Just add an 'O'

---

The vague look on the poor shop assistants face said it all.

"Are you stupid or something" shouted an American woman at her and waving a 50,000 pesos note under her nose.
" I want change-o for the bus-o".

I'd dropped into the shop for some water before catching my own bus to Santa Marta, some four hours away along the coast. I left and found another shop.

Yes, chang-o for the bus-o. That's Spanish alright?

If you don't know the word, just stick an 'O' on the end.

My French mate Yan used to do this. I'd met him on the 4 day ferry trip from Puerto Natales to Peutto Montt in Chile. He was tramping through South America as well, and like me had no real plan, except to keep moving north. We hit it off and so went exploring for a week or so.

Returning from the island of Chiloë, my light bag was stolen whilst I slept on the bus, along with my passport, camera, my credit cards and all my money.

I needed to report the matter to the police for insurance purposes. Yan told me he'd picked up some Spanish on his travels. I hardly spoke a word of the language then, and some say I'm not much better now.

"Señor. Un hombre took-o la sack-o de mi amigo" said Yan to a very puzzled policeman at the station.

Great guy Yan. Lent me 200€ to get to Santiago to sort the whole mess out.

I digress. I'm writing this short journal sat on the bus to Santa Marta, a provincial coastal town with a small port.

It's my second attempt at catching the bus.

I'd enquired where to get the bus to Santa Marta at the hostel. The guy at reception showed me where on the map and marked it with a pen. 'X' marks the spot, so to speak.

After a ten minute walk to the spot, in 31 degrees of heat, I arrived with plenty of time to spare. Even though the bus stop had a shelter it provided no shade from the relentless, powerful, afternoon sun. I was sweating a slow death. Every pore leaking water. I waited and waited for the bus but it never came.

Hundreds of other local buses passed by, but not mine.

I returned to my hostel to a 'what are you doing here?' raised eyebrow from the receptionist. I explained what had happened and that I'd stood at the bus stop as directed.

He took out his pen a drew a line from the X down a street.

"From this spot you need to walk four blocks and you'll see the office where the bus leaves"

Of course. Silly me. I should've known that the bus stop I was told to stand wasn't the bus stop I needed to stand at. Crazy Latin American directions get me again.

"Bollox-0"

---