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.