tiajuana is disneyland compared to this sector of town........

Jimi Hendrix blues, "Born Under a Bad Sighn" cranking into my ears........i pound the keys..
I stop by an internet cafe and hit up some fellow couchsurfers for a possible place to crash in San Gil, my next stop. From what I´ve heard, San Gil is a bitchin little town of a couple thousand people, wedged in the center of green, lush, rolling hills. The town is about a 7 hour bus ride through the colombian Andes, directly northeast of Bogota. I call a couchsurfer named Deisy. She is a girl whom a dude I went to middle and high school with hung out with in Medellin (A town north west of Bogota about 10 hours. I plan on going here in about 2 weeks, nut I must get a head start and make plans way in advance, for the Colombians are almost too laid back and one must plan weeks in advance). I use a cellphone from a booth on the street. All over Bogota, cellphones ready for use at street vendors booths. You slap 200 pesos or about 18 cents into the palm of the street vendors hand for every minute you use is early 1990´s cellphone (zach morris style big). she answers, but speaks practically no English. I do my best to understand her and in the end I am victorious. I inform her that I will be in Medellin in two weeks for La Festival de las Flores, or the flower festival. To the average beef-cake, meat-headed, dude-bro, in San Diego, this would translate to a sketchy invitation to a homosexual parade. To the Colombians it is a celebration of the colorful beauty of nature.

My next decision is to transfrom my soul into Bear Gyrohls and attempt an "adventure" through the entire downtown city of Bogota. I must travel by foot, in an attempt to make it to Ivanosio´s pad before it gets dark, and the shadyness of Bogota will be kicked up a notch or two. He told me it woul dtake 45 minutes. No problem I think...Well actualy there is a small problem, I sure as hell am not Colombian (by blood, some might think by apperance) and I have no fricken clue how to navigate through the city yet. I pass through a large financial district with large, metallic buildings. Colombian buisness men walk by reeking of cheap aftershave and mobing wool suits from the 1980´s (in the U.S.). i pass young colege kids wearing Metallic and Guns n´ Roses t-shirts (music must be about the sound and not the lyrics...the lyrics are in English for cyring out loud!) I pass through dirt choked slums, where prostitures stand on street corners in Courtney Love-like outfits and lipstick that looks like it was put on by a two-year-old. It starts to rain and I pull up the collar around my tattered wool sweater and press on. 45 minutes into my journey and hey ivanosio, man, I still haven´t made it, are you suprised? I sure as hell am not! I have no clue where I am. I think back to every American stereotype of Colombia ans SHIT, reality hits me...I am in downtown Bogota, it´s raining, and to put the icing on the cake, it´s going to be dark in 45 minutes. I suppose arriving at my destination should earn me a blue ribbon, a trophy, or maybe even a purple heart from some get r done american military general. Another hour goes by, heaven shines it´s light upon me, and I make it! Wait there´s the fitness center, where Colombian women mob neaon spandex outfits from the 80´s, and wannabe Shakira¨s stare at themselves in the large rusted mirrors. I stumble into a local Colombian hangout on the corner near Ivanosio´s house, prop my feet up on a stool, and order a cold one for 45 cents. Nearby two weathered looking old men play a board game and sip steaming Colombian coffee. Middle-aged women sit next to me dressed up in wacky neon outfits and bright pink lipstick. They sip someting called ¨Nectar Cub¨, I have no clue what the heck it is. They pour the liquid out of HI-C like juice boxes into Ny-Quil-like plastic cups. The light rain patters the window and I take a sigh. I am the only gringo in here and I love it.

written by

kipmaddog on July 18, 2009 from Bogota, Colombia

from the travel blog: adventures from down south

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