December 20 – Hijack Route

Kathleen and I had heard and read Tanganga (pronounced ‘Tong-gong-ah’) was a small pleasant beach-bum town east of Santa Marta, which is east along the cost from Cartagena (Car-tah-hey-na). In Tanganga we had a room reservation at Casa Filipe’s on the 21st, however, we thought we’d try our luck going in early. We took a taxi from Villa Colonial, Cartagena to the central bus terminal. We all know by now what kind of ride that was as the taxi went through narrow streets and narrower alleys, seemingly taking what appeared to be the most circuitous way possible. Sort of like going from San Diego to Los Angeles by way of Phoenix, Denver, San Jose, Fresno, and Albuquerque.

We arrived at the bus terminal, bought our ticket and waited about an hour. Buses were coming and going and according to the ticket agent ours was to arrive soon. More buses came and went before Kathleen and I began to stand outside hoping we hadn’t missed ours. A bus rolled up and a young woman must have noticed we had quasi frantic expressions on our faces told us, in thick accented English, this was our bus. We climbed aboard as did the young woman and an older woman companion. No sooner did the bus engine start up when a security guard came on holding a video camera in his hand. He said something so fast that even the locals were struggling to understand. He then began videotaping all occupants of the bus. He stuck the camera in each persons’ face for a few seconds. He then got off. As the bus backed out of the parking slip I went to the young English speaking woman and ask what the hell . . .? She rolled her eyes as her older woman companion looked quizzically at her, too. The area we were traveling in was known for bus hijackings and subsequent hostage for ransom activities. The videotaping was to document who was on board. So, at least we wouldn’t be known to the world by a grainy blown-up cell-phone camera photo.

The bus route traveled along the coast from Cartagena toward Santa Marta. Kathleen and I could not find a 200 meter stretch of road that wasn’t littered with some kind of debris or trash. Maps of the area showed that we were to cross a huge lagoon. We learned later the road had choked up the lagoon with sand where and the outer side of the road was now a salt pan and the remaining lagoon was a stagnant polluted water body. Way to go humans!! Efforts were underway to restore the lagoon, however, in countries like Colombia, this would be a long time in coming. If ever.

We stopped on the outskirts of Barranquilla to off load and on load passengers. Additionally, with each stop came a street hawker who would jump aboard for a quick sale. More videotaping occurred. This time I had the camera ready. A slight commotion ensued when I started trying to photograph the videotaping. Thus, my pictures didn’t come out too well. Kinda like those grainy blown-up cell-phone camera shots.

During our bus ride we were subjected to music videos on the plasma-screen in the bus. Some were okay, like the young woman singing ‘Spanish Lullaby’, others were out-right horrid. Especially the rap videos where rapid pelvic thrusts seemed to be the only dance maneuver known. Just as we were going to see the videos for the 4th time in row, the video was changed. The next string of videos were oscillations between just two singers looking like drunk 70’s porn stars. Common to both, was their incessant repeating of the same verse over and over, punctuated with extended riffs from the accordion player. The most intimate secrets could have been coerced from the terrorist prisoners at Guantanamo within a few hours using this kind of torture.

We continued on to Santa Marta where we ended our bus ride – not a single hostage situation to report. Kathleen and I fumbled about wondering whether to take a taxi or try for one of the mini-buses. The two ladies we had been on the bus with came over and we decided to share a taxi to Tanganga. Turns out the women were from France, and mother-daughter, where daughter was taking mother about Colombia because daughter had been in Colombia learning Spanish for the last several months. We jumped in a taxi and went to Tanganga.

Through the help of the daughter we found that Casa Felipe hostel had a room available for the night. We got to the hostel and the only room available was the ‘penthouse suite’ which they were going to only charge us $45 USD/night rather than the usual $55. The room (room #20 for reference) had a nice balcony with a great view; kitchen with refrigerator; and was quiet. We instantly considered staying in the room while in Tanganga, however, we found out that the room was reserved. Rats!

That evening the hostel was a happening place as we found a number of people were in Tanganga for the cheap scuba diving certification. Germans, New Zealanders, Brits, Swiss, and Aussies to name a few. Casa Felipe had a restaurant with a professional chef from Holland. He had a number of dishes for the night, so Kathleen had the Thai chicken curry and I dined on the butter-flied sirloin with vegetables. Both were very good!

We spent the evening on the balcony of our room.