Popayan, Columbia March 6-8, 1979

April 06, 2021

David and I crossed the border this morning with no trouble at all. New guys who didn’t even care that technically I don’t have an ‘exit ticket’ from Columbia (I have a flight from Quito to Lima). The ‘secretary’ of the Columbian consulate was so blown away by my multi-stop ticket that he just waved us through. Others were not so lucky: several people ahead of us were denied entry. Columbia is sticky about who gets in – as we had learned just a few days before... .

We jumped on a bus to Pasto and had a great ride. First, the bus was a real snazzy number, with banners and baubles hanging from every possible place – around every window, around the lights, ventilation shafts, and music speakers. Very festive. And the scenery was spectacular: rugged mountain landscapes with narrow canyons. The mountainside often fell away so sharply beneath the bus that it felt like we were not on a road at all, just hanging off a cliff. A little disconcerting, to say the least. And yet, on these steep slopes, we still saw little corn fields, and the thatched houses of those who tend them. A few horses and cows grazing alongside the road, finding bits of grass where they could. They looked in better shape, rounder and healthier, than the ones I’ve seen in Ecuador. But it was also greener here, with more rain, so lusher and richer.

Pasto wasn’t much of a town, so we wasted no time in finding and hopping on another bus to get us to Popayan. It was another great ride, this time through lowlands with fields of sugar cane, and lots of banana and coffee trees. Beautiful bougainvillea vines with their pink and yellow flowers decorated the white walls of most of the buildings.

Right beside us in the bus a family of five – a rather large mama, her hubby and three not so little boys – were scrunched into two airplane-sized seats. Just in front of them was a family of four, also scrunched into two seats. Dad was a long lanky Woody Allen-type father with no front teeth (seems to be pretty common here). He was single-handedly polishing off a bottle of aguardiente, the local rot-gut that smells like rubbing alcohol. About four hours into the trip, with another two or three to go, the family of five started throwing up – all except the father. Woody Allen tried to rub aguardiente under the kids’ noses, but mum was having none of that. So he decides to provide a little entertainment, and proceeds to dance in the aisle.

Meanwhile the bus-driver’s assistant, a young boy who looks after the luggage and makes sure that there is a non-stop symphony of dreadful, headache-loud Mexican-American rock music, is running back and forth down the aisle bringing plastic bags to the vomiters. But he can’t keep up, and ends up sweeping the vomit up the aisle and out the front door of the bus. Then comes back and sprays everything in sight – floor, seats, curtains – with a sickly sweet ‘sanitizer’. The smell of that was enough to make me feel queasy.

And the bus driver just kept barreling along, full speed, determined to cut the trip from six and a half hours to five – and he almost did. Racing through countryside and towns alike. We never slowed for a child, a cow, a horse or a dog. Just blasted them all with the air horn. Guess the kids have learned not to play on the road. Passed every truck on the road – one classic a petrol truck marked ‘peligro’ (dangerous), with a load of vegetables on top of the tank. At one point we drove into a semi-tropical valley where finally we saw some people – very dark-skinned, almost black – riding horses, sitting in front of their houses, and standing around stores and restaurants. There don’t seem to be as many people here as in Ecuador, perhaps because the rugged landscape doesn’t allow for large settlements. Then again, that might just be the area we’re traveling through now… .

The best chocolate bar I've had so far!

Popayan is a beautiful old colonial town, of white-painted buildings with red-tiled rooves. There are several impressive churches facing little squares, most nicely preserved. The orderliness and cleanliness of the town give it an almost North American feel – pretty modern and well-to-do. This is quite a change from most of the towns I’ve been in lately, which have felt much shabbier and tireder. The food here is much better than in Ecuador – we actually get some vegetables with our meals – and the helpings are huge. And the people are super friendly and helpful. The market ladies and women who run the cafes and restaurants keep giving me ‘regalitos’ (little gifts) – a piece of fruit or cake or a chocolate – as a way of saying ‘thanks for the business’, and of course ‘hope you come back!’ And people on the street invariably say ‘buenas dias’ or ‘buenas tardes’, along with their big welcoming smiles. So it’s an easy and pleasant place to be, a place where we can just relax and enjoy ourselves.