Life in Far Away Places: Colombia
After college I spent four years traveling and living in the developing world. A few months ago I returned to Long Island and started working for the Smithtown Messenger. This is the third installment of an occasional column about those four years abroad.
I went to Colombia on a whim. The idea had popped into my head when I realized I would have some time between jobs but it was just that; an idea. Then, without much thought and an empty stomach, I just went. It took me less than five minutes to fill my backpack with clothes and walk to the bus station, and it felt good to be spontaneous. Six hours later, standing at the only permanent crossing between Ecuador and Colombia high in the Andes at 4 AM, I learned that the border closes at night. I was fairly close to the equator but everywhere is cold when your at 10,000 feet waiting for dawn to break, so I froze waiting for the sun to come up, but the next day I was eating lunch in Colombia.
At the time what I knew about Colombia I had learned from Hollywood movies about Pablo Escobar and short news articles about the endless civil war there; which is to say I knew very little but its reputation preceded it. With my own preconceived notions of cocaine and violence I was actually a little scared when I first arrived in country. Soon after I arrived I watched as a military pick-up truck rolled by, half a dozen men with machine guns standing in the back. Colombia is filled with machine guns, assault rifles and small military outposts at strategic locations scattered within the cities. While most of time the men in the green uniforms seemed pretty causal and no one else seemed to mind them there, it certainly unnerved me at first.
A week or so after entering Colombia I arrived at the nation’s Pacific coastline. It was actually just a run down port city, but there was something about it that I liked. For one, it was the only place on the Pacific coast under government control and while I wanted to go to the Ocean I thought it wise to avoid rebel territory as best I could. Also, as soon as I arrived I liked the people there. Colombians had so far impressed me as being a very friendly people, but this city in particular, Buena Ventura, struck me. I was disappointed because the water was filled with garbage and there was no beach per se but I figured I’d stick around a few days anyway. While sitting in a park, I let a man, who started a conversation with me, take me to his language school. I really had no intention of working and was just curious to see the school and maybe make a new friend, but the director was convincing and I surprised myself when I agreed to temporarily work there. That evening I returned and taught what is called “conversation class”, which is a fairly advanced group of students practicing English conversation. The teacher is a sort of moderator, correcting mistakes and fueling the fire of talk. I had had a number of brief conversations with people since entering Colombia but never got very deep so I used the class to learn from the locals about a number of my own curiosities. We spoke of their opinion of the United States, free trade, the civil war, the cocaine cartels, and really whatever else I wanted too. It was fascinating to learn about the place from the vantage point of the people that lived there, in fact that was my main motivation for packing my bag and crossing the border in the first place. The atmosphere was very friendly and after class people would invite me out to eat or have a drink. I felt oddly welcome in this foreign city and within a couple of days people were saying hi to me everywhere I went. I also discovered that I could take an hour ride on a speedboat to a small village with nice beaches that I could swim at.
Just the boat ride was incredible; between the port and the beaches was an endless expanse of black cliffs leaning over the crashing waves, on the top there were coconut and palm trees which quickly turned into thick green jungle. As soon as the boat stopped at the small dock sticking out from the beach and we arrived in the village, it was obvious the place was both very small and very beautiful; the place looked like a postcard from paradise. There were just a few hundred people in total, but the beaches, which stretched on for miles, were as amazing as I was told. Unfortunately, it rained most of my weekend there, but on the second day, the clouds suddenly broke in the early afternoon and I walked down to a new beach a little further off. I wandered around and stumbled upon a desolate cove on a black sand beach. Smooth black rock formed a vertical semi circle of cliffs that isolated paradise. To one side waves crashed violently against the wall, while on the other, they died out in the sand within a vast cave that had water dripping down from the ceiling into small pools. Within the cove, water trickled down the cliff in a dozen tiny waterfalls, sometimes right off of bright green plants that had managed to anchor themselves into the otherwise smooth black rock. It was perhaps the most spectacular place I had ever laid my eyes on.
The next night when I returned to Buenaventura I found a cheap hotel and went to sleep, unsure if I would continue my job when I woke up or hit the road once more. I went out to breakfast and noticed machine guns on every corner, snipers on many roofs, and the army behind makeshift bunkers they had built overnight in the middle of town. The air was tense; it felt like the place was filled with gas and if someone lit a match we would all explode. I immediately left. I later learned that the guerillas had attacked the town, their assault failed but both sides suffered heavy losses and blood covered the downtown streets for days.
Colombia was a land of contrasts for me. I actually found it to be very peaceful and relaxing, almost serene. The people were jovial and the countryside spectacular, yet at the same time it was also a place where danger never seemed very far away. I avoided many places all together, almost never went out at night and was once robbed at knifepoint in broad daylight. It was a strange mix of tranquility and danger. The experience was certainly interesting and enlightening, but after a month I felt ready to head back to Ecuador to really settle into Latacunga.