Aguardiente and Clichés
In a Colombian bus, traditions come alive. The voices, scents, and stories of the people speak louder than any headline.
On a crowded bus weaving through the Colombian countryside, a woman’s voice cuts through the hum of the engine. She speaks as if narrating her thoughts aloud, her words weaving a tapestry of life in Colombia.
“Colombians, we romanticise everything in the name of tradition, don’t we?” she begins, almost as though debating with herself. “So, your husband hits you? Well, at least he’s still around. Imagine being single, who’d look after you when you’re old? It’s not easy out there on your own.” Her voice carries a wry mix of resignation and practicality.
“And you know what they say: tough times can always be softened with a sip of aguardiente.” She pauses, then adds, “The thing is, your husband drinks too much. That’s why he comes home all fired up and takes it out on you. But really, it’s better to keep quiet, sweetheart. Think about managing life alone, especially with food prices these days, my word, it’s enough to break the bank. What else can you do?”
The bus lurches to a stop. “Hey, driver, let me off at the corner, will you? The corner!” she shouts before settling back into her seat, continuing as though nothing had interrupted her train of thought.
Her tone brightens. “Oh, and December’s coming! The holiday lights will go up soon. And did you hear about Encanto? That Disney movie about Colombia? We’re so proud of that one!” She chuckles. “But those gringos, they come here for the real Colombia, don’t they? Like heading out to the countryside to find the best strawberries and cream in the country. They don’t know what they’re missing back home. That’s why they’re always so amazed by us.”
The conversation pivots seamlessly. “And Karol G, what a sensation! Can you believe it? Some people have never even heard of her. If you’re Colombian, you have to know who Karol G is. Who wouldn’t?” She laughs, almost incredulously.
Her voice takes on a curious tone. “Tell me, is it true people drink ayahuasca? I heard it makes you see demons. It’s from Putumayo, isn’t it? And in Santa Marta, those men with the white hats, the tribe, you know? What are they called? Arahuacos, that’s it! If you’re ever in Santa Marta, you’ve got to ask about them. They’ll take you for a walk along the beach. And Buritaca, don’t miss it! The sea meets the river there. Tired of the beach? Go to the river. Bored of the river? Back to the beach!”
As the bus slows again, she gathers her belongings and prepares to disembark. “Well, love, this has been a pleasure. God bless you. Enjoy yourself, you won’t find better folks than us Antioqueños!”
The door hisses open, and she steps off, leaving behind not just her words but a vivid impression of Colombian life, its traditions, contradictions, and quiet incoherence.
