"Peru has nothing, Ecuador a little, and Colombia is the best" says our taxi driver with obvious pride on the drive from the Colombian border into town. He lays out this hierarchy with regard to food, and his love of country comes through loud and clear.
Which makes it all the more troubling when not more than 3 minutes later he is calmly explaining the problems with violence, guerrillas and safety that he sees in his country. This becomes a common thread of our first several hours Colombia, a country that I have been eagerly anticipating visiting for weeks. It starts with the immigration officer who stamps us into the country, and finds time to let us know that it is not recommended, nor particularly safe, to ride buses at night.
We have crossed the border in the extreme south of the country, a region that is well known for violence. For example, there was a big battle (and international incident) in 2008 near the borders between the countries that killed 19 rebels, in this case, members of the the most well known guerrilla group in Colombia - FARC). In fact, when you try to find out the distance between where we came from (Quito) and where we are going (Cali), google maps says there is no route between the two, even though the primary highway of South America (PanAmerica) goes directly between the two cities.
FARC and the Colombian government are currently in ongoing discussions about resolving the multi-decade conflict. However, farther east there have been recent kidnappings of foreigners, including an American and a group of French travelers. All of this plays on our mind as we enter Colombia, which has the effect of heightening Muriel's and my awareness of our surroundings (a good thing) and our nervousness (not so great).
Being scared to travel at night is a big departure from our usual approach to travel in South America. Up to today, we have covered about 9,800 kilometers by bus, snaking our way overland from Santiago, Chile to Cali, Colombia. These cities are separated by 4150 kilometers as the crow flies, but we certainly have not been taking the most direct route. Which is the wonder and joy of travel, it kind of blows my mind that we have covered nearly 10,000 kms overland, seeing and experiencing the land and counties in a more direct and tangible fashion.
Today, we still have about 450 kms from the Colombian border to the en-route city that we will stay in, Popayan. This city was founded in the early 1500's and is supposed to be a colonial gem. It is also a few hours south of Cali, where we need to be in a few days for our first flight in months up to the Caribbean coast. While it is sub-optimal to be on the bus some of the night, we figure that it will be just from 7 pm to 10 or 11 pm and decide to take a chance and go against what people here have recommended and what all the guides and online resources say as well. One last turn on a night bus, only 3 or 4 hours we think and crossing our fingers and hope for the best.
The first part of the trip is spectacular. These massive and verdant valleys, steep and deep, unfold along the first several hours. The bus careens around curves, passing trucks with nary a hint that there are hundred foot cliffs to our left. The countryside is attractively terraced with agriculture, combining with the natural topography to create stunning vistas.
We then arrive at the only pit stop of the trip, a town called Pasto, where we wait about 30 minutes for others to get on the bus and then head out into the sunset. A huge rainbow crosses the entire sky over the town, hopefully a good omen for tonight. As darkness descends, I pop on some favorite music and stare out the windows. One thing I notice is that we keep coming across checkpoints staffed with military, every 15 or so minutes. Each stop is similar, the bus driver talks to the guys at the checkpoint and then we head on through. The high security presence contrasts to an efficient civil presence of both regular toll booths staffed by workers in sharp uniforms and the high quality of the road, smooth and fast considering the geography.
At the 4 or 5th stop, instead of continuing onward, we pull to the side of the road. Uh oh. This trip might be a bit longer than we thought. There is no explanation and fellow traveless seem mostly resigned to the process. We ask why the delay and are told - 'security'. This stop ends up being about 80 minutes and then we are on our way again, unsure of what broke the logjam.
After a tense hour or so, the bus starts driving quite a bit more aggressively. Mu and I look nervously out the window, trying to discern what is going on. Then, we are in a town along the road and pull to the side again. It is now about 11 pm, or the time we were supposed to arrive in Popayan. At first we think this is just a late dinner stop, as people get off and hit up the local chicken broaster counter. However, Mu does some investigating and learns we have stopped because the road ahead is 'very dangerous'. No one is sure when the police will let us continue onward, and there is a palpable anxious energy on the bus.
We settle in and consider our options.
A) We stay on the bus and hope for the best, arriving an hour and half down the road at the city in the middle of the night. The positive for this option is the safety of numbers, while the downside is the reality that entire buses have been stopped along the route before and terrible robberies, murders and rapes have occurred.
B) We bunk up the night in a crappy hotel on the side of the road and wait until morning to continue onward. This gets out out of danger on the road, but those hijackers must live somewhere and we would be isolated and very much alone in this no-name town.
What would you choose?
We went with option A, after several other buses arrived and an informal caravan was formed, with our bus in the co-pilot position. A little safety in numbers, hopefully. It recalls a taxi-brousse ride we took in Madagascar in January, when the micro-buses waited until forming a caravan to get through another dangerous stretch of road in the interior highlands. That trip was nerve racking, but ultimately successful.
This one ends the same, as we get through the dangerous stretch of road and pull into Popayan at about 2 in the morning. I am bone tired, thankful to be safe, and oh so ready to fall into a deep sleep. Thankfully, there is a nice enough hotel across the street from the deserted bus station and we are in our room within minutes. Asleep in a few minutes more and ready for a new day, daylight and a little less nerve racking adventures. One that reiterated to us the constant need to be making informed and sound decisions.
This is our last night bus for a while, I can assure you. Promise mom.
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