoon out of the city, and the grill we stopped at on the way back was awesome. Dinner included a huge plate of beef, chicken, sausage, potatoes, and my favorite, fried plantains, all for five bucks. To cap off the evening, our bus broke down in the middle of the city, about 30 blocks from where we needed to go, but the walk back was a good way to see a lot of the city and the Halloween celebrations that were happening throughout.
My bike arrived that Friday, but customs was closed because of the holiday and I wasn't able to pick it up until Tuesday. After feeling naked without my bike for a whole week, it was a huge relief to see that the bike had finally arrived safely. The process of running around the cargo terminal to import the bike was a 5 hour ordeal: One of those situations where everyone seems to know what they're doing, but no one actually does. Around 4:30pm I rolled the bike down the stairs and into the parking lot where I packed up all my stuff. The bike started up right away, but I noticed that my headlight was out. I had planned to leave the city that afternoon, but by the time I left the airport it was already dark, and riding between cities at night is a worse idea in Colombia than anywhere else I´ve been. I decided to make my way back to the hostel on the other side of the city. Riding from one side of Bogota to the other, through rush hour traffic, and in the dark with no headlight, is definitely one of those, "I'd rather be anywhere but here" moments.
The next morning I road north to Tunja, a pretty colonial city in the mountains. I met a guy named Rodrigo who was staying at my hotel, and he took time off from work the following day to show me around the town. He owns an insurance office in Tunja, where he lives during the week, and on the weekends he returns home to his wife and kids in Bucaramanga.
The following two days took me north through the mountains and through several colonial towns along the way. In Chiquinquira, I found the cheapest hotel of my trip. It cost $3.50 for the night, and that price included a TV. Needless to say, it was far from the nicest place I've stayed, with a bed that was shaped like a hammock and a common bathroom without a toilet seat. The lack of toilet seat wasn't a problem though, because the eye-watering and gag-inducing "funk" in the bathroom air kept visits short. The room itself was clean though, and I dosed off to the TV doing its best to show the one distant channel it could pick up. You get what you pay for...
The next day took me through some beautiful canyons with postcard-perfect winding roads to the city of Bucaramanga. As I made my way through the outskirts of the city, I ran into a local guy at a stoplight (not literally), who had the same bike as me. He invited me follow him to the center, and then directed me to a hotel in my price range. (I decided to splurge after the previous nights bargain!) He came with me into the hotel lobby and bargained the owners down, so I have really nice place at a really good price.
It's almost hard not to meet people in Colombia. Last night I went to dinner and started talking with two guys at the restaurant bar. Their parents belong to a country club of sorts and they invited me to go with them to a huge semi-annual party there. After introducing me to their parents and other family members, I was dragged out onto the dance floor by one of their elderly aunts, where I proceeded to look like the only person in the ballroom who couldn't hear music. I was definitely way out of my element; although when it comes to dancing, I don't really have an element to begin with.
I met up with Rodrigo today, and he showed me around Bucaramanga and its small colonial neighbor to the south, Giron. I have to thank him for his overwhelming hospitality and friendship both here and in Tunja. I´ve learned a lot about both places that I would have never known otherwise.
Tomorrow I'm going to make the 9 hour drive to the coast. It's supposed to be one of the most beautiful parts of Colombia, so hopefully I´ll have some good pics for the site! Hasta Luego!
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