Colombia - day 1!!!

COLOMBIA
Petroleo a cambio de coca…
Desde el Dallas de Venezuela, Maracaibo, donde se harta de calor, cirujia plastic, & escenas para telenovelas, me busque’ un ‘por puesto’ es decir un taxi compartido para ir hasta Maicao, una ciudad de la Guajira donde se vive sin ley. Observaba que en cada control el chofer pasaba unos billetes para poder seguir sin mas, En el carro venia una senora colombiana sin papeles o sea una clandestina – ‘volando voy volando vengo y que no me vean la cara…’.
Conseguimos cruzar - ya estabamos a salvo.

Al pasar por la caotica frontera rapidamente me enganche’ con un companero de viaje para ir a cambiar dinero (siempre con la esperanza de no recibir billetes falsos para anadir a la colecion). Nos montamos en el bus rumbo a Santa Marta. Los buses iban cargados de todo – sacos de arroz venezolano, lavadoras de contrabando… en un control confiscaron a varios kilos de arroz a un hombre humilde que no tenia ni para pagar el soborno. Y que hacen con tanto arroz??? O lo reparten entre si o lo pasan a los politicos para que lo distribuyen entre los mas pobres durante la campaña. Una especie de Peter Panismo de robar a los pobres que se buscan la vida para dar a los mas pobres para que se queden siempre a la espera de la caridad.
Otra mujer nos contaba como era el negocio de las lavadoras que ella misma pasaba por la frontera para poder venderlas al doble del precio. Se subio’ una gordita tipo mujer Botero con 3 de sus 5 hijos mas el perrito Escondido dentro de una bolsa. Ella comenzo’ a comentar algo de un secuestro que habia sucedido poco tiempo antes de llegar el bus. Por eso la carretera estaba llena de policia y militares – habian secuestrado a la senora de un capitan. Dos semanas antes hubo otro caso. La mujer me conto’ a continuacion que a su marido la guerrilla le habia matado unos 3 anos atras.

Y con todo eso habia llegado a Colombia. Por la tarde ya estaba en la playa de Taganga tomando una sopita de pescado y una cervezita… El primer dia fue ‘full’.


COLOMBIA
Exchanging petrol for coke…
From the Dallas of Venezuela, Maracaibo, where you are saturated by the heat, plastic surgery, and soap opera scenes, I found myself a ‘por puesto’, a shared taxi, to go to Maicao, a lawless town of the Guajira. At each check point I noticed the driver hand over a few bills in order to continue without delay, a Colombian lady without papers, a 'clandestina', was traveling with us – ‘volando voy volando vengo y que no me vean la cara…’.
We made it - finally we were safe.

On crossing the border I quickly grabbed a fellow-traveler in order to change money (in the hope of not being left with more false notes to add to the collection).
We got on a bus heading for Santa Marta. The buses were loaded with everything - sacks of rice, washing machine for contraband…at a checkpoint several kilos of rice were confiscated from a humble man who didn’t even have enough to pay a bribe. And what is done with so much rice?? Or they share it amongst themselves or it’s given to the politicians so that they can redistribute it amongst the poorest people during a political campaign. A type of Peter Panismo robbing from the poor who are just trying to make ends meet to give to the even poorer so that they are always waiting on charity.

Another woman told us about the washing machine business that she herself smuggled across the border in order to sell them for twice the price. A plump Botero-style woman got on with 3 of her 5 children and their dog hidden in a bag. She began to mention a kidnapping that had just taken place before the bus arrived. For that reason the road was full of police and soldiers. The wife of a capitan had been kidnapped. Two weeks earlier there was another case. The woman then went on to tell me that her husband had been killed by the guerrilla 3 years earlier.

So with all of this I had arrived in Colombia. In the evening I was at Taganga beach enjoying a bowl of fish soup and a cool beer….The first day was ‘full’