Hello Bogotá!

(Aug 27, 2012)

And so it has begun.

Robin and I left Nanaimo on Friday at around 8:30 to get to Vancouver for our 2:45 flight.  Ben came with us to see us off and to keep us company on the ferry ride over.  While we were getting our boarding passes, the attendant informed us that Colombia requires proof of exit from the country in order to grant tourists entry Visas (this we do not have as we will be busing from Colombia to Ecuador). Have no fear! Ever prepared, Robin stepped in confidently stating that yes, she was aware of this but that numerous Google searches had informed her that though this is stated as an official requirement, it is never enforced. There was nothing for it but to forge onwards hoping that the blogosphere would not lead us astray (the unabashed concern on Robin’s face was not comforting…).

The flights proved to be uneventful though fairly long.  We had three connecting flights (one in Denver and one in Houston) and didn’t arrive until 5:00 am Bogotá time (3 hours ahead for us).  Though exhausted, we sailed through customs in Bogotá (sans questions regarding proof of onward travel) and found ourselves sinking into a cab enroute to our hostel. We woke the attendant and crawled into bed for just after 6:00 am (decked out in our sleeping masks and earplugs – we looked the coolest).

We got up at noon to a very confusing situation (for me anyways).  As we were rolling out of bed and stretching, another traveler came into the dorm room.  He saw us getting up and asked where we were from to which we replied “Canada.”  “Me too!” he exclaimed.  Excited that the first traveler we had met was Canadian, we asked where in Canada he was from, “Victoria,” he replied.

I stared at him in consternation.  Still groggy from only just waking up, I couldn’t figure out how he had guessed that *WE* were from Victoria (forgetting that he was telling us where he was from).  It took me a moment to realize he was in fact also from Victoria and we exchanged names of people we mutually knew (our fellow Canadian’s name was Alex).  So, yes, the third person we had met in Colombia (after the kindly cab driver and dozing hostel worker) was from the same town as us and we knew some of the same people.  Small world.

We decided to explore the city and left with Alex to look around.  We made our way to the plaza Bolivar, near the centre of the old quarter (where our hostel was), and read a little bit about Simon Bolivar and his ideals.  As we were reading, a young auxiliary police officer (there’s mandatory military service in Colombia) spotted Robin’s blonde hair and came over to us from across the plaza.  He was recruiting tourists for a tour around El Museo Nacional de la Policía and invited us to come along.  Never ones to turn down adventures (nor museums), we quickly agreed.  It so happened to be free.

We arrived and were taken by another auxiliary police officer (read: mandatory military service) on our tour.  The tour was in English but wasn’t terribly informative.  For example, the first exhibit was of a scale model of a Policia Nacional helicopter and the tour guide’s description went as follows:

“This is a scale model of a Policia Nacional helicopter used in 1995.  It has a camera here on the bottom that is used to take pictures.  Ok, next exhibit please.”

I feel guilty complaining since A) The tour was in English and B) the tour was free.  Since my Spanish is so terrible, I really can’t win either.  If the tour was in Spanish, I would have gotten about the same amount of information out of the guide’s description (presuming there was more description in Spanish).  We realized later that there is also a basement to the Policia Nacional museum which is devoted to the hunt for Pablo Escobar which wasn’t part of our tour.  We’re hoping to go back tomorrow and see the basement.

After the museum, we wanted to find a SIM card for our cell phone and find a bank to take out some money.  Alex wanted to head back to the hostel to read for a bit so we parted ways.  After withdrawing money, we found a SIM card and tried to set it up.  There were instructions that came with the card but we couldn’t seem to get them to work.  Some police officers were near us so we asked if they had any idea how to do it.  Robin chatted with one of the officers about Bogotá and the Policia Nacional while the other officer tried to help me with the cell phone to no avail.  As we were working, a street vendor walked by selling these donut-like things that came with some sort of sweet, thick milky drink (called buñuelos with avena).  With a swift grab for my wallet she was off only to return with not one but four buñuelos. “Robin! You cannot eat four buñuelos!”, I said. With a knowing smile she pranced up to the police officers, working away on the cellphone, and offered them each her newfound delicacy. I now know how she so appeals to the local police officers wherever she goes – not necessarily a bad thing. Needless to say, with hands full of buñuelos and avena, the police officers were now useless for our cellphone needs. So much for that…

We wandered the streets of Bogotá for a little while longer then decided to head back to the hostel.  The hostel provided all guests with a free dinner  and we had made it back just in time for the dinner, which turned out to be pretty good if a bit small.  While eating our dinner and enjoying a beer at the hostel, we met two American brothers and sat with them and Alex and chatted about traveling and other things.  We also learned that this night there was going to be an event called the Crazy Turtle Bus going on.  For $20 dollars, you could go out for the evening to the Zona Rosas (the upscale party part of town) and it included entrance to three different clubs, drinks before the clubs and transportation around Bogotá.  Alex and a bunch of the other hostel guests were planning on going and it seemed like a safe and inexpensive way to see this part of Bogotá so we decided to go as well.
The bus first went to the hills overlooking Bogotá so we could enjoy a drink and see the city stretching off in the horizon.  Afterwards we went down into the chaos of the Zona Rosas.  The Zona Rosas could really have been taken from any affluent part of Canada.  There were streets upon streets of bars and many designer clothes stores and the prices were comparable to Canada.  Robin and I started to get tired by the second club so we went looking for some inexpensive food (for me).  We wandered the streets while I ate and ended up going back to the bus early to rest while we waited for the rest of the crew to strike out in the clubs and join us.

Before we had gone out the night before, I had sent out a few couchsurfing requests and we awoke the next morning to an offer from a fellow named Johan Garcia.  Johan was an archaeologist who had recently quit his job and was moving to England in 3 weeks to do his Ph.D.  Perfect timing to hang out with us!

We made plans to meet Johan that afternoon and went off to wander around Bogotá for an hour or two before meeting up.  Sunday in Bogotá is very much a family day and there were people throughout downtown Bogotá walking and admiring the sights.  Museums are free on the last Sunday of every month as well so we noticed many lines (but decided to avoid them).

We met with Johan and went for a late lunch to chat and get to know each other.  Johan regaled us with stories about his time working on archaeological sites in Colombia, his studies in Mexico and Italy and we were able to learn a lot about Colombian history, both contemporary and ancient.  We headed off to Johan’s apartment to drop our bags off and make plans for the next few days.

We had also been in contact with another couchsurfer named Oscar who had invited us out for a drink that evening so, after dropping our bags, the three of us headed off to meet him.  Oscar was with his girlfriend, two Colombian girls and an Italian traveler when we arrived so we pulled up chairs and got to know everyone.  Oscar’s girlfriend studies Modern Languages at university in Bogotá and wanted to practice her French with me.  We must have looked like a very interesting table with different conversations going on in English, Spanish, French and Italian!

After we finished up at the pub, we headed back to Johan’s and cooked dinner all together before heading to bed.  Today, we woke up and cooked a Canadian breakfast replete with bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, orange juice AND toast.  We gave it a bit of a Colombian twist with some local fruits called feajoas which turned out to be quite sweet but with a bitter skin (they look like little stubby cucumbers).

After breakfast, Johan headed off to meet his father for lunch and we went adventuring to see the Salt Cathedral in Zipaquiera (one of only two in the world, the other being in Poland).  The cathedral was in an old salt mine and built into the side of a salt mountain.  Entrance to the cathedral (and the surrounding attractions) seemed a little expensive at 20 000 COP but it’s really just a bit more than $10 each.

We first went to a small museum that talked about the different ways the salt was extracted dating all the way back hundreds of years.  It was really interesting to learn about the extraction and salt in general.  Two facts for you:

1)In times past, the indigenous peoples used salt as a form of currency, just as the Greek and Roman civilizations. Thus, the word salary (sal= salt in Spanish) draws its roots from this sort of trading.
2)Eucalyptus wood has a tendency to absorb water and thus provides an ideal material to fortify salt mines as it draws moisture away from salt deposits (thus avoiding uncontrolled collapse) and, once water is absorbed, the salt contained begins to crystallize, thus providing added support to the wood beams.

We were then taken down into the bowels of the salt mine, winding our way through artistic representations of Jesus’ journey with the cross. Finally we found ourselves gazing up at the magnificently glinting walls of the salt cathedral. Now this may seem obvious but the cathedral is a real cathedral and regular service, weddings, and baptisms are held here. Pretty amazing! The significance of having a cathedral underground stems from the dangerous nature of mining, thus leading miners to pray before work. Over the years spaces for prayer have evolved from crosses scratched into the walls to lit areas with idols. Only two places, however, have endeavoured to build such a dramatic place of worship.

A brief jaunt through the gift shop and easy glide through town to the bus, we now find ourselves relaxing again with our wonderful new friend Johan and discussing plans for days to come.

Phew!  All that and we’ve only been here three days!  We’re hopefully planning on posting to the blog every Monday so we’ll see if we can keep to the schedule.  We’ve got some pictures but they won’t see the light of the internet until tomorrow or later this week.  Hasta luego!