You know, as in Snot City, or Use a Kleenex (Uzaquen). En español ciudad de moco. Bogota is many things but primarily it is a big city that is growing faster than it can accommodate with tons of social problems and crime. It is very easy to write these people off as arrogant, selfish losers without really understanding the causes for the stresses, historic and present, that they have to live under in this city. And individually many of them are lovely people I have noticed. Individually some are complete douchebags (en español pendejos). And some are dangerous douchebags (pendejos peligrosos). I see a history based on struggle and fusion. It is a seething cauldron where nothing is static except the fossilzed remains of the rigid social hierarchy that the Spanish imported from arguably one of the most horrible and violent stages of their own history in Europe (the Inquisition, the forced expulsion or conversion of Jews and Muslims). Spain (like the rest of Europe) was in those days a very nasty piece of work with parallels to Nazi Germany. And given Colombia´s history of poverty, violence, exploitation and genocide the struggle forward has been particularly intense here and people are going to be raw, wounded and paralyzed from trauma. Except they have this stubborn resiliance and compulsive enjoyment of life and I´m sure this is at least partly a coping mechanism. I think that people here are still very much in survival mode and probably will be for a long time to come.
Why did I come here? To learn. And I have learned a lot here. I have also rested well despite certain complications from noisy locals, false cops and Myriam, the owner of the bed and no breakfast who tends to cast quite a shadow, if I must say so myself.
My bags are packed and I´m ready to go. I leave tonight and will try to sleep on an all night flight. I expect to be pretty tired when I get home tomorrow.
Thursday 31 March 2016
Wednesday 30 March 2016
¡No Me Llames Señor!
Or, don`t call me sir! I am really getting a crash course on social inequality in Colombia and I don`t even have to leave the neighbourhood I am in to learn about it since Pasadena is an upper middle class neighbourhood and people have other people come in and clean their homes for them and they treat them like servants. At least the woman running the bed and breakfast (or should I call it bed and no breakfast?) treats her staff like, well, underlings. Like people who matter less than she does. Like people whose main function in life is to serve her needs in exchange for a very cheap wage. Having seen Myriam interact with her staff the last couple of days has really put me off her more than ever. I am aware that this is a cultural glitch in Colombia, especially among older people but I can`t call this attitude picturesque or quaint. It is downright awful and there is no point talking to these people because they are not going to get it, they will just get offended and defensive and how dare anyone question their sense of entitlement. Older Colombians tend to be quite daft, I have noticed, and it is impossible to reason with them. I actually came to this country prepared because there is an older Colombian woman who lives on the same floor as me in my building who is just like that. Insufferable!
Younger Colombians I think are the hope for this country. They seem to have a far more egalitarian sense and a lot of them do want to see things change in their country, despite the obstacles, and I am cheering for them.
Today is my second last day here. I am not doing a lot. Just art, last minute grocery shopping for tomorrow and later I am going to get the rest of my Colombian pesos changed back to Canadian currency since at my bank in Vancouver they tend to quibble about notes that look a little bit damaged or soiled, even though that is the shape they were in when they sold me the currency before I went on this trip.
I just got an email from the Canadian Embassy confirming my suspicions about the encounters with the fake cops. There isn`t anything they can do really but at least I am assured that I haven`t been making any of this up.
I don`t expect I will be returning to Bogota. I feel unsafe here. Very different from Mexico City, which is three times the size but for me anyway in my five visits there has always felt safe to me. I will probably return to Mexico City for a sixth visit. Another turn at Bogota? Not likely.
Younger Colombians I think are the hope for this country. They seem to have a far more egalitarian sense and a lot of them do want to see things change in their country, despite the obstacles, and I am cheering for them.
Today is my second last day here. I am not doing a lot. Just art, last minute grocery shopping for tomorrow and later I am going to get the rest of my Colombian pesos changed back to Canadian currency since at my bank in Vancouver they tend to quibble about notes that look a little bit damaged or soiled, even though that is the shape they were in when they sold me the currency before I went on this trip.
I just got an email from the Canadian Embassy confirming my suspicions about the encounters with the fake cops. There isn`t anything they can do really but at least I am assured that I haven`t been making any of this up.
I don`t expect I will be returning to Bogota. I feel unsafe here. Very different from Mexico City, which is three times the size but for me anyway in my five visits there has always felt safe to me. I will probably return to Mexico City for a sixth visit. Another turn at Bogota? Not likely.
Tuesday 29 March 2016
City Of Ghosts
When we go to sleep at night it is always with the expectation of waking up the next morning. I don`t know if it`s turning sixty, or finding myself at times vulnerable and a bit at risk in a foreing country, or perhaps both, but I do have on this trip a heightened sense of mortality. Not simply my own mortality but that of everyone. This first stood out to me a couple of weeks ago in one of the Oma cafes when I saw a small family enjoying the day together outside on the median of the boulevard. A young man and woman with their three or four year old son and it suddenly occurred to me that one day they are all going to die and I almost wanted to weep. Then it occurred to me once again what a precious gift is life and how important it is to receive each moment that we are alive, waking or sleeping, as a gift from God. I also will have always engraved on my memory that image of the flock of black vultures hovering over the military base.
I don`t know if any of you recall from my blog posts last year during my first visit in Bogota, but there appeared to be a ghost in my room. So far there has been no further evidence of anything paranormal except for one morning last week. I was wiiping down the shower with a sponge and I suddenly discovered blood mixed with the water dripping from the sponge. I checked everywhere, including on my own person and there was no evidence of any cause for blood or bleeding. I still like to think that Manuel, my name for the ghost, has been put to rest.
I had a lovely visit over coffee with my new friends in Bogota, that young couple with the little boy I first met in the Humedal Cordoba. We had a great conversation that went in many directions. They were telling me about the soccer violence that often occurs in Bogota and they explained that people try to vent their pent-up frustrations because there is such a lack of love in their lives. Even though the family unit here, as in other Latin American countries, is very strong it is often taken as a necessary evil and many people feel trapped by necessity and obligation with their families where there are often horrendous cycles of abuse, conflict and mistreatment. Colombians are very much prisoners of their history, it seems: the Spanish conquest, the huge abuses of colonial rule, slavery, abused, exxploited and largely exterminated indigenous peoples, the abuse of church power, authority and privilege, historic social inequality, armed internal strife and military conflict...There are many in this country who do want to move forward but there is such an undertow of the burden of this tragic, difficult and violent history that makes any change very slow and precarious. But I have hope for this country and for this people. Even though I facetiously think of Colombia`s best feature as its many beautiful birds and its worst feture as the Colombian people I also understand that there are many forward thinking Colombians who want to bring change to their country despite the opposition, the cynicism and the sheer emotional exhaustion of many Colombians.
When I was going through the mall this moorning on my way to the Oma cafe to meet my friends I was greeted by a large group of people in a dancercize class doing aerobic moves to salsa and other Latino music. They were having a blast and in order to get through the cafe I had to walk through them. I was tempted to join them, actually.
Of course, Colombia could always follow in Costa Rica`s foorsteps and abolish their military and use the money they save for building and strengthening their social infrastructure and elevating the quality of life for everyone, and especially for the poorest Colombians. Last I heard, Costa Rica is still standing and doing rather well in this region of the world... Maybe this could also happen for my own dear Canada!
I don`t know if any of you recall from my blog posts last year during my first visit in Bogota, but there appeared to be a ghost in my room. So far there has been no further evidence of anything paranormal except for one morning last week. I was wiiping down the shower with a sponge and I suddenly discovered blood mixed with the water dripping from the sponge. I checked everywhere, including on my own person and there was no evidence of any cause for blood or bleeding. I still like to think that Manuel, my name for the ghost, has been put to rest.
I had a lovely visit over coffee with my new friends in Bogota, that young couple with the little boy I first met in the Humedal Cordoba. We had a great conversation that went in many directions. They were telling me about the soccer violence that often occurs in Bogota and they explained that people try to vent their pent-up frustrations because there is such a lack of love in their lives. Even though the family unit here, as in other Latin American countries, is very strong it is often taken as a necessary evil and many people feel trapped by necessity and obligation with their families where there are often horrendous cycles of abuse, conflict and mistreatment. Colombians are very much prisoners of their history, it seems: the Spanish conquest, the huge abuses of colonial rule, slavery, abused, exxploited and largely exterminated indigenous peoples, the abuse of church power, authority and privilege, historic social inequality, armed internal strife and military conflict...There are many in this country who do want to move forward but there is such an undertow of the burden of this tragic, difficult and violent history that makes any change very slow and precarious. But I have hope for this country and for this people. Even though I facetiously think of Colombia`s best feature as its many beautiful birds and its worst feture as the Colombian people I also understand that there are many forward thinking Colombians who want to bring change to their country despite the opposition, the cynicism and the sheer emotional exhaustion of many Colombians.
When I was going through the mall this moorning on my way to the Oma cafe to meet my friends I was greeted by a large group of people in a dancercize class doing aerobic moves to salsa and other Latino music. They were having a blast and in order to get through the cafe I had to walk through them. I was tempted to join them, actually.
Of course, Colombia could always follow in Costa Rica`s foorsteps and abolish their military and use the money they save for building and strengthening their social infrastructure and elevating the quality of life for everyone, and especially for the poorest Colombians. Last I heard, Costa Rica is still standing and doing rather well in this region of the world... Maybe this could also happen for my own dear Canada!
Monday 28 March 2016
Drawing Attention To Myself
Doing art in public places in a foreign country is almost always interesting. While I really don´t care one way or the other about the attention, and sometimes could do without it, it is often a great way to meet and connect with people. It is rather different from fiddling with a laptop or a phone as so many people do when they are solo in a cafe but when you are doing art you are actually opening yourself to those around you as opposed to others who are addicted to their little tech toys. It actually draws people in rather than keeping them out. Yesterday in the Oma on Carrera 19 it was almost embarrassing. One of the servers brought three of her coworkers over to my table so they could see what I was doing. Today at the other Oma in the big fancy mall I ended up chatting to one of the managers and after with a couple of servers.
Yesterday did feel a little tense at times as I was near the area where I was having problems with undercover ´´police´´and I really felt uneasy for a while while I was in the Oma there. I have learned through hard experience to trust this intuition and I remained inside, away from the window until I felt better. Of course there is no way of verifying if there really is anything going on but I have opted to err on the side of caution. Later while walking on the paved median of the boulevard Calle 116 towards Uzaquen, or Use A Kleenex, I was obstructed by yet another driver on his phone and I said to him in Spanish ``Que tu cuelgues´´ or, hang up, a woman there started talking to me about how rude some of the drivers here are and it is actually illegal to talk on the phone while driving but people tend to respect the law even less here than in Vancouver. She was a really nice lady, in her fifties, I´d say, and we had an enjoyable chat. She also warned me to keep my eyes open at all times while in Bogota because this city is not safe.
I am drawing more than ever, turning out almost one good drawing a day, knowing full well that in a few short days I will be so busy with my day job that I will have precious little time for my art. I am very grateful by the way to certain supervisors at work for letting me share art with our clients.
Yesterday did feel a little tense at times as I was near the area where I was having problems with undercover ´´police´´and I really felt uneasy for a while while I was in the Oma there. I have learned through hard experience to trust this intuition and I remained inside, away from the window until I felt better. Of course there is no way of verifying if there really is anything going on but I have opted to err on the side of caution. Later while walking on the paved median of the boulevard Calle 116 towards Uzaquen, or Use A Kleenex, I was obstructed by yet another driver on his phone and I said to him in Spanish ``Que tu cuelgues´´ or, hang up, a woman there started talking to me about how rude some of the drivers here are and it is actually illegal to talk on the phone while driving but people tend to respect the law even less here than in Vancouver. She was a really nice lady, in her fifties, I´d say, and we had an enjoyable chat. She also warned me to keep my eyes open at all times while in Bogota because this city is not safe.
I am drawing more than ever, turning out almost one good drawing a day, knowing full well that in a few short days I will be so busy with my day job that I will have precious little time for my art. I am very grateful by the way to certain supervisors at work for letting me share art with our clients.
Sunday 27 March 2016
Assessing The Success Of this Trip
Thursday night I return to Canada following a month in Colombia, all spent in Bogota. Each person has a different idea of what a successful vacation is and I am sure that some of you, Gentle Reader, might find yourselves wondering why I even bothered coming here, why I didn`t go to Buenos Aires or Cancun instead, why I didn`t shop till I drop, why I didn`t eat in fine restaurants, or in any restaurants at all, why I didn`t visit other and more attractive parts of Colombia during my stay here, why I didn`t stay in a decent hotel, why I didn`t take pictures etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...
This is the itinerary that I set myself for my time here:
1. I wanted to visit a place already familiar but not too familiar so that I could be guaranteed some comfort and peace of mind while still enjoying the challenge and surprise factor of exploring new areas and neighbourhoods.
2. I wanted a city that is walkable. Much of Bogota, I am pleased to say, but for the traffic in some areas, is very walkable.
3. I wanted to be in a location significantly above sea level and not stiflingly hot. The weather here, even with the rain and thunderstorms (there has been no rain in the past three or four days, by the way) has been overall very pleasant and enjoyable, suggesting Vancouver in early June.
4. I wanted full Spanish immersion, including TV in Spanish in my room in order to improve my language skills.
5. I wanted to see some friends I had already made here and possibly make some new friends as well.
6. I wanted to do tonnes of art while here, inspired by the local flora and fauna. Right now I am on drawing number twelve, surpassing the eight I did (more like seven) on my last trip here. Some of the local cafes are fabulous for doing art in.
7. I wanted a sense of adventure. And, with some of the potentially dangerous encounters I have had in this city I got what I bargained for and then some. Now I have to avoid certain allegedly safe neighbourhoods that I previously enjoyed because I have good reason to suspect that I am being watched and observed by some of these individuals. I still haven`t heard back from the Canadian Embassy about this. What a bunch of losers!
8. I wanted a spiritual retreat while here. Lots of quiet time to pray, reflect and listen to God and grow because of this.
9. I wanted to better understand the Colombian people and appreciate them for their many fine and warm qualities instead of just demonizing them for being atrocious drivers and jerks in public (which unfortunately many of them are!).
Gentle Reader, I am very pleased to report success, at times overwhelming success, in all of these categories and I really hope and expect that I can carry home with me something positive and of enduring value from the month I have spent here.
I also discovered another fine park yesterday. I have for some time been curious about exploring the other side of the Humedal Cordoba. I am pleased to report that there is a huge and extensive manicured park full of trees that extends for some distance.
This is the itinerary that I set myself for my time here:
1. I wanted to visit a place already familiar but not too familiar so that I could be guaranteed some comfort and peace of mind while still enjoying the challenge and surprise factor of exploring new areas and neighbourhoods.
2. I wanted a city that is walkable. Much of Bogota, I am pleased to say, but for the traffic in some areas, is very walkable.
3. I wanted to be in a location significantly above sea level and not stiflingly hot. The weather here, even with the rain and thunderstorms (there has been no rain in the past three or four days, by the way) has been overall very pleasant and enjoyable, suggesting Vancouver in early June.
4. I wanted full Spanish immersion, including TV in Spanish in my room in order to improve my language skills.
5. I wanted to see some friends I had already made here and possibly make some new friends as well.
6. I wanted to do tonnes of art while here, inspired by the local flora and fauna. Right now I am on drawing number twelve, surpassing the eight I did (more like seven) on my last trip here. Some of the local cafes are fabulous for doing art in.
7. I wanted a sense of adventure. And, with some of the potentially dangerous encounters I have had in this city I got what I bargained for and then some. Now I have to avoid certain allegedly safe neighbourhoods that I previously enjoyed because I have good reason to suspect that I am being watched and observed by some of these individuals. I still haven`t heard back from the Canadian Embassy about this. What a bunch of losers!
8. I wanted a spiritual retreat while here. Lots of quiet time to pray, reflect and listen to God and grow because of this.
9. I wanted to better understand the Colombian people and appreciate them for their many fine and warm qualities instead of just demonizing them for being atrocious drivers and jerks in public (which unfortunately many of them are!).
Gentle Reader, I am very pleased to report success, at times overwhelming success, in all of these categories and I really hope and expect that I can carry home with me something positive and of enduring value from the month I have spent here.
I also discovered another fine park yesterday. I have for some time been curious about exploring the other side of the Humedal Cordoba. I am pleased to report that there is a huge and extensive manicured park full of trees that extends for some distance.
Saturday 26 March 2016
City Of Fear
I don`t think I`ve mentioned yet how many houses and apartment buildings in Bogota are surrounded by electric wire. I first noticed a couple of weeks ago when walking by the military base by el Rio Negro where the black vultures are. Then I began to see it everywhere else. I also find it curious that anyone who mentions the local poor and homeless is really afraid of them and believes them all to be violent dangerous criminals. I don`t know how true or untrue this is but I suspect stigma on top of truth or truth filtered through and distorted by stigma.. If it is true that Colombia is the most unequal country in Latin America then I would imagine that there are problems on both sides. The military seems to be particularly well off and prosperous in this country and I really wonder how much money that could go into generous and pro-active social reforms and programs gets swallowed for purposes of war and keeping the army rich and powerful. It is really difficult anywhere in Latin America, outside of Costa Rica which dismantled their military forces in 1948, to imagine any solution that doesn`t involve violence given that violence is such a key factor in the history of Latin America, beginning with the horrific pillage and genocide begun by the Spanish in the 1500`s.
On TV the other night I listened while this fatuous Catholic priest tried to convince us that Colombia is founded and rooted in the principals of the Gospel of Christ. I only wish I was hearing him in person for the pleasure of laughing in his smug sanctimonious face. The Spanish imported a very corrupted aqnd degraded form of Christianity that glorified state and violence and except for a handful of enlightened and compassionate priests trying to defend the indigenous peoples, they were with the armed forces the greatest allies and contributors to genocide in the Americas. Really, if what the churches (Anglican included) pass off as Christianity was for me the only evidence available of Jesus Christ and his message of love and forgiveness and reconciliation I would have become a confirmed atheist at a very early age.
Speaking of the churches yesterday, Good Friday, I came across in my neighbourhood a velvet upholstered (burgundy) kneeler with a sign of Christ on the Cross and words in Spanish saying Christ is crucified with two older women standing by. I guess they must have erected a friendly neighbourhood stations of the cross network in Pasadena. There was no line up for the kneeler and no one kneeling there.
I unfortunately had to stand up my friends who had invited me to their apartment Friday, yesterday. Thursday I was in the general area and tried to find their place without any success. Not having a laptop or a phone or any phone or computer access in my bed and breakfast I have to rely on cybercafes for internet access and yesterday everything was closed. So I have just emailed them an agonized apology and hope that we can still meet up this coming week while I`m still in Bogota.
I had a lovely time yesterday seated inside the Oma Cafe in the Bulevar mall where they seem to know me now. I must have spent almost four hours there working on a drawing and sipping and nibbling. A couple of staff and two customers really took interest in my art and the conversations were enjoyable. This is also Colombians at their finest. One to one they are fantastic people. In groups in public, not exactly so.
This is an image of the bird I am painting, an orange throated sunangel hummingbird. I am taking a few liberties but it`s turning out really well.
On my way back to my pension in the late afternoon I was pleasantly surprised. Walking through a quiet neighbourhood with a lot of nature I thought I saw a yellow blossom fly up into the tree it had fallen from (there are lots of these small trees in Bogota with clusters of bright yellow flowers). I looked again and it was a yellow oriole. Isn`t he a beauty? I`m drawing this one next.
On TV the other night I listened while this fatuous Catholic priest tried to convince us that Colombia is founded and rooted in the principals of the Gospel of Christ. I only wish I was hearing him in person for the pleasure of laughing in his smug sanctimonious face. The Spanish imported a very corrupted aqnd degraded form of Christianity that glorified state and violence and except for a handful of enlightened and compassionate priests trying to defend the indigenous peoples, they were with the armed forces the greatest allies and contributors to genocide in the Americas. Really, if what the churches (Anglican included) pass off as Christianity was for me the only evidence available of Jesus Christ and his message of love and forgiveness and reconciliation I would have become a confirmed atheist at a very early age.
Speaking of the churches yesterday, Good Friday, I came across in my neighbourhood a velvet upholstered (burgundy) kneeler with a sign of Christ on the Cross and words in Spanish saying Christ is crucified with two older women standing by. I guess they must have erected a friendly neighbourhood stations of the cross network in Pasadena. There was no line up for the kneeler and no one kneeling there.
I unfortunately had to stand up my friends who had invited me to their apartment Friday, yesterday. Thursday I was in the general area and tried to find their place without any success. Not having a laptop or a phone or any phone or computer access in my bed and breakfast I have to rely on cybercafes for internet access and yesterday everything was closed. So I have just emailed them an agonized apology and hope that we can still meet up this coming week while I`m still in Bogota.
I had a lovely time yesterday seated inside the Oma Cafe in the Bulevar mall where they seem to know me now. I must have spent almost four hours there working on a drawing and sipping and nibbling. A couple of staff and two customers really took interest in my art and the conversations were enjoyable. This is also Colombians at their finest. One to one they are fantastic people. In groups in public, not exactly so.
This is an image of the bird I am painting, an orange throated sunangel hummingbird. I am taking a few liberties but it`s turning out really well.
On my way back to my pension in the late afternoon I was pleasantly surprised. Walking through a quiet neighbourhood with a lot of nature I thought I saw a yellow blossom fly up into the tree it had fallen from (there are lots of these small trees in Bogota with clusters of bright yellow flowers). I looked again and it was a yellow oriole. Isn`t he a beauty? I`m drawing this one next.
Thursday 24 March 2016
Small Steps
I have been restricting my activities here since that near disastrous encounter last Sunday with the fake cop and the likely fake Venzuelan. I no longer feel safe in this area even though it is reputed to be a secure zone in Bogota, but I am not taking any chances and I still haven't heard back from the Canadian Embassy about this.
Its just as well. I'm not really here this time to see things but to take it easy, take long walks and do lots of art and so far this is happening. I think this will be my last visit to Bogota, at least for a few years. This is a city that you either love or you hate. For me it is a combination of both, which kind of makes this city and me frenemies.
Yesterday I saw a blue morpho butterfly, rare in these parts and I was so mesmerized by its beauty
that I bumped into a woman rushing by who snorted indignantly. No one says excuse me in this city, except today in the local supermarket two individuals I bumped into were gracious and good humoured about it. I must be pretty clumsy, eh? I actually enjoy this supermarket and as some of the staff become familiar with me they also become very pleasant.
I have a daily routine that works well, keeps my life structured and focussed and keeps me self-disciplined. I'm usually up at around seven and having breakfast at around eight then I go out to go online in the local cyber caqfe (closed today because it's a holiday, I'm in another establishment, very noisy and maddening with a loud soccer game on tv and several cops present.) and then I either do grocery shopping or sit in a cafe and work in my sketchbook. Then I walk into one of the safe areas, spend more time in a cafe with my art, walk back to my pension, check my budget and have dinner. In the evenings I am in my room watching tv mostly in Spanish, sometimes CNN in English though I have a limited appetite for news about Donald Trump and the recent tragedy in Brussels can be very upsetting after seeing and hearing the same videos over and over again. I also clean my room every morning, not just because I don't trust the cleaning staff but also to keep me well-disciplined and to help me feel at home in this cozy little room.
Today the weather is fabulously sunny and I didn't bring my umbrella with me. I spent two and a half hours in the Oma cafe in the Niza supermall working on drawing (the staff there are really nice), now I am barely going crazy in this noisy cyber cafe. Why do Colombians love noise so much/
This morning I had an unfortunate encounter with two small aggressive offleash dogs and their absolutely ignorant and stupid owner. I roundly chewed him out in Spanish calling him a few choice names, since he did absolutely nothing about his repugnant little beasts, much less apologize. What is wrong with these people, anyway? And now I really hate dogs.
Wednesday 23 March 2016
Nice Bogotanos
One can meet some of the loveliest people in a swamp. Following some time over pancakes and coffee in the Oma in the Niza mall with my sketchbook I wandered around for a while in some unknown neighbourhoods and arrived again in the Humedal Cordoba, that forested swamp I`ve already written about. I did encounter an aggressive dog, a black lab (I was once bitten by a lab, dog-lovers, and have also been threatened by a few so please hold your comments!), who seemed poised to charge me, but when I mentioned to his owner that I didn`t feel safe he was very good about it and put his animal on a leash. One of many good resons why it is good to speak Spanish in Colombia. I came across my familiar lookout and sat on a tree stump to enjoy the view and tranquility. Then I noticed that someone had written on a utility post in English ``Sex to Men``. Your guess is as good (or as bad) as mine, Gentle Reader, and of course we are going to keep our minds out of the gutter! A young couple on bikes with their little boy came by. We said hi to each other and I told them ``Saludos desde Canada`` or Greetings from Canada and they stopped to chat. We started talking about all sorts of things, they invited me to join them for their picnic. It turns out that Camilo has been to Canada in Toronto and they both want to improve their English so I`ve offered to help. Ericia is an artist, a very good one who also paints tropical birds and Camilo is involved in performing arts (music and dance). Their little boy was having a kind of prolongued tantrum throughout our visit until his mom held him for a while and then his dad took him on a brief bike ride. They have invited me to have lunch with them in their apartment Friday.
On my way back not only did one driver back his car from the crosswalk so that pedestrians could pass but another on a right hand turn intentionally stopped for us. This is so unusual here and I am not going to take it for granted.
Later I stopped in the Peruvian cafe to begin another drawing. Four business types, two men and two women sat at the next table. I offered them a spare chair from my table but I was not only ignored, but really ignored. Treated as though I don`t exist. It is only from this particular class of people in Bogota that I get this kind of treatment. It`s a bit creepy actually.
I still notice the flowers everywhere, especially hibiscus and bougainvillea. The colours are mesmerizing. It has been raining this morning in the gentle Vancouver style and the air is cool. It makes me think of home and I look forward to returning next week. I am still turning out a new drawing every two or three days and it is a bit weird since I`m not used to being this prolific. I`m glad to be getting it all out of my system now that I have time since when I`m back to work again time is going to be again a precious commodity. I am still looking forward since I actually thrive on the juggling act that has become for me my job and in some ways a metaphor for my life.
On my way back not only did one driver back his car from the crosswalk so that pedestrians could pass but another on a right hand turn intentionally stopped for us. This is so unusual here and I am not going to take it for granted.
Later I stopped in the Peruvian cafe to begin another drawing. Four business types, two men and two women sat at the next table. I offered them a spare chair from my table but I was not only ignored, but really ignored. Treated as though I don`t exist. It is only from this particular class of people in Bogota that I get this kind of treatment. It`s a bit creepy actually.
I still notice the flowers everywhere, especially hibiscus and bougainvillea. The colours are mesmerizing. It has been raining this morning in the gentle Vancouver style and the air is cool. It makes me think of home and I look forward to returning next week. I am still turning out a new drawing every two or three days and it is a bit weird since I`m not used to being this prolific. I`m glad to be getting it all out of my system now that I have time since when I`m back to work again time is going to be again a precious commodity. I am still looking forward since I actually thrive on the juggling act that has become for me my job and in some ways a metaphor for my life.
Tuesday 22 March 2016
Boring Bogota
Boring isn´t really bad, but I would imagine that some of my readers, anyway, would find my adventures here a little bit on the dull side. I mean, I have been studiously avoiding the Candelaria, the downtown area, I don´t go to bars or clubs (hey, I don´t even drink, unless someone else is buying, which is to say, hey, I don´t even drink!), and I certainly don´t misbehave. It doesn´t seem to stop trouble from finding me, as you have already read about in yesterday´s post. I think that yesterday I was still feeling a bit rattled from Sunday´s weird encounters. I have emailed the Canadian embassy, by the way, and I am waiting for their reply.
Yesterday did get off to a slow start. Since this entire week is a holiday here nothing was open in the morning except the supermarket. The cibercafe was closed, so were the coffee shops, so I did a bunch of grocery shopping and went back to the pension. I did return to the cibercafe at around 10:45 and it was finally open. They never post hours or reasons for being closed or anything like that on the doors here so you always have to guess.
Then I sat for almost two hours drawing inside the Oma on Carrera 19 and Calle 106, and downed some of the most decadent pancakes I´ve ever been privileged with: smothered with chocolate, bananas, whippped cream and caramel sauce for around four bucks Canadian. Not bad, eh? The security guard came by to look at the progress of my art and to chat for a while.
Later, as I went neighbourhood exploring further on I did get very frustrated again with the typical lousy public behaviour for which Bogotanos ought to be famous if they´re not already. Going again through the lovely network of parks I had trouble getting past a group of young adults blocking the sidewalk. I asked a young woman, arms akimbo, ¨Perdon, and at first she ignored me, then she gave me a couple of inches to pass. Her elbow was still blocking me so I added ´´Tus codos´´ and she reluctantly moved her elbow out of the way. The horrid little bitch did absolutely nothing to acknowledge me or to excuse her rudeness. I run across this kind of rude behaviour here so often that I´m almost, but not quite, used to it. Then there was the idiot on the motorcycle who nearly ran me down on the side walk. Yes, I did say the sidewalk, and then another idiot who was prepared to run me over as I was getting across the street. I shouted ´´Tienes frenos, apliquenlos´´, or you have brakes, use them.
Just as I was ready to consign this entire city to the regions of outer darkness I found myself seated on a bench in a little park, resting my tired feet. A lady came by with her grandson, sat with me while her grandson was on the playground equipment and asked me if I was alright. We had a really enjoyable conversation, in Spanish. She told me about her granddaughter of whom she is very proud who is in the classical studies program at McGill University in Montreal and speaks fluent French and English as well as her native Spanish and is learning Greek, and she also mentioned that her five year old grandson, present with us, is already eager to learn English.
I returned to my room for a nap and also relieved that this really pleasant lady and the friendly segurity guard at Oma are evidence that not all Bogotanos are douchebags.
Yesterday did get off to a slow start. Since this entire week is a holiday here nothing was open in the morning except the supermarket. The cibercafe was closed, so were the coffee shops, so I did a bunch of grocery shopping and went back to the pension. I did return to the cibercafe at around 10:45 and it was finally open. They never post hours or reasons for being closed or anything like that on the doors here so you always have to guess.
Then I sat for almost two hours drawing inside the Oma on Carrera 19 and Calle 106, and downed some of the most decadent pancakes I´ve ever been privileged with: smothered with chocolate, bananas, whippped cream and caramel sauce for around four bucks Canadian. Not bad, eh? The security guard came by to look at the progress of my art and to chat for a while.
Later, as I went neighbourhood exploring further on I did get very frustrated again with the typical lousy public behaviour for which Bogotanos ought to be famous if they´re not already. Going again through the lovely network of parks I had trouble getting past a group of young adults blocking the sidewalk. I asked a young woman, arms akimbo, ¨Perdon, and at first she ignored me, then she gave me a couple of inches to pass. Her elbow was still blocking me so I added ´´Tus codos´´ and she reluctantly moved her elbow out of the way. The horrid little bitch did absolutely nothing to acknowledge me or to excuse her rudeness. I run across this kind of rude behaviour here so often that I´m almost, but not quite, used to it. Then there was the idiot on the motorcycle who nearly ran me down on the side walk. Yes, I did say the sidewalk, and then another idiot who was prepared to run me over as I was getting across the street. I shouted ´´Tienes frenos, apliquenlos´´, or you have brakes, use them.
Just as I was ready to consign this entire city to the regions of outer darkness I found myself seated on a bench in a little park, resting my tired feet. A lady came by with her grandson, sat with me while her grandson was on the playground equipment and asked me if I was alright. We had a really enjoyable conversation, in Spanish. She told me about her granddaughter of whom she is very proud who is in the classical studies program at McGill University in Montreal and speaks fluent French and English as well as her native Spanish and is learning Greek, and she also mentioned that her five year old grandson, present with us, is already eager to learn English.
I returned to my room for a nap and also relieved that this really pleasant lady and the friendly segurity guard at Oma are evidence that not all Bogotanos are douchebags.
Monday 21 March 2016
Curiouser
First, to my readers who do not speak English as a first language, Curiouser is not exactly the correct form. Rather I am borrowing this from Alice in Wonderland when she says that things are getting curiouser and curiouser, or it`s getting pretty damn weird over here. Yesterday I had a near repeat encounter similar to something that happened to me last year in Bogota. I really should have been paying better attention but I`ve been here for so long now, or so it seems, that it feels like home which isn`t necessarily a good thing since this also means that I`m getting too comfortable and letting down my guard.
As I was getting started for the day yesterday and found myself walking south on Carrera 19 towards Calle 100 a rather well dressed young man stopped me to ask for directions to an art gallery. Now I know there are a couple of art galleries further up along Calle 116 so I tried to direct him there, instead of doing what I should have done: shake my head politely and keep walking. He said he was from Venezuela and seemed to want to chat a bit. He was not speaking with a Venezuelan accent by the way and his Spanish, to me anyway, sounded pure Altoplano Colombian as is commonly spoken here in Bogota. Then a middle aged gentleman in a suit with a face that looks like it`s been around a few blocks, approached us, asked me questions about how long I`m in Colombia, and where I am staying. Then he mentioned that this area is under strict police surveillance, and pulled out his wallet to indicate that he had police ID and identified himself as a plainclothes cop. He did not show his ID. The Venezuelan fellow asked him about an art gallery and he motioned that he go a couple of blocks and turn right (I don`t believe there is an art gallery there, by the way), then as it dawned on me that history was repeating itself for me I too got away without further cerermony.
Now, Gentle Reader, let me tell you a bit about what happened to me last year. I wasn`t that far away, at Carrera 15 and Calle 94 when an older gentleman who claimed to be Venezuelan approached me and asked me for directions to a Christian bookstore. He also didn`t sound Venezuelan by the way, but Colombian. As we were chatting a slightly younger shorter version of yesterday`s plainclothes cop approached us and started talking to us and said that he was sure we were both carrying drugs in our stomachs and that we had to go with him for questioning. The Venezuelan made excuses and walked away, I tarried a bit and tried to convince the cop or whatever he was that it wasn`t me he was looking for and I wasn`t going anywhere with him. He insisted and I walked the other way, convinced that he was an imposter. Let`s just say that I spent the rest of the day really watching my back.
Now, this is where it gets a bit eerie. I am both a Christian and an artist. Last year in Bogota I was for a while attending the local Anglican cathedral. This year as last year I ahve been spending a lot of time in local cafes drawing in my sketchbook. To me this begs the question, am I being watched? How did these guys know to ask me about Christian bookstores and art galleries? I did some research by the way on these kinds of encounters and apparently this sort of scam happens quite commonly here in Bogota: an inoccuous looking gentleman who claims to be Venezuelan stopping a North American or European visitor on the street to ask for directions or whatever, then an alleged plainclothes cop coming on the scene, taking the hapless visitor away for questioning and robbing him of everything he has. I am sending this blog post to the Canadian Embassy here to see what they have to say.
Things are otherwise as chill as ever. Yesterday, Sunday,, there was a concert by one of the parks (Virrey). It was an ensemble of six or more playing a fusion of cumbia, funk and jazz, reminding me rather of Ska Cubano (look them up on Youtube. They are fabulous) In almost three weeks here this is the first cumbia I`ve heard in Bogota, odd given it`s very traditional music in these parts. Saturday in the supermall, Niza, there was a singer with a guitar performing all the classic rock that was ever recorded: the Eagles, Elton John, Led Zeppelin. He was actually pretty good but really, in Colombia, North American Classic Rock??!! How many ways can you say Cheese!
I did a lot of wandering yesterday as well. I walked down as far as Chapinero then went back along the other side of Caracas through a rather seedy looking neighbourhood I had never been in before. I was followed for several blocks by this guy. When I crossed the street, he crossed, when I turned a corner, he turned it too. This went on for quite a while. I walked fast, and kept glancing back to let him know that I knew what was going on. I eventually lost him.
It is the beginning of Holy Week, or la Semana Santa, and the streets are all quiet. It`s very peaceful today and is going to be for the whole week. I love it.
And, I saw my first hummingbird yesterday in a park near my pension. He seemed so calm and beautiful while feeding from flowers on a bush and didn`t seem to mind that I was admiring him from just a couple of feet away. It was the yappy barking of a small dog that finally scared him away.
As I was getting started for the day yesterday and found myself walking south on Carrera 19 towards Calle 100 a rather well dressed young man stopped me to ask for directions to an art gallery. Now I know there are a couple of art galleries further up along Calle 116 so I tried to direct him there, instead of doing what I should have done: shake my head politely and keep walking. He said he was from Venezuela and seemed to want to chat a bit. He was not speaking with a Venezuelan accent by the way and his Spanish, to me anyway, sounded pure Altoplano Colombian as is commonly spoken here in Bogota. Then a middle aged gentleman in a suit with a face that looks like it`s been around a few blocks, approached us, asked me questions about how long I`m in Colombia, and where I am staying. Then he mentioned that this area is under strict police surveillance, and pulled out his wallet to indicate that he had police ID and identified himself as a plainclothes cop. He did not show his ID. The Venezuelan fellow asked him about an art gallery and he motioned that he go a couple of blocks and turn right (I don`t believe there is an art gallery there, by the way), then as it dawned on me that history was repeating itself for me I too got away without further cerermony.
Now, Gentle Reader, let me tell you a bit about what happened to me last year. I wasn`t that far away, at Carrera 15 and Calle 94 when an older gentleman who claimed to be Venezuelan approached me and asked me for directions to a Christian bookstore. He also didn`t sound Venezuelan by the way, but Colombian. As we were chatting a slightly younger shorter version of yesterday`s plainclothes cop approached us and started talking to us and said that he was sure we were both carrying drugs in our stomachs and that we had to go with him for questioning. The Venezuelan made excuses and walked away, I tarried a bit and tried to convince the cop or whatever he was that it wasn`t me he was looking for and I wasn`t going anywhere with him. He insisted and I walked the other way, convinced that he was an imposter. Let`s just say that I spent the rest of the day really watching my back.
Now, this is where it gets a bit eerie. I am both a Christian and an artist. Last year in Bogota I was for a while attending the local Anglican cathedral. This year as last year I ahve been spending a lot of time in local cafes drawing in my sketchbook. To me this begs the question, am I being watched? How did these guys know to ask me about Christian bookstores and art galleries? I did some research by the way on these kinds of encounters and apparently this sort of scam happens quite commonly here in Bogota: an inoccuous looking gentleman who claims to be Venezuelan stopping a North American or European visitor on the street to ask for directions or whatever, then an alleged plainclothes cop coming on the scene, taking the hapless visitor away for questioning and robbing him of everything he has. I am sending this blog post to the Canadian Embassy here to see what they have to say.
Things are otherwise as chill as ever. Yesterday, Sunday,, there was a concert by one of the parks (Virrey). It was an ensemble of six or more playing a fusion of cumbia, funk and jazz, reminding me rather of Ska Cubano (look them up on Youtube. They are fabulous) In almost three weeks here this is the first cumbia I`ve heard in Bogota, odd given it`s very traditional music in these parts. Saturday in the supermall, Niza, there was a singer with a guitar performing all the classic rock that was ever recorded: the Eagles, Elton John, Led Zeppelin. He was actually pretty good but really, in Colombia, North American Classic Rock??!! How many ways can you say Cheese!
I did a lot of wandering yesterday as well. I walked down as far as Chapinero then went back along the other side of Caracas through a rather seedy looking neighbourhood I had never been in before. I was followed for several blocks by this guy. When I crossed the street, he crossed, when I turned a corner, he turned it too. This went on for quite a while. I walked fast, and kept glancing back to let him know that I knew what was going on. I eventually lost him.
It is the beginning of Holy Week, or la Semana Santa, and the streets are all quiet. It`s very peaceful today and is going to be for the whole week. I love it.
And, I saw my first hummingbird yesterday in a park near my pension. He seemed so calm and beautiful while feeding from flowers on a bush and didn`t seem to mind that I was admiring him from just a couple of feet away. It was the yappy barking of a small dog that finally scared him away.
Saturday 19 March 2016
Suba
Yesterday was quiet. I went to the money exchange to change what I have saved so far on this trip to Canadian currency. It feels nice seeing and handling Canadian money again. It feels like I`ve been gone away for a lot longer than nineteen days. Last night on CNN they were interviewing three of Justin Trudeau`s cabinet ministers (all women, and for my Gentle Reader who does not live in Canada, Justin Trudeau is the current prime minister of Canada. You would be surprised how few people outside of my country know this. Not that I blame them.) I was impressed by them and the whole idea that, especially now that our ten year Harper nightmare is over, things are being done civilly, gently and kindly in my country again and what a contrast to the bitter insult slinging that is passing for campaigning in the USA. I do tune into CNN every night by the way, but after ten or fifteen minutes I simply haven`t the stomach for more of Donald Trump.
Yesterday I wandered again through that lovely network of parks in parts of Northern Bogota. I have really been making an effort to not let people`s poor social skills here get to me. So I spent time on three different benches. I had to escape the first two benches to get away from smokers nearby and really looked carefully (but not too carefully! ) at those around me to just get a sense of them as individuals. It seems to be working. Following a visit in a cafe then a grocery store I found myself engaging with staff and other customers. One to one many of these people are quite lovely and warm and interested in my country. There is something about the zeitgheist of Bogota that seems to bring out the worst in people. It is understandable. This is a big city and people are constantly on the move and constantly coping with stuff. There is also the collective trauma of the recent armed conflicts between FARC and the paramilitaries that for a while engulfed parts of Bogota and other cities in violence.
I see other factors as well that have caught my attention. There appears to be in Colombia a very strong winner takes all mentality. I don`t know about Chile under Pinochet, but Colombia with its rampant market economy and weak social infrastructure would appear to be Margaret Thatcher`s South American dream country. When she famously declared that there is no such thing as society I think this is what she might have been referring to. I watch TV every night here and on many public programs there is a push towards encouraging Colombians to take better care of the environment and to take better care of one another. I`m not sure if the message is getting through. There is something about the history of this country that seems to inhibit people from working together outside of the traditional matrices of family and work and I really wonder if there is perhaps limited hope for this country. People are very car dependent here and it is an already given that motor vehicles and driver`s rights always trump the rights of pedestrians. When I saw a traffic cop directing cars to keep going through even though it was a walk signal and pedestrian right of way I commented on this to the lady standing next to me. She agreed that it was stupid to ignore pedestrian rights but what can be done about it? There seems to be a deeply ingrained mentality that if you are not driving a car you are somehow inferior and you ought to know your place, which is on the curb watching sadly as car after car goes by preventing you from getting across the street.
Today I ventured a bit further than usual and climbed the Suba hill which was interesting. I was told there is a big park on top but I couldn`t find it. The side that I started on is quite wealthy with lovely clusters of condos and townhouses, all gated communities of course. When I got to the top and towards the other side of the hill things changed noticeably and I found myself in a noticeably poor nieighbourhood. I would have gone further but there were stray dogs around and I didn`t want to take any chances. The view is magnificent and the climb was arduous, but I figure that if I keep climbing hills like this while in my sixties it will vastly decrease the likelihood that I`ll need to wak with a cane when I am one hundred and will also increase the likelihood of my lasting past one hundred. There are beautiful tropical flowers all over the place.
Yesterday I wandered again through that lovely network of parks in parts of Northern Bogota. I have really been making an effort to not let people`s poor social skills here get to me. So I spent time on three different benches. I had to escape the first two benches to get away from smokers nearby and really looked carefully (but not too carefully! ) at those around me to just get a sense of them as individuals. It seems to be working. Following a visit in a cafe then a grocery store I found myself engaging with staff and other customers. One to one many of these people are quite lovely and warm and interested in my country. There is something about the zeitgheist of Bogota that seems to bring out the worst in people. It is understandable. This is a big city and people are constantly on the move and constantly coping with stuff. There is also the collective trauma of the recent armed conflicts between FARC and the paramilitaries that for a while engulfed parts of Bogota and other cities in violence.
I see other factors as well that have caught my attention. There appears to be in Colombia a very strong winner takes all mentality. I don`t know about Chile under Pinochet, but Colombia with its rampant market economy and weak social infrastructure would appear to be Margaret Thatcher`s South American dream country. When she famously declared that there is no such thing as society I think this is what she might have been referring to. I watch TV every night here and on many public programs there is a push towards encouraging Colombians to take better care of the environment and to take better care of one another. I`m not sure if the message is getting through. There is something about the history of this country that seems to inhibit people from working together outside of the traditional matrices of family and work and I really wonder if there is perhaps limited hope for this country. People are very car dependent here and it is an already given that motor vehicles and driver`s rights always trump the rights of pedestrians. When I saw a traffic cop directing cars to keep going through even though it was a walk signal and pedestrian right of way I commented on this to the lady standing next to me. She agreed that it was stupid to ignore pedestrian rights but what can be done about it? There seems to be a deeply ingrained mentality that if you are not driving a car you are somehow inferior and you ought to know your place, which is on the curb watching sadly as car after car goes by preventing you from getting across the street.
Today I ventured a bit further than usual and climbed the Suba hill which was interesting. I was told there is a big park on top but I couldn`t find it. The side that I started on is quite wealthy with lovely clusters of condos and townhouses, all gated communities of course. When I got to the top and towards the other side of the hill things changed noticeably and I found myself in a noticeably poor nieighbourhood. I would have gone further but there were stray dogs around and I didn`t want to take any chances. The view is magnificent and the climb was arduous, but I figure that if I keep climbing hills like this while in my sixties it will vastly decrease the likelihood that I`ll need to wak with a cane when I am one hundred and will also increase the likelihood of my lasting past one hundred. There are beautiful tropical flowers all over the place.
Friday 18 March 2016
Ciudad Zopenco
The title is Spanish for ``Bonehead City.`` I was having a chat with the young woman who runs this cybercafe yesterday and she laughed in agreement when I told her that Bogota esta llena de zopencos, or that Bogota is full of boneheads (excluding her of course. And she strikes me as someone with good and very rare common sense.) I have complained enough about the local imbeciles in other posts so, Gentle Reader, you will forgive me for not boring you further with this theme.
It rained quite a bit yesterday. Mostly in gentle Vancouver style until I stopped inside the Cafe Aljaba which is part of that church I visited accidentally last Sunday. The young lady working there, whom I think couldn`t be more than twenty, spent a lot of time visiting and chatting with me in Spanish, and some of her friends also participated at times. It was very enjoyable and we talked about art, creativity, love and forgiveness. I mentioned to her that when she gets to be my age (in forty years or so!) she will really learn the value of forgiveness since she will have had a lot of time to go through stuff with people. I am still thinking of attending a church service there this coming Sunday though I am treating this with a little bit of caution as well, given my track record with churches. Their church, by the way, is called Su Presencia or His Presence. During our visit the rain really let loose and it was hitting the roof so violently that we had to stop talking for a while because we weren`t able to hear each other.
I did a lot of walking afterward and since it was sunny for part of the afternoon it was fairly enjoyable. I stopped again in the snooty French cafe for coffee and croissant and did some more art there, then I walked into el Chapinero, which is congested and intriguing as ever but I really don`t know why I go there since it isn`t exactly a peaceful area (kind of a combination of Gastown, Hastings and Main, Commercial Drive and Main Street). I again escaped to the island tranquility of the local university campus. There were hardly any students around and this time there were no riot police. It is a lovely neighbourhood of big brick mansions over a hundred years old built in a combination of styles: English Victorian, traditional Colombian and Elizabethan Tudor, with gardens and flowers.
I have finished my old sketchbook and last night in my room I inaugurated the new sketchbook with its first drawing, still in progress. Today I am getting the money I have saved so far on this trip changed to Canadian or American funds to carry home with me since it is better I think to leave Colombian currency in its own country. I have been hand washing my clothes since I arrived here to cut back on laundry expenses. It works out okay because I do a little every day in the shower. I am still serious about cleaning my own room, which I do every day anyhow, and I only have to track down Myriam or Andres for use of the vacuum cleaner. It isn`t just becaue I don`t trust the cleaning woman, but I really prefer doing certain things for myself and this way, if anything does go missing, I don`t have to suspect anyone but myself.
It rained quite a bit yesterday. Mostly in gentle Vancouver style until I stopped inside the Cafe Aljaba which is part of that church I visited accidentally last Sunday. The young lady working there, whom I think couldn`t be more than twenty, spent a lot of time visiting and chatting with me in Spanish, and some of her friends also participated at times. It was very enjoyable and we talked about art, creativity, love and forgiveness. I mentioned to her that when she gets to be my age (in forty years or so!) she will really learn the value of forgiveness since she will have had a lot of time to go through stuff with people. I am still thinking of attending a church service there this coming Sunday though I am treating this with a little bit of caution as well, given my track record with churches. Their church, by the way, is called Su Presencia or His Presence. During our visit the rain really let loose and it was hitting the roof so violently that we had to stop talking for a while because we weren`t able to hear each other.
I did a lot of walking afterward and since it was sunny for part of the afternoon it was fairly enjoyable. I stopped again in the snooty French cafe for coffee and croissant and did some more art there, then I walked into el Chapinero, which is congested and intriguing as ever but I really don`t know why I go there since it isn`t exactly a peaceful area (kind of a combination of Gastown, Hastings and Main, Commercial Drive and Main Street). I again escaped to the island tranquility of the local university campus. There were hardly any students around and this time there were no riot police. It is a lovely neighbourhood of big brick mansions over a hundred years old built in a combination of styles: English Victorian, traditional Colombian and Elizabethan Tudor, with gardens and flowers.
I have finished my old sketchbook and last night in my room I inaugurated the new sketchbook with its first drawing, still in progress. Today I am getting the money I have saved so far on this trip changed to Canadian or American funds to carry home with me since it is better I think to leave Colombian currency in its own country. I have been hand washing my clothes since I arrived here to cut back on laundry expenses. It works out okay because I do a little every day in the shower. I am still serious about cleaning my own room, which I do every day anyhow, and I only have to track down Myriam or Andres for use of the vacuum cleaner. It isn`t just becaue I don`t trust the cleaning woman, but I really prefer doing certain things for myself and this way, if anything does go missing, I don`t have to suspect anyone but myself.
Thursday 17 March 2016
Humedal Cordoba
It`s a big forested swamp. I mentioned it in passing last week and yesterday I decided to explore it further. It really is a wonderful spot of unspoiled nature and tranquility and just a half hour walk from where I am staying. I actually like it better than the botanical garden because it isn`t overrun with people, is easier to get to and there is no admission. There is a network of small trails throughout the forest there which is a bit tangled but not really dense and a lookout onto the swamp itself which in places is covered with Angels` Trumpents, these beautiful huge creamy white trumpet shaped flowers that hang down. I still haven`t encountered any hummingbirds nor other colourful species but I am patient. I started in the Niza mall (about an hour walk from my bed and breakfast) where I relaxed with a treat and coffee in the Oma cafe there. It is quite tranquil with comfy seating and I got a lot of work done on a drawing while there. I have almost finished the last page in my sketchbook and I am carrying with me a new book just in case I want to get started on something new today while I am out. Then I wandered for a while through a couple of quiet subdivisions on my way to the Humedal. It feels quite safe there and I encountered at a distance perhaps three different people during my time there. I did almost get run over yesterday morning by an idiot making a sudden and unexpected U turn, and this rather stupid old woman next to me (she seems actually very typical of the local population this way) couldn`t understand why I was upset. I simply told her in not my best Spanish (I was upset at the time) that when you put a Bogotano behind a steering wheel you get instant moron and kept walking.
I spent part of the afternoon in the Peruvian cafe in Pasadena where I did some more artwork and chatted with the owner. We seem to be back on good terms again. I think it was important to draw a boundary with him last time about poor service but my philosophy is to go back immediately to kindness and to try to stay there. Then a guy in his forties sat at the next table with his twenty-something girlfriend and, well, one can only imagine, and often it is better not to.
This morning it has been raining off and on since I woke up this morning. This is quite unusual for Bogota where it usually doesn`t begin to rain till at least three in the afternoon, but it isn`t a heavy rain, more in the style of Väncouver, which I find rather comforting.
I spent part of the afternoon in the Peruvian cafe in Pasadena where I did some more artwork and chatted with the owner. We seem to be back on good terms again. I think it was important to draw a boundary with him last time about poor service but my philosophy is to go back immediately to kindness and to try to stay there. Then a guy in his forties sat at the next table with his twenty-something girlfriend and, well, one can only imagine, and often it is better not to.
This morning it has been raining off and on since I woke up this morning. This is quite unusual for Bogota where it usually doesn`t begin to rain till at least three in the afternoon, but it isn`t a heavy rain, more in the style of Väncouver, which I find rather comforting.
Wednesday 16 March 2016
Rio Negro
Yesterday I did a longer walk along the Rio Negro. I passed again the huge military base (one of at least two in Bogota) and was musing again about the huge church in the compound. It just seems incongruous but I suppose the soldiers go there to confess their sins of killing to get all forgiven again before they go out to shed more blood. Sorry to my non-pacifist Christian readers but I have never been able to conceive of a Christianity that isn`t already inherently pacifist. Any serious reading of the Gospels is not going to suggest otherwise. Of course it also remains arguable as to whether the church, or a lot of the churches anyway (Anglican included) are really inherently Christian. Or to put it another way, if you`re not thinking outside of the box, then you`re not really thinking at all.
There were more black vultures than ever round the military compound and they seemed to be strutting around the grounds like pigeons or Canada geese. As well as a big flock of them circling up in an upward draught. I wonder if this bird would make an appropriate symbol or civic emblem for Bogota. While I have come across some nice people here, especially my friends, I also encounter an awful lot of arrogant douchebags in this city. The walk was otherwise enjoyable and I must have gone two or three miles each way. I stopped in the snooty French cafe for croissant, coffee and art where I must have spent a good hour and a half working on the last drawing in my sketchbook. Then I resumed my walk along the Rio Negro, but in the opposite direction towards the mountains. This is the wealthy side of town and the river here is much narrower and doesn`t stink. It does make me wonder at which point the stench begins and where it must come from. (Maybe the military base?) It is very peaceful with lots of towering trees on both sides. I ended at Seventh where I walked along the flank of the mountain. Despite the heavy traffic, on my right I was greatly enjoying the green trees, grass, bushes and flowers on the mountain side. There also appeared to be a few rudimentary trails but I didn`t feel tempted to explore. It could be really unsafe and at this altitude I`m not one much for climbing unnecessarily. Let`s just say that if I ever make it to Everest I won`t even get as far as base camp. Everest however isn`t even on my bucket list, and you know something else, Gentle Reader? I don`t even have a bucket list. I`m not afraid of going to my grave without ever having seen the Eiffel Tower or sipped tea with the Dalai Lama. Really, I don`t see life that way at all. I don`t think that I will have had a less than satisfying life if I don`t get X amount of things done. Really, for me a saztisfying life depends much on my treatment of others along the way and whether I`ve had any success at mastering myself. I continued on as far as the other military base, then walked across the neighbourhoods to my bed and breakfast. Altogether I must have walked around fifteen miles yesterday.
Both Myriam and Andres, the owners of my bed and breakfast are sick with laryngitis and I seem to be sneezing a lot but I think it`s just allergies in my case. All very humanizing.
There were more black vultures than ever round the military compound and they seemed to be strutting around the grounds like pigeons or Canada geese. As well as a big flock of them circling up in an upward draught. I wonder if this bird would make an appropriate symbol or civic emblem for Bogota. While I have come across some nice people here, especially my friends, I also encounter an awful lot of arrogant douchebags in this city. The walk was otherwise enjoyable and I must have gone two or three miles each way. I stopped in the snooty French cafe for croissant, coffee and art where I must have spent a good hour and a half working on the last drawing in my sketchbook. Then I resumed my walk along the Rio Negro, but in the opposite direction towards the mountains. This is the wealthy side of town and the river here is much narrower and doesn`t stink. It does make me wonder at which point the stench begins and where it must come from. (Maybe the military base?) It is very peaceful with lots of towering trees on both sides. I ended at Seventh where I walked along the flank of the mountain. Despite the heavy traffic, on my right I was greatly enjoying the green trees, grass, bushes and flowers on the mountain side. There also appeared to be a few rudimentary trails but I didn`t feel tempted to explore. It could be really unsafe and at this altitude I`m not one much for climbing unnecessarily. Let`s just say that if I ever make it to Everest I won`t even get as far as base camp. Everest however isn`t even on my bucket list, and you know something else, Gentle Reader? I don`t even have a bucket list. I`m not afraid of going to my grave without ever having seen the Eiffel Tower or sipped tea with the Dalai Lama. Really, I don`t see life that way at all. I don`t think that I will have had a less than satisfying life if I don`t get X amount of things done. Really, for me a saztisfying life depends much on my treatment of others along the way and whether I`ve had any success at mastering myself. I continued on as far as the other military base, then walked across the neighbourhoods to my bed and breakfast. Altogether I must have walked around fifteen miles yesterday.
Both Myriam and Andres, the owners of my bed and breakfast are sick with laryngitis and I seem to be sneezing a lot but I think it`s just allergies in my case. All very humanizing.
Tuesday 15 March 2016
Another Bloody Shopping Mall
I visited el Unicentro yesterday in north Bogota, only because everyone has recommended that I go there and not because I am especially fond of malls. Think of Metrotown on steriods. One of the escalators is flanked by scale replicas of the Statue of Liberty and Big Ben. It did put me in an unfamiliar neighbourhood and that´s usually a good thing because it gets me exploring, so I found a couple of decent looking coffee shops in the area that I would like to visit sometime, and I also found an enjoyable walking route through a network of parks that took me back to my hostel. A bit earlier I was sitting inside the Oma on Carrera 19 and Calle 116 with my sketchbook. It´s quite a big place and the security guard kept standing behind me looking at what I was drawing. The first couple of times that I caught him and looked up to say ´´Hola´´ he gave me a poker face and walked away and I have to admit that I did feel a bit creeped out. The third time he became friendly and chatted for a while and guessed correctly and to my surprise that I´m from Canada. He mentioned he has several Canadian frineds living now in Colombia. It was quite a warm exchange and he shook my hand afterward.
In the morning I visited over coffee with a friend who lives here, Jorge. He is facing surgery next week and would appreciate prayer so those of my Gentle Readers who pray could you please include Jorge in your prayers, and those of you who don´t pray, would you be so kind as to send positive and gentle thoughts his way? We were again in the Peruvian coffee shop. I arrived early for some time to draw and he gave me such crappy service that I called him on it, mentioning that the people he served ahead of me had arrived after I had placed and paid for my order. He didn´t seem happy about being confronted but he will have to get over it or he has lost a customer. Besides, his cafe doesn´t have a washroom. I mean, come on you guys! If you´re going to open a coffee shop put in a goddam bathroom for your customers. You know what caffeine does to the human bladder.
I´m sleeping a bit better though still nothing perfect. At six thirty this morning as I was getting up I heard a loud conversation coming from the adjoining kitchen. I went there afterward to get my breakfast stuff and there was Andres the owner having a cosy kitchen table chat with a friend of his (I think a colleague at the university) At 6:30 in the morning. So I told them both tactfully that they were kind of loud and to their surprise sound does travel in the house. I also asked if I could take care of my own cleaning needs from now on. The woman who comes in once a week does not appear to be trustworthy. I had left a quarter on my night table, not to test her honesty but as a reminder of Canada and when I came back in after she cleaned the place the quarter was gone. I tore up the place looking for it and couldn´t find it. Now it´s only a quarter and there remains the possibility that she didn´t take it and it still might be lying around somewhere. Also it can´t be any use to her here in Colombia unless she wants a memento of her Canadian guest, in which case she is welcome to it. But, all my money and my passport are in my room, well-hidden of course but you can understand that this must make me a bit...er...nervous? So I have said nothing to her about the quarter and I´m not mentioning it to her employers in case she might be innocent and I don´t want to feel implicated in an already underpaid worker losing her job and maybe having to face hunger over a lousy quarter!
In the morning I visited over coffee with a friend who lives here, Jorge. He is facing surgery next week and would appreciate prayer so those of my Gentle Readers who pray could you please include Jorge in your prayers, and those of you who don´t pray, would you be so kind as to send positive and gentle thoughts his way? We were again in the Peruvian coffee shop. I arrived early for some time to draw and he gave me such crappy service that I called him on it, mentioning that the people he served ahead of me had arrived after I had placed and paid for my order. He didn´t seem happy about being confronted but he will have to get over it or he has lost a customer. Besides, his cafe doesn´t have a washroom. I mean, come on you guys! If you´re going to open a coffee shop put in a goddam bathroom for your customers. You know what caffeine does to the human bladder.
I´m sleeping a bit better though still nothing perfect. At six thirty this morning as I was getting up I heard a loud conversation coming from the adjoining kitchen. I went there afterward to get my breakfast stuff and there was Andres the owner having a cosy kitchen table chat with a friend of his (I think a colleague at the university) At 6:30 in the morning. So I told them both tactfully that they were kind of loud and to their surprise sound does travel in the house. I also asked if I could take care of my own cleaning needs from now on. The woman who comes in once a week does not appear to be trustworthy. I had left a quarter on my night table, not to test her honesty but as a reminder of Canada and when I came back in after she cleaned the place the quarter was gone. I tore up the place looking for it and couldn´t find it. Now it´s only a quarter and there remains the possibility that she didn´t take it and it still might be lying around somewhere. Also it can´t be any use to her here in Colombia unless she wants a memento of her Canadian guest, in which case she is welcome to it. But, all my money and my passport are in my room, well-hidden of course but you can understand that this must make me a bit...er...nervous? So I have said nothing to her about the quarter and I´m not mentioning it to her employers in case she might be innocent and I don´t want to feel implicated in an already underpaid worker losing her job and maybe having to face hunger over a lousy quarter!
Monday 14 March 2016
Sketchbook In Bogota
I am about to finish my Bogota sketchbook. I have one blank page left. This has a special significance to me. I am today almost exactly my mother`s age when she died from cancer twenty-five years ago. She was sixty years and eighteen days old when she died. Today I am sixty and fourteen days. I believe that the last drawing in the book will be finished when I am exactly my mother`s age when she passed on. Then I will begiln a new book.
I heard gunshots in the early hours this morning, two of them. I don`t suppose there is any need to worry since I live downtown in Vancouver and from time to time there have been shootings not far from where I live. But they only occur every few years or so and things are rather different here in Bogota. I don`t think this is a particularly dangerous city but one still should take care. My rule of thumb is that if a stranger is friendly for no reason then there must be a reason and it`s time to keep walking.
The neighbourhood where I`m staying isn`t the quietest. The bed and breakfast is on the edge of Pasadena so there`s still quite a lot of stuff going on and I frequently hear broken car alarms. It can be maddening at times. The place I`m staying in is in itself pleasant and tranquil and some of the earlier tension seems to have relaxed between the owners and I. I think when I made it clear that I wasn`t going to put up with being skapegoated that that was enough to get them to back off a bit. And I was polite about it!
This morning I am going to sit in the Peruvian cafe with my sketchbook while waiting to meet a friend who lives here.
I heard gunshots in the early hours this morning, two of them. I don`t suppose there is any need to worry since I live downtown in Vancouver and from time to time there have been shootings not far from where I live. But they only occur every few years or so and things are rather different here in Bogota. I don`t think this is a particularly dangerous city but one still should take care. My rule of thumb is that if a stranger is friendly for no reason then there must be a reason and it`s time to keep walking.
The neighbourhood where I`m staying isn`t the quietest. The bed and breakfast is on the edge of Pasadena so there`s still quite a lot of stuff going on and I frequently hear broken car alarms. It can be maddening at times. The place I`m staying in is in itself pleasant and tranquil and some of the earlier tension seems to have relaxed between the owners and I. I think when I made it clear that I wasn`t going to put up with being skapegoated that that was enough to get them to back off a bit. And I was polite about it!
This morning I am going to sit in the Peruvian cafe with my sketchbook while waiting to meet a friend who lives here.
Sunday 13 March 2016
Second Sunday In Bogota
I`m not going to write anything about yesterday because nothing happened, really. It was quiet everywhere and nothing unusual happened in my whereabouts, though I could well be mistaken and simply I wasn`t paying attention. Today has been a bit different. I went into a still unfamiliar neighbourhood and found myself seated in an upstairs cafe called Cafe Aljaba (I think that`s the name, anyway). There were huge colourful paper roses all over the place and at least a half dozen young twenty somethings who all looked like art students hanging out, playing music (one was constantly strumming a ukelele) and also asking me questions about my art since I was working on a drawing while there. Now, I do not draw in public for attention (speaking of drawing attention to myself!) and it really doesn`t matter to me if anyone notices what I`m doing or not though the interraction is usually pleasant and enjoyable when people do take notice. After nearly an hour or so a bunch of people started pouring out of an adjoining room, where it turns out a church service was taking place. I made enquiries and it turns out this cafe is part of a local community church and I`ve been invited to participate. I do like the feel of the place, and honestly those young people really were reminding myself of an earlier self when I was in my late teens so I think I will check the place out even if I am on a three year vacation from church. But I`m only here for another two Sundays so what the hell. It is also a nice cafe and they are open throughout the week and yes I do intend to come back. I chatted briefly with one of the members who is a Colombian young woman who speaks fluent English and you know something, Gentle Reader? I have spoken almost no English since coming here two weeks ago and I found I had to ask her to be as patient with my English as I hope she would be with my Spanish.
After that I took a long walk beside the Rio Negro. Now I need to make a correction here. The river I was previously referring to as the Rio Negro, I think is really called Rio Molino, the one that reminds me of a very good looking person who seldom bathes since it is so smelly. Well, Rio Negro is no lavender field either and it isn`t quite as nice but still a worthy hike. And it is right next to yet another military base. A huge one. There is even what looks like a big brick church in the complex. Do you reckon some of them soldier boys might even be praying for their enemies? I also noted quite an abundance of black vultures in the area. Go figure! They even have a few horses, beautiful brown ones. Horses rank with cats and birds as among my favourite animals. Sorry, dog lovers, nothing personal, eh? Speaking of dogs, in another park it was just full of dogs and their humans. It reminded me of Vancouver with all the barking and stuff and Bogotano dog owners are generally just as brainless and irresponsible with their canines as many of their counterparts in Vancouver. I really don`t understand why so many people who live in densely populated neighbourhoods think they should have a dog, given that this many dogs, especially the larger breeds, does impact on the quality of life for everyone. I`m not a dog hater by the way, I can take `em or leave them and there are a few breeds and certain mutts that I positively love
Since then it`s been business as usual. Dragging my ass a bit and feeling irritable because my sleep pattern is changing again and I am really taking care to not take it out on the people around me.
After that I took a long walk beside the Rio Negro. Now I need to make a correction here. The river I was previously referring to as the Rio Negro, I think is really called Rio Molino, the one that reminds me of a very good looking person who seldom bathes since it is so smelly. Well, Rio Negro is no lavender field either and it isn`t quite as nice but still a worthy hike. And it is right next to yet another military base. A huge one. There is even what looks like a big brick church in the complex. Do you reckon some of them soldier boys might even be praying for their enemies? I also noted quite an abundance of black vultures in the area. Go figure! They even have a few horses, beautiful brown ones. Horses rank with cats and birds as among my favourite animals. Sorry, dog lovers, nothing personal, eh? Speaking of dogs, in another park it was just full of dogs and their humans. It reminded me of Vancouver with all the barking and stuff and Bogotano dog owners are generally just as brainless and irresponsible with their canines as many of their counterparts in Vancouver. I really don`t understand why so many people who live in densely populated neighbourhoods think they should have a dog, given that this many dogs, especially the larger breeds, does impact on the quality of life for everyone. I`m not a dog hater by the way, I can take `em or leave them and there are a few breeds and certain mutts that I positively love
Since then it`s been business as usual. Dragging my ass a bit and feeling irritable because my sleep pattern is changing again and I am really taking care to not take it out on the people around me.
Saturday 12 March 2016
One Friendly Cat In Bogota
Bogota is not a friendly city and it seems even more unfriendly to me than last year. Or maybe I`ve changed. People seem even more suspicious of others and indifferent but it could be just my perception. I did meet a friendly cat yesterday, a calico. I was wandering through a quiet nicely appointed residential neighbourhood when I heard meowing from behind a metal gate. The cat wanted to be petted so I petted her through the gate. I already had been in the Centro Comercial Niza which is kind of like the Metrotown Mall in Spanish but nicer where I passed an hour in the Oma Cafe with my sketchbook and a snack. I already mentioned that Oma is a local chain, kind of like a Colombian Tim Horton`s, but more like a White Spot, I think. I also went wandering through one of those beautiful wild areas that are usually off limits to tourists. It is a forested wetland where the Rio Negro flows into (remember that smelly river I told you about with the beautiful park that suggests a very good-looking person who seldom bathes?) The wetland isn`t at all smelly by the way and there is a lovely forest with trails. It covers a fair distance and I would like to explore it further. I suppose I should be on the lookout for ``bad people`` in that kind of place, but honestly if I was going to be that afraid of running into ``bad people`` I would have stayed at home in Vancouver. The wetland, called Humedel Cordoba borders on a nice quiet neighbourhood which is also pleasant for walking around in.
On the way back I was going to stop in one of the neighbourhood cafes but it was la hora de comida and everything was packed so I went back to my bed and breakfast where I had time to put a guilt trip on Andres, the husband of the couple who run the place. In the morning I discovered that the front gate had been left open and, given Myriam`s penchant for trying to find me in the wrong for things I thought it prudent to advise one of them about the gate. I also told Andres why: that I have a legitimate fear that I`m going to be blamed for it. He seemed to understand and to accept my little rebuke. He is easy going by the way and his wife is making an effort to be more agreeable. Still, sometimes it`s like walking on eggshells. I`m still otherwise enjoying the place and making a point to go to sleep and get up earlier so I can have my breakfast in peace without having to wake up to the racket of other guests.
I went for coffee in the afternoon in the neighbourhood following the Hora de Comida. I have picked a hangout. It is a small place called Pat`s Bakery and the owner is a Peruvian living in Bogota. He`s really nice to talk to and it`s great practicing Spanish with him. I also have a warm spot for Peruvians. It seems I got in there just in time for yet another storm. Others came huddling in for shelter. While finishing a drawing I noticed too well dressed guys with bad energy working on their laptops together. There was a huge deafening thunderclap overhead and we all kind of jumped,. I mentioned to them that we never get this kind of weather in Vancouver and I got cold and hostile looks from them both as they resumed their business. One of them left just after the girlfriend of the other guy came in. Just one look at the girlfriend gave me a little more context about the two guys. Try to imagine a life-size Barbie doll that speaks Spanish. That`s right Gentle Reader, and I will bet you dollars to donuts that she has a points rewards card with her plastic surgeon. And collects airmiles whenever she sees him. I`m kind of wondering if these guys might be involved in some kind of illegal activity, maybe cyber-crime or maybe they`re just a couple of ruthless businessmen who love money. And you know, in Colombia, money is king, queen, and sovereign lord and master.
The more I see the way people interract or refuse to interact in Bogata the more I am reminded of Margaret Thatcher`s famous saying, ``There is no such thing as society, only individuals and their families``. In Dame Thatcher`s case I think she did everything she could to make this reality by how far she went to dismantle things in Great Britain, especially for the most vulnerable citizens. She was also best friends with Agosto Pinochet with whom I imagine she is currently enjoying sharing tea and rather over-toasted crumpets in hell.
On the way back I was going to stop in one of the neighbourhood cafes but it was la hora de comida and everything was packed so I went back to my bed and breakfast where I had time to put a guilt trip on Andres, the husband of the couple who run the place. In the morning I discovered that the front gate had been left open and, given Myriam`s penchant for trying to find me in the wrong for things I thought it prudent to advise one of them about the gate. I also told Andres why: that I have a legitimate fear that I`m going to be blamed for it. He seemed to understand and to accept my little rebuke. He is easy going by the way and his wife is making an effort to be more agreeable. Still, sometimes it`s like walking on eggshells. I`m still otherwise enjoying the place and making a point to go to sleep and get up earlier so I can have my breakfast in peace without having to wake up to the racket of other guests.
I went for coffee in the afternoon in the neighbourhood following the Hora de Comida. I have picked a hangout. It is a small place called Pat`s Bakery and the owner is a Peruvian living in Bogota. He`s really nice to talk to and it`s great practicing Spanish with him. I also have a warm spot for Peruvians. It seems I got in there just in time for yet another storm. Others came huddling in for shelter. While finishing a drawing I noticed too well dressed guys with bad energy working on their laptops together. There was a huge deafening thunderclap overhead and we all kind of jumped,. I mentioned to them that we never get this kind of weather in Vancouver and I got cold and hostile looks from them both as they resumed their business. One of them left just after the girlfriend of the other guy came in. Just one look at the girlfriend gave me a little more context about the two guys. Try to imagine a life-size Barbie doll that speaks Spanish. That`s right Gentle Reader, and I will bet you dollars to donuts that she has a points rewards card with her plastic surgeon. And collects airmiles whenever she sees him. I`m kind of wondering if these guys might be involved in some kind of illegal activity, maybe cyber-crime or maybe they`re just a couple of ruthless businessmen who love money. And you know, in Colombia, money is king, queen, and sovereign lord and master.
The more I see the way people interract or refuse to interact in Bogata the more I am reminded of Margaret Thatcher`s famous saying, ``There is no such thing as society, only individuals and their families``. In Dame Thatcher`s case I think she did everything she could to make this reality by how far she went to dismantle things in Great Britain, especially for the most vulnerable citizens. She was also best friends with Agosto Pinochet with whom I imagine she is currently enjoying sharing tea and rather over-toasted crumpets in hell.
Friday 11 March 2016
Two Storms In Four Hours
We had two doozies yesterday. It started out sunny, warm and calm in the morning with a flawlessly blue sky. I took my umbrella anyway, it is my Best Friend in Bogota. I met up with a friend and his wife in a coffee shop. They both want to improve their English so we had an enjoyable visit in Spanglish. They also helped confirm and expand on some of my impressions of the Colombian people. This country has had , like many Latin American countries, a troubled, turbulent and often violent history and the social inequality is still an ongoing legacy from Mama España (Momma Spain) when they wreaked havoc and pillage in this part of the world five hundred years ago. Even today, with things being relatively better and more opportunities a lot of Colombians have to struggle to keep their head above water. This also helps me understand and appreciate more what I sometimes judge to be poor social skills and inappropriate public behaviour here in Bogota. It is simply that people are very stressed here, being a big city, some are likely traumatized from the violence and social inequality, and really if you don´t have your family and loved ones around to look out for you and cover your ass then all you can say is ¨Stick a fork in me. I´m done!¨ I am of course always impressed with Latin Americans in general for their ability to soldier on laughing, singing and celebrating life regardless of the crap that gets handed their way. But surely there must also be a cost and I also suspect that the roots of denial sometimes run very deep with some people here. Still, I´d rather walk to the scafflod singing and laughing than live and survive to an old age crying and miserable.
Back to the storms. I didn´t get very far on my walk yesterday afternoon and the clouds were already gathering. It was just beginning to spit a little rain when I arrived in the snooty French cafe for my croissant and jam and time with my sketchbook when within ten minutes once again the heavens were torn asunder and that intense rain for which this region is famous came pelting down, with special effects of course, thunder and lightning. After about an hour or so it stopped and the sun came out and I went walking again. I felt the Spirit lead me in a specific direction and I realize now why this was happening. There was another storm, an even bigger one building and every time I wanted to either take a pleasant detour to explore or sit and rest on a bench I felt almost pulled straight ahead. I did take a different route back to my bed and breakfast which took me through one of those very interesting Latin American neighbourhoods that for years I saw in dreams before I began to explore this part of the world, and I do want to try to visit there for coffee some time while I´m here. The sky was again getting dark and there was thunder and lightning everywhere. I had very little time to get back to my bed and breakfast and not even my big golf umbrella was going to be much use against this kind of rain. I had to take a detour because of road work. The thunder was getting louder and the lightning more frequent. It was only spitting rain when I got back. Within a couple of minutes of being snug and safe inside my room the storm let loose it´s full fury. The earlier storm was the warm-up act. This was the big deal. I have never heard such thunder, seen so much lighting while sheltering from the drenching rain. I read for a while then sank into a drowsy slumber and after an hour or so the storm was again over.
I´m getting a lot of art done while I´m here and actually being very productive. You know, I´m on my third drawing now since I arrived here and I am really happy about the quality of my work. I have three pages left to fill in the sketchbook that I began on my first visit here last year. It feels like it´s going a little too fast so I am trying to spend a little more time reading. Next week I will be beginning my new sketchbok All for now.
Back to the storms. I didn´t get very far on my walk yesterday afternoon and the clouds were already gathering. It was just beginning to spit a little rain when I arrived in the snooty French cafe for my croissant and jam and time with my sketchbook when within ten minutes once again the heavens were torn asunder and that intense rain for which this region is famous came pelting down, with special effects of course, thunder and lightning. After about an hour or so it stopped and the sun came out and I went walking again. I felt the Spirit lead me in a specific direction and I realize now why this was happening. There was another storm, an even bigger one building and every time I wanted to either take a pleasant detour to explore or sit and rest on a bench I felt almost pulled straight ahead. I did take a different route back to my bed and breakfast which took me through one of those very interesting Latin American neighbourhoods that for years I saw in dreams before I began to explore this part of the world, and I do want to try to visit there for coffee some time while I´m here. The sky was again getting dark and there was thunder and lightning everywhere. I had very little time to get back to my bed and breakfast and not even my big golf umbrella was going to be much use against this kind of rain. I had to take a detour because of road work. The thunder was getting louder and the lightning more frequent. It was only spitting rain when I got back. Within a couple of minutes of being snug and safe inside my room the storm let loose it´s full fury. The earlier storm was the warm-up act. This was the big deal. I have never heard such thunder, seen so much lighting while sheltering from the drenching rain. I read for a while then sank into a drowsy slumber and after an hour or so the storm was again over.
I´m getting a lot of art done while I´m here and actually being very productive. You know, I´m on my third drawing now since I arrived here and I am really happy about the quality of my work. I have three pages left to fill in the sketchbook that I began on my first visit here last year. It feels like it´s going a little too fast so I am trying to spend a little more time reading. Next week I will be beginning my new sketchbok All for now.
Thursday 10 March 2016
Under The Umbrella
First, a note to the Dutchman. I do not appreciate repeat comments, You wanted an explanation for why I did not buy at least one chocolate bar from the street kid. I already gave you an explanation in one of my posts http://aaronbenjaminzacharias.blogspot.com.co/2016/03/jardin-botanico.html. Here it is, John, if you care to refresh your memory. Try to open your mind a little, eh? I`m sure that even for you it wouldn`t be that difficult. And I do not appreciate the guilt trip!
Now on with the show, this is it. The weather in Bogota, like a lot of the people who live here, is pretty wonky. I bring my best friend, my big golf umbrella with me everywhere, no matter how blue the sky when I set out in the morning. We`ve had two amaxing storms within twenty-four hours, one two nights ago near midnight and another yesterday afternoon. The most intense and pelting rain with all the special effects, thunder, lightning and thunder-claps. I am beginning to wonder how the weather and climate in a region helps shape the character of the peoiple and the culture. When I notice the sky darkening in a certain way I know it is time to run for cover as I did yesterday in Uzaquen. I was in the cafe for just ten minutes and suddenly the heavens were opened, as it were, and we all kind of huddled, a bit fearfully I think, waiting for this wonder of extreme nature to run its course.
It was still raining a little when I left and there was flooding in many places.
I saw the owner this morning, for the first time since Monday. I have been trying to avoid her, just feeling a little too much pressure from her lately. I was seated at a patio table munching on breakfast when she stepped outside and screamed with fright when she saw me. (this also happened last week) I looked at her, smiled, and calmly replied in Spanish: ``¿Myriam, no recordaste que estoy aqui?`` or Myriam, you forgot that I`m here. I am certain now that she is carrying some kind of trauma which also makes her less threatening and stimulates me to be compassionate with her. So it`s almost like I`m at work again, but really I think any work that involves compassion is something that has to be played out in all areas of life. That said, I think we will be getting on okay.
Now on with the show, this is it. The weather in Bogota, like a lot of the people who live here, is pretty wonky. I bring my best friend, my big golf umbrella with me everywhere, no matter how blue the sky when I set out in the morning. We`ve had two amaxing storms within twenty-four hours, one two nights ago near midnight and another yesterday afternoon. The most intense and pelting rain with all the special effects, thunder, lightning and thunder-claps. I am beginning to wonder how the weather and climate in a region helps shape the character of the peoiple and the culture. When I notice the sky darkening in a certain way I know it is time to run for cover as I did yesterday in Uzaquen. I was in the cafe for just ten minutes and suddenly the heavens were opened, as it were, and we all kind of huddled, a bit fearfully I think, waiting for this wonder of extreme nature to run its course.
It was still raining a little when I left and there was flooding in many places.
I saw the owner this morning, for the first time since Monday. I have been trying to avoid her, just feeling a little too much pressure from her lately. I was seated at a patio table munching on breakfast when she stepped outside and screamed with fright when she saw me. (this also happened last week) I looked at her, smiled, and calmly replied in Spanish: ``¿Myriam, no recordaste que estoy aqui?`` or Myriam, you forgot that I`m here. I am certain now that she is carrying some kind of trauma which also makes her less threatening and stimulates me to be compassionate with her. So it`s almost like I`m at work again, but really I think any work that involves compassion is something that has to be played out in all areas of life. That said, I think we will be getting on okay.
Wednesday 9 March 2016
Hanky-Panky
No, Gentle Reader, I have not been misbehaving. I have to say that my behaviour and morals here in Bogota have been unimpeachable. Boring perhaps but good for the skin. I didn`t do a lot on Monday, just wandered around a couple of unfamiliar and unremarkable neighbourhoods with a long coffee break for my art. I will not comment on the drivers here... Whoops! I just did!
Yesterday I wandered on foot down into el Chapinero, which is a very funky neighbourhood of old brightly painted buildings and interesting shops, kind of suggests a combination of Commercial Drive, Main Street and Gastown. Very busy with people everywhere. There is a tranquil university campus in the midst of it all, all brick Victorian era houses and landscaping and peaceful walks and, to my surprise, riot police! They were hanging out, almost a dozen of them all decked out in their gear as though anticipating trouble though to look at them they might have been on an extended coffee break, shooting the breeze with each other and looking otherwise chill and happy despite their formidible costume. It did look rather like costume, but I still suspect they`re for real since there weren`t any cameras around.
As I was enjoying croissant and jam and coffee in a snooty French cafe on my way down there I was surprised to hear someone speaking English. It was a man about forty-ish, American I think, entertaining a young Bogotana, a lovely woman of twenty-something and impeccably dressed. He was telling her rather loudly about his wife and this fabulous expensive new coat she bought. Then when I glanced again and noticed the young woman`s hand resting on his thigh I really began to wonder. None of my business of course and maybe he and wifey have an open marriage or some kind of mutual agreement, but if they don`t, and especially if they have kids I hope she finds him out and kicks his smug white ass all the way to divorce court. Later in the Juan Valdez Cafe in Parque 93 (the Colombian Blenz), following an hour of repose and artwork from a comfy couch with a bottle of mineral water I ended up having to wait at least twenty minutes to get into the washroom. There was a young man, one of the staff waiting ahead of me. Then just after he went in another young male staff member using an electronic key got in there with him. They were in there for quite a long time and by the time they both got out there were a half dozen of us waiting to get in (one at a time, of course!) Now exactly what too young male coffee servers would be doing together inside a single occupancy washroom for going on fifteen minutes is anyone`s guess and I hope they`re very happy together, but let`s just say that it was a good thing they got out of there as fast as they did because they might have had an improptu lynch mob to reckon with. A time and a place for everything, eh?
I am exercising my street smarts to the best of my ability while here. While I was resting on a park bench a street woman casrrying bags of stuff on top of her head began to approach me. Knowing how vulnerable one can be sitting with a stranger towering over them I knew to get up and get away asap. Now she might have just wanted spare change but following a potentially very dangerous experience I almost got into last year in Bogota your humble servant isn`t taking any chances this time. Also, on my way back to the bed and breakfast a rather well groomed young man wanted to stop me to ask me a question. I said no thanks and kept going. On the other hand, in the morning another young guy stopped to ask me directions. I sensed he was okay and politely told him I am new here and didn`t know the area well. No problem.
Myriam, the owner of the establishment where I am staying is being a pain. She seems to have bad nerves and fusses a lot and can be a bit scary and domineering. The latest problem was that I was having trouble coordinating the keys in order to correctly unlock the complex system of door locks to get back into the house (for very good reasons people here are very security conscious). I also had a sore hand that day, Monday, a complication of the mild carpel tunnel that afflicts me sometimes so it was even more difficult manipulating the keys, which kept bumping into each other and one of the keys became bent in the process. Not being sure if the key would still work I pressed the door buzzer. Let`s just say she was not happy about being disturbed and commanded me to do it properly and to not close the door normally because it makes too much noise. Later in the kitchen I explained to her and her husband Andres (who is very nice and easy going by the way, not Colombian, but French-Swiss) that last May I was in hospital with partial paralysis in my hands and feet and even though I`ve recovered there are still problems and sometimes it is going to be difficult manipulating the keys. They were understanding about it but what a pain to have to explain something so personal.
Anyway, last year when I was here and we did have someconflict Myriam threatened to throw me out so I am being careful not to piss her off this time. What lovely little eggshells I get to walk on. The good news is she`s not around a lot and otherwise its a very decent situation here. Still, just in case she does try to pull a fast one and does toss me out onto the street I am thinking of registering with the Canadian embassy here, just in case.
Yesterday I wandered on foot down into el Chapinero, which is a very funky neighbourhood of old brightly painted buildings and interesting shops, kind of suggests a combination of Commercial Drive, Main Street and Gastown. Very busy with people everywhere. There is a tranquil university campus in the midst of it all, all brick Victorian era houses and landscaping and peaceful walks and, to my surprise, riot police! They were hanging out, almost a dozen of them all decked out in their gear as though anticipating trouble though to look at them they might have been on an extended coffee break, shooting the breeze with each other and looking otherwise chill and happy despite their formidible costume. It did look rather like costume, but I still suspect they`re for real since there weren`t any cameras around.
As I was enjoying croissant and jam and coffee in a snooty French cafe on my way down there I was surprised to hear someone speaking English. It was a man about forty-ish, American I think, entertaining a young Bogotana, a lovely woman of twenty-something and impeccably dressed. He was telling her rather loudly about his wife and this fabulous expensive new coat she bought. Then when I glanced again and noticed the young woman`s hand resting on his thigh I really began to wonder. None of my business of course and maybe he and wifey have an open marriage or some kind of mutual agreement, but if they don`t, and especially if they have kids I hope she finds him out and kicks his smug white ass all the way to divorce court. Later in the Juan Valdez Cafe in Parque 93 (the Colombian Blenz), following an hour of repose and artwork from a comfy couch with a bottle of mineral water I ended up having to wait at least twenty minutes to get into the washroom. There was a young man, one of the staff waiting ahead of me. Then just after he went in another young male staff member using an electronic key got in there with him. They were in there for quite a long time and by the time they both got out there were a half dozen of us waiting to get in (one at a time, of course!) Now exactly what too young male coffee servers would be doing together inside a single occupancy washroom for going on fifteen minutes is anyone`s guess and I hope they`re very happy together, but let`s just say that it was a good thing they got out of there as fast as they did because they might have had an improptu lynch mob to reckon with. A time and a place for everything, eh?
I am exercising my street smarts to the best of my ability while here. While I was resting on a park bench a street woman casrrying bags of stuff on top of her head began to approach me. Knowing how vulnerable one can be sitting with a stranger towering over them I knew to get up and get away asap. Now she might have just wanted spare change but following a potentially very dangerous experience I almost got into last year in Bogota your humble servant isn`t taking any chances this time. Also, on my way back to the bed and breakfast a rather well groomed young man wanted to stop me to ask me a question. I said no thanks and kept going. On the other hand, in the morning another young guy stopped to ask me directions. I sensed he was okay and politely told him I am new here and didn`t know the area well. No problem.
Myriam, the owner of the establishment where I am staying is being a pain. She seems to have bad nerves and fusses a lot and can be a bit scary and domineering. The latest problem was that I was having trouble coordinating the keys in order to correctly unlock the complex system of door locks to get back into the house (for very good reasons people here are very security conscious). I also had a sore hand that day, Monday, a complication of the mild carpel tunnel that afflicts me sometimes so it was even more difficult manipulating the keys, which kept bumping into each other and one of the keys became bent in the process. Not being sure if the key would still work I pressed the door buzzer. Let`s just say she was not happy about being disturbed and commanded me to do it properly and to not close the door normally because it makes too much noise. Later in the kitchen I explained to her and her husband Andres (who is very nice and easy going by the way, not Colombian, but French-Swiss) that last May I was in hospital with partial paralysis in my hands and feet and even though I`ve recovered there are still problems and sometimes it is going to be difficult manipulating the keys. They were understanding about it but what a pain to have to explain something so personal.
Anyway, last year when I was here and we did have someconflict Myriam threatened to throw me out so I am being careful not to piss her off this time. What lovely little eggshells I get to walk on. The good news is she`s not around a lot and otherwise its a very decent situation here. Still, just in case she does try to pull a fast one and does toss me out onto the street I am thinking of registering with the Canadian embassy here, just in case.
Monday 7 March 2016
Trade Offs
This might not be your idea of an ideal vacation but it is working for me. I suppose that different people have different ideas of vacations and a lot of that is fed and maniplated by the advertising media. I remember one fellow who rather likes the stuff telling me that once I arrive at my destination that all I need to do is relax in a nice lounge with a nice big glass of wine. Not my way of relaxing. Others think in terms of the all-inclusive. You stay in the alcohol and food laden shelter of your tacky tourist compound, pile on the pounds, get drunk every night and misbehave. Uh-uh. And there are the extreme backpackers, almost all younger than forty, who don´t bat an eye about sharing quarters with strangers in noisy hostel dorms and party party party. There are others who will stay at a luxury or near luxury hotel, with room service of course and all their needs and wants catered to. Doesn´t really attract me. I don´t do the restaurant route either, if I can help it. I prefer to source local food and take it back to eat in my bed and breakfast.
I seem to be more the bed and breakfast and small pension kind of traveller. I don´t come to a place to indulge myself but to learn and to do lots of art in my sketchbook. I also get lots of rest but I hate being waited on. There are trade offs of course. You are going to have more contact with the locals and you will be working a bit harder. You will also become aware that the local people and customs might not all be agreeable and pleasant. And that they might have a very similar experience of you. But you can still negotiate with tact and patience and perhaps grow a bit as a person.
I have already mentioned that I try to maintain my daily rhythm and routine as much as possible while here in Bogota so that I won´t come home feeling like a soft helpless idiot. On the other hand I also have to respect the boundaries of the people I am here among. Today the cleaning lady was going to turn out my room for me. I already mentioned that I do the bathroom every day and I also dust but I also had to resist the temptation of going in there and helping her do her job, knowing that this would not be appreciated.
Maybe a luxury hotel isn´t such a bad idea. If I skip going anywhere next year then really splurge the year after...I´ll probably end up helping the staff with the cleaning!
I seem to be more the bed and breakfast and small pension kind of traveller. I don´t come to a place to indulge myself but to learn and to do lots of art in my sketchbook. I also get lots of rest but I hate being waited on. There are trade offs of course. You are going to have more contact with the locals and you will be working a bit harder. You will also become aware that the local people and customs might not all be agreeable and pleasant. And that they might have a very similar experience of you. But you can still negotiate with tact and patience and perhaps grow a bit as a person.
I have already mentioned that I try to maintain my daily rhythm and routine as much as possible while here in Bogota so that I won´t come home feeling like a soft helpless idiot. On the other hand I also have to respect the boundaries of the people I am here among. Today the cleaning lady was going to turn out my room for me. I already mentioned that I do the bathroom every day and I also dust but I also had to resist the temptation of going in there and helping her do her job, knowing that this would not be appreciated.
Maybe a luxury hotel isn´t such a bad idea. If I skip going anywhere next year then really splurge the year after...I´ll probably end up helping the staff with the cleaning!
Sunday 6 March 2016
Jugglers
I saw three jugglers in the traffic near Uzaquén and Santa Ana yesterday; I'm always impressed by this brash combination of courage and skill, especially given the nature of traffic in Bogotá. They were all young men, they seem to be always young men, one juggling red balls, the next juggling silver clubs, and the last one juggling five balls coloured red, yellow, blue and green. They were also near the military base, from where I heard the suspected machine gun fire the other day. There were lots of soldiers on the street carrying machine guns. It did feel a bit unnerving walking by them or standing still right next to two of them while waiting for the light to change. Just as it felt rather scary waiting for the light to change a couple of hours earlier while two young thuggish looking guys were playing with their off-leash pit bull. Other pedestrians seemed also unnerved and actually went right on to the street to wait for the light in order to put some distance from the dog. I went with them.
I noticed that the soldiers seemed to be mostly in their teens and in many cases their eyes had an empty soulless expression and I wonder how many of these children (because that's what they are) have already killed someone. I don't believe them to be bad people. On a couple of occasions, I have exchanged greetings with them and they seemed like sensitive nice boys though I do fear for their souls. I guess like the jugglers they are also endeavouring to prove their courage though I tend to side with the jugglers.
Today was a little bit tense. Twice I had to dodge some very threatening looking guys coming towards me and both expressed displeasure that I got away from them. Another fellow did approach me with a piece of paper that he wanted to give me that seems to contain interesting information about ebola. I at first thought that he wanted some money but when I gave him some change he put it back in my hand saying it was for free.
Now, Gentle Reader, you might be wondering why I would avoid two of these gentlemen but not the other. I sensed that the other guy had a mental illness, but also that he had a good soul. The others, no way! I believe that God is leading me and that I simply have to listen for his voice. Or perhaps we could call it intuition or listening to my gut. I prefer to give credit where it is due.
I also felt led to a cafe I hadn't noticed before except for today while I was on my way and the weather was still nice. On the way back it was threatening to rain and I suspected that it was going to be yet another one of Bogotá's legendary cloudbursts and it was. I made it inside an Oma cafe, which is kind of like a Colombian Tim Horton´s. Within minutes of getting inside, the heavens let loose and the thunderclaps were awesome and soon the street was flooded.
Saturday 5 March 2016
Saturday Morning In Pasadena
That is the name of the neighbourhood where I am staying. It is kind of upper middle class by Colombian standards, middle middle class by Canadian. There is a great network of parks throughout this smallish barrio and white houses with terracotta roofs behind metal fences. The flowers are abundant, luxuriant and everywhere: hibiscus, bougainvillea, clockvine (gigantic surfaces of bright orange flowers covering walls. I have just been grocery shopping.
I would advise all of you to please not ask me about the food in Colombia for the following reasons: 1. I´m vegetarian and meat, poultry and seafood are widely consumed here. 2. I am generally not eating in restaurants to reduce costs and maintain proper nutrition and 3. I do a lot of my grocery shopping from the generously supplied salad bar in one of the local supermarket chains which provides all the food groups including hard boiled eggs, beans and cheese for protein. I am also taking care of my own breakfast, purchasing fruit, juice, cheese, bread, milk, cereal etc. This helps me feel less like a visitor and it also keeps me reasonably busy and self-disciplined. I do miss cooking but I will have plenty of time to do that when I get home. I am also claning my bathroom, daily, just like I do at home. Yes, Gentle Reder, your humble servant is a neat freak.
It is very pleasant having the tropical garden next to my room and this morning I sat quietly at the table after breakfast watching for birds. I still haven´t seen any hummingbirds but I am patient, there is a hummingbird feeder in the garden and plenty of hibiscus.
It is at times a bit of a challenge negotiating space with my hosts, not for lack of generosity on their part but fear on my part of getting underfoot of them. They seem to enjoy having me with them and sometimes we have moments to pause to chat though as university professors (Myriam teaches anthropology and Andres teaches political science) they´re not around very much and I often have the place to myself.
I have figured out that the purpose of this trip is primarily spiritual retreat and I have decided to not get too involved with other people´s stuff while I´m here though I am looking forward to a few coffee visits. My room is like a refuge. It is small simple and perfect.
I would advise all of you to please not ask me about the food in Colombia for the following reasons: 1. I´m vegetarian and meat, poultry and seafood are widely consumed here. 2. I am generally not eating in restaurants to reduce costs and maintain proper nutrition and 3. I do a lot of my grocery shopping from the generously supplied salad bar in one of the local supermarket chains which provides all the food groups including hard boiled eggs, beans and cheese for protein. I am also taking care of my own breakfast, purchasing fruit, juice, cheese, bread, milk, cereal etc. This helps me feel less like a visitor and it also keeps me reasonably busy and self-disciplined. I do miss cooking but I will have plenty of time to do that when I get home. I am also claning my bathroom, daily, just like I do at home. Yes, Gentle Reder, your humble servant is a neat freak.
It is very pleasant having the tropical garden next to my room and this morning I sat quietly at the table after breakfast watching for birds. I still haven´t seen any hummingbirds but I am patient, there is a hummingbird feeder in the garden and plenty of hibiscus.
It is at times a bit of a challenge negotiating space with my hosts, not for lack of generosity on their part but fear on my part of getting underfoot of them. They seem to enjoy having me with them and sometimes we have moments to pause to chat though as university professors (Myriam teaches anthropology and Andres teaches political science) they´re not around very much and I often have the place to myself.
I have figured out that the purpose of this trip is primarily spiritual retreat and I have decided to not get too involved with other people´s stuff while I´m here though I am looking forward to a few coffee visits. My room is like a refuge. It is small simple and perfect.
Friday 4 March 2016
Jardin Botanico
Before I write this post I would like to respond to a comment from one of my readers who wanted to know why I didn´t buy even one chocolate bar from the boy who tried to sell me one in the cafe the other day. First of all let me say thank you for the guilt trip! That said, there are many factors at work in this kind of situation. I was in a cafe where this kind of transaction is frowned upon. I do give money in some circumstances but I always try to be careful not to compromise my situation given that, as an outsider, I also am vulnerable. I also didn´t know anything about this boy´s situation. Is he being controlled by a gang? Were the chocolate bars stolen? Would they be safe to eat? Why isn´t he in school? The other reason was simply that I did not want to buy a chocolate bar and I will not patronize another person by making a purchase just because I feel sorry for them. On the other hand, if he was begging and we were outside of the cafe I likely would have given him some change, but this decision would also have to be tempered with a legitimate concern to not interact with minors unrelated to me in a foreign country. Whether I bought something from him or not I still would have felt compromised and either way the kid still wouldn´t have been helped. Let´s just say that it was not at all easy saying no. I am also coming from the position that even though I come from a rich country I am not, even by Third World standard´s well off even if I can afford this trip. I am travelling under an extremely tight budget and in order to save money I even forgo public transit most of the time and walk everywhere. And by the way I did give a handful of coins to an indigenous beggar woman I saw today begging on one of the pedestrian overpasses.
Now, on with the show. I did a long walk through one of Bogota´s many hardscrabble working class neighbourhoods, about four and a half miles en route to the botanical garden. It was kind of like walking through three miles of the Downtown Eastside to get to Queen Elizabeth Park, only there didn´t seem to be any homeless people or beggars or drug dealers, all families, all poor working folk. These neighbourhoods are peppered with small independent shops, holes in the wall selling almost everything you could imagine with at least two mom and pop shops on every block. Not one Seven-Eleven or other chain store anywhere to be seen.
While crossing one of the many rivers on a pedestrian bridge I noticed two black vultures standing on the concrete bank below as though waiting for something tasty to come floating by. It is rather difficult to come by any of the more beautiful birds that Colombia is famous for. Even in the botanical garden it was mostly a local species of dove, large dark grey thrushes and assorted little brown jobs. Even with all the flowers there was not one hummingbird to be seen, though I am told that they and other gorgeous species do appear there from time to time. I think it would be cool if they would put in some hummingbird feeders ands maybe even add some peacocks but I have no idea what kind of budget they are operating with. And all said this is a beautiful and very huge garden and I will be returning a few times. There is also a cafe onsite where I sat for a while with my sketchbook.
I had a bit of fun getting into the garden. After paying the admission (less than a buck and a half Canadian) a young man wanted to look inside my bag then told me I couldn´t bring food into the garden. I had a small plastic bag with trail mix, my portable lunch. I asked him why not and he replied that it was one of the rules. I mentioned that it is a crazy rule, then crammed two generous handfuls of trail mix into my mouth before giving the rest of it to the guy at the counter to hold for me. By this time there was a bit of an audience enjoying the free show. I said to them all in Spanish that they can´t prohibit what´s already in the stomach and people, including the young man, smiled and chuckled. I am finding that if I approach these situations with a bit of humour and playfulness that people seem to quite enjoy the fun.
Now, on with the show. I did a long walk through one of Bogota´s many hardscrabble working class neighbourhoods, about four and a half miles en route to the botanical garden. It was kind of like walking through three miles of the Downtown Eastside to get to Queen Elizabeth Park, only there didn´t seem to be any homeless people or beggars or drug dealers, all families, all poor working folk. These neighbourhoods are peppered with small independent shops, holes in the wall selling almost everything you could imagine with at least two mom and pop shops on every block. Not one Seven-Eleven or other chain store anywhere to be seen.
While crossing one of the many rivers on a pedestrian bridge I noticed two black vultures standing on the concrete bank below as though waiting for something tasty to come floating by. It is rather difficult to come by any of the more beautiful birds that Colombia is famous for. Even in the botanical garden it was mostly a local species of dove, large dark grey thrushes and assorted little brown jobs. Even with all the flowers there was not one hummingbird to be seen, though I am told that they and other gorgeous species do appear there from time to time. I think it would be cool if they would put in some hummingbird feeders ands maybe even add some peacocks but I have no idea what kind of budget they are operating with. And all said this is a beautiful and very huge garden and I will be returning a few times. There is also a cafe onsite where I sat for a while with my sketchbook.
I had a bit of fun getting into the garden. After paying the admission (less than a buck and a half Canadian) a young man wanted to look inside my bag then told me I couldn´t bring food into the garden. I had a small plastic bag with trail mix, my portable lunch. I asked him why not and he replied that it was one of the rules. I mentioned that it is a crazy rule, then crammed two generous handfuls of trail mix into my mouth before giving the rest of it to the guy at the counter to hold for me. By this time there was a bit of an audience enjoying the free show. I said to them all in Spanish that they can´t prohibit what´s already in the stomach and people, including the young man, smiled and chuckled. I am finding that if I approach these situations with a bit of humour and playfulness that people seem to quite enjoy the fun.
Thursday 3 March 2016
Hidden Jewels
I think a lot of you who have been reading these posts over the years have figured out what kind of traveller I am. I kind of go wherever I feel led to go without giving a lot of heed to what is and what is not fashionable for tourists. So is this my second time in Bogota. Yes, there are lots of things to do and places to see that various well-meaning folk have recommended to me and you know something? Usually they are not the places for me. It is only natural that we are going to hope and expect that others are going to like the same things that we do but we are all a little bit different, eh, Gentle Reader?
So I am focussing my time here on quiet places. Today I walked along the Rio Molino which is a beautiful park and walking path that extends almost to the mountain. There are flowering trees, shrubs and vines throughout. The only drawback is that in some parts this river stinks to high heaven. Think of a very good looking person who seldom bathes and you´ll get the idea. I heard a man singing in a tree. I looked up and there he was doing something to treat the tree and singing as he went along with his work. I´ve never heard anyone sing in a tree before.
I did stop at a cafe to rest and draw. I wan´t going to at first but I had a strong intuition that I needed to do this. During my last visit to this city, the one time I ignored my instinctive sense about stopping to rest in a place I got into some potential big trouble when this fake cop tried to jack me up. So, remembering the importance of travelling intuitively I went ahead and had a rest at a quiet table. It was a Juan Valdez cafe, a local chain in Colombia with all the ambience of Blenz or Starbucks, but a rest is a rest and it felt pretty good getting off my feet for a while.
I continued my walk up into Usaquen, that quaint and gentrified barrio on the slope of the mountain. It still is lovely and I parked in a familiar cafe with a coffee and a chocolate mousse dessert called Bomba de Amor (love bomb in Spanish). Later, I climbed up the road as far as I could go till the road ended. I wasn't able to do this last year because I didn't have the energy. I am noticing that I am feeling better and stronger on this trip and I hope to see some places that felt previously inaccessible because of my then undiagnosed health concerns.
On the way back I detoured through a beautiful wealthy neighbourhood with grand houses, trees and gardens and parks. There is a military base nearby and the staccato racket of periodic machine gun fire provided an uneasy but not inappropriate contrast with the surrounding luxury and beauty.
So I am focussing my time here on quiet places. Today I walked along the Rio Molino which is a beautiful park and walking path that extends almost to the mountain. There are flowering trees, shrubs and vines throughout. The only drawback is that in some parts this river stinks to high heaven. Think of a very good looking person who seldom bathes and you´ll get the idea. I heard a man singing in a tree. I looked up and there he was doing something to treat the tree and singing as he went along with his work. I´ve never heard anyone sing in a tree before.
I did stop at a cafe to rest and draw. I wan´t going to at first but I had a strong intuition that I needed to do this. During my last visit to this city, the one time I ignored my instinctive sense about stopping to rest in a place I got into some potential big trouble when this fake cop tried to jack me up. So, remembering the importance of travelling intuitively I went ahead and had a rest at a quiet table. It was a Juan Valdez cafe, a local chain in Colombia with all the ambience of Blenz or Starbucks, but a rest is a rest and it felt pretty good getting off my feet for a while.
I continued my walk up into Usaquen, that quaint and gentrified barrio on the slope of the mountain. It still is lovely and I parked in a familiar cafe with a coffee and a chocolate mousse dessert called Bomba de Amor (love bomb in Spanish). Later, I climbed up the road as far as I could go till the road ended. I wasn't able to do this last year because I didn't have the energy. I am noticing that I am feeling better and stronger on this trip and I hope to see some places that felt previously inaccessible because of my then undiagnosed health concerns.
On the way back I detoured through a beautiful wealthy neighbourhood with grand houses, trees and gardens and parks. There is a military base nearby and the staccato racket of periodic machine gun fire provided an uneasy but not inappropriate contrast with the surrounding luxury and beauty.
Wednesday 2 March 2016
Bogota Revisited; Friendly Police Dog
I dont think this Colombian cop wanted his dog to like me. Neither did there seem much wisdom in training a gentle golden retriever for police work. So far this has been the only unpleasantness during my less than twenty-four hours in Colombia. I arrived late, at midnight and was at the back of a huge line-up snaking its way slowly towards customs and immigration. I also had to pay the airport tax that is imposed by Colombia on Canadian visitors as tit for tat for when the Harper Conservatives imposed visa requirements a few years ago on Colombian visitors. It comes at around seventy-five dollars Canadian, up by about four dollars since last year as the friendly customs official informed me. I had it all stuffed in a special envelope, 160,000 Colombian pesos only to be informed that it had gone up to 170,000. He had a good sense of humour, unusual for those guys in immigration in any country, especially Canada, and smiled that I had written multa, the Spanish word for fine on the envelope. As I found my way towards baggage claim I was accosted by those three rather scary looking cops in green fatigues with the friendly doggy. The scariest looking one wanted to know how much money I had and also seemed decidedly annoyed when his dog nuzzled me for a pat. So I patted him on the head (the dog, I mean). When I offered to show him the money that I had he decided to let me go.
I was greeted by Alejandra, a very warm and intelligent lady of sixty or so who transports guests to the pension for a fee It was great being greeted by a friendly face. I arrived at 1;30 am and had a decent sleep.
I have been spending money today buying food, since I am taking care of my own breakfast needs this time and watching Colombians in a couple of cafes. I am already drawing and enjoying very pleasant weather, just warm enough. The flowers are beautiful and the neighbourhood where Im staying again is quiet with tons of parks.
While sitting in the second cafe I was reminded again very strongly of the social inequality that mars many Latin american countries (and is also getting worse in our own precious Canada). A rather thin and hungry looking boy of about ten or perhaps yonger came in to sell me some chocolate bars. I politely refused though he was persistent and one of the staff asked him to leave. I always feel very sad and uncomfortable in this kind of situation (there would be something wrong with me if I didnt.)
I was told by the lady who met me at the airport last night that there is still a lot of machismo in Colombia and that the young people are changing very slowly. This also reminds me of a movie I saw on the plane last night, Suffragette. Go see it. It is about the struggle of women in London fighting for the right to vote in the early Twentieth Century. Meryl Streep does a couple of cameos.
I was greeted by Alejandra, a very warm and intelligent lady of sixty or so who transports guests to the pension for a fee It was great being greeted by a friendly face. I arrived at 1;30 am and had a decent sleep.
I have been spending money today buying food, since I am taking care of my own breakfast needs this time and watching Colombians in a couple of cafes. I am already drawing and enjoying very pleasant weather, just warm enough. The flowers are beautiful and the neighbourhood where Im staying again is quiet with tons of parks.
While sitting in the second cafe I was reminded again very strongly of the social inequality that mars many Latin american countries (and is also getting worse in our own precious Canada). A rather thin and hungry looking boy of about ten or perhaps yonger came in to sell me some chocolate bars. I politely refused though he was persistent and one of the staff asked him to leave. I always feel very sad and uncomfortable in this kind of situation (there would be something wrong with me if I didnt.)
I was told by the lady who met me at the airport last night that there is still a lot of machismo in Colombia and that the young people are changing very slowly. This also reminds me of a movie I saw on the plane last night, Suffragette. Go see it. It is about the struggle of women in London fighting for the right to vote in the early Twentieth Century. Meryl Streep does a couple of cameos.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)