Part 2: Deep Inside Colombia- Crossing The Andes with a Surfboard

PART 2.and excruciatingly long delay.
Oh how Colombians love their music. The type ofAs I was thinking about how glad I was going to
music coming from the smoothie vendorbe to get back on one of those colorful busses, a
boom-boxes always seemed to set the distinctivecrusty old man on a Burro walked past us and
tone of that town. They always played the musicgave me the stink eye. I tried to ignore it as I
that was popular in that particular area. Whether itturned my glance upward and away from him. I
was "Salsa", "Costeño", or whatever type, itbegan to stare at the thick mountain foliage that
was always pure Colombian music.surrounded that little town. It was still a very wild
As we were waiting for our smoothies, my eyesand untamed country out there. Civilization barely
began to wander. I started to take in the sightshad a foothold. I could see how maintaining control
and sounds of that little village in the mountains. Iwould be difficult for the Colombian Government.
saw two soldiers who looked about seventeenSuddenly, I received a tap on my back and I
years old standing across the street in front of ajumped as if I had been electrocuted. It was the
small cafe. They were holding machine guns, andsmoothie guy, letting me know our freshly
giving me the eye. These were Colombianblended fruit smoothies were ready. He handed
Government soldiers who were stationed in littlethem over to us, and we paid him with a few
towns like this to keep them out of the control ofColombian coins that equaled about ten cents in
Leftist Guerillas who live in the jungles thatAmerican money. The smoothies on that trip
surround them.tasted better than anything you could ever buy in
Some of those remote Colombian towns have anthe United States. The milk they used was so
aura of unrest, and that one was definitely one offresh it seemed like it was squirted straight from
them. I dared not pull out any cameras at thatthe cow into the blender. They also blended in all
moment. The last time I decided to videotape in akinds of exotic tropical fruits with names like
town like that, I was immediately approached by"zapote", "tomate de árbol", and
two soldiers and promptly escorted away. I"maracuyá", all of which are incredibly delicious
thought I would never be seen again. Lucky forand can be found growing wild in the areas around
me, my wife's brother-in-law was with us at thatthe towns we visited. Those smoothies were like
time. He happened to be a Colonel in thesomething a Slurpee aspires to be in it's wildest
Colombian Military, so he interceded on my behalf.dreams.
He explained to them that I was just someAs we were enjoying our smoothies, another local
"crazy Gringo" who was in Colombia to visit hisman walked up to us and made a sales pitch for
wife's relatives, and to surf the waves thata very interesting product; dried iguana eggs. He
Colombia had to offer. They released me to thehad several strings of them hanging around his
good Colonel, and I promptly put my camerasneck like necklaces of giant white pearls that
away. Apparently, Guerillas have been known towere about the size of quail eggs. His semi-white
come into town and videotape the soldiers andtee-shirt had a sweat stain from his neck down
the police. Then they hand the footage over toto his belly that had a brown border of dirt
hired assassins who slip into town soongathered on the edge of it. It was really hot out
afterwards and kill them. I can understand thethere, but he did not seem to mind. His face and
soldier's apprehension with cameras. After thathands told the story of a man who had worked
incident, my M.O. on the trip was to stay low-key,hard his whole life in the South American sun. He
and not draw attention to myself.was probably only about fifty years old, but his
My wife and I were getting some evil staresskin was wrinkled beyond it's years. This man
from several local folks that were wanderingclaimed that the iguana eggs provided magical
around the streets. I wanted so badly to pull mypowers of fertility and sexual stamina to anyone
cameras out and pass the time documentingwho eats them. He then looked at me and
everything we were experiencing, but I could notwinked. I could not help but wonder at that
risk it. Soldiers are not the only ones I needed tomoment how many kids this iguana egg vendor
worry about. Being kidnapped by Guerillas washad back at home. My wife and I chuckled at his
always in the back of my mind. Although I wasbold claim, and politely declined his offer. As my
able to get a lot of great footage and photoswife turned away for a moment to find
along the way (when it was permissible), mysomething in her backpack, I quickly handed the
memory was my camera most of the time.man several crumpled up bills on the sly. He then
It was going to be dark in a couple of hours. Wewinked at me again, and handed me two strings
did not want to be in that village after dark. Iof iguana eggs, which I promptly concealed in my
would much rather have been viewing that townday-pack. I figured I may be able to use these
from the safety of a bus seat just passingeggs on a romantic moonlit night in beautiful
through, but sometimes you have to stop toTayrona, after a long, arduous journey.
change busses. In that case, the bus we wereCopyright 2006. Michael P.
waiting for was running late, thus the unscheduled