COLOMBIA!

Just a few weeks ago we found out that we could add three more months to our tourist visas by traveling to another country and then reentering after the expiration date that’s stamped in our passports: May 1^{st, 2012}. We also had the option of staying in Tena and just paying a lawyer $1,000 and having him do all the paperwork. We chose to do a border run. After much debate over Peru vs. Colombia, Colombia won out due to time restraints. Peru would take us almost a whole week’s travel time just to get to the border. If we went to Colombia we could be there and back within one week’s time.

We heard an elder in our hall might be traveling to Quito, Ecuador’s capital, where we could catch a taxi and bus onward to Colombia. Quito is almost a five hour bus ride from Tena, and any chance we could take to hitch a ride in a car would lesson ride time by at least an hour. We wanted to travel on Friday, but Gary was supposedly going up on Thursday.

“Well, I’m not really sure if I’m going tomorrow,” Gary said when we called him the night before. It was all a last-minute thing, since the whole reason he was going up was to visit a brother in the hospital. “I’ll let you know,” Gary said non-challantly. I wasn’t feeling well and went to bed. I figured if he didn’t know by 9pm if he was going or not to Quito the answer was no. I was wrong. He called the next morning around 6am. “Be ready in an hour.” In one hour we packed all our stuff for our week-long trip, all Lexi’s things for her stay with Tim & Monica, and the dogs’ stuff for their stay at Jessamyn & Hugo’s. We even had time left over to make egg sandwiches and coffee. Gary came and picked us up in his jade green Ford SUV and we were off. A few hours later we were in Quito with all our suitcases and were told by the owner of the hotel that it was full. No vacancies, even though we had just spoken with her hours before and reserved a room for three.  There we were, dumbfounded and hotel-less in Quito. She didn’t even offer an apology. Fortunately we had a plan B hotel mapped out, so we lugged our stuff by foot a few long city blocks to the other hotel. We were welcomed by Miguel who has hosted us at Hotel Andino at least four or five times now. Yet again it was a lovely stay, although he was having trouble with his gas lines and I had to take a tepid shower in the cold city of Quito. I never thought I’d actually miss the heat of Tena, but Quito feels downright freezing when you’re not used to it.

The next day, Friday, Miguel called Taxi Lagos for us. For just $8.50 a person they drove us 2 hours north to Otavalo, the town we lived in during 2007. We had planned to stay two nights with our friends Josh and Rachel Fettes from Wisconsin, who have lived in Ecuador for about six years. When we called and made arrangements to stay with them, they were glad to have us come, but informed us they would be leaving on Saturday for the beach and we could have their apartment to ourselves for as long as we wanted. The first day we spent hanging out with them, the second day we spent hanging out with their wi-fi, Direct TV, and all the food in their fridge they told us to eat or it would spoil.

Today, Sunday, was one of the longest days in my life. The events that follow are all thanks to the clear and concise directions that my friend Andrea in Cuenca emailed me and I printed out. Our final destination would be at her in-law’s house in Pasto, Colombia. I have never met her in-laws, nor have I met Andrea face-to-face. I work with her and she and her family are all Witnesses. That’s all you need in this organization. Now back to the road trip:

We cleaned Josh and Rachel’s apartment, ate breakfast, packed up and were at the Otavalo bus terminal by 10am. In hindsight, we should have left Otavalo by 7am. From Otavalo, we took a 35 minute bus ride to Ibarra- a much larger city where we could make the connection we needed to Tulcan, the last city on the Ecuadorian border before reaching Colombia. When we arrived, we had just missed the bus to Tulcan. The next one wouldn’t arrive until an hour and a half later. So we killed time by eating lunch at the food court (nasty) and window shopping inside the terminal (boring). Finally we boarded the bus to Tulcan. The driver was a fast one and I thought he might make the three hour drive in thirty minutes. He was zip-zooming around all the little towns past Ibarra and further north, climbing altitudes I’ve never been to before. At one point there was nothing but steep drop-offs on one side of us and you could see all of the Imbabura province. It was beautiful, but scary all at once. After we ascended to an altitude even higher than Quito’s, the bus came to a crawl. For the next 20 miles, we were behind bike-riders who decided to take up both lanes of highway. We couldn’t go around them. Our bus driver honked and cussed the entire time. After we finally got around them, our bus driver zipped and zoomed again to make up for lost time. We made it safely to Tulcan in just under three hours.

From the Tulcan bus terminal we took a taxi to Parque Ayora. Here we met up with shady looking “cambistas” or money changers. There were about 20 of them, all holding wads of American dollars and Colombian pesos in their grubby hands. Here we exchanged $75 USD for like 5 trillion pesos. A pack of gum in pesos is like a million. Weird. From there we took a taxi to the Colombian border. We walked into the Ecuador immigration building and got our exit stamp within five minutes. Then we had to walk across a short bridge under a sign that said “Bienvenidos a Colombia.” We walked into the Colombian immigration building and got an entry stamp. Too easy, I thought.

In the immigration parking lot we hopped into a mini-van, or “collectivo” full of other passengers. It would be a seven minute ride into the first Colombian town called Ipiales. I wasn’t so sure we’d make it, as the back right tire on the van was so wobbly I think it was rigged together with a safety pin and duct tape. After one minute of driving, we ran out of gas. The driver simply got out, walked to a friend’s house, and came back with an old paint can filled with gas. We were on the road again.

Minutes after this circus act, we arrived at the Ipiales bus terminal where we had to buy tickets for Pasto. The tickets were like a billion pesos, or $13USD. Our mode of travel this time was another collectivo but a nicer, newer, red one. It was more like a mini-bus and sat 20. The hour and a half drive to Pasto was a gorgeous one-from what I could see. Half of the windows were painted red for a sun-shade and the bottom half was tinted. I guess they have other routes that go to the sun because the passengers weren’t allowed to see much. But from what I could see, we were driving along a gorge with a river below. The drop below our little red tour bus cannot be described in meters or feet that you can comprehend. Basically it was like we were teetering on the ledge of the Grand Canyon; that’s how high up we were. The views through the red and tinted windows were amazing- it almost looked like we were in the French Alps, but I was just ready to get off of the bus, especially since now it was dark and had begun to drizzle. I was relieved when we finally saw the Pasto city lights in front of us. However, my joy turned sour very quickly as we got trapped in traffic due to road work and an accident. After nine hours of road travel by several modes of transportation, we finally made it to the Pasto bus terminal.

At the bus terminal I called Brother Nelson and his wife Ruby. Nelson is a taxi driver and told us he would pick us up in twenty minutes at the main entrance. Twenty minutes turned into forty. Because it was dark he had trouble finding us. Waiting outside in a cold drizzle is no fun. Waiting outside in a cold drizzle at night in Colombia after nine hours of travel waiting for someone you’ve never met before to come pick you up is pretty awful. Imagine our relief and delight when Nelson and Ruby finally found us and gave us big bear hugs. We were finally about to get into their taxi and go to a warm awaiting bed, but not before a bum gave us all a big long story about how he needed money to get back home. Ruby kindly said no, and we were on the road again.

Ruby and Nelson live in a three story home with a one-car garage. Funny thing is, when you open the garage and park the car, you realize the car is basically in the living room. The hood almost touches the back of the couch. Strange, but after the day we had he could have parked the car on the dining table and we would not have cared. We collapsed in sheer exhaustion on the couch while Ruby made us a small dinner: rice mixed with veggies and tuna with fried plantain. We devoured it like it was never on the plate at all. Then she fixed us lemon and panela tea (a type of sugar) and we all sat around and got to know each other a bit. Afterwards, they led us up to the third floor and unlocked the door to our own private mini- apartment. It has all that we need besides a kitchen. After putting our stuff down, they led us up yet another flight of stairs, a fourth level, to a terrace with a nighttime view that took our breath away. We could see all of Pasto by the twinkling lights. Nelson pointed in the direction of Bogota. Then he pointed in the direction of “la selva” (the jungle) “where I will turn and wave to my new friends there in Ecuador.” (in reference to Joe and I)

Being more than tired, we’re off to sleep now. Nelson will be taxi-driving people around tomorrow while Ruby has promised to show us a bit around Pasto. I’m looking forward to eating some authentic Colombian food. I’m not looking forward to the drive back home to Tena, Ecuador.