This is part 1 of a series about traveling through border and all the pain associated with them.
I was blinded by a light to my face. Knocking on the taxi window, two Ecuador border patrol police told us to get out and bring all our stuff. There was an older man who looked grizzled and his younger companion who wore a sunny expression on his face. The older man asked if I spoke Spanish. I told him, “No entiendo espanole” We were led to this little office on the border. There we were separated. LatinStylez went with the younger cop while I went with the older one. I had nothing on me but my heart was pounding and my throat felt tight. I never liked crossing borders. Talking to suspicious cops is definitely something to be avoided.
My mind flashed back to Cali, Colombia.
Latinstylez and I were ready to take off and hit Quito. Stylez had heard that a guy we met in the hostel had tried to cross the border. The policia had found Marijuana residue in his bag. Our hostel friend then had to pay a bribe in order to avoid getting his ass thrown in foreign jail.
We still had the Coca leaves on us. Latinstylez asked me if he should keep them or throw them away. Knowing that borders are a real pain in the ass, I advised him to throw them away. This was probably the smartest advice I had ever given him.
We packed and left the Pelican Larry hostel at 9AM and went to the bus station. Tickets to Ipiales cost 40,000 pesos. I got ready for a long ride. It was going to take about 10 hours to get to our destination. On my pockets were sleeping pills and motion sickness pills.
The bus ride was comfortable enough. We passed by rolling hills and saw indigenous people. The further south we got, the darker the people became. Girls on the bus kept sneaking peaks at me. I guess an Asian guy wearing a cowboy hat, speaking English was something different.
Time has no real meaning on a bus. Each new town I saw made me wonder where the hell I was. Luckily, LatinStylez kept an eye on the signs and had a rough estimate about how much long we had to ride.
It soon got dark. Not something I like to see when heading to a new destination. Places seem shadier and more dangerous at night. During the day, streets are filled with the hustle and bustle of the locals. At night, it seems like the city is deserted except for homeless bums with wild looks in their eyes.
We finally hit Ipiales at around 7pm and had to take a taxi to the border for 2,000 pesos each. The taxi dropped us off at Colombian immigration and we soon got all our paperwork finished.
Then we took a taxi to the border. The driver agreed to drive us for 5,000 pesos. We got in and he drove straight for 30 seconds then stopped. That’s when I had flashlights to the face and was told to get out. An older cop and a younger one took us out and told us to follow them.
Now here I was, stuck in a tiny room with a cop ordering me to open my bags while he searched. First came my suitcase. My pants were thoroughly searched, each pocket has patted down and the contends were taken out and examined. This guy went through my stuff with a fine tooth and comb. Nothing was overlooked, packets of gum were opened and sniffed. Bottles of soap and shampoo were cracked open and given the smell test. I was told to open cans of mints so they could be examined. Books were flipped through to take sure nothing was between the ages. Then the covers were pressed against to make sure I wasn’t hiding anything. My suitcase was finished and I had to repack my suitcase.
Next up was my backpack. All my compartments were searched. My computer was opened, flipped upside down, and examined. I tried to be as cooperative as possible. I helped move things so there was more room on the desk.
My eyes darted to the next room and I didn’t see LatinStylez…had something happened to him? Did he still have those Coca leaves? What if the police had taken him somewhere? What if I walked outside and he wasn’t there? What if his ass was taken to jail? What was I gonna do? FUCK! I FUCKING HATE THIS!
Almost everything was out of my bag when I spotted it…oh no…
It was minuscule, almost unnoticeable but the instant I saw it my face fell to the floor. Oh please no. Please this can’t be happening. Oh god please don’t let this be happening. But there it was, half a Coca leaf.
The cop spotted the coca leave and picked it up almost tenderly. He put the leaf in my face and spoke in Spanish. I could feel my face getting flush and I tried to tell him that it was just a leaf from hiking.
The cop’s next words I could understand loud and clear. “Coca leaf. Forbidden.” He glared at me then took his hands and made a handcuff motion. My life was flashing before my eyes. I imagined myself stuck in Ecuadorian jail forever. I imagined my mom and dad finding out. This would ruin them.
It was cold as hell but I was sweating. The cop looked at me and made a motion with his hand. He wanted money. I took out my Colombian pesos and offered it to him. “No.” Had I misunderstood him? Was he not taking a bribe? All this over half a leave?
This nightmare wasn’t about to end, I was told to take all my contends out of my pocket and then patted down. He found my money belt and had me take it off. Everything was examined carefully once again. Then the cop saw my pills. He took the sleeping bills and said, “Forbidden. Prescription.”
He was trying to tell me something in Spanish and I kept telling him, “No entiendo.” When in doubt plead ignorance. There it was again, the handcuff motion.
Things started to look worse and worse. Then LatinStylez appeared. Normally I would have been relieved that he was ok but at the moment the only thing I could think about was my ass. I heard a rapid flurry of Spanish then the cop pointing to the Coca leaf and sleeping pills and the word “Forbidden.”
“What’s going on?” I managed to croak.
“He says you have to stay for 6 months.”
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Words can’t describe what I was feeling. I don’t pray much but I was praying now. I’m not sure who I was praying too. The universe or any deity who would listen.
Latinstylez sat down and said, “Let’s just ride it out.” Shit. That’s easy for you to say. Then the cop took my passport and opened a book. It looked like the was ready to write down my information then paused. He spoke to LatinStylez. I was asked if I had any American currency. I took out my wallet and looked. There was about 30 American dollars in there. I just took out everything and gave it to him.
The cop took the money and looked at me. I looked into his eyes. One second passed. Two. Three. Four. Five. Holy shit I was dying inside. Six. Seven. Then he said something in Spanish and LatinStylez said it was cool and that we could go. I grabbed all my shit and didn’t look back. LS said something to the cop and I was thinking, “Dude. Shut the fuck up and let’s get the hell outta here.”
I was about to walk away when I heard the cops voice. My heart fell. He told me to take my motion sickness pills. I had forgotten them on the table. I pocketed them and got outside.
A huge wave of relief washed over me. We went to the immigration office and filled out the forms. There a local helped us exchange money at one of the stores. I got rid of my pesos and got good old fashioned American dollars.
We took a taxi to the bus station and got on the next bus to Quito. I was exhausted and managed to fall asleep for most of the way. 5 hours later we arrived in the Quito bus station. $5 later we arrived at our hostel.
It took 16 hours and a near heart attack but we had finally made it.
Leaving Colombia? Here are 3 tips to follow:
1. TOSS UP ALL YOUR SHIT! – Search through all your bags even if you’re sure you don’t have anything. You never know what you can pick up and put into your bag without knowing. All hostels forbid drug use. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen though. Oops…I accidentally put a little baggie in my backpack and now my ass is in jail.
The Colombian airport has no less than 5 check points where they search through all your shit. They have dogs and soldiers ready to turn your bag upside down and inside out. Then your home country probably has drug dogs ready to sniff your bags.
2. Keep some American currency on you. You never know when you have to bribe a cop.
3. Keep the little piece of paper that they give you on the border. It’s your immigration card with all your info on it. They don’t staple it in. It just hangs loose inside your passport. You may want to staple it in there when you get the chance. We had a friend throw his away and he had to bribe cops and pay a fine.
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