Our flight left
Gatwick at what I would call horrific-o’clock, but most would refer
to as ‘morning’, and headed to Orlando, where we’d get a
connecting flight to Bogotá and arrive around 1am their time. Whilst
the flights themselves were fairly uneventful (which is always a good
thing), we did manage to break the seats in Gatwick Airport, as we
felt a slight creak and several minutes later found the leftmost legs
had completely splayed and we plummeted to earth. Being a flight to
the USA, a few people made comments on suing the airport, but apart
from a grazed heel I didn’t have a lot of injuries to boast about.
Perhaps I could have claimed whiplash and emotional distress, but if
that were the case, I think they would suspect we weren’t quite cut
out for South America.
![]() |
A great start! |
We arrived in
Orlando without any issues. This was our first glimpse of the USA,
and unfortunately we didn’t have a whole lot of time to explore as
our connecting flight was in around 5 hours time. We did however
experience:
-
An odd system where you don’t just transfer to your next flight, but have to check in and drop off all your bags again.
-
Grown adults walking around wearing all the Disney merchandise you can (and can’t) imagine.
-
A ‘medium’ coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts that came in what can only be described as a vase.
-
Large people, and some very large people.
-
TSA security checks where the queue quite literally doubled back on itself and filled up the airport.
![]() |
Got our moneys worth I guess |
Naturally as we were
in America, so it seemed sensible to go for the finest Mexican
cuisine, which is of course awesome. We’ll give the country a
fairer review when we’ve had chance to visit and step outside the
airport, but currently it’s lived up to all our expectations.
Onwards to Bogotá.
We arrived in the pitch black and had our first hotel reserved, so we
found an ATM and withdrew a mere 300,000 pesos. Not wanting to be
stung for ATM charges, we hit the ‘check costs’ button, which
immediately dispensed our money without another prompt. We later
found out it doesn’t charge, so now we always hit this button just
on the off chance out luck changes as soon as we just assume there
won’t be one. We headed outside to the taxi rank, where we were
immediately collared by someone to take us to our hotel. With my
limited Spanish, I successfully gave him the address and agreed to
pay what we now know is an extremely inflated price. With hindsight,
we should have shopped around a little, but at 1AM (24 hours
travelling at this point) we just wanted to get there. Soon into the
drive, we were reminded that driving tests are very much a trait of
highly developed countries, as we overtook everything in sight at
double the speed limit on blind corners. We’ve arrived.
Our first experience
of the place was our taxi driver telling us in Spanish and a tiny bit
of English that the area was ‘un poco peligroso’ at night.
That’s, a little bit dangerous. And why? Well that’s because of
all the hookers of course! As we looked at all the street corners
nearby, very little attempt to cover up the trader (in every meaning
of the word) was visible. Oddly enough, the police seemed to be here
too, we’re still not entirely sure what the deal is here. Either
way, we paid the taxi driver and hurried into our hotel, where we
were greeted with an excitingly basic room with nothing in the way of
insulation, and it was notably chilly. Still, we had plenty of sleep
to catch up on.
We headed down to
breakfast the following morning, and asked in Spanish how we’d like
our eggs. That much I understood. The options we were given were:
-
Revuelto
-
Frito
-
Pericos
Frito I knew, no
problem there. Revuelto I found out meant scrambled, so that was
okay. Then I looked up pericos. Well, this seems to mean the
following.
-
Parakeet
-
Toupee
-
Giant Asparagus
-
Urinal
-
Cocaine
-
White Coffee
-
Apprentice
-
Scrambled eggs
You can imagine our
confusion.
Upon looking at a
map and the location of touristy things to do, we concluded we were
about 30 minutes drive away from anything useful. A little concerned
about the volume of prostitutes in the vicinity, we decided that
after this night, we’d find somewhere a little more local to
everything. In the mean time, and hearing lots of stories about
yellow cabs, we ordered an Uber into town.
Our driver was a
little chattier than I was able to keep up with, again, only speaking
Spanish. What I did manage to deduce however was he was telling us
there had been a serious accident that morning in a yellow cab where
it had hit a pole on the side of the road and everyone died. Yay. We
arrived at Bolivar Square, with little idea as to what was going on.
By the square were approximately 30 police officers and almost no
other people. The driver told me the police were there for security
rather than a problem, which was a relief. We said goodbye and had a
look around.
So, what did we find
in this area? Statues of fat women of course. All over the place. On
bicycles, dancing, whispering to each other next to a pile of dogs.
And why wouldn’t there be? Well, the reason for that would be
revealed later.
We decided to take a
walk through the centre and see what was going on. A lot of the roads
were shut, and there were hundreds of cyclists about. As well as
this, dogs, so many dogs. Everyone was out walking their dogs. We
went to a nearby park to find hundreds of people there, all with
their dogs. Now we weren’t complaining at all, but why on earth is
everyone just cycling and walking dogs, surely these people have jobs
to go to…? Well, we later found out it wasn’t just the most
cyclist and canine friendly city in the world, but it was actually a
national holiday on that day and they were holding a cycling event.
Fair enough, although admittedly a little disappointing.
![]() |
A traditional dish - the Bandeja Paisa |
That afternoon, we
decided to do the free walking tour of the city, where you just pay a
tip at the end based on how good you thought the tour was. It was
very comprehensive, covering everything from the liberator of the
majority of South America from Spanish rule, Simon Bolivar, to the
famous Colombian artist Fernando Botero who created paintings and
sculptures where he’d play around with the volumes (a reference to
the fat ladies we’d seen earlier), to the legend of El Dorado, the
city of gold that the Spanish had been trying to discover. The tour
also took us to a small cafe, where we sampled the traditional
alcoholic drink chicha, and a type of hot beverage made by grinding
together lots of different types of nuts and beans called chucula,
which tasted like hot chocolate. They assured me it had no sugar in
it, but I imagine they just meant it wasn’t 100% sugar unlike a lot
of the other products here.
![]() |
Chicha from a traditional drinking vessel |
The following day,
we moved all our stuff to a hotel far more central to everything. The
door was about 8 foot tall and held shut by a slither of metal, the
toilet had no toilet seat (which we’d soon discover is actually
strangely typical here) and the bed was solid as a rock, but it would
do. We then took a trip to the cable car up a nearby mountain with a
church on top, with what would probably have been amazing views over
the city, but unfortunately the weather was not on our side. The
weather is extremely unpredictable in fact, you can be in beautiful
sunshine to the point you almost burn, to almost monsoon-like rain,
back to glorious sun again. All within an hour. Still, the views were
interesting, and the tourists who got in the cable car, stood right
at the front with their cameras out, then proceeded to admit they
hated heights and stood there facing the opposite direction were good
for a sensible chuckle.
Day three, we headed
north of Bogotá to a town called Zipaquira, famous for its salt
mines. More specifically, an entire cathedral made of salt built into
a cave. Upon arrival, I was expecting a 5-10 minute look around a
small cave built into a hill, with a little altar at the end, sort of
how in Asia they’d pop a little altar and a statue of Buddha in a
cave somewhere. Oh how wrong I was.
The cathedral is
200m underground, and started off as many individual aspects of
Christianity, as the miners whilst down there would carve out crosses
as they progressed. Eventually, they had the idea of joining
everything together. From memory, it contained 14 small chapels, a
balcony overlooking the main chapel, hundreds of statues and lights,
along with a huge cross and pews in the main chapel. Services were
still held every Sunday, it was a serious feat. And the walls tasted
like salt, out tour guide kept mentioning you could lick everything.
This was the first church I’d been to made of condiments.
![]() |
Not a picture of a steep drop or a mirror, but 3cm of extremely salty water in a pool |
We liked Bogotá.
The buses were extremely crowded, but a fairly reliable way to get
around as they had their own lanes in the middle of the roads.
Unfortunately, the drivers were unaware they were driving triple
carriage buses containing hundreds of people, and still drove them
like they were riding a quad bike. My forearms were still aching for
a while after, trying to grip on for dear life, as steering, braking
and accelerating were all governed by whatever the Spanish equivalent
of ‘go hard or go home’ was. Additionally, fruterias are common
around Bogotá, shops selling fruit salads and fruit juices of all
various types. This makes Diana exceptionally happy.
Our next stop was
San Gil, a town around 6 hours north of Bogotá by bus, heralded as a
nice place to see, as well as for its adventure sports. Initially we
weren’t too fussed about the idea of the adventure sports, but
after a while we considered that the paragliding in the area would be
a good plan as the price was reasonable and we’d heard the views
were incredible.
Firstly though, a
walk. I suspect there will be a lot of these to come, but sure, lets
give it a go. We travelled to a nearby town, Barichara, a little old
square with tuktuks and narrow cobbled streets overlooking a canyon.
After spending a couple of hours enjoying the views and charm of the
town (and a cold coffee that was practically a desert), we began our
walk from this town to the nearby town of Guane. Fortunately a mostly
downhill walk, overlooking beautiful views. Calm, relaxing, as good
as a walk can physically be I guess. That was, until…
Minding my own
business taking photos, Diana suddenly piped up with something along
the lines of ‘Uhm.. Wow okay..’. Looking up briefly, wondering
what beautiful sight she’d spotted, my heart suddenly sank and I
froze in position. Now, some of you may know I’m fine with little
spiders, but anything fairly big or thick, I nope the hell out. So
when I laid eyes on a tarantula the size of a plate walking across
the path, I wasn’t exactly sure how best to react.
![]() |
Sorry for the poor quality, but it's hard to get a photo of Satan himself whilst trying to keep your distance |
My first feeling was
of course fight or flight. Fight kicked in first, as I thought if I
just push Diana over I have plenty more time to run as it devours her
first. No, okay, not a great plan. I’ll just briskly walk around
whilst trying to be brave enough to grab some photo evidence. I
vaguely succeeded in that, and the image still sends a small shiver
down my spine. Diana also survived to tell the tale as I decided not
to sacrifice her to the arachnid gods on that particular day.
The rest of the walk
was a little more apprehensive. Watching our footing a lot more
carefully. Diana saying ‘Oh!’ as she spotted a cow on the path
that we hadn’t noticed as we were paying more attention to the path
making me jump a wee bit. The usual after you’ve just spotted a
wild 8 legged predator, I’d like to think.
![]() |
A larger than usual arachnid |
Fortunately, apart
from a tethered goat (I presume to appease the aforementioned
arachnid gods?) there was nothing else along the path that was quite
so uh, remarkable. The town of Guane was nice, quite similar to
Barichara but a lot smaller. Some old guys sat on a bench told us to
go down a path which led to a viewpoint, which was beautiful but
almost made us miss the bus back, for which we had to run across the
square in the hopes the driver would spot us.
![]() |
We hope El Dios Araña will accept this ritual sacrifice |
The following day we
arranged the paragliding, something neither of us had done before. We
met at 8.30 AM and took a fairly long minibus ride to the top of the
canyon, where we were given a rundown of what would happen. The pilot
spoke a little English, but gave a lot more information in Spanish.
Fortunately he spoke slowly enough I could understand a fair amount,
which I relayed as best as possible to Diana, who would be going
before me as they went up with the lighter people first. For anyone
who hasn’t done it before, the process is simple enough, they strap
you to the pilot, get the wing up in the air, and then you run off a
cliff, a normal activity for most humans. He did also mention that in
emergency we should roll, and that if we land in the wrong place it
could be a two hour walk back. But that doesn’t normally
happen. Encouraging.
Diana was up, and
they went through the process. Strapped her in, checked everything,
told her not to touch a couple of the clips, which is great advice
when you realise they’re the ones holding you in. The wing went up
in the air, and I watched her run towards the cliff (admittedly I
don’t know if her feet were even touching the ground but she
tried). And then she disappeared over the edge, along with the wing
which hadn’t grabbed any air and crumpled to the ground. Hum, now
I’m a widower and have inherited a student debt and a load of green
fabric. Wonderful.
Panic over, it
wasn’t a cliff, just a fairly steep hill. They trudge back up and
go for round two, this time successfully keeping the wing up. Around
20 minutes later Diana lands, almost kicking a number of people in
the head as they came in to land as a strange angle, and walked back
over beaming at me. About 30 minutes later and it was my turn, and I
got to find out why, as the views over the canyon were absolutely
amazing. You just sit there and get taken around, up and down with
the hot air currents. A lot more relaxing than you’d imagine, that
is until the last 5 minutes where he just said ‘Adrenaline?’ and
I said yes. Several spirals and the feeling of being on a huge swing
in the middle of the air later, and we came back down, fortunately in
the expected landing zone rather than two hours walk away.
Our final day before
we headed up to the coast, we spent the morning in Parque Gallineral,
an area with various wildlife, flora and fauna, along with a river
passing alongside it. Upon entering the park, we saw red squirrels
and a parrot, however for some reason they both seemed to have odd
lumps in various places. A parrot with a swollen neck, a squirrel
with a lump on it’s cheek, and it’s friend with wildly
disproportionate testicles to the size of its body. Lovely.
![]() |
Tumorous face |
![]() |
Tumorous neck |
![]() |
Chill out mate |
Finally, we grabbed
all of our bags and bits from where we were staying and sat in the
square of San Gil for a few hours people watching, mentally preparing
ourselves for the fun and games of a 12 hour overnight bus to Santa
Marta on the northern coast of Colombia. Again, we liked San Gil,
with it’s combination of a charming square and network of narrow
streets, and the options of more fast paced adventure too . The
nearby Barichara was our first experience of a laid back Colombian
pueblo, and a great place to relax with a coffee and watch the world
go by.
Fun reading! Thank's for this, made me chuckle a lot. Have fun, stay safe, lots of love. :)
ReplyDelete