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Published: July 30th 2009
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God I am sick of buses... Night buses when you are a traveller serve two purposes. One, they get you to where you are going, and two, they save you the cost of a hostel for a night. Unfortunately, I was sat next to a guy, who even though we were travelling at night wanted to look out of the window (at what I haven’t got a clue), but didn’t feel anyway about leaning over me to wipe the steam off the window every 20 minutes or so, whilst I was trying to get some much needed beauty sleep.
I got into Bogota, with Avril and Ciara, two girls I met in Salento about 7am. As I got off the bus I felt the cold. The weather temperature between the Caribbean coast and Bogota is noticeable. Say the difference between Brighton on a summer’s day, and Glasgow on a cold winter’s day. The sky was overcast; I knew I wasn’t going to stay in Bogota for long. After arriving at my hostel, grabbing a couple hours sleep and the free breakfast I decided to explore Bogota. Speaking to the guy on reception I decided to be a culture vulture
for the day and visit some museums. The last words the guy on reception said were ‘Don’t take your passport, bank cards and more money than you need’. I asked him if I needed to be strapped or carry a blade for a day of culture in Bogota. He just laughed. In fact he never answered my question.
My hostel was in La Candelarlia, which the not the nicest area in Bogota, but has access to all the good areas of Bogota. I visited the Andy Warhol Museum / Exhibition (wasn’t really my thing), but all the Americans in there were going nuts for it. Bless them. After there, I walked down the street and stumbled into the Military Museum. The only reason I went in there was because they had tanks in the yard next to it and I wanted to sit in one. After booting a 9 year old out of the driver’s seat of the tank, and having my 2 minutes of enjoyment I left the museum, to head for the famous Bogota Gold Museum. I probably spent 30 minutes in the museum. I honestly don’t think culture is my thing. I decided to give it
one more chance and visit the Botero Museum. After being told off twice, once for standing too close to the painting, and second for taking a picture with my flash on. ‘Sin flash senor’. Desculpe me!!! Before I caused any more havoc, I headed back to the hostel and found out a couple of kiwi guys who I had met at breakfast had been held up at knife point no less than 5 min ago. Speaking to other travellers before I came to Bogota, they had told me stories about Bogota and it seemed that if you were going to get ‘your pants pulled down’ then Bogota was the place for it.
That night a few of us went to Andres Carne De Res. Officially this is a place for carnivores, but at the weekend the place goes off. You can’t get a table for ‘love nor money’ in the place. Drinks are served by the bottle and the atmosphere is second to none. There must be about 1,000 people easy, and it is frequented by the wealthy and beautiful of Bogota. I found it strange that these people who lived in their countries capital city and for the
best night in the city, they would have to drive 40 minutes outside Bogota, to a place called Chia. Actually, rewind the story one moment. On the way to Andres Carne De Res, we were in a Taxi. One of the girls who were staying at the same hostel came along. Nina, needed money for the night, but could only use one type of bank (?!?!?) in Bogota, so we are trying to look out for this bank on the way. The taxi is waiting to turn left to go to a bank, but she decided to hop out of the cab and walk across the street to the cash point. She doesn’t look around to see if any traffic is coming, and as she opens the door, a bike is going past and she cleans this guy out. Along with breaking this guy’s bike, the collision dents the taxi driver’s door. I thought to myself this is going to be costly. In the end, after ten minutes of discussion, the guy on the bike settled for 10,000 COP (about £3) and the taxi driver took 100,000 COP (about £35). It could have been so different though. I know that
if that would have been me, I would have been sharing a cell with some dude called Tiny for the night. Sometimes I guess it pays off being a girl.
The rest of my time in Bogota was spent planning the rest of my South America trip and catching up with my travel blog. Doesn’t sound that interesting, but Bogota was too cold and little bit ‘kill or be killed’ for my liking. I was looking forward to leaving for San Gil.
San Gil is about 6 hours north-east of Bogota. It is only three-hundred or so kilometre, but because of the hill/mountains you have to go up, and then go down, it take time. I chose the cheapish option to get to San Gil. Auto boy run an hourly service from Bogota, but unless your name is Verne Troyer leg room is limited. All the other service are two-thirds more expensive, and that money could be spent on more important things, like Steak Diane or fried ants (which is a local dish from San Gil). On the bus I was sat next to a family who were also travelling to San Gil. The mother had her four year
old on her knee, and when I got to a service station I bought him some festivals. Festivals are a bit like Oreos and have formed a staple part of my diet since I have been in South America. When I gave the four year old the biscuits, he said gracias senor, to which I replied de nada. Now what happened next just made me realise how much Spanish I don’t know. He asked me why I was going to San Gil. I looked at him blank. Suddenly I realised that my Spanish is not even at a level of a four year old. His mum and grandma just laughed as they could see I was ‘swimming without arm bands’. After about 5 minutes of me sat there, playing over what he said, I managed an answer.
I reckon the best thing for me now is to kidnap a Spanish speaking penguin from the Galapagos. He can do my translating and always can carry my rucksack, and if we get hungry he can catch some fish. Problem solved.....
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Dale
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They put there hands on you.....
hahaha good blog mate, sitting here at work creasing up and everyone thinks im enjoying Tax a bit too much!! In a cell with Tiny, classic! there you in a taxi chilling five of your fiiiiiiiiinest Ho's... also loved the removal of a nine year old from the tank! how was the military museum?? Columbie defo sounds like a bit of me!! if you decide to go back again ill be all over it....