MAIN » ARTICLESCoffee in Colombia
10/05/2006:
Tomorrow at 12.45 in the early afternoon I will be seated on a plane heading to Bogota from Panama City's Tocumen International Airport. I'm not going to be staying in Colombia for long, just long enough to have a cup of coffee and reach my departure gate for the onward flight to Mexico. Still, the anticipation and trepidation that accompanies any transit into a new city on another continent is there. I can't wait. I have come to see the truth in the common assertation by travel writers that good travel is often accompanied by a fear of the unknown, whether genuine fear or just that tingle of excitement, waiting to see how the day unfolds.
For the last three-and-a-bit months I have been on the road across most of central Europe and latin America, covering more than 20,000 miles by plane, train, bus, coach, taxi and foot. The few times that boredom kicked in or exhaustion caught up with me were the times when the travelling stopped, when after a few nights the next day became just another in the same place. The urge to move on, push forward, to keep reaching the next destination successfully was impossible to avoid and it kept me going when the trip seemed to stretch too far into the forseeable future. It kept it fresh and the anticipation fuelled the adrenaline, overcoming the odds even more so.
One of the nights that has stayed with me was one where all out merticulously made plans were astray, essentially a day that went completely wrong but one when the adrenaline flowed at the end and I felt alive. Overcoming the odds:
We were taking a bus from Acapulco, along the southern Mexican coast to a small surfing-town called Puerto Escondido. It was quite a long journey despite the relatively short distance, Mexican roads aren't often the smoothest, beset with crude speed bumps and random obstacles and soon the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon outside the window. Another important note about Mexican buses is that they make a lot of stops, often in places with no helpful clues as to their identity. Puerto Escondido is one of these places. About twenty minutes after we'd missed our stop, I realised we were off the radar. My guidebook was safely stowed in my bag down below and I had no idea where the bus was going. I spent a few minutes frantically searching my brain for clues, picturing a hazy representation of Mexico in my head and plotting various possible destinations that I later found out to be completely off the mark. Then I realised that the situation was now entirely out of my control, everything had gone wrong andI was just a passenger on someone else's ride, waiting to see where I'd end up.
Around 2am, many hours after Escondido, we arrived in a small town called Salina Cruz, who's description in my book merely pointed out its oil-mining capabilities and lack of tourist interest. It was 15-minutes later after hastily checking-in to a local hotel that I realised how quintessential such an experience can be to travel. It had to go wrong at some point and when it did, and I found myself still standing, it was both a huge relief and strangely exciting, altogether real. Had the town not been in the book, or had the second driver (who knew we had tickets only to Escondido) been awake to question why we'd travelled over 150 miles further than we'd paid to, it could have turned out differently. But it didn't.
Both the ups and downs that come with over three months and 35 different towns and cities make up the trip as a whole. The downs adding irreplaceable memories to an unforgettable experience, allowing me to appreciate it all the more when things go smoothly and I overcome obstacles, conquer the unknown and make it to the next place on the list. If I could go back, I still wouldn't get off that bus at Puerto Escondido that night in Mexico.
Written by Jay
Tomorrow at 12.45 in the early afternoon I will be seated on a plane heading to Bogota from Panama City's Tocumen International Airport. I'm not going to be staying in Colombia for long, just long enough to have a cup of coffee and reach my departure gate for the onward flight to Mexico. Still, the anticipation and trepidation that accompanies any transit into a new city on another continent is there. I can't wait. I have come to see the truth in the common assertation by travel writers that good travel is often accompanied by a fear of the unknown, whether genuine fear or just that tingle of excitement, waiting to see how the day unfolds.
For the last three-and-a-bit months I have been on the road across most of central Europe and latin America, covering more than 20,000 miles by plane, train, bus, coach, taxi and foot. The few times that boredom kicked in or exhaustion caught up with me were the times when the travelling stopped, when after a few nights the next day became just another in the same place. The urge to move on, push forward, to keep reaching the next destination successfully was impossible to avoid and it kept me going when the trip seemed to stretch too far into the forseeable future. It kept it fresh and the anticipation fuelled the adrenaline, overcoming the odds even more so.
One of the nights that has stayed with me was one where all out merticulously made plans were astray, essentially a day that went completely wrong but one when the adrenaline flowed at the end and I felt alive. Overcoming the odds:
We were taking a bus from Acapulco, along the southern Mexican coast to a small surfing-town called Puerto Escondido. It was quite a long journey despite the relatively short distance, Mexican roads aren't often the smoothest, beset with crude speed bumps and random obstacles and soon the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon outside the window. Another important note about Mexican buses is that they make a lot of stops, often in places with no helpful clues as to their identity. Puerto Escondido is one of these places. About twenty minutes after we'd missed our stop, I realised we were off the radar. My guidebook was safely stowed in my bag down below and I had no idea where the bus was going. I spent a few minutes frantically searching my brain for clues, picturing a hazy representation of Mexico in my head and plotting various possible destinations that I later found out to be completely off the mark. Then I realised that the situation was now entirely out of my control, everything had gone wrong andI was just a passenger on someone else's ride, waiting to see where I'd end up.
Around 2am, many hours after Escondido, we arrived in a small town called Salina Cruz, who's description in my book merely pointed out its oil-mining capabilities and lack of tourist interest. It was 15-minutes later after hastily checking-in to a local hotel that I realised how quintessential such an experience can be to travel. It had to go wrong at some point and when it did, and I found myself still standing, it was both a huge relief and strangely exciting, altogether real. Had the town not been in the book, or had the second driver (who knew we had tickets only to Escondido) been awake to question why we'd travelled over 150 miles further than we'd paid to, it could have turned out differently. But it didn't.
Both the ups and downs that come with over three months and 35 different towns and cities make up the trip as a whole. The downs adding irreplaceable memories to an unforgettable experience, allowing me to appreciate it all the more when things go smoothly and I overcome obstacles, conquer the unknown and make it to the next place on the list. If I could go back, I still wouldn't get off that bus at Puerto Escondido that night in Mexico.
Written by Jay