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Published: December 21st 2013
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I bloody hate getting ripped off or robbed and Central America is good place for that.
Twice shy, I won't be going back to Panama any time soon.
The ripp off sort of soured the day for me but the life is hard, I cancelled my passwords and had my wallet in another pocket.
I had a nice ceviche and a rather bad dinner, went down to the fish market for dinner, a whole fried fish that lacked most of what you could ask, it certainly was greasy though.
I went there with a Spanish woman and it was nice to hear some "real" Spanish for a while.
I had sorted out with a taxidriver to come and pick me up in the morning at 5 o'clock sharp.
Well he didn't show so i trotted up the street and found another one who got me to the aiport for less that my previous guy wanted.
At the airport they wanted me to buy a return ticket as there was no way Colombia was going to let me in without a return ticket, one that would set me back 900 $ no less.
Holy cow that was not in my plans and
I saw a lot of un drunk beers passing by my inner eye,
The girl at the counter looked at my dismal face and went to get her supervisor who told her what I had told her umpteen times, no it was not necessary with a return.
He just asked me if I had a credit card and some cash, of course I said, ok then you're fine to go.
I told the girl that she should have listened to me, with a smile, believe it or not.
450$ saved yihaaa!
What a silly thing that the empolyees don't know their job.
So at 11 am I was in Bogota, then an endless wait for customs, they took forever doing nothing and finally at 5 pm I put my sweaty paws on my bike and rolled down a very make shift ramp down to Colombian soil.
I programmed the GPS to take me to a bike shop that had tyres for the bike.
I ended up going totally in the wrong direction and ended up somewhere in the poor parts of Bogota, there was a bike shop. but not the one i wanted.
Darkness was on me and I went
back into town, pitch dark and all Colombians drive as if possesed, the only traffic rule they have is, me first and intercourse the rest.
Mssr Garmin directed me to a hotel in what turned out to be a very seedy part of town.
The hotel wasn't even there so I asked the cops for direction, there are police everywhere, very practical.
They told me to leave this part of town, drive north at least a couple of km as this was a very unsafe part of town, so I roared away as fast as I dared, no Colombian bandits for me please, more than enough with their Panamanian collegues.
I got sort of down town and got a hotel and a guarded 24 parking for the bike and a crappy dinner.
Bogota is at 2600 m so it was cool and cold when I left the restaurant, me in a thin shirt and shorts.
I got an extra blanket in the reception and got into bed curled up in a fetal position warming up the bed a bit a the time.
The next morning empanadas for breakfast and then off to the tyre guy, another 7 km in heavy
Bogotaian morning traffic.
Bike sorted and the shop owner gave me some tips on where to go and on where not to go.
30 some km later with mad traffic, people changing lanes all the time to gain a few cm, horns honking, and large clouds of diesel smoke saw me outside Bogota on my way to Ibague'.
Absolutely fabulous driving, good roads and amazing scenery, that is if you like mountains.
I do.
A very nice lunch with a good salad and a fried trout that was until now the best meal I've had in Colombia.
A landslide has us waiting for a while as they cleared the road of some big boulders.
All the bikes had of course passed all the cars and lorries that were waiting for the road to be cleared, we got to go first and belted down the road at a fair clip.
None shall over take, at least not me, Colombian bikes are mostly 100 cc so with close to a thousand and at least 10 times the horse power they ate my dust.
Colombian bike riders have:
- Shit for brains
- No brains
- A major fault in the double helix,
missing the self preservation gene.
- Death wish
- A big set of brass ones.
They zip through the traffic as if there was no tomorrow, if the mirrors pass they pass, on the inside, on the outside, in between, where ever there is gap they go.
The police bikes drive the same way.
My bike is to wide to have that much fun, who ever designed the KTM panniers should drive in Bogota and see what you can do with a narrow bike.
In Panama there were roving police patrols, 2 up on a bike, bullet proof vests and dark helmets and machine guns strapped to their backs.
The trip to Ibague' was lovely but all the good sights were no photo sessions, no good places to stop.
In the evening a big thunderstorm so Take out pizza for me, ate half and the other half for breakfast.
I'm heading west and to do that you have to cross "La Linea" the line a high Andean mountainridge on a road filled with big lorries going up and down with a few clear stretches now and then.
Amazing fun and a very beautiful scenery, Colombia is a bikers paradise and
everything is green, a dense tropical green except your face that gets very black from the diesel fumes.
I met up with some Danes and Yanks and when we started to ride it started to piss down a nice Colombian thunder storm with lightnings and the whole enchilada, we got very wet.
I went with them to a place called Santa Rosa de Cabal where they have hot springs in a spa wannabe hotel.
But it was very nice to sit in 40 some degree water for an hour, water cascading down a cliff heated by some volcanic activity, not very cool, but it heats you to the marrow and I think we sat there an chatted for at least an hour.
Very nice
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