Bikes were confirmed as having arrived, so off we went to Girag Air Cargo. They give you a pink slip which you take to customs. Customs happens to be across two death defying roads with an intermission that comprised of swamp like grass where the mains had overflown.
In to customs Javier and I trundle, papers in hand. It the usual ritual, more papers, go and get them photocopied, come back, present them, get more paperwork. Defy death again to meet the customs officer at the bikes then check off all the official details again on the official documents that you have just been officially given by the same official.
This time had an added bonus of course. The fact that i need to fly back urgently and want to leave the bike, probably longer than the 60 day allowance. Thank goodness for Javier. Javi to the rescue. But even he cant move the customs official to an extension. After 60 days I have to come back and re apply for import. Then every 60 days after. Not really an option, considering I expect to be homeless and penniless very soon.
I’m now sure plan B has been used and I’m somewhere mid alphabet. So plan L. Can I get the bike signed into Colombia, without actually getting it, then ship it straight back out?
Seems that’s a goer. Granted it’s a very expensive goer, but I’m not sure that had been calculated into the decision that bought this about.
So, Javi gets his bike and mine stays in the warehouse.
Next bit of the jigsaw: in Columbia bike riders need to wear reflective jackets with their plate numbers on, and also the same info on the helmet. Fortunately there’s a street where almost every shop handles this. Unfortunately its in the seedy side of town, through heavy traffic and Javi has me as a reluctant and cramped passenger.
If crossing the airport roads was death defying, some of what happened next beggars belief. We under took, over took, split traffic left, right and centre, went on the pavement at one point. It was hair raisingly brilliant and a must try for anyone wishing to raise their heart rate and lower their life expectancy.
An hour later dressed as a day-glow lemon, we return to the hotel to encounter a problem. Our rooms run out after tonight. Now Javi and Claudia our host, are flying to the family estate until Sunday, so no problem for them. I on the other-hand, could be out on the street, even before I come back to Seattle to get thrown out of the house I shared with Karen.
On top of that, somehow I need to find a pallet that the GS can be loaded on, then build a crate around it. Anyone know the Spanish for, “if I hit myself with this hammer one more time” or, indeed, pallet?
Still this is what the adventure of the ride was all about, so as you can hopefully tell, I’m feeling far chirpier, plus, all of this problem solving, takes my mind off problem solving, which isn’t a bad thing. In fact, I’m more afraid of coming back, than I am about anything Colombia can throw at me, because whatever Colombia has I can handle somehow. Coming back and resolving matters, that, I feel, may be beyond my capabilities.
Finally managed some chicken soup today and my system hasn’t rejected it yet either.
