What words come to mind when I think of Colombia? Beautiful. Diverse.
Wild. Rainy. Off-the-beaten-track. Vast. Unbelievably friendly.
Hot...cold. Jungle. Beach. Mountains. To sum up: too many. Colombia is
one of those countries where I know I'll be back. I
have to
go back.
I've now made it over to Ecuador, however, over the next few weeks I'll
try
to sum up my thoughts and experiences of my ~2 months in Colombia
chronologically as putting together a summary of everything in one entry
would either A) be wayyy too descriptive and long or B) be wayyy too
short and not give enough justice to such an amazing and deserving
place.
Another reason for doing this is because it serves as an
e-journal for me now more than ever - long story short, I had my
smaller bag stolen that included, among other things, my journal (no,
not my "diary", assholes). So my task now is to try to not only remember
the details of the places we went but my thoughts and feelings that
came as a result of those experiences.
So here goes: Arrival into the Bogota as described in my first entry was a bit chaotic.
Feeling
the rush of our launch into our big new adventure, we decided against a
taxi to our hostel and dove head first onto a public bus from the
airport to get to our hostel in the Candelaria district. Needless
to say, we didn't know where the hell to get off and ended up cramped
in the back with our big bags and our legs subsequently disjointed from
our hips, struggling for any sense of landmark recognition out the
window which, suprise suprise, was impossible considering we had never
been actually been to Bogota...
Sensing our confusion
and discomfort, about 6 fellow passengers tried to help us, albeit in
Spanish (which we were now, officially, "practicing" after years of
non-practice --- essentially storing words, phrases and tenses in a
cob-webbed attic of non-usage in the US). After getting off at a random
point at the direction of the other, now probably bewildered, passengers
("Did those gringos just ask me how to ride a llama?") we got
more-than-necessary directions from a policeman who not only drew us a
map of how a taxi should take us to our destination, but negotiated for
our fare. We made it to our hostel, Hostel
Sue (pronounced "sway"), about 15 minutes later to our great relief.
While it was a crazy and hectic beginning to our trip, I think it can be
compared, in a sense, to Bogota and Colombia as a whole - throughout
our time there, it was spontaneous, sometimes dangerous and
uncomfortable but there was almost always one constant -- the
friendliness and willingness to help from the locals.
After
checking in, we went out to grab some empanadas and a couple of beers on
the main drag. Bogota at first glance is busy, kind of dirty, a bit
sketchy and not a place I would go out of my way to visit. Wait...I
still feel that same way. Actually, I wouldn't want to completely
disregard Bogota as a city - It does have one redeeming characteristic:
street art. Virtually every street in the downtown area has
graffiti, tags and/or some incredible art displayed - portraying
Bogota's unique underground art culture.
After slugging our
last sip of the local Colombian brew at the bar and feeling the
adrenaline rush of being outside the US on our first day on this
journey, we continued to have some beers upon returningto
the hostel. While hanging out and listening to music, we met a few
Aussies who had just arrived a few days beforehand - just getting into
Bogota after traveling for a couple of months through the US, a few more
down through Central America and were finishing up their trip in
Colombia. One of these guys is a Colombian transplant,
working as a journalist in Bogota and knew all the places to go for a
good time on a Saturday night in Bogota. Needless to say, we woke up the next day 
feeling
a bit hurt, but had plans: attending the maddest public display of
pride that a South American event can bring out in its locals - a fútbol
game.
Struggling to get out of bed on Sunday, we quickly
grabbed some much needed energy in the form of coffee from the hostel
kitchen (free in most hostels down here!) then some breakfast in the
form of a fruity drink down the street. These are everywhere down here
due to the abundance of fruits - it's essentially a smoothie with one or
more different fruits - from banana to mora (blueberries), lulo (local,
tart fruit) to granadilla (orange-looking from the outside with seeds
encased in a jellyish liquid; looks like fish eggs but tastes muy bueno)
- blended together with either water or milk and ice.
Feeling
as refreshed as we could be, we took a cab to the stadium - El Campin -
and found tickets for around $20/each outside. As we headed closer to
the gates, the sounds of the crowd are what I imagine battle cries would
sound like and you can literally feel the ground thumping underneath
your feet. Talk about an adrenaline rush. I think the last soccer game I
went to was at Penfield High School or the Rochester Rhinos. This was
on a different level to say the least - maybe another planet.
We're
shuffled along to a gate separate from the main entrance and directed
to our section - the "gringo" section, from what I could gather. An area
virtually empty of any local fans about 30 feet from the field –
awesome seats. Before leaving for Colombia, I had researched the game
and was told not to wear red or blue at this particular match and could
now see why. The Bogota Millionaires (blue) and the Santa Fe Juniors
(red) were going head to head - both teams are based out of Bogota but
this game was a big one. The Millionaires were fighting for a playoff
spot against Junior, who was at the top in their division.
Upon
walking up the stairs and into our section, the sound of the cheers was
deafening. To our left, the small cheering section of the Juniors is
about 200 people deep and further to their left, the massive section of
Millionaires fans is absolutely out. of. control. The
entire 90
minutes of the game, these fans are singing - no, screaming - song after
song while simultaneously jumping up and down - nonstop. I'm sure if
you cut any one of them open, they would bleed blue. At one point in the game, about 20 fans from
the Millionaires jump down the bleachers (about 10-15 ft) to try to get
to the Juniors' fans. Police swarm the area and created a blockade
between the two sections for the remainder of the game.
Unfortunately,
no goals are scored and the game ends up in a tie although it makes
little difference to me, as I had been watching the spectacle in the
stands much more than the actual game. In order to keep the peace at the
end of the game, the opposing team's fans exit about 20-30 minutes
before the home team's fans along with us. The game is successful on two
fronts - the Millionaires make it to the playoffs based on another
game's decision and we make it away unscathed, alive and ready for a
nap.
Our time in Bogota thus far had been off to quite the
start but, like the omnipresent gray clouds that loom in and around the
hills surrounding the city...there's bound to be some storm at
some point.
