As we head off from Ibarra to cross the border from Ecuador into Colombia I can’t help but feel rather nervous. This is going to be a difficult border crossing, as we have been told by so many other travellers, I just want to get it over with… The Venezuelan people have swamped the Ecuadorian and Colombian border trying to leave there unsafe and poorly run country for a better life with only what they can carry in suit cases and backpacks.
When we arrive, I cannot believe how many people are wondering around. How crazy hectic it is, and we have know idea where to go… We park the bike on the Ecuadorian side first right outside near a few police officers, surely, they will help look after the bike for us. I ask the officers in my broken Spanish as to where we need to go, and I surprisingly understand their response. We line up with all the other hundreds of people and wait till it’s our turn to stamp out of the country.
Surprisingly it only takes about an hour. Then over to the Colombian side, which is looking completely overwhelming and crowded…..
When we arrive, we park the bike up on the footpath near one of the customs offices. We figure it’s the safest spot and the fact is we are going to be away from her for a while… We walk around the overcrowded large area trying to work out were we are supposed to line up to enter the country. Then we run into a few English-speaking backpackers we had met over on the Ecuadorian side and join them in the extremely long line. I speak to a few Venezuelans who inform me they have been in the line for three days trying to exit Colombia. I think their plan is to try to make it to Chile and find work as Chile has a greater amount of employment opportunities and I believe the working conditions are better. Wow I think three days. That’s insane!! Let’s hope the line moves quicker for us… As I continue my conversations I can’t help but feel sad and completely helpless for all these Venezuelan people, I mean how horrible it must be to have to up and leave your home, possessions and sometimes even your family just to feel safe. My mind cannot even understand the pain and upset they must be feeling.
There are a lot of loud cooing noises at random intervals and I’m thinking it’s in relation to people pushing in. ???? We are in the line for over four hours and haven’t moved very far at all when my saviour comes to rescue me from all this. It is a customs officer who spots me in the line with my helmet, “English or Spanish” he says to me and English I respond. “Are you on a Moto señora”? I proceed to explain our situation and he grabs both David and I, telling us to exit the line and then takes us around to the side gate of the customs building telling the guard to let us in. We line up behind about five people and I’m so grateful to the customs officer for saving us from the long line we have exited from but feel for all the others who still must wait their turn.
Getting the bike papers don’t take anytime at all after a few tiny glitches with copies of documents. Then off we go!!!
Our plan is to stay in a Convent hostel in Las Lajas, about 30 minutes in from the border crossing called Casa Pastoral Las Lejas.
We arrive around 5pm and I think what a big day it has been. I can’t seem to stop thinking of the Venezuelans at the border crossing it was all so new to me. All I need now is a hot shower and a comfy bed to sleep in. Unfortunately, the only room available at the hostel is a single room with a wooden mattress. We take it as its way to late and we are way too tired to start looking elsewhere. We will make it work I say to David who agrees with me and I think to myself that it could be worse… we could’ve been the ones that had to leave our families, our country and everything we have just to feel safe, have a better life or make money to support our families. My small problems don’t really seem that important anymore and I close my eyes, lay back on my wooden mattress and say a little pray for all the Venezuelans I had met today.
