It was an early morning start. We packed up the bikes and rode to Panama City International Airport. We didn’t get lost this time, as it was fairly easy to find the highway to the airport. We needed to be at Girag Cargo Terminal to leave our bikes by 9 a.m., but first we had to find it! Time was going by.

We got there at 9:30 a.m. and unpacked the bikes. We didn’t need to do much except take off our mirrors and some paperwork. Oh yeah, and fork over lots of dough!

Our flight was at 11:30 a.m. The next mission was to get ourselves to the airport, which was several miles away. Paying for a taxi was out of the question since we gave all our money to Girag. One of the the staff took us to the airport with his old run down truck. Driving at 15 km/hr we were starting to get nervous about being late to catch our flight. We finally got there, checked our bags, and next thing we knew we were sitting on the plane about to take off for a new adventure in South America.

Angela got a little nervous when she found out that our plane was nothing but a small twin propellor as she hates flying. To top things off, we were sitting in the back with a mom and little baby in front of us who pooped his diaper and threw up before take off, so the entire plane smelled. A boy next to Angela was nearly sick because of the smell and so were we. Once the plane was airborne, the mom could finally change the little man’s diaper. Phew!

We sat back, looking out the window over the Pacific Ocean, thinking about all the good memories of the past year. The beautiful places, people, landscapes in more than 20,000 km through North and Central America. We were excited to see what South America is all about. Colombia, here we come!

We arrived in Bogota at 6:30 p.m., jumped in a taxi and went straight to what we thought was a cheap but OK hostel, tired from the long day of traveling. We got in our room to find out it was the most uncomfortable bed. The only thing missing was springs popping out of the mattress. The floor would have been better! 

Now hungry we went for a walk to find something to eat. Nothing was open except a cheap burger joint, so we ordered two burgers, but they weren’t fit for dog food. We ate the buns and went back to the hostel.

The next morning our bikes arrived at Girag. We took a cab back to the airport, anxious to get our bikes before the office closed at noon. We had to do some paperwork at the “Oficina de Aduanas,” where we were told we needed photocopies. We walked back to Girag to get the copies, then returned to get them signed to find that the only lady who could sign them had gone for breakfast. 

We waited outside the office, with just 10 minutes to go before Girag would close, when we were told the lady would be back in 15 minutes. I ran back to Girag to tell them our situation, and they said they would wait for us which was great because it was a long weekend so if we didn’t get the bikes that day, we would have to wait until the following Tuesday. Two hours later we got it all sorted out – papers signed and ready to go. We were very pleased with Girag’s service but not as much with the Oficina de Aduanas.

After stopping to get our bikes fixed up, we rode 30 km north of Bogota to visit a cathedral built in a salt mine. The traffic in Bogota is a nightmare. Buses and taxis who seem to think they’re on a racetrack were passing us left and right. Not far out of the city I was pulled over by the police. We were expecting to be pulled over lots in Colombia. The officer was about 18 years old. “Your title,” he said, asking for my papers. “From Canada,” I said in response to his confused look. He nodded and off we went, making our way to Zipaquira.

Curving and twisting tunnels descend into the Roman Catholic church, passing 14 small chapels representing the stations of the cross, which illustrate the events of Jesus’ last journey. Each station has a cross and several kneeling platforms carved into the salt structure. The temple at the bottom has three sections, representing the birth, life, and death of Jesus. The cathedral was an impressive site. 

We made our way back to Bogota to find the traffic even worse then it was on the way out. Being stuck in traffic in a city like Bogota sucks. Diesel trucks and buses will suffocate you with black smoke thick enough to blind you. Angela nearly got ran over when a bus cut her off so close that the rear end of the bus hit her arm! After an hour or so being stuck in heavy traffic, we finally found our hotel. Thank God!

We rested for a couple hours before we had to bring our bikes to a special overnight parking lot. The streets around the city are mostly one way and though the parking lot was only a block away, we couldn’t make a left turn down the street we needed to get to. Trying to navigate our way to the parking lot was more of an epic then expected. I got cut off by a bus and was forced to take a wrong turn while Angela was going another way. So there we were both lost.

After a few detours, I found my way back to the hotel to see if Angela was waiting. She wasn’t, so I decided to make my way to the parking lot by pulling off the illegal left turn. There was still no sign of Angela. I ran to the hotel to see if she found her way, but still nothing. I waited at the parking lot and half an hour later she arrived.

She had been waiting for me at the intersection where the bus cut us off. We looked at each other and said, “It’s time to get the hell out of this city!”