Tag Archives: Colombia

Venturing South: Bogota, Colombia

I love traveling in foreign airports, they are the umbilical cord to the world for me. I also appreciate the airport nostalgia  which washes over me whenever the security guard cops a feel post metal detector,  but does not require me to step aside for a clothing swipe or a full body scan…

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On the intercity flight between Medellin and Bogota I had found myself seated in the exit row. The flight attendant seemed dubious of my ability to effectively communicate emergency instructions in Spanish; I was doubtful too…Luckily no such situation arose because out of sheer kindness or laziness on the attendants part I was able to maintain my exit-row leg-room for the hour and a half flight.

Arrival into Bogota lead to me to question my overall travel competency. It’s the basic things like re-confirming the address of your airb&b, which really matter on a trip it turns out… Of course, when the address is written down incorrectly, sometimes there is nothing you can do to evade those uncomfortable travel situations- the ones where you find yourself standing on a park corner, attempting to look cool and non-conspicuous while simultaneously clutching all of your luggage to your person, waiting for your host to come retrieve you like a lost puppy….

Never one to be content sitting in for one single evening my obliging travel partner and I  went questing for food and Monserrate directly after our eventual arrival at our accommodations.

1383323_10151798300057561_814868480_nFood we found at a delectable restaurant called Crepes and Waffles. Pleased to see all vegetarian food for the first time on the trip I splurged on an actual dinner dish rather than continuing to subsist on my travel diet of deserts, caffeine  and street snacks. (Interesting Side note:  This chain, originating  in Bogota, only hires women who are head of households as employees.  My initial response to this fact was to approval; it’s about time someplace tailored jobs for women right?! However, the more I thought on it the more issues I have with the policy: What about other women who are not heads of houses?  Can they not work too? What happens when the children leave or the spouse dies and technically they are the only household member and thus not really a head of a household. Are they then fired? Also, why are discriminate against men? Isn’t there enough discrimination already?)

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Monserrate is  a looming mountain which presides over the Eastern side of Bogota. Located on a top peak is the Sanctuary of Monserrate a popular tourist and pilgram destination. The views of  the city from the mountaintop are expansive and the ride up the mountain on either a cable car or funicular are a “must-do” part of the tourist experience.  Having done my research before hand I knew that the mountain was open to tourists until midnight… What research did not tell me is that the church, the tourist booths and parts of the gardens would be closed after five o’clock. Therefore,  if you want to enjoy anything other than a lovely dulcet toned sunset and garden walk in partial darkness, visit the mountain prior to closing time…

544124_10151798300302561_1426947340_nLa Candelaria, the old city in downtown of Bogota is very compact. It’s winding streets are laid out in what ought to be a simple to understand alpha-numeric order. Yet somehow it is not. We traveled in circles, circumnavigating the actual destination at least three times before deciding that the out-of-date-tourist-map, which was missing Carreras 12A – 12H was less than helpful. In general I would also have fared better directionally were I not gawking upwards at the astoundingly violent, beautiful,  political murals and graffiti littering the city’s walls, while also attempting to side step the missing sewer-cover holes.

1385301_10151798310357561_1483133002_n-2  (Note: Across the city the iron sewer covers have been pulled off and the metal re-sold thereby exposing gaping holes in the sidewalk. While we were in Bogota this issue rose to the forefront of the publics attention due to the deaths of 2 children who, within the course of one week stepped into these holes and drowned in the trash and rainwater .)

1450956_10151798298932561_302978758_nFinally trying something new, we joined a bike tour of the city. Although I do not endorse bike tours, in general, this one in particular had a certain element of ecas the first thing we did was bike the wrong way on a one-way street, fighting our way uphill against traffic, the tour was a impressively comprehensive including: La Macerana, the old bull fighting ring, currently standing empty as the current governor has declared the sport illegal, the old town squares, where students congregate to eat, drink and protest politics, a coffee factory,  where the roasting and bagging portion of the coffee preparation is completed and the Cementario Central de Bogota, which  houses wealthy or well loved political figures as well as the famous Bavaria Beer Company founder, Leo Kopp, who is visited by Colombians and tourists alike, all waiting in line to whisper their desires for a new job or financial stability into his ear…

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Colombia as a country is progressing forward from drug cartels and zones of terror that people associate with it. Although I would not yet deem it prepared for busloads of tourists, (particularly as there is a distinct lack of tourist assistance available) it is a much safer place to visit today than it has ever been. If you want to travel, go try it out- eat areps y aguardiente and for goodness sake don’t bring any cholo tea back through customs with you. It contains cocaine (Cough cough, now we all know!)…

 

Venturing South: Medellin, Colombia

On the plane ride home I felt it, that ridiculous, infallible exhilaration one feels upon returning to the known…

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The first night in Medellin, I forwent the beautiful views of the city from the mountaintop. Instead I focused on white-knuckling the seat in front of me each time the taxi swung across the double yellow lines, particularly in the middle of deep curves. Later I would notice that locals do not clutch at the seats to steady themselves, even when drivers whisk through  “Pare” (Stop) signs and generally ignore painted road lines.

Upon arrival into Envigado I found myself warmly welcomed at an Airbnb apartment and thoroughly briefed on the dangers to which I had exposed myself by traveling to Colombia. The warnings ranged from tales of cell phones being snatched via cracked cab windows (be sure to  lock your cab doors so no one can jump in with you),  to street muggings (always carry at least 50,000 COP around so you have something to give up).  But the stories all circled back to scopolamine ingestion. The loss of property, memories, sex trafficking and deaths  are very real effects from this “zombie drug”.  By the end of the conversation  I was experiencing a  peculiar faintness of heart each time the word “drug” mentioned in the conversation, only by my keen interest in the fact that all people- men, women, tourists and locals are equally at risk of attack stayed my temporarily craven heart.

The playing field thus leveled  the following morning we ventured out to explore Medellin. The city has the only metro (light-rail) system in the country and I found my New Yorker instincts taking over as we surged into the crowd of people, pouring onto the downtown platform, work ward bound.

529141_10151824280747561_1603210507_nWe rode the train to the first connecting metro cable and hitched a ride through the air towards Parque Arvi. Suspended in the air we watched as the wealth diminished the further we rode up the mountain. Piecemeal roofs composed of plastic and metal sheets anchored by flower pots of bricks and decorated with advertisements adorned our view. Most roofs in Medellin are composed of tiles ,a red clay grooved into and fired. The bricks  are layered upon each other and form a protective and lasting roof, but the cost is significant. As we neared the top of the mountain, the fourth and final metrocable transfer point it I started to realize the appeal of the lush Norther Andes mountains. If ever I was to buy a finca (Castle) in the clouds. It would be here.

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Following the metrocable we descended into the heat of the city stopping into a corner shop for a pastry with guave and cheese (always the fruit and cheese) and a cafe tinto each. As we munched a  brawl between a police officer armed only with a baton and a man, wielding a car door raged its way to a spot directly in front of us. Instantly I leapt up prepared to run? To hide? Certain I was about to get shot with such a fray… Despite the typical swarming masses, combing their way towards the violence, the bashing soon stopped. The participants after shouting a bit, clapped each other on the back and walked away. No one was arrested and no one had been shot. The boys had fought, cooled their tempers and walked off. If it hadn’t hit home yet, it did now- This was certainly not the “good ole’ US of A”…

Passing the Basilica de la Candelaria I  found myself glancing surreptitiously at street walkers congregating on the church steps next to porn and fruit hawkers. Inside the church I was more taken with the statues however, for along with his typical cross, Christ also bore a wig of real hair and real semi-modern clothing on his person. And just beyond that novelty I found myself stayed, first in shock then in brashness for an unfortunate amount of time as I stared wide-eyed at a priest (who stared right back) taking confessions in an open confessional. No curtains, no doors, just him, his confessee and myself. Eventually it occurred to me that I was intruding on something sacred by staring, so I backed slowly into a praying gentleman and blundered  my way out of the church.

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We moseyed into Plaza Botero. Like all the tourists around me I stopped to touch the first statue I saw. The nipples and gentiles on Botero’s statues are said to bring luck to all who rub them; these members shine a brilliant gold above the foliate bronze of the other body parts. I always wonder about who comes up with these superstitions and tall tales.

Plaza Botero flows seamlessly into the Museo de Antioquia. The art was fascinating as the contemporary installations are littered with and interwoven with modern arts. Later in the Museo de Arte Moderno Medellin I watched enticed as Colombian school children walked up to walls and touched painting. Still later I watched a woman touch a balancing glass bobble filled with yellow paint. In slow motion the piece tilted sideways, then fell and smashed to the floor covering us both in a spatters of paint. The woman’s  hand was bleeding. Dramatically we were rushed out of the gallery by attendants.

1451437_10151824280752561_1245732146_n There are no tapelines surrounding the art in most Colombian galleries. There are no sensors nor alarms limit the viewer to a particular vantage point, nor to dissuade him/her from interacting exactly as desired with the art. What to me seems liked a lack of spacial respect by Colombians simply isn’t apart of their culture in reality. Logically there is no reason to expect all peoples to have similar self-imposed bubbles  as I do, nor to deem  them so imperative to sanity.

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Lunch intoned the first of many challenges  incurred through by my rusty high school Spanish. I ended up with cheap Agaurdiente and food which was certainly not “sin carne” as well as a serious bafflement  regarding the the word for:”check”(target)? or “bill” (cuesta)? When none of the words in my handy Pocket Spanish Dictionary (#whydidIbuyaWebster) mean anything to the waitress.  Sign-languge for the Nike logo was eventually resorted to.

Digital CameraThe morning before we depart for Bogota I chewed some important tastebuds off my tongue on the ride up the mountains to Zona de Viola. On the return ride down, I dug my nails into my hand so hard I snapped two nails… But for the minutes I flew, paragliding around, soaring with the Condor (extremely rare to see!) and crows, spinning up thermals into the clouds, in the minutes of freedom before the altitude sickness kicked in, the hours of car sickness were worth it. That first rush when my Jaime, my instructor strapped me into a harness and told me to run off the mountain’s edge at the on his shouted command… “Listo!” In  those few moments I fell, then glided, then flew.