Colombia - Ferry Xpress and Cartagena

The ferry arrived five hours late to Cartagena. 

The scheduled 1pm arrival became 6.30pm then there was the process of immigration and customs. I had managed to exit Panama without having my passport stamped so as the ferry approached Cartagena I became uneasy about how it would be dealt with at immigration. I need not have worried. I was asked to remove the bike, the only vehicle in the enormous vehicle space of the new Ferry Xpress between Panama and Colombia, 

and park it just outside next to the ferry. I was directed to the immigration office with all the other passengers and waited anxiously as my turn came and I was asked to show my passport. It was looked at briefly, stamped and I was in. Easy. Nothing to worry about at all. The immigration officer was pleasant with a welcoming ‘Buenos, bienvenido á Colombia’.

I was directed to another desk where the aduana officials were waiting for me, being the only vehicle I had the full attention of three officials. They had all the paperwork ready including being partly filled out with my bike details, VIN number and name. All I had to do was verify and sign. That done I was walked to the bike where they checked the VIN number, relieved me of another $25 for the inspection and I was given a copy of my import document.

‘Hold on to that, you will need it when you leave Colombia’.

 A police officer then did a cursory inspection and I was given the all clear. The shipping guys had to attach a form to the windscreen of the bike. It was windy and dark and he was making a chore of it. I was still holding my import permit and the SOAT insurance certificate when the young guy asked if I could hold the form while he taped it. As I was juggling the papers in my hand and trying to hold the sheet flat on the windscreen, a gust of wind snatched the import permit paper out of my hand and towards the tall ferry side. A swirling thermal spun my form upwards some ten metres into the air and carried it seaward along the side of the ferry. I ran after it with my hands hopelessly stretched into the air, looking comical, trying to anticipate where it was going to land. But it didn’t land. It kept spinning up along the side of the ship, hovering over the gap of water between the dock and the ship. I wanted to keep chasing but I was called back and told that it wasn’t important, the SOAT form I still had in my hand was the important paper. I walked back towards the bike, still watching the swirling paperwork over my shoulder, and eventually it spun downwards into the water between the ship and the dock. Irretrievable.

    Back at the bike we finished the process and I advised the shipping guy that I had to contact my couchsurfing host. I had managed to message him that I would be late but now couldn’t get internet access for further information. The guy rang my host, Miguel, and arranged for him to meet me outside the port gates. I mounted Ziggy, headed out of the port and I was in Colombia! It was about 7.30pm. My first experience in Colombia had been very positive and friendly, no sign of corruption, a million times more organised and efficient than Panama and left me feeling good, although I was now in a portside suburb waiting at a petrol station, breaking one of my main rules not to ride at night, unavoidable as it was.

   I bought some fuel and I became centre of attention, with Ziggy getting rockstar treatment by the guys there. They wanted to pose for photos and asked all the usual questions again…how much, how fast, how big, where are you from. A couple of girls walked up and asked if they could have a photo with me and Ziggy, which I obliged. Everyone was smiling, friendly and interested in my journey. It felt good again after two months off the bike in Panama.

Miguel arrived not long afterwards and we introduced ourselves and I followed him to his place. On the way we stopped for dinner at one of his favourite street restaurants and we both ate and drank for under $6. I had been told it can be pretty cheap here. We had a chat and got to know a bit about each other then finished the trip to his suburban apartment on the third floor. Access was via a winding narrow staircase but he had secure parking behind a locked fence and once again the power of the simple bike cover made Ziggy invisible to prying eyes.

 I was really tired after the long journey and turned in early. Miguel was helpful and accommodating and made me feel completely at home. He had to go out so I had the place to myself. I had a shower and went to bed for a long sleep. 
The following morning Miguel was there and cooked up a nice breakfast of toast, eggs and coffee. He gave me directions to the old town and I took a local bus following his instructions. A thirty minute ride was less than 2000 pesos, about 80c, and took me right into the edge of the old town. I spent the day being a tourist, eating food, wandering the streets and enjoying the wonderful buildings, streets, food and markets that the place had to offer. 

It is right on the point of the coast with a huge 300 year old stone wall surrounding the city you can walk the length of, looking at the views of the Caribbean. The old cannons were still in place with lookout domes and large flat mall areas along the wall. It was quite fascinating and gave a strong sense of history of the town.

Another couple from New Zealand came to stay and we hit it off immediately. It was nice to relax with my talking and not try so hard to be understood. We ended up going out for a very late night and experienced the busy nightlife of Cartagena. 

It was a young crowd and even the 30-something kiwis felt old. We talked lots about travel and home and had a really great night, taxiing in about 3.30am. The following day I decided to catch up on some writing and had a day in the apartment. That night was quiet and the next day was time to keep travelling. I was keen to get back on Ziggy and start feeling like I was motorcycle travelling again.