In an exciting start to my trip, I noticed my ATM card expired on 1/31 about one hour before I left for the airport. Bummer since that was going to be my main source of currency while traveling for two weeks. I ran to the bank two blocks away and they couldn’t do anything for me. So I ran home and threw my apartment apart looking for the new ATM card that was apparently mailed to me a month ago. A few minutes before my scheduled departure time I find the card and make the call to activate it. Crisis averted. I also received a new shipment of contacts the day I left which enabled me to have more than one extra pair on my trip.
For some reason I was flying out to Miami in first class. Maybe that was why my ticket cost so much? I usually fly Delta and this was American who I have no privileges with. I think there were about four congressmen on the flight with me heading home for the weekend last night.
This morning as I waited in the ticket line at the Miami airport I was talking to the British guy in front of me and an American behind me. We seemed to be the only gringos getting on the Avianca flight to Bogotá. The British guy was a young backpacker like myself and the American was a nice clean cut guy looking former military. He was talking about how nice Colombia and their people were and that his wife was from Colombia. We talked for over 40 minutes or so as we waiting at the ticket counter with everyone else on our flight. Apparently Avianca is known for being late but they assured us we’d board and take off on time.
I ran in to the American again in the security line and that is when I discovered who he actually was. He was held up by security because he didn’t look like his picture. This is because his picture was taken while he was being held hostage by the FARC for over five years. He was one of three Americans freed in a daring rescue last summer along with the Íngrid Betancourt the Colombian-French politician. I met him on his way to Colombia to meet with the Minister of Defense. When I looked it up I found out his name is Keith Stansell. After coming back from Colombia they started talking to the media for the first time and went on a tour talking about their new book: Out of Captivity.
We actually did end up taking off about on time. I was happy about this because I had 70 minutes to catch my next flight which I was told was at the domestic airport next door to the international airport. I thought maybe the flight attendants forgot they were in the main cabin when they started handing out hot hand towels like they do in first class. Then they served breakfast. I guess airlines aren’t having such a hard time in the southern hemisphere. Bogotá is at over 8600 feet and sits between two mountains. The land around the airport looked rural and farmed among the cloudy mountains. Making the connection to the other “airport” was rather easy as Avianca had a shuttle. It became very apparent in the Bogotá airport that I was in a land of a different language and I could communicate with very few people.
The flight from Bogotá to Santa Marta was a quick one. The Santa Marta airport is by far the smallest airport I’ve ever seen. We landed on the single runway with little infrastructure in view. The pilot had to make a U turn at the end of the runway and go back to the building that I assume was the “airport”. I don’t remember anything about the airport other than the small open air building that housed the baggage claim. Kirby was standing outside the bars that served as walls peering in. I was quite happy to see my bag made it as well.
It was hot on the coast of Colombia and I was in jeans and a long shirt. The airport is out in the middle of nowhere so we took a buseta in to town. These mini-buses are one of the most popular forms of transport in the country. The ayudante who hangs out the door enticing people aboard takes your money and you can get dropped off anywhere on their route as there are no official stops.
Santa Marta is an interesting small town. There is some tourist infrastructure because it has a beach and is a jumping off point for the hike to the Lost City and other places such as Parque Nacional Tayrona. There weren’t a lot of tourists while we were there. The tourist season is in late December and January. One of the first things you notice is that traffic signs and signals are optional. Drivers may yield but mostly hook their horns when passing through an intersection. They honk their horns at all times for everything and at everything. There are street vendors everywhere selling all types of food, drink, and household goods including calculators and remote controls. In Colombia you can sit in the 85 degree sun on the beach in the afternoon and you will be offered coffee every 15 minutes from some vendor (along with sunglasses, necklaces, water, beer, and an assortment of food). Everyone has something to sell. It is quite convenient to have the ability to buy a water, beer, or snack on any corner.
Kirby had a room reserved in a decent place, Park Hotel, on the main strip in front of the beach. It had a nice open balcony on each floor overlooking the beach. I think we might have been the only ones there. I met a Colombian refuge artist who Kirby befriended, Evan, who sold interesting ink art. We also ran in to a German named Norm who was just starting his 10 week travel tour. The four of us had beers at the one bar on the beach side road that had live vallenato music. Carnaval was a week away but people were already busting out their costumes and getting in the mood.
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