Now was the time to take my leave of the garden of Eden and get back to the city. Up the brujitas to Córdoba again. And the bus to Cali.
Except there were no buses. Or, rather, no free seat on any of the buses passing by. There is no bus station in Córdoba and the only way to catch one, is to make big signs to the driver the moment he passes by on the main road. But for a few pesos, somebody else takes that tedious task from you. With very poor results that day. All the buses coming from Buenaventura were full. I wondered if I would ever be able to get back to Cali, when the strategy changed. Our sign maker was not only asking buses but also private cars. Sometimes, they accept to take people, as a means to earn a few extra pesos. The driver of a towing truck accepted to take me and two other people.
The funny thing is he was on his way to tow a “buseta” with a mechanical problem a few kilometres away. So we did manage to get the bus in the end. With only the three of us where there was space for twenty people – while you mostly have the impression to be twenty where there is only space for three. If it hadn’t been for my travel companion desperately trying to invite me to stay at his house for a few days and the fact that we had to remain silent and in the dark, with curtains closed, because what we were doing was illegal, the journey would have been perfect.
When we disembarked in Cali, I jumped from the buseta, to the towing truck, on the ground and into a cab. “That’s an original way of travelling.” That or the brujitas. Not sure which had been the most special means of transport that week-end.