Talking of explosions, had plenty of time for interesting chat with the taxista who was obsessed with every detail of our finances, so I embroidered up and down depending on whatever number entered my head.
Beside the road, campesinos hold up strings of eggs illegally stripped from iguanas left to die. Apparently the trade satisfies sad bastards who are in need of an aphrodisiac lift.
Daredevil Venezuelan refugee teens who have jumped the border just up the road, leap onto the back of rolling trucks in front of us. It seems some ride the wrong way on container trucks, make a wrong move, and lose their feet.
The taxista has almost singlehandedly taken charge of incremental growth of the local population with several sets of twins to his credit. He clearly does not need assistance from iguanas.
Then again, he's evened numbers a bit as an ex-military and airforce operative in Blackhawk helicopters. He is currently under investigation for killing 15 guerillas. For obvious reasons I did not delve deeper into unclear circumstances when he said things were complicated, but he was not welcome in the US for now!
Life in Colombia is never boring, so many stories of life, death, love and laughter.
Now having cocktails, caipirinhas, nachos, yum yum, sinking into somnolent coma.
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Colombia, Taxi, Story
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