Journal
Colombia (February)
Hola Amigos… Como estan? I’m writing from Cajamarca, Northern Peru, where the last of the Inca leaders, Atahualpa, met his fate. And they don’t call it the wet season here for nothing! Its hooring down outside. A glance in my rucksack this morning (one pair of flip flops and two board shorts) confirmed that I am an eegit. The internet cafe was the only dry place I could find. But at least I get to write some mail.
I spent the last two weeks in Colombia with Saray and her parents. Each of the nine days I spent in Bogota was like Christmas day. It was the finest display of hospitality I have ever experienced. I had lunch and dinner in a different house every day with the family, cousins, and their friends. I lost count of all the different foods and fruit I sampled. Everyone was so genuinely warm and interested to meet me. All the family’s friends are artists, photographers or DJs. One DJ took us out to an underground club where a group of French DJs where playing. I gave the Colombian crowd a bit of my Irish jig. Danny, the Colombian DJ, has an Irish father (the legendary Joe Broderick) and spent three years as a kid in Dublin, in Roddy Doyles school and was friends with Jim Sheridan’s kids. Now he DJs in Bogota and teaches Colombians how to speak English with a fierce Dublin accent. Brilliant! He was delighted to meet a Dubliner in Bogota and took us under his wing for the night.
Bogota amazed me. It is a much more elegant city in parts than I expected. Huge tall buildings in red brick, remindedme of Boston. There are fine boutiques, modern shopping centres, as modern as any US mall I’ve seen. Apart from having your car searched for bombs by five security staff on your way in to the mall, you wouldn’t know. I walked around downtown Bogota by day and never once felt unsafe. There may be over 2,000 kidnappings in Colombia each year but they don’t happen to tourists on the streets of Bogota. The risks of muggings are more genuine but if you stick to daytime and avoid quiet streets, you should be fine. Another misconception is that the police and soldiers are all corrupt. The soldiers I met were great sources for directions and very friendly indeed.
Driving in Colombia though does bring it home. It’s like being in a Video game…. there are no rules. You have to anticipate everything. Like the time two buses on either side of our car both decided to pull into our lane at the same time! I had to check my pants again… close call.
Cartagena, the Colonial jewel of the North is fascinating and stunning. We stayed in an old Colonial Hacienda restored by an Englishman. The walls showed early photos of nobles and the book racks contained classic English Literature and every copy of National Geographic since 1960. Outside the streets are humming with life, street venders, beautiful Colonial Balconies with walls painted in the most vibrant colours… blues, yellows, reds, and turquoise. Scattered along the walls of the old city are seventeenth century Spanish Cannons, which tried and at times failed to defend the city from the French and English fleets. Because at the time Cartagena was considered the biggest prize of all by the ambitious Spanish, French and English.
From Cartagena we took a Boat trip to an isolated beach, Playa Blanca, where we stayed the night in a hut owned by a Frenchman known as Gilbert with no electricity, just a kerosene lamp for light. The boat ride was another hairy moment. Over and over the boat soared into the air and crashed down over a new wave and each time I expected it to disintegrate and break into tiny pieces. Those that weren’t crying were pale as ghosts. I tightened the wings of my nappy and played cool.
Well I could go on and on about Colombia. It’s such a shame that things are the way they are because it has so much to offer. Easily the highlight of my trip so far…
Your traveling friend
Flavriguez