Megan and I are getting accustomed to Colombian time,
though I have reason to believe that it is actually South American
time.  Colombians are wild drivers, absolutely always in a hurry. 
Taxis, buses, and motorbikes rule the road, so you'd think that would
make travel time impeccable, or at least as expected.   That is
actually laughable, as there are usually at least a couple "best" ways
to get there, depending on the local we speak with.

We wanted to go to this volcano outside of Cartagena, Volcan
del Totumo.  According to our guidebooks we were supposed to go to the
public market and catch a bus that would take us there in an hour and a
half.  We took a taxi to the market and immediately could discern that
this was not a tourist market and certainly not a jumping off point for
any destination.  The ground was covered in fruit peels and the general
grime of a daily open-air market, frequented by Cartagena's many street
people, it smelled of shit and rotting fruit. They were not expecting
us and they certainly had no idea where or what volcano we were talking
about.  So we hopped on a bus that was said to go to the bus terminal. 
Once there, there were many buses and even more hagglers trying to talk
us into the best ride to Lomita Arena, the little town outside Totumo. 
After about a half hour of bargaining, waiting, and of course snacking
on fresh baked guava bread and green mangoes, we piled on the bus, a
supposed one hour bus ride to our final destination.  It was a slow and
hot ride.  I haven't emphasized Cartagena's heat, but it's almost
unbearable because of the humidity.  So bus rides are quite sticky and
uncomfortable, and sleep inducing.  Because most groups of travelers
who visit the volcano plan organized tours with groups, there are no
gringos on these buses, so the locals are very interested in us. 
Finally after about an hour of broken conversations and dozing off, a
group of school children piled on the bus, very eager to talk to us. 
We told them about where we were heading. They were familiar with it
because it's just outside the town they live in.  We asked how much
longer and they said another hour at least.  Another hour! We told them
that our bus driver had told us only one hour total and they thought
this was the most hysterical thing they'd ever heard.  I think the fact
that we believed him was what was actually making them laugh, suckers.
So when the bus driver came back to collect fare from the kids, we
asked him again how long it would take, and he said "eh, ten minutes"
and the kids went into hysterics, they couldn't believe it.  The kids
were the only ones we could get an honest answer from. Well, at least
at this point we had good company, the kids wanted to know everything
about us.  Once we got there, we exchanged emails with them, upon their
eager requests. I was surprised that they all had personal emails -
they were probably thirteen and lived roughly two hours outside of the
city in a very rural area.

We stepped off the bus and hopped on the back of some
motorbikes, after being easily persuaded that this was indeed the
quickest way to the volcano....we were already three hours behind
schedule (and we certainly don't have any time to spare, as we have a
very strict regimen here and for the next however many months of our
lives, ha).   When we arrived, I laughed out loud, the "volcano" really
did look like an over-sized ant hill (it's 15 meters high). I honestly
thought it must be man-made, an obvious tourist trap.  After some
negotiating with the locals about transportation back, as supposedly
the last bus back to Cartagena was two hours earlier, we climbed the
hill (the owners of the motorbikes would pick us up in an hour and a
half).  The mud pool was actually quite an unbelievable sight.  There
was a group of about ten tourists submerged in the pool, covered
completely from head to toe in mud, only their eyes were showing.  So
we stripped down to our bathing suits and slipped into the crater. It
was incredible, I could barely move because the mud was so thick and
slimy.  It had the consistency of clay but more fluid. The pool was
2,000 meters deep, but you could suspend in any position because of the
thickness, good way to practice yoga moves.  It was incredible and I
was glad we made the trek out there.  Once we got out of the pool,
there are women that fully bathe you in the nearby laguna.  They even
cleaned my ears!

Getting home was actually a lot faster and we felt much more
at ease and a lot cooler after the therapeutic bath.  We felt much more
accustomed to Colombian time after this experience or at least it was
easier to just let it go.  We've got the time!