And so, with a HUUUUUGE sigh of relief, and the knowledge that we were entering our 18th and final country of this trip, we eased quietly into Colombia. And as we sat on our small and quiet bus, trundling its way slowly across the very top of South America towards Santa Marta, the chaos and anxieties of Venezuela evaporated slowly from our minds, as the beads of sweat also evaporated from our foreheads under the welcome aircon. It had been a while since we'd taken a bus anywhere, having flown for freedom out of Venezuela, and the pint-sized Colombian coach had an air of Postman Pat about it as it rolled up and down hills and around corners, along a smooth road with lines and everything - a sure sign that we'd arrived in place that
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