Last Stop in Colombia

Tuesday, Sept. 19, 2017--Pasto to Ipiales

I really don't like sharing a place.  I had to wait until Margarita was finished with the bathroom before I could go into it this morning.  And I had to dress to go down there.  It's nothing against her, she proved to be a wonderful and gracious woman.  It's just me and my interest in privacy.  A shared apartment is like staying in a hostel except that you don't have to share the room, too.

Margarita had made coffee for both of us when I came out after packing to go.  We sat visiting while drinking it.  She had been in Pasto for the jazz festival last week which she said was wonderful.  She was supposed to leave over the weekend, but no flights were available, so she stayed for 3 extra days.  She lives in Manizales which I was near just last week but did not visit.

Just as we were finishing our coffee, Fernando, the owner of the apartment arrived all excited.  He had us follow him to the roof and upstairs to a deck he plans to use as a rooftop lounge once he completes work on another couple of apartments he is constructing in the building.  It was a clear day, and he wanted us to see the nice view of the huge volcano that is just on the edge of Pasto.  In all the time that Margarita had been there, she had been unable to see it because of cloud cover.  We took photos, then Margarita's cab arrived to take her to the airport.  I told her I would clean up the kitchen.  She left, and maybe 10 minutes later, I did, too.

Sometimes bus stations can be a problem.  There were many companies offering rides to Ipiales, and the mini-vans do not leave until full.  But you do not know how many people are already on the van when you buy your ticket.  Well I got outside, and a van from the company that had sole me my ticket was leaving.  I was put in an empty van to wait for it to fill.  Well, after 20 minutes, vans from other companies had filled and left, but I was still alone in my van.  Frustrated, I went back inside to complain.  I went to the window and said, "No bueno," while holding up my ticket.  I got a glance, but the 3-4 people in the booth went back to talking.  I said it again louder.  Then a man walked up to the window, and I motioned that he should leave while repeating it to him.  That got their attention.  They offered me my money back, and I took it.  I still had no way to know which company to use, but a man led me to a booth that he said would be leaving soon.  I bought a ticket, but I had to wait another 15 minutes before it left.  At least it already had people waiting when I entered.

The trip was beautiful.  Again, we followed a canyon with steep walls.  It was semi-dry--greenish-brownish rather than the lush green I am used to here, but not as dry as the desert-like area I went through yesterday.  The trip was only 1 1/2 hours.  I was so thankful, since I was still tired from sitting and twisting and winding on the long bus trip yesterday.

Ipiales was a surprise.  Instead of being in a valley like so many other Colombian cities, it is on top of a hill.  I had to climb to get from the bus station to the center of town--a steep climb!  Along the way, it was obvious that this is much like any border town--a hodge-podge of buildings with nothing much special about them, far more poor people than ones doing well, lots of cross-border shopping going on even though none of the shops seem that special, etc.  I easily found my hotel, the Avanty, which, as I had read, is quite nice. 

I stopped here for two reasons.  1)  I wanted to visit a tourist site near here called Las Lajas Sanctuary.  2)  I didn't want to cross the border until tomorrow so that I would have the whole day to deal with getting across and getting transportation to my first stop in Ecuador.

Las Lajas is actually a small church built beside and across the river at the bottom of the canyon a few miles outside of town (and was in many of the search photos in the link for Ipiales above even though it isn't in the city).  Supposedly, God told a woman to build a church there after a miracle happened to her.  Actually, the church, mainly because of its setting, but also because of its architecture, has become one of the top tourist spots in Colombia.  It is typically pictured in any montage of sites to visit in the country.

I had to walk back to the bus station after leaving my luggage at the hotel to get transportation to Las Lajas.  The usual way to go is by colectivo, a taxi which waits to be full before leaving.  Again, I was the only person there when I arrived, so we needed 3 more people.  After waiting 20-25 minutes with no one arriving, I just made an offer to pay for 4 people if the driver would leave then and not stop to pick anyone else up on the way. 

It looks just like its pictures.  Because it is down at the river level, everyone has to walk down to get to it.  It is a pilgrimage destination for many Catholics, but it was busy there with just ordinary people like me wanting to see it.  I took photos from a distance, went into the church and took more, and then went lower on the river level and took photos from there, too.  Then I faced the huge climb back up.

At the top, guess what happened.  A colectivo had just filled and was leaving for town and I was the first person for the next one!  I refused.  I knew there was a lookout with a good view of the river and the church about 1 km (a little over half a mile) up the road and I had also seen some buses on my way there earlier.  I walked up and up and up to eventually reach the viewpoint.  It was nice, but was really too far away and had the view somewhat spoiled because of the dumpy town built on top of the canyon walls.  I continued walking just a short distance further and saw a boy waiting at a bus stop.  Just as I crossed the street, a bus pulled in to let people off.  I asked the boy, "Para Ipiales?"  He responded positively.  It was the end stop where the bus turns around and heads back to town.  I didn't have to walk the final 3.5 to 4 km (2 miles) up the mountains to get back to town!

For a late lunch, I had a hamburger.  I've been thinking of having one in Colombia just to see what it would be like.  I watched as the lady put a thick, frozen patty of beef on her griddle.  Then she put lots of shredded onions on it, squirted 4 sauces on the onions, and placed two pieces of cheese on them.  She continued to cook the onion/cheese mixture.  To the side, she had a bun toasting.  In the meantime, another woman had made my fries and brought them to me which I was eating with a mixture of an avocado sauce and some tomato/onion/pepper salsa.  When I got the burger, it was as thick as the ones at Crofutts in Bayside near Rockport (if Crofutt's still exists after Hurricane Harvey).  I could barely get my mouth open wide enough to take a bite.  In addition to the meat and cheese/onion mixture, it had tomatoes, lettuce, and a slice of sandwich meat ham.  It was good.

It's evening, and I am in the hotel.  I washed out my pants in the shower.  I had sat somewhere damp and dirty and the whole seat was stained.  Rather than wait and just change to another pair, I wanted to get them clean.  I've read the news for the day, done some travel planning, and I am about to watch another episode of Narcos on Netflix.