What the FARC?!: Rain, hail and prohibition in Bogotá

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It seems it wasn't guerrilla groups or murderous drug barons that we were to be wary of in Colombia, but rather the weather. The ominous clouds blanketing Bogotá we assumed were typical of the rainy season; the temporary closure of El Dorado airport due to flooding as we sat on the runway, a brief, barely remarkable hiccup. One flooded hotel room and another closed airport later, and we began to exchange nervous glances.

Following the tourist trail, we were practically oblivious to the much-publicised problems which fuel alarmist warnings from armchair commentators - our biggest issues were the typical afflictions of the holidaymaker: a diverted plane, a leaky patio door, a grey sky spoiling that perfect holiday snapshot. Beyond the comprehensive airport security checks and the moderate police presence on the streets, in the tourist destinations of Cartagena de Indias and Isla San Andrés there was little to hint at the existence of the armed conflict and illegal substance trafficking which have made Colombia so infamous.

Despite having heard of violence in the run-up to the country’s October 28th municipal elections (21 candidates were murdered, the majority in rural towns and villages), and read about the deployment of almost 400,000 troops and police to ensure security on polling day, the atmosphere in Colombia’s capital didn't appear particularly tense: Bogotanos carried on with their weekend as usual, albeit under the imposition of a ley seca* and random car boot checks.

In any case, uniformed presence seems a humdrum constant in Colombia. From the guard on the city ramparts beneath our window in Cartagena, to the pubescent recruit on the end of a sniffer dog's leash in Bogotá's airport, to the taut-bodied trainees on San Andrés (jogging in formation along the island's main artery, humid in khaki-trewed splendour, like extras from some mildly titillating charity calendar). Airline travellers are routinely patted down with impassive efficiency, and neither baggage nor body are free from minor probing: a finger inserted into a still-worn shoe, a nose thrust into a bag of soiled smalls.

When we discovered that Bogotá's centro histórico had been closed off because of the elections (it appears that voters who don't register in advance descend upon the centre to cast their ballots), we journeyed north to visit Colombia's catedral de sal - a subterranean church built inside a salt mine.

Abandoning the city for the outlying sabana means being rewarded with green open spaces, disturbed only by the occasional noble dwelling erupting from the surrounding hillside, and the flash of an extramural theme park - animals, rides, and a reconstruction of the Taj Mahal - along with the ramshackle, opportunist satellite structures this has spawned. The highway weaves past dilapidated tin parrillas tumbling out into the roadside, their part-charred animal carcasses gored by upright spits, and continues on to the town of Zipaquirá and its saline shrine.

Plunging back into the traffic-choked capital through incessant rain that afternoon, we asked our driver if the inclement weather was likely to continue: we had a whole historic centre still to see, and only a morning to do it. A squeal of amusement escaped him: "Eeee hee hee! Well, you've come in the rainy season! And on top of all that, you can't even find an open bar to have an aguardiente!"

As it turned out, our weather quibbles were positively picayune compared with the flood damage which has affected many communities, and with the meteorological events that followed the day we left the country. Surely few could have anticipated the hailstorm that brought Bogotá to a standstill within minutes, or the tornado that followed three days later.


http://www.slide.com/r/c2pJSjj_6j9dRvRqkSioagpoCoB05pOu

http://skywatch-media.com/2007/11/freak-hail-storm-causes-chaos-in.html
(Copy and paste either of the links for video-clips of the hailstorm's effects).



*Ley seca: Literally, ‘dry law’. The sale of alcohol was prohibited from Friday evening until Monday morning.



(Many thanks to Ana for, amongst other things, introducing us to the joy of jugo de lulo in the absence of available aguardiente!)

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Photos

Plaza Bolívar, Bogotá
Should have made us feel a bit safer...

Catedral de Sal I
Raúl double-checks...