Owing to oversight on booking coach ticket, we missed out on a decent view of Bogota leaving ourselves little more than one day in which to race around the city.
To be fair though, we didn't exactly race around it, selecting instead to visit a very good art museum, several bike shops and a Turkish themed falafal house.
The latter was an excellent introduction to the culinary delights of the town and very welcome indeed after twelve hours on a bus from our Caribbean paradise into the gloomy grey skies of the center of the country.
But we got the feeling that here, like Buenos Aires, young people live, work and party and probably have a good time doing it. We wished we had more time and money to explore.
Arriving at Bogota bus station we were quickly approached by five part time comedian cabbies who joked with us as Steve whipped off his trousers in the middle of the rank to change into cycling shorts and ride into town.
Vanishing as quickly as they appeared, we set off into town me on the bus and Steve on his bike meeting in the historic center to find a bed for the night which we found easily enough.
Bags in room, we found a big kebab joint and ticked into some actually very nice falafal thank you very much.
Limited on time and with a massive plane and train marathon through the states ahead of us, we spent the morning looking through bike shops for a cardboard box to transport Steve's bike home.
Job done, we had a quick nose around - plaza, church, colonial building and museum of religious art all present and correct.
Then back home to watch the Gilmore Girls on cable before swearing and cursing the wheels of Steve's bike, discovering the pedals had become welded on and throw allan keys across the room.
Bike in bag, we went to the Bortoli art museum to look at his pictures of giant fat bottomed nude ladies in kitten heel shoes and they were ace.
The museum also had stuff by Francis Bacon, Picasso, Dali, Monet, Henry Moore, things that even art buffoons like me have heard of and not a pre colonial or religious art work in site.
It was like stepping back into an international world beyond Incas and invaders.
And that was pretty much it. Pizza slice for tea, couple of cheap beers in a student bar opposite the university, quick glance at fly posters with actual graphic design promising international and local DJs at clubs across the summer.
Cursing ourselves for not having more time and money, we headed off to bed ready for our flight the next day to Miami, and home.
