You don't have to be crazy...

The bus system in South America is a great friend of the backpacker. It’s cheap, its relaible, and generally speaking its safe. Buses run every hour or so to every major destination and most of them will let you off anywhere you want if just asked. Hitch hiking, conversely, is not known as one of the safest forms of transportation, but it is cheap and really fun.

After a long ride in a rickety bus along dirt roads I was dropped off in a small town half way between Villa de Leyva and San Gil in the Santander Department of Colombia. I was supposed to flag down a bus headed to San Gil but as I stood on the side of the road I wondered why I was waiting for a bus when cars and trucks were constantly passing me. I thought about it for a few minutes - all the kid nappings and ransoms and paramilitaries juxaposed to all the great people I had met in Colombia. I waited for the first decent looking car to pass and stuck out my thumb. The ride was short and my hosts weren’t very talkative, but just like that - first car - I was hitch hiking in Colombia.

Medellin and Cali are two large cities in Colombia connected by about 12 hours on the Autopista Sur. I decided they would be the perfect spots to hitch between so after a few days in Medellin I walked to the edge of the city and optimistically put my thumb out. I stood there, then stood there, and then stood some more. Unlike my first experience, three hours later I was still standing there, the only thing changed being my cloths were damp from the rain that blew through.

I was starting to lose faith when two kids in their early 20’s crossed the street to talk to me. We conversed a bit but were having a difficult time communicating through the language barrier. A few days earlier when two kids that age started talking to me they pulled a knife and wanted to relieve me of my money and camera. This time I was slightly more wary but gave these strangers the benefit of the doubt anyway. By the end of our conversation they had put me on a bus, talked to the driver who nodded at me, and waved as I left to a destination still unknown to me.

Not knowing where I was, where I was going, nor what instructions had been given to the driver, in true form I immediately fell asleep. I awoke a few times seeing beautiful mountain scenery speeding by the windows but didn’t rouse until the driver tapped me on the knee and motioned towards the door.

Stumbling out of the bus in a haze of sleep I looked around. I had apparently been dropped at a toll booth where I was meant to solicit a ride from the cars as they stopped. I wasn't feeling very confident about this since my Spanish isn't perfect and drivers were already being bombarded by people selling all sorts of food and another group of hitchers looking for a ride but as a few drops of rain started to fall I decided uncomfortably asking for rides was more comfortable than standing in the rain. I began browsing for my first target.

At this point I realized the greatest thing about hitching in Colombia - everyone's license plate says what town they're from. I found a plate that said Manizales on a decent looking Hyundai 4x4 and asked the driver for a lift. He agreed and soon I was rolling along in comfort talking to Juan, a software specialist in his early 40's who even spoke a little English. Actually, "rolling along" may need clarifying. He drove like I wish I was allowed to drive in the States. We were passing trucks, cars, and buses with cowboy confidence. We came into corners hot, slammed on the brakes, and accelerated out the other side. A smile started to creep across my face as he explained his job with automated machinery and the necessity to learn English while in the background his tires squeaked around 14 consecutive corners.

When I grabbed the door handle to keep from getting tossed around the car he declared "You don't have to be crazy to drive in Colombia...but it helps." I assured him I was enjoying myself which he took as carte blanche to go 115kph through a 30kph zone. (To be fair, it was the only straight and level part of the drive.)

As we neared Manizales we were stopped in traffic almost directly across the street from his mother's farm. We were told there was an accident ahead which had resulted in a motorcyclists death - a somber reminder that although driving like a maniac can be fun, it can also have dire consequences.

Instead of driving to his house and letting me find my way from there, my new friend took it upon himself to give me a complete tour of his town including the good spots to hitch from the next day, and then dropped me right in front of my hostel. It was another amazing experience hitching and beat any bus ride I had taken in the previous 3 months.

The intersection in Manizales near where I was hitching.

People in Colombia don't mess around with their mopeds. 125 cc's, 2 people, 2 massive bags, mountain roads, in the rain. Like it ain't no thang.

As the rain cleared the rain lit up a few of the clouds.

Riding in the back of a farm truck through Coffee Country.

Most of South America is built like a giant skate park. This was the only kid I saw utilizing it appropriately.