Trip to Taganga

So far in my trip, granted only three days, I have felt completely safe. I really wasn’t sure what to expect when I got here. I thought maybe I wouldn’t be able to just wander around at nights, maybe not really even during the day in some parts of town. But I was able to explore the town at will, day and night, and never once felt in danger. The trip to Taganga was a little more exciting.

I ended up getting a later start then I had hoped. I planned to take the local bus to the main terminal, I waited for a while with no luck and ended up sharing a cab with 2 Colombian women. The traffic was moving at the speed of a slow walk. It definitely allowed for an entirely different view of the city, however. The streets were packed with cars, buses, trucks, motorbikes and people selling just about everything. No such thing as lanes, people driving wherever and however they wanted. Motorcycles almost bumping the cab they were so close. The ride ended up taking almost an hour. Waited about 20 minutes for the bus and we took off around 4:30.

The ride is about 2.5 hours to Barranquilla, another almost 2 to Santa Marta, then a 20 minute cab to Taganga. I fell asleep about an hour into the first ride. Woke up to the bus stopped at a small town. The driver was outside along with drivers from several other buses and trucks. There seemed to be some commotion going on and the Colombians on the bus looked a bit concerned. Not long ago, this area was the home to a raging civil war and most of the country side was run by the FARC rebel group. The area has been relatively calm for the past few years, but some of the FARC remain in the hills and occasionally make their presence known. We’re there for about 30 minutes, I have no idea if a bridge is out, if there’s an accident or if it’s some kind of military blockade. Some people are asking the driving questions, but I have no idea what they are saying and by the looks on their face can’t tell can’t tell if they are agitated that they’re going to be late or if they are nervous. The busses in front of us start to move and off we go. We passed a few military/ police vehicles but still no clue what was holding us up. The driver did his best to make up time, passing everything in site regardless of oncoming traffic or approaching blind corners.



It’s dark by the time we get to Barranquilla. I was really hoping to avoid traveling at night, but Barranquilla is a large industrial town with little to no infrastructure for tourists, the city is 30 minutes from the bus station and the few hotel they have are expensive. The drivers asks who is continuing to santa marta, I’m the only one. He stops on the side of a road, actually the intersection of 2 six lane roads. He tells me something indecipherable in Spanish, grabs my bag from the back and points to the other side of the street. It was utter chaos. People and vendors all over the side of the street, trucks and busses stopped everywhere. Cars and trucks and motorcycles going in every direction. The bus immediately pulls away, the driver hanging out the window yelling something and again pointing across the street. I see a few buses so I head in that direction. First I had to cross the street….it was like crossing 695 at rush hour, but instead of the 3 lanes in each direction, there were 5 lanes in the same space as people passed between lanes and on the shoulder. I felt like frogger. I tall white, goofy frogger with a 40 pound pack on my back.

I found the bus on onto Santa Marta. It’s now pitch black. Maybe 10 minutes into the trip, the bus comes to a stop. The windows have curtains so I can’t see much outside. A man with a uniform and a large gun boards the bus, he says something I don’t understand and all the men get off, all the women stay on board. He checks out bags and pads us down as ewe get off the bus. I am the only non-Colombian on board. After he searches all of us, he goes on the bus looks around, checks the luggage compartment and sends us on our way. Seemed to be just a common military checkpoint, my heart was racing nonetheless.

I finally arrived in Santa Marta, basically dropped off on the side of the road again. Quickly get in a cab, the car looked like it had been in an episode of pimp my cab. We driving on one of the main streets through town, the take a turn down a pretty quit street, then another quieter, darker street. Then another. The driver slows down to a near stop, honks, and waves to some dark shadow standing on the street. This happens a few more times. I was starting to get a bit nervous at this point, but we were quickly back on the main road heading over the hill. I realized that he was just trying to find someone else going to Taganga to share the fare. Once again, my heart is racing and it turns out to be nothing at all.