Colombia

We crossed the border into Colombia in Cucuta, a small and unremarkable border city. Actually, it was the easiest and fastest border crossing we'd had on the trip, which was suprising considering that both drugs and guerrilas tend to slip back and forth accross the Venezuelan-Colombian frontier. From there we went straight to the bus terminal, which, I would say, was the most confusing and unpleasant bus station I have ever encountered.

As in most of Latin America, the bus station housed about two dozen different bus companies. Rather than having counters, each bus company has roaming salesmen who all attempt to convince, cajole, or outright trick you into taking their bus using high pressure sales tactics (example "the bus is leaving right now, and there won't be another for 4 hours!"). Additionally, there are numerous free agents who offer to find you the next, or the cheapest, or the fastest bus in exchange for tips. The trouble is, all of these peopole approach you at exactly the same time, which is about half a second after you get out of your taxi. And none of them take 'no' for an answer -- they'll follow you wherever you go, shouting at you over each others voices, until you finally get on a bus.

Despite the chaos, we eventually managed to find a bus, and soon left town without looking back. We were headed to Bogota, the capital of Colombia, which, though only about 400 km away, was a twenty hour bus ride due to the mountainous terrain.

We arived in Bogota about 4 am the next morning. In contrast to Cucuta, Bogota has the nicest -- and the largest -- bus terminal I have ever seen. The terminal has five wings, each of which is about double the size of Toronto's bus terminal. There are armed guards everywhere, and not a sinlge roaming salesman or freeagent in sight.

From there we were picked up by Andres, my friend Juan's father, who drove us to their apartment, about an hour outside Bogota. On the way we chatted about Colombian politics. Elections were coming up in a few months, but Andres wasn't interested; to him, there were only two kinds of politicians -- corrupt and dangerous. "The corrupt ones, ast least you know all they are after is money, but the other ones... like Uribe (the colombian president); very dangerous. He loves war." he went on "he's a short little man -- the little men are always the most dangerous: Napoleon, Hitler, Musssolini; all little men".

Although I wasn't too sure about the height-to-dangerousness ratio theory, I had to admit that Andres had a point: it was hard to imagine elections solving any of Columbia's problems, which include one of the world's longest running civil wars, pervasive corruption in the military and government, powerful drug cartels, and quasi-fascist government supported paramilitary groups who spend as much time busting unions and assassinating labour leaders as they do fighting the country's numerous rebel factions. I asked Andres if he saw any chance of the war ending: "In my lifetime? No. But maybe my children will live long enough to get a chance to enjoy this beautiful country".

It was hard to fault Andres for his cynicism. He must have been only a few years old when the violence began. Still, there was something sad about it: he could not remember a time before the war, and he could not imagine a time after its ending.

We stayed at Andres and his wife Claudia's apartment for a few days before leaving to visit the house they are building a few hours outside of Bogota. This was their third attempt to build a house in Colombia. Their first house, on the eastern plains known as 'los llanos' had to be abandoned decades ago, after competing drug cartels moved into the area and began fighting for control over the prime coca producing region, leaving the entire area unsafe. They moved to a new farmhouse in the mountains, where they started the country's first private natural reserve, 'Suma Paz' (peace summit); a thousand-hectare cooperative of small farms dedicated to preserving the ecological integrity of the land. Suma Paz started a new trend in Columbia, leading to the creation of hundreds of private natural reserves across the country, and filling a gap left by a government with no resources, and little appetite, for environmental preservation.

Yet their days at Suma Paz were also short-lived. It wasn't long before guerrilla groups set up camp in the area, drawing the army and paramilitary groups into the region. All three sides took a "you're either with us or against us" attitude, leaving little space for neutrality. To make matters worse, in Colombia it is assumed that if you are 'green' (i.e., environmentalist) on the outside, you are red on the inside, and Juan's family and freiends were thus suspected of sympathy with the marxist rebels. The situation came to a head when government supported paramilitary fighters murdered their neighbour, best friend, and partner in Suma Paz -- along with his entire family. It was at this point that Juan's family abandoned Suma Paz, and sent him and his siblings to live in Canada. A few years later, the military bombed their abandoned house.

Their new house is in a considerably safer region -- at least for the time being. But Andres and Claudia say they won't leave this house, come what may: "We've made the walls two feet thick," Andres told me, chuckling, "let them come."

We stayed at the new house-in-construction -- also part of a private natural reserve -- for a few days before heading back to Bogota, where we stayed in the apartment of Juan's old friend Nicholas, now a famous Colombian soap opera star. The capital city seems far removed from the violence which engulfs most of the countryside. It is a pleasant city, served by one of the finest public transportation systems in the world. On Sundays, many of the city's main streets are reserved for pedestrians and cyclists. We had a chance to walk along one on a pleasant Sunday afternoon, traversing the whole city without ever needing to use the sidewalk. The streets were packed with families and friends, lending the city a festive, though tranquil air.

We explored the city for a few days before heading to Cali, where we caught a flight to Costa Rica. A special thanks to Claudia and Andres for sharing their homes, and their dreams, with us.