ElliportBlog: Bogota Days

It was hard leaving Southeast Asia. We’ve had more time to reflect on it now, and some of the differences have crystallized. It’s nobody’s fault, and it’s no knock on Colombia or South America, but, quite simply, there is no place in the world so kind to backpackers as Southeast Asia. The region is cheap, it’s well organized, moving around is easy, the food is great, the people are unbelievably friendly and all speak English and, of course, motorbikes are inexpensive and make independent travel simple and accessible. It was hard to leave.

Compounding the difficult transition (difficult is relative, of course. I do realize we are on an incredibly rewarding and enjoyable four-month trip) was the marvelous time we had in North Canton, Ohio at Ben and Tracy’s wedding. We got more than a few quizzical looks when running through our itinerary:

“So, we’re doing two months in Southeast Asia, then we’re flying into Northeast Ohio for a long weekend, and then down to Colombia.”

Apparently, Northeast Ohio in late October has managed to hide itself from the backpacker’s trail. We had an incredible weekend, and the wedding itself was fantastic. It was a bit bizarre however, going from the Mekong Delta to Ohio, and the weekend seemed to kindle a homesickness in both of us that took us a few days to shake. It was like going home: seeing all of the stores, hearing everyone speaking English, familiar food and friends, noticing people get angry about stupid things again (I told Ben that they never get visibly angry about anything in Southeast Asia, and he said he had to go. Anyone who knows Ben understands how well he would fit in, and how much he would appreciate that quality). But it was not like home: obviously, we didn’t get a chance to see many of our friends and family, and the weekend was so short. It was with mixed emotions that we boarded the plane on Monday.

We did not have mixed feelings, however, when we arrived at the Cleveland airport to find that our flight from Toronto to Bogota had been cancelled and we would need to spend the night either in Cleveland or Toronto. These are the things it is nice to know before you reach the airport (and we found it interesting that cheaptickets.com deemed it acceptable to flood our inbox with deals, offers, and even several updated itineraries over the preceding weeks but could not find the time to let us know about our flight being cancelled. After a few minutes of back and forth on the phone, I did get them to put us up in Toronto, though. And Toronto: underrated city. Sneaky underrated. Ethnically diverse, lively, clean. We loved it. They even have a few new, good microbreweries).

The next day, after a surprisingly short 6 hour flight from Toronto, we arrived in Bogota. We weren’t sure what to expect, but I did know we were coming from one of the safest regions in the world: Southeast Asia, where you don’t even need to lock your doors; to South America, which, by reputation, requires a keener eye. We would come to find that Colombia in particular, and South America in general, has made great strides (through very hard work) over the last several years to transform itself into a safe place to travel. One finds military presence everywhere in Colombia; in Bogota, literally on almost every street corner in the more touristy areas. We had our guard up when we arrived, but we quickly realized that the intense efforts of Colombia to clean up its image have made a huge difference. These efforts have also made it one of the favorites of backpackers and families alike: a national pride and desire to put the cocaine-infested, guerilla-run past behind it have engendered a wonderfully cultural and friendly, festive atmosphere in its cities. You can also sense in the people that they want people to realize that Colombia is a different place now.

The irony is that the last time Colombia made such a huge push for recognition was during the World Cup in the U.S. in 1994, shortly after Pablo Escobar’s death and during the short golden age of Colombian soccer. Unfortunately, that narrative ended with the murder of Andres Escobar after his own goal against the U.S., and every investigation led back to the Gallon brothers of the Medellin drug cartel, which had gained new prominence and importance in the chaotic underworld after the death of Escobar. The murder was eventually pinned on their bodyguard, who did 11 years in prison after the conviction. In another twist, by all accounts, the death of Escobar sent the Colombian underworld and perhaps the country itself into a tailspin, and the years after his death were marked by more violence and turmoil than his life itself. His is an endlessly fascinating story, one we explored in detail at the Museum of Police History.

In short, it took us a couple of days to adjust to the change. The language barrier, the cold (it gets down into the 50’s in Bogota, a relative ice age for our tropical sensibilities), the altitude (around 8500 feet). And, to be honest, we were tired. Vietnam was a whirlwind, as was traveling halfway around the world, the wedding weekend, the trip south. We had a fairly relaxing few days, and part of the week Rebecca was saddled with some bizarre altitude-stomach ailment, so we spent a couple of afternoons holed up watching movies. It was quite nice, and relaxing. I also took a few days to adjust to my newest source of self-loathing: not learning more Spanish (read: any Spanish) before spending two months traveling through South America. I always tell myself we will make an effort before traveling the next time. And then we don’t. Luckily, Reba is pretty handy with Spanish. We adjusted fairly quickly, however, and soon we felt right at home (except for the whole, not speaking the language thing. I’m such an idiot).

Does this look too much like the one above? Yeah?

Some highlights of Bogota:

Monserrate tram:

Not too much to say. Bogota is a surprisingly attractive city (we hadn’t heard the greatest things) nestled in a valley with mountains on three sides. Unfortunately, a tram whisked travelers up to the top of the nearest mountain hourly, so I couldn’t talk Reba into hiking it. Great view though. Only weird thing is riding a gondola without snowboard boots on and without a bunch of whiny skiers complaining (just kidding Rob).

Zipaquira/Salt Cathedral:

The small town of Zipaquira and the Salt Cathedral on its outskirts makes a nice day-trip from Bogota, a short 45 minute bus ride away. The town itself is small and quiet, with a lovely square in the middle (this is a theme in South America. Unfortunately, the square usually forms around the large cathedral that the Spaniards built over the indigenous sacred site. But that’s another story). The Salt Cathedral; we would learn in the 3-D film narrated by a talking, dancing, mining salt crystal; is the number one visited tourist site in all of Colombia. Our guide was also very proud of the brand new neon-LED lights that had been installed a month prior, which gave the cathedral a nice disco feel. The cathedral itself is an old salt mine that was converted into a cathedral. For some reason, this didn't seem strange until I just typed it.

You try not licking the walls when they taste like salt.

Don't we all know how this feels?

Museum of Police History:

Awesome. Although I think our young English-speaking guide was puzzled when every question we asked was about Escobar and his defeat, rather than the history of the automatic weapon, which we also learned of, or the timeline of the uniform of the national police. Escobar’s story is incredible though, and even when told through the lens of the Policia Nacional, it’s hard to separate the myth from the facts. Born poor, he rose from the ranks of the petty criminals in Medellin to become the most powerful man in Colombia and, arguably, South America. At one point, he was listed in Forbes as the seventh wealthiest man in the world. He was worth over 25 billion dollars and controlled over 80% of the world’s cocaine supply through his cartel. He was elected to the legislature in the early 1980’s, and in the early 1990’s, before his downfall, he actually built his own prison in the hills to appease authorities, ostensibly imprisoning himself in the compound. The most interesting thing to us was the reverence in older Colombian voices when they speak of him. While unquestionably guilty of horrific crimes during his reign, without fail everyone mentions how orderly the drug cartels, the underworld, and the government was while Escobar was empowered. He also gave back heavily to poor neighborhoods, especially in his native Medellin: building soccer fields, schools, and churches. He was killed on December 2, 1993 by Policia Nacional forces, who had been intercepting phone calls in the Medellin area. By all accounts, the country was absolutely rocked by his death. We thank our wonderful tour guide, who fielded approximately 275 Escobar related questions from Rebecca and me.