A Day at The Border

During the last few years it has become a tradition and even almost a necessity for the people from Táchira state, Venezuela to make the trip to the city of Cucuta, Colombia to acquire mainly basic products, such as food, in order to have a "normal" life. This is due to the consequences of the hyperinflationary situation that my country, Venezuela, is going through.

Today, Sunday June 23rd, I find myself in a street in downtown Cúcuta, writing this while I wait for my mom to finish shopping inside one of the many supermarkets around here. If you wonder why I’m not inside helping her, well, it turns out that now they don’t allow the entry with suitcases, or carts like the ones people use to carry their markets, therefore I have to wait outside.

In the meantime, I’ll describe my experience to you. First things first: we wake up super early, after we have breakfast we leave the house and start driving.

The road to leave the city is in terrible condition, so we have to go slowly and being very careful.

After more than an hour you arrive to San Antonio del Táchira, one of the border towns with the most activity in the whole world, once we get there, it is time to look for where to park the car, thinking that if you leave it anywhere unsafe, when you return you will probably get to a car without battery or oil. Ok, we found a place. A fenced parking lot = 5,000 COP per day.

Now: a bathroom and one that is not radioactive, please. "At the stadium" the boy from the parking lot said, and we took his word, 500 pesos for using it, it doesn't include the toilet paper.

We walk to where all of the people flow: to the border. You pass between barricades, guards and when you arrive at the Colombian checkpoint you must have your border card and identity card in hand. They scan your QR code and you go on, now you are at the entrance of one of the most peculiar places, so to speak, that I know: La Parada.

Some might describe it as dirty, noisy, messy and even a little scary, in every square meter there are a dozen people wanting to sell or buy something from you, it's overwhelming at the very least.

As I was saying, they buy and sell everything there, paper, junk, cell phones, hair, food, dollars, gold, shoes, anything! and anyone who is part of that dynamic screams at the top of their lungs to stand out from the crowd, the competition is chaotic.

If you don't want to spend on tickets you can buy what you need there, if you prefer the full experience you should take a bus (1,600 COP), or pay for a seat in a cab (2,500 COP) to take you downtown, which was supposed to be more tidy but there are so many people here today, that there is not much difference anymore with La Parada, all of the sidewalks are full of buhoneros (informal vendors) and the panorama repeats itself: Shouts, people offering you everything: shavers, cookies, lighters, water, and more...

As soon as we arrived at the center I slip from my mom to try to find a library and I got lost, I walked around the streets nonstop until a lady helped me to find my way to the supermarkets and there I got to my mom who told me that she had not been able to buy anything yet because she was carrying her suitcase.

So I stayed out with it and she went inside. And so we go back to the beginning, here I continue observing the infinity of passers-by, it is incredible the hard work that these people do every day, to be all day walking, screaming, carrying their products, being rejected continuously, I cannot even imagine their thoughts.

If you pay attention to them, looking at all those faces you can allow yourself to get an idea of what they have experienced. I wonder if what they do is worth it, or if it really helps them to survive, because why would they keep doing it if that wasn’t the case? I wonder about how they spend their income, I imagine their homes, when they go to rest, if they have children or if they live with their families. They are in a constant hustle and bustle, and this must cause them so much damage on ways that they may not even be aware of...

And maybe so are we, in our own kind of chaos.