Saturday, November 23, 2019

Never quite as predicted: another day of bus travel

It's Saturday afternoon, and thanks to a sudden offer by the hostel guy here at La Casona de Don Juan in San Gil to take part in a whitewater rafting trip 'right away' this morning I couldn't post this any earlier. Here is yesterday's report, without any photos this time.

Assured we wouldn't have to go back to Bogotá or all the way to Bucaramanga to get to San Gil we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at the small table in the front garden of Villa San Miguel, surrounded by blooming geraniums, lilies and bougainvilleas. The climate in Villa de Leyva is pleasant, in the low twenties during the day (which feels quite a bit warmer when you hike along a dusty road) and cooling down enough at night that the warm blankets are still welcome, and it's just slightly too cool to sit outside without a jacket in the early morning and in the evening. Our hostess wanted to introduce us to one more comida tipica (food typical for the area) and prepared envueltos, wrapped corn cakes. It's a lot of work, as I found out when I read up on it: corn is husked, the husks saved for wrapping, then the kernels are cut off and, together with melted butter, eggs, sugar, salt and grated cheese processed in a food processor. Two corn husks are arranged on a work surface, the corn mixture spooned into the centre, and the husks rolled up tightly, the ends twisted and secured. The corn cakes are then put in boiling water and cooked for about an hour. I think they would have tasted better if they had been hot (which they weren't; our landlady obviously had had breakfast long before us – we were the only guests), and the arepa (a kind of pancake made with ground maize) that accompanies the eggs at breakfast time here most often, is very filling in itself already. It was nice of Loretta to introduce us to more of the local cuisine, but I'm afraid in this case I was not as appreciative as I should have been because it was simply too much.

We shouldered our packs at a quarter past ten and were on our way to the small bus terminal, about 750m from our accommodation. We had just crossed the road leading out of town when a bus came by from the direction of the terminal. 'Tunja?', the driver called over to us. Yes, that was indeed where we wanted to go – not hard to guess if you see a foreigner walking with a big backpack. We crossed the road again, put the big pack in the back and joined about ten other people on their way to the city or anyplace in between. That was extremely quick! Our journey had started out well. Here and there the driver stopped to let people on or off, sometimes, seemingly, in the middle of nowhere. Several of them wore the traditional ruana, a kind of cape, older men usually simple ones of undyed white or brown wool, younger people fancier ones in brighter colours. These are very useful in the cool Andean climate. Even in the country, however, most people are no longer dressed in traditional clothing, and many Colombians are extremely well dressed and, especially in cities, after the latest fashion.

As on the way to Villa de Leyva I wondered again how people were able to cultivate the steep, steep hillsides. Many of the fields were big enough to be cultivated with machinery, but it seemed impossible to use a tractor. Now, I saw how things were done: on one steep hill a man was moving steadily uphill swinging a pickaxe, on a nearby hill, already cultivated, two men were pulling a big rake horizontally. On three other occasions men were engaged in spraying crops, using a backpack sprayer, no protection whatsoever beyond pulling the hood of their sweaters over their heads. Surrounded by sun-lit spray mist one man walked along the rows, another was stirring the chemical mixture in a big barrel. Once again I thought what an easy life we have in comparison. 
 
The ride went by quickly, thanks to relatively empty roads and a driver who was eager to reach his destination, and we reached the bus terminal in Tunja a scant hour later. We were the last to leave the bus and were immediately approached by a couple of men: 'Bogotá? San Gil?' They waved us along as if our life depended on it, so that we thought the bus to San Gil was waiting for us already – but all they did was take us to one of the offices in the terminal with connection service to San Gil. The first company had a bus leaving at three, three and a half hours later, so he took us to the next one whose bus left at 12:45. As soon as he had delivered us he was gone again: likely working on commission. It's a huge hustle for passengers at every bus station, several bus companies competing for passengers, calls for one or the other city or town contributing to the general noise. We got our tickets, the bus number and departure time and were told to wait downstairs. This we did, watching bus after bus come in and leave for Bogotá for the next hour, hour and a quarter, hour and a half ... Finally came the call for San Gil and Bucaramanga, and although the motto 'Siempre a Tiempo' (Always on Time) was broadly displayed on the side of the bus we left 45 minutes after the expected departure time. How long did it take to get to San Gil, I asked the driver. Cuatro horas – four hours. No, we would not reach San Gil before dark, we realized.

The bus was comfortable, with wide seats and lots of legroom, and the landscape through which we travelled was stunning: the arid conditions around Villa de Leyva soon gave way to lush tropical forest, interspersed with small farms, some small sugarcane fields, more cows again, now that we were on a lower elevation more brahma type cattle than around Bogotá. Such lushness can only happen with a lot of rain, and we got quite a downpour when the bus stopped at one of the frequent roadside restaurants geared to serving busloads of people. The bus driver told us we had half an hour to have a meal or stretch our legs, and all this time it rained heavily, eaves spilling water into reservoirs soon spilling over. This half hour was added to the four hours of travel, of course, which had not been an overly generous estimation in the first place, it turned out. At 6:30 pm we arrived at the terminal, about three kilometres outside of San Gil, and were delivered safely to our hostal by taxi.

The Hostal La Casona de Don Juan is one of those colonial buildings with a breezy courtyard and rooms that must be nearly five metres high, simply furnished with just a couple of beds and a nightstand, but a private bathroom (in our case, and I'm not sure yet if the shower has hot water). We have all we need, including the perfect temperature for sleeping: warm enough for only a sheet for cover, cool enough so that neither fan nor air condition is necessary. Both the tall door and the shuttered window open to the courtyard, which is likely one reason that the temperature is pleasant both day and night.

We went out to the plaza only about three blocks from here, the Parque la Libertad, for a stroll and for something to eat. Shortly before a small group of protesters making a lot of noise banging pots and pans had gone by, but here, far away from the capital and other large cities, these protests are peaceful. By the time we reached the plaza the group had become part of the crowd enjoying rock music in one corner and more traditional folk music in the opposite one. The plaza, as in so many south and central American countries, is the heart of the community, with people of all ages enjoying themselves. I look forward to finding out what it's like in the daytime.

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