Barichara Sacerdos

Shared a taxi to the bus terminal in nearby Santa Marta with a Scottish backpacker who was distraught about all the theft & bad vibes he encountered in Taganga. He's friends with the Canadian couple who got robbed & seemed shook up in general. Can't say that I blame him but I wasn't nearly that ruffled about it all.

The set price for taxis, even if shared, is $10 mil pesos. The taxi driver told us nearly double when we got close to the terminal & I told him no, that we were only paying the agreed rate. He demanded more for a tip & I again told him you can't demand tips, those are voluntary for good service. At this point he just went nuts screaming & calling me a bad person & banging on the steering wheel. I mean, the very large & bald Colombian appeared to be having some sort of violent fit. The Scottish guy just handed me a couple mil more pesos to give him. I thought about it & decided I wouldn't be intimidated into paying up. I handed the money back to the Scott & told him, "It's your money so you can give it to him if you want, but that's why he's trying to scare us into giving him more money because tourist always cave in. I refuse to, but it's up to you." He reluctantly gave the driver more money to appease him, but he didn't even say "gracias" or appear the slightest bit grateful, just tossed our bags to the sidewalk & took off without saying another word.

The Scottish guy seemed so distraught in general, especially after discovering the bus terminal ATM was out of order & his bus was leaving in less than half an hour.

He looked like he wanted to just cave in & give up. I said, "Just relax & take a deep breath. You can do this. I got money yesterday at a grocery store across he highway. The driver is gone so put that out of your mind. The Canadians will make it back home just fine after jumping through a bunch of red ape hoops so there's nothing you can do about it. It will only take you 15 minutes to get the the ATM machine & back, but be careful crossing the highway." "Fifteen minutes!? Jesus! I won't make it & I need to get out of this place. I don't want to spend another night here!!!" "Just calm down. You can do this for sure, but you have to move now. I'll hold a spot in the ticket line for you. You'll have enough time I promise. I just did this yesterday & remember how long it took."

He made it back, got his ticket & had cigarette to try & calm his nerves. His bus pulled up & all was good. We shook hands as he thanked me for helping him get a grip as he got on the bus.

I was also trying to shake the negativity from the driver, so I struck up a conversation with a Colombian on my bus toward Bucaramanga. For the next couple of hours, half the bus of overly friendly Colombians, all wanted to know about me and where I'm from. So absolutely genuinely friendly & excited. I so needed that right then & was very much looking forward to to quiet peace in the mountain town of Barichara.

This was to be my last long bus ride of the trip as I was meandering in the general direction of Bogota for my flight home. Barichara didn't disappoint. So lovely & quiet. With magnificent views of the mountains & valley.

The Tinto hostel owner was the nicest person I'd met in days. Something about the combination of mountain mist, quiet empty cobblestone streets, beautiful mountain backdrops & a couple glasses of this strong fermented drink the Incans drank called Chicha, had my mind in a place of mystic familiarity.

I'd hike the 2-hour old Camino Real stone path to a tiny village called Guane in the morning, but for now it was time to slow down & settle into a hammock for a spell.