Colombia Part 6: Bogota Part 1

Its raining in Medellin. Writing time. Its the first part of the many parts that will be Bogota. The new plan has left me with three months in Bogota for the middle of my trip. Intend to work for two of them and then study for the final one. That will leave me CELTA qualified and able to apply for jobs in advance in Buenos Aires for next march. Can work out what my salary is and spend three and a half months in Peru, Bolivia, Chile and Argentina. I can then do Brazil afterwards, squeezing in carnival and Antarctica somewhere in there. Also means after Medellin I will need to fly very fast through the next two and a bit months. Ah Bogota is class. So much chaos. So much fun and it all started at the very beginning.

Both Dom and Jopke had contacted me to see if I needed somewhere to stay, but I had not responded to either of them, for I was on a bus bound for a long ancd winding journey to the capital. Eventually arriving in the overpriced bus station I grabbed a taxi across town to the hostel. There I met Dom and he let me know that he had booked me a bed in the other Sue hostel. So I went deposited my stuff, showered and returned to the other Sue to meet Jopke. Richard was the name of the door attendant. There Jopke met me and told me she had reserved me a bed. Bugger. Dom had been unable to get me a bed, because Jopke had reserved me a bed. Unaware that I was the mutual friend of both and with neither recognising each other, I was to be informed that I could not have a bed because it was already occupied by me. Sometimes I am so greedy. So my phantom bed had to remain unoccupied for the night. Dom was still on antibiotics and unable to go out, so I joined the reamining misfits band of Irish, English and Australians for some clubbing. It turned out I was the only one not on cocaine, which was not unusual for here and Itay was also with us after heading down here for his flight home. We went barhopping in La Candelaria. Its a nice old district of town and also a student quarter so overall its quite funky. We ended up in Escobar y Rojas and was a fun night. Itay was complaining he was forever being hit on by ugly Colombians, but some of them at least looked ok to me, but then when its your type everyone looks kinds good. Jopke and I popped outside so she could smoke and across the road, low and behold, was the Frenchman walking like 'Mr Soft' of minty legend. Now for my non English readers a little explanation is necessary. Mr Soft is a minty character who advertises soft mints and subsequently everything in his world is soft. It looks like its made out of bouncy castles only half filled up and he walks leaning back almost vertical, while his legs amble in front of him. Good mints by the way. Its also no mean feat to achieve this. Anyway he had been chatting up some locals in the bar in this position. Quite what the local Colombians made of this random man thrusting his crotch into their knees only heaven and they know. It was an amusing but dangerous sight. I offered to help him home and at the mention of him having no more beer, he stated "beer" and grabbed my cup and drank it. Not quite what I had in mind. I was having to help this Frenchman in Spanish to stand up and get home, by persuading him he needed to save it for the next day as it would be better. It was only a half truth, but we got him home. It was later revealed he had snorted a train track of cocaine prior to going out and seeing him maybe I would have to revise my belief that the drug was harmless physically. Jopke and I got him home and Richard informed me I was not allowed in the hostel after midnight. Even though I was staying in the other twin hostel. Even though I was helping this cained Frenchman home. Muy malo. Anyway we headed out to the bar but it was now shut. I learnt that Bogota nightlife finished at 3am due to a new law, because the city was dangerous at night. So with this 'danger' in mind what else would I do than ask locals where we could still go drinking. I found an obliging tramp. He said he knew somewhere, but was very hungry. I made a deal with him. He finds us drink, we buy him food. Tramps are usually some of the coolest people in any town. Also the worst, but never the twain should meet. Hmm i think i wrote that purely to sound pretentious and to get Twain in there. So off we went through the streets of downtown Bogota at half three in the morning. Jopke tried to suggest this was very dangerous (most subsequent Colombians have corroborated this opinion), but I maintain that its ok. No worse than Hackney. Anyway the first place he took us too was surrounded by shady characters. Jopke was worried at this point, but I told her to trust me (with what i have no idea. I did not know Bogota in my three hours here). The first place was a sex hotel, that also seemed to include families who were staying there. Jopke used one of the bathrooms, while I found out they only had soft drinks and no I did not want a room. So onwards we marched, deeper into darkest Bogota. It really is quite deserted at night, with just the dusky transmilenio stations (urban bus service) and vagrants wandering the streets. The second place was called Las Dolphines and the owner came warily to the door. "Estas embarassada?" he asked Jopke. "Como?" was my reply. He repeated. No she was not pregnant, we just wanted some rum. I assume they have backstreet abortions at these places often. Maybe that explains the plastic sheeting. Anyway he let us in and we could get a bottle of rum with coke for 20,000 pesos. We bought that and bought the tramp two beers and gave him 5,000 pesos for some food. They asked if we wanted a room. Jopke asked how much and they said 15,000. Very cheap. Was paying 17,000 pesos for the dorm alone in the hostel. So we took the room. I was now neither in my bed or my ghost bed, but a third bed. Three beds in one night. Can't get enough of them. It was Riga all over again. How many did I need? I was obviously determined to fill as many places with my lack of presence as I could. Anyway the room was actually quite nice all things considered. It was an upgrade on the last sex hotel I stayed in with Ollie in Philadelphia. No offense Ollie but the company was an upgrade as well. Instead of a mirror on the ceiling, this room had a tasteful two mirrors on either wall complete with naked women motif. We had a television that kept playing Japanese anime all night long. A very odd soundtrack. Bathroom was ok. No hot water (the hostel had it. The first since I can't even remember). Weird side part to sit on. They even had a radio that did not walk and a toilet paper holder next to the bed. You never know. Then a knock came at the door. Some random Colombian asked "tu quieres algo mas?" (You want anything else) and then blew a kiss at Jopke. No thanks. "Todos esta bueno gracias". Todos except the mattress. It was plastic like those crash mats you had for gym in school. Also the sheets never stayed on. Anyway we managed to get no sleep for another night. Jopke was still insisting that we would not sleep together (Ah noone wants to end up in books lol), but we seemed to somehow anyway average only one night of more than one hours sleep.

In the morning we were assured that we could check out at 3pm. Very generous. Though I still had to deal with my other two beds as well and can't be seen to be having favourites. We left and I suggested to Jopke that we take the room for the weekend as she flew back to Amsterdam monday. Instead when we arrived back at the hostel they had a private room for us and we took it. Jopke insisted on paying for most of the room which was very generous and she insisted as she was heading back money was no problem and she had been off shopping a fair bit as well. I left her to sleep, while I headed for my third bed (the actual first one, saving the first for last eh) and picked up my stuff. Spurs v Man United was on television. I sat to watch it. We went 2-0 up. Class. Half time I was looking how high up the table we would be when we won. One dodgy penalty decision and 35 minutes later we were 5-2 down and that was thoroughly depressing. I met a German couple who had been travelling for ages. Nice bunch. Then I got chatting with an English guy next to me. He had answered an add for Spanish lessons and gone to the cafe to be taught by the seventh place in Miss Colombia. Only in this country would that even be possible. He had since been hanging around with her and was off clubbing with her and her friends that night. He was however a Liverpool fan, so at least part of his day was bad as well. I took up a bit of table tennis (I suck and lost every game) and then went back for some sleep. As normal neither of us slept in the day and I went out for pizza with a cool Irish guy, Itay and Dom, before bringing some pizza back for Jopke. We were supposed to head out to Cha Cha and the end at that point but everyone was knackered and we ended up staying in after much back and forth discussion. We stayed up for a bit before I passed out from lack of sleep. I worked out eventually after my first week in Bogota that I ended up going twelve consecutive nights without going to sleep before half three in the morning.

In the morning we got up and spent the morning chatting in bed. Jopke figured one hour had passed, I reckoned two, but it turns out it was four. Wow. I am not usually that far out on estimates, because even I can usually tell how much time I kill with my prattle. We went out and grabbed some lunch and then got the story of the Australian guys' night from yesterday. First they had headed to a casino where one of them had won $700 on the horses. They then met two posh Colombian girls who went to Cha Cha with them. It was closed so they went to their apartment to play spin the bottle. One of the Colombian girls slept with one of the Aussies and then got him to take photos of her. Then the other wanted to sleep with him and have a threesome. The other Colombian girl rejected the threesome and the Aussie rejected the one on one offer. Meanwhile the other Aussie was left high and dry and so snorted four crushed valiums before wandering the streets of town in a daze, smoking weed and not really knowing who he was or where he was. Hmm Bogota is definitely an interesting city. I still had not actually seen any of it at this point so I will hold off on my descriptions. The rest of the day went somewhere. Where I know not. Then we went out for dinner and got chased by a random hobo for four blocks. He insisted I give him money, I insisted the opposite, he made a lunge for my pockets, I made a lunge for him and we agreed my choice on the money would be prevalent. Its nice to be taller than everyone sometimes. Again we got no sleep and stayed up, giving Jopke a painful lack of sleep for her flight. I had barely left the room all weekend and enjoyed every minute of it, even if our timekeeping suggested every minute was going four times faster than normal.

Early in the morning Jopke left with a taxi. Cartagena all over again. I know have someone to stay with in Amsterdam when I fianlly reach that city. It also resurrected my idea to cycle across the Rhine and the Danube, going coast to coast across Europe. Ah so many ideas, so little time. Jopke was amused by my ambition to be Prime Minister, but concluded that I had the talent to do so. First I have to cure my wanderlust. Hey detroit medley. Really makes you type like I am playing the piano. Ah my shoe size is 48. That settles that debate. Sorry the mind does wander sometimes. When i eventually got up I met up with Dom and apologised for my absence of the last few days. We went out to Plaza Bolivar (a mini Zocalo from Mexico City). in fact Bogota is like Mexico City. Its also very much like London. Same size, same awful weather. It made me feel really at home though and inspired me to look into taking the CELTA in the city. They had a course in october and after much thinking and lots of lucky breaks I have decided to return here in august, work for two months teaching English through a cowboy institution and then take the CELTA in october. Now I just need to apply. Hopefull I should get in, because my cv is first class and I have some teaching experience. Dom bought a few new bracelets and we toured a student museum of ants. Not quite the highlight of Bogota for me. We grabbed some pizza and went to a random couchsurfing meeting. By this point we had decided we would spend another weekend here as well. Dom did not enjoy it much and left. I ended up chatting with a couple of Colombians and joining one random girl in a bar opposite with her friends. She warned me of Colombian golddiggers (though I suspect after meeting her again that she may have been one herself). and I met a few of them. I also met an Englishman who was working for a cowboy teaching agency. This was lucky break number one, as I now had a source of employment to sustain me through the two months I would need to work. Now I just needed to search for flats. I ended up being forced into Tequila shot drinking by another Colombian girl and spurning the offer of going back to the flat of golddigger (as yet unchristened), I went back and did a substantial amount of writing for many hours.

The next day I slept in. This was when I discovered what course dates they had. There was one in May and another in June but those would be impossible given that I had to meet Helen in Manaus in July. As it is, I have left my self with a tall order of very speedy travelling and can only really see the highlights of the places I will visit in the next 2 months. There was an American soldier, fresh back from Iraq in my room. Oh yeah I had moved into the dorms and was in my ghost bed. He was from Colorado (my favourite state) and was interesting to talk to him about Petraeus and the difference the surge made. He says its incalculable, that they had learnt urban warfare from the British and that the situation was greatly improved. Before they would face up to a dozen attacks in one week and now they would sustain maybe one a month. Which could make them more fatal as there was a danger of complacency. They felt the exposure and the boots on the ground tactic was bearing fruit and were anxious to see what Petraeus could do with Afghanistan. He had voted for McCain and we had a discussion about how great the choice was this year. Both men being great men. Despite what the hippy contingent contemptibly contests. Ah a little alliteration. He was now motorcycling south across the Americas, climbing up them and leaping off of them with his paraglider. Good stuff. He even suggested (or maybe I did) that we go ice climbing in Parque Cocuy but it did not materialise. Will have to do that when I come back north. We watched the first leg of Barcelona v Chelsea and I am writing this after watching the second leg. Good games and Barcelona were quite lucky in the end with only one shot on target. After the game we played football ourselves with Oscar the owner (he knew Mayra apparently, but I did not know this at the time). I kept goal and felt like Iker Casillas without a defence. the teams were horribly mismatched and I bust a finger. On the plus side Oscar thought I was a professional keeper as I had to pull off so many saves to keep our side to a 10-4 defeat. Depressing stuff, but good fun. Fast exercise at 2,600m will take its toll though. I grabbed some Thai food with Chris and then we watched the Dutch film 'Black Book'. It was head fuck. Some parts are in English (fluent), some parts in German (I understand half) and the rest in Hebrew or Dutch (which I had to read in Spanish). I never knew as you get to understand more languages how complicated sound and vision can be. At least I understood all the Spanish completely except a couple of parts. It was definitely improving. The film was good and I seem to have developed a strong affinity for the Dutch. They really understand us and I believe they understand our sense of humour better than anyone else. They also seem to like us second only to the Yankees. Hmm its a shame I never went to Holland and I need to rectify that when I am back in Europe. Of course if my Spanish continues to improve then I will live in a combination of Seville and Barcelona when I get back rather than England. The film took me out of the mood for clubbing and I wrote some more until I brought the blog up to its status before tonight.

In the morning we got up and headed for the salt cathedral. It meant our first ride on the transmilenio. I was not so rushed to see everything now that I knew I would be back in Bogota to live. Even places like Villa de Leyva and San Gil are easily visited for the weekend. This place outside Museo Del Oro could easily be the Strand and it felt so much like home. Only the women were a lot better looking and conspicuously so. They would also stare at the estranjeros as we walked down the road. I had a feeling it was going to be a fun first place to live abroad and a good taster for Buenos Aires. My intuition was good, because I had thought the only places other than Buenos Aires that I would want to live in were the Colombian cities and Rio de Janeiro. Anyway the transmilenio is like a tram/bus combo and goes very slowly through the streets of Bogota. I don't think its as efficient as Medellin's skytrain, whatever the locals argue. At the salt cathedral the climbing wall was shut. Dammit. Some local had fun guessing where we were from and failing. German and Russian were his first two guesses. The salt cathderal has been carved into a salt mine as a place to worship for the local miners. Its cool, but not as cool as it sounds. The initial corridor is full of salt crosses on either side and I opted to take the tour in Spanish (understanding virtually all of it). There was chapel in the middle, an awful 3D film and then a water mirror like those in Carlsbad but less real looking. We took the optional miner's walk and it was interesting but not really worth it if pushed for time. We did a lights out walk in the dark, which was a poor mans version of ATM caves in Belize and then they lit a fuse to blow out some salt. I was a little confused as to why we were standing so close, but it turned out to be a ruse and nothing came close to blowing up except the speakers playing their fake explosion noises. I am such a shaky photographer that most of my photos came out shit. I imagine Dom misses travelling with someone who actually knows how to use a camera. We ended up fooling around with some shots in a maze (the maze was rubbish. you just walk through the middle) and then we headed back to Bogota. The town of Zipaquira is very beautiful by the way. I was really enjoying getting to know my future hometown.

Back in the hostel we gathered up some boxed wine and got drinking with the Aussie and a big American man who annoyed most people. Especially Jopke when he creepily just wanders into her room and stares her up and down while chatting with me. We headed out to calle 51 student quarter. The first bar wanted us to buy a bottle of rum, so we ended up in the next more dead one. We drank and headed to the club. Need to give that road another try when I live there. We went to Quieretera Canto for the club night. Its meant to be great, but its rammed full of gringos and merely mediocre. Need to get off the tourist trail next time I am there. The Yankee did not pay for his part of the taxi originally and Dom wanted to knock him out so we mediated that one. Met a Colombian girl from our hostel outside. She was seeing an Irish guy and reckoned my dancing rhythm was good for a gringo. Jo was there and so was the English guy Simon from Cartagena. I said hey, we danced for a bit, the Aussie seemed to get picked up and teased by another Colombian girl. Aussies are like gods here I would discover. Dom and I decided to walk out and popped into the bar on monday night for one. This would prove a horrendous mistake. Some guy set Dom up with this mad girl from Cali, who is probably one of the prime suspects for pickpocketing me. I had 100,000 pesos stolen that night and you too can play detective and guess which one you reckon had it. She (suspect number one) was playing with Dom and I and wanted us to go on somewhere. I bumped into golddigger and her Irishman she had met that night. She got us to come onto another bar that was open. It was called the Pink Panther and we should have guessed. Was frisked at the door (suspect number two) and then we entered. It was a souped up brothel. Bollocks. I did not even want to drink anymore and any women we met here would only be of the night kind. Irishman was forced into buying a 45,000 peso bottle of rum (golddigger fleeced him). While he thought he was getting somewhere with her, she was pawning him off on prostitutes and inviting me back to her flat because she really liked me. I politely reminded her she was with the Irish girl and then me and Dom were accosted by prostitutes. One grabbed me to dance and grabbed my cock while whispering "vamos, vamos" (suspect number three). I was not vamosing anywhere with anyone. Then she danced with Dom and the golddigger grabbed me to dance (suspect number four). I have to say that this was my worst couchsurfing experience. She offered me rum she had bought (I later found out Irishman had). He was a peculiarly ugly Irishman. No wonder she latched back onto me. Anyway we were thrown out for not sleeping with any girls or buying extortionate drinks. i realised I had been pickpocketed. My odds are on suspect one, Dom's on number four. You make up your mind, but I headed back, while golddigger called me an arsehole for leaving and went back to her Irishman. I told you Bogota was an interesting place eh. Dom ended up having to pay for the taxi as I was $40 light but still determined to live in this interesting place.