the thug life, bogota style

Walking through the streets of el centro in Bogota, I feel as though a muffler of a car is shoved down my throat and the driver happens to be flooring the damn engine.I stop at a street side vendor and tell him puedo tener un arrepa de pollo biiaaaatch! He says queso solamente. Gosh, I need some damn protien man, I been walking your streets, can´t a brother get some nutrients for his musculos! I settle for a cheese arrepa. My body better get used to all of this bread and meat. I need to stay regular and to be honest that is not going to happen. My diet has consisted of meat, meat, bread, meat, cheese, meat, and more bread. Man, do I love being healthy! Next, i hike up to the NE to an older district called ¨Candelaria¨. It´s the oldest part of town I was toldd, and its quite apparent. Rustic buildings line, narrow cobble stone streets, old men drag their old legs down the street, hunched over old wooden canes, and children play at will, giggling as I walk by. After 30 minutes of trugging around the Candelaria district on a giant uphill slope, I stop in a restaraunt and ask for the almuerzo economico. The cost is 4500 pesos, about $2.50 (USD). A steaming bowl of green soup is slopped down in front of my mug by an old man, with a droopy, wetahered face, and a charlie chaplin'_like mustache. It tatses like a mixture between split'pea soup and chicken noodle soup with a douse of pineapple juice. The soup warms me. In between each spoonful i take a sip of juice and its also green. I have no clue what the hell it is....once again...it´s thick like a smoothie and tatses like gatorade.

The cold, dry air lifts my soul, as light sprinkles hit the pages of my diary. I am whitnessing the most panoramic view of a city these eyes have seen. Somehow 5 million people have been able to cram into this small space down below. I am about 2,000 feet above the city and I have just ridden the mosarati up to the tallest mountain in the city. What a place for spiritual bliss and meditation. i was expecting the dali lama to come walking by any minute telling my something by beginning ¨My son......¨. And now my legs no longer feel the effects of the walking from the morning. Taking an orange gonola_like cart up the mountain, 25 people are crammed into this cart and driven to the top. At the top sits an ancient church. It begins to rain and a cool, dry air chaps my face. i seem to be the only gringo up here...hmmmm. what a suprise! I like it that way though.....no meat_heads, dudemanbros, fukin_aers, or famous stars and strap wanna_be tough guys. Behind this vast expanse of the city sits mass of green, lush mountains. I was told that in Colobia, even as high elevation, there are absolutely no seasons. .....I see why.. Its now the middle of so_called winter and the trees are so green the look artifical.

written by

kipmaddog on July 17, 2009 from Bogota, Colombia

from the travel blog: adventures from down south

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