First Hitchhiking

In Manizales I couch surfed with a dapper nerd, a young professor of business and a fan of Tolkein. Unfortunately I came away without a photo of him in his John Lennon glasses and form-fitting black vest. But we had lovely conversations.

From Manizales to Cali, I deployed my thumb for the first time on the trip. Supposedly the zona cafetera, the coffee-growing area of Caldas and Qundío, is very safe, and indeed I felt comfortable with the five rides I hitched. Here they are:

A carpenter taking a load of doors from his home workshop in Manizales to Pereira (I didn't catch his name). He told me about the Armero tragedy of 1985 as we drove past the former town of that name where more than 20,000 people lost their lives in volcanically induced mudslides.

A gruff fellow with a big truck loaded with dirt headed for a place called Virginia (I didn't catch his name either).
Willian, a gum salesman and fan of mixed martial arts fighting.
Alejandro, Jennifer, and their son. These were the sweetest people. I was the first foreigner Jennifer had ever met, which delighted her. Alejandro works as an escort for tractor trailers coming from the port at Buenaventura to cities all around Colombia. If anyone stops a truck he, following in his car, will phone the authorities. Fortunately he's never had to do so. He's also a part-time singer, and his son is learning the classic rancheras, which he enthusiastically crooned in my ear.
Gerson, a trucker from a town called Buga, was on his way from Buenaventura to Palmira, near Cali. He pulled down a small decorative hammock in the colors of the Colombian flag from the roof of his cab as a gift to me. After parking his truck in Palmira he walked me to the road and made sure I got on the right local bus into Cali.
Thanks to these seven lovely people, yesterday was a wonderful experience in Colombian hospitality and humble charm.