Colombia

Colombia was a solo trip I took to celebrate my 31st birthday in June of 2018. Prior to booking the trip, in a span of a few weeks Colombia kept coming up in conversation with different people, some of which were strangers. It was either a strange coincidence or a sign from God but that was all the excuse I needed to make it happen. I spent all of my time in Bogota and Cartagena, two vastly different cities.

My first full day in Bogota was eventful to say the least. I got up early in the morning and walked to the kitchen area of my hostel. I saw three women cooking so I stood watching them. One of them says to me “Tomar siéntate”. I take a seat and they start serving me the most delicious breakfast I’ve ever had. I couldn’t tell you what it was though. It was kind of like crepes with grilled oranges. Then they served me a croissant with coffee. I finished eating and decided I needed to buy a jacket. The cold climate is bearable but I was the only one walking around without an outer layer of clothing and I hate standing out in a foreign country. I walked to the market in La Candelaria and found a jacket that I liked but they only accepted cash. I then walked around for an hour trying to find an ATM. I found one in a grocery store and withdrew the funds I needed. As I’m leaving the grocery store I get distracted by a brunette in the square standing alone holding and umbrella with “FREE TOUR” in bold letters I walk over out of curiosity. I completely forgot my plan to buy a jacket. I don’t remember our initial conversation except that she was laughing at everything I said. Apparently I’m hilarious. She tells me she’s doing a tour in a few minutes and invites me to join. Soon after, another person joins us named Samuel. He’s an Egyptian that spent most of his life in San Fransisco but moved to Mexico City after Trump was elected. It was only the three of us so we had ample time to not only learn history of this beautiful country but learn about each other. After the tour ended, Samuel and I decided to get something to eat together. We walk into a crowded restaurant where there’s very limited seating. One of the patrons invites us to join him as he’s sitting down drinking coffee. I don’t remember his name so let’s call him Philip. Philip is from Colombia originally and returned home recently after living in Montreal, Canada for many years. As we talked, I ordered and devoured the bandeja paisa. Then Samuel and I headed to a coffee shop that let us choose how we wanted our coffee to brewed. It was overwhelming so I picked the cheapest option.

After coffee we decide to walk to Chapinero from La Candelaria, which is about an hour long commute. On the way we discussed multiple topics: racism, slavery, gentrification, feminism, capitalism, colonialism, criminal justice, war, religion. No political topic went untouched. Soon after arriving in Chapinero we remembered there’s an NBA playoff game happening so we found a bar to watch it in. After the game we met up with two other travelers, one from Germany, the other from Sweden. So an American, Egyptian, Swede, and German walk into a bar…I know theres a joke in there somewhere. Anyway we get escorted to the back and get informed about the one drink minimum so I bought a ginger ale for 8,000 pesos. We notice a vivacious group of women so we spend the rest of the night dancing and socializing with them. Later, I got into an Uber to head back to my hostel where I sat in the front seat and proceeded to have a failed conversation in Spanish with my driver. He waits until I get inside to drive off and I wave goodbye. My first night in Colombia was complete.

The next day I learned more about the experience of living in Bogota. It all started when I met 2 blonde women from England at the top of Monserrate. They are doing a study abroad program at the university in Bogota. We decided to go down the mountain together since we were headed in the same direction. As we walked through the city I noticed about 95%(no exaggeration) of the men in the streets were staring at them. They tell me they’re glad I’m walking with them because they usually get harassed constantly, but my presence was keeping the men away. Apparently Colombian men are fascinated with blonde women. A few minutes pass and a man aggressively approaches them and won’t take no for an answer. I stepped in between and told him to stop. He looks at me, smiles, says something in Spanish I didn’t understand, shakes my hand, and then walks away. It was a bizarre interaction. The ladies and I then purchase empanadas and go our separate ways. I couldn’t stop thinking about how terrifying it must be dealing with that everyday. I relax for a bit and charge my phone up before checking out the graffiti tour. There were about 20 people in this tour, mostly Europeans. It was an amazing experience learning history through this illegal, artistic expression. During the tour, one of the other attendees asks me jokingly why I’m not wearing a jacket. This begins a dialogue and I learn she’s from St. Petersburg, FL. She quit her job a couple years ago and left the country on a whim. I lived in Tampa for 8 years so we were basically neighbors separated by a bridge. We got lunch together after the tour to continue our conversation. I was laughing on the inside because I was admiring her beauty from afar for much of the tour and now I was having lunch with her. I ordered the ajiaco santafereño, which is a common soup in this part of the country. As we talked I learned more about the struggles of living in Bogota, from the traffic to political issues to dealing with the cold and rainy weather. We exchange numbers, take a few selfies, and hug goodbye.

A couple days later Samuel texts me to join him at a nightclub. I show up and there’s a line around the block and I have no way of contacting him because I couldn’t get access to wifi but I don’t worry about it. I get to the front of the line, pay my cover, and get handed a cup for unlimited free drinks. This nightclub had at least 6 different rooms all playing different music. After spending an hour looking for Samuel, I decide to give up and enjoy myself. I go into the reggaeton room and make eye contact with one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life. We dance towards each other and almost instantly start making out in the middle of the dance floor. It happened so fast it took me a minute to process what was happening. She smiles at me and walks away to join her friends. About 10 minutes later I see this same woman passed out in the hallway surrounded by her concerned friends. Life comes at you fast. The fun continued though. I left and went to the salsa room where I initially only observed people. Minutes later a woman approaches me and asks where I’m from. She finds out I’m American and says “I knew it!”. I still don’t know what gave it away but I laugh about it and we dance a couple songs. I went from room to room dancing with different women. This continued the entire night. I stayed until the very end and then walked outside where I spotted Samuel mingling with the locals. We went to a nearby spot for food and parted ways soon after. My time in Bogota was coming to an end. I flew out to Cartagena the following day.

Before arriving in Cartagena, I was told that it was the more fun city, but that wasn’t my experience at all, especially not the first day. The first thing I noticed when I arrived was how hot and humid it was. It was at least 40 degrees warmer than Bogota. The locals are also much darker. I later learn this is a direct result of Cartagena being the biggest Spanish port for African slaves. I knew nothing of the slave trade in South America until this point and this inspired me to do research to learn more about it. After I got settled into my hostel, I walked to the square and was immediately bombarded by locals trying to sell me stuff. I ignored most of them until a man approached me trying to sell his hip-hop mixtape. He had a NY accent which through me off and is probably the only reason I stopped. He grew up in Harlem but was recently deported and is doing music to make a living. As he was giving me his spiel, one of his buddies comes over trying to sell me a bracelet. He didn’t speak much English except to put his arm next to mine and say “same color!” and proceed to shove his bracelets on my wrist. I was hungry and wanted them to leave me alone so I gave in to their tag team efforts and purchased their products. I walked around for a bit exploring while trying to avoid the locals trying to sell me bracelets, cigars, and cocaine. I literally couldn’t do anything for more than 5 minutes without them bothering me. Later that night I returned to the main square and noticed there were gorgeous women everywhere in skimpy outfits standing by themselves. There were easily hundreds of them standing doing absolutely nothing. It took me too long to realize what was happening and this was my first mistake. One of them begins talking to me asking where I’m from, what do I do for a living, etc. The best way to describe her was she had a face like Jill Scott and body like Beyoncé. After talking for a few minutes she suggests we go hang out at the bar/nightclub. We were dancing and drinking having a good time. Then things shifted drastically. She tells me that she’s an escort and charges 300,000 Colombian pesos for sex, which converts to $100 USD. I declined and got up to close my tab. 10 minutes after paying my bill I decide it’s time to go. As I’m walking out, one of the employees stops me and says I owe her money. I say “What are you talking about, I already closed my tab?”. She kept insisting that I pay her and I refused. Unbeknownst to me, the escort ordered another drink, told them to charge me for it, and left. Still, I refused to pay. The entire waitstaff was in my face demanding I pay them. I told them I’m not doing it and things escalated. At this point I’m in this bar yelling which is completely out of character for me. They bring the escort back in and let her go again after she once again pins the bill on me. Then they close the door and lock me inside. Minutes later the manager shows up and asks me to pay the bill. I refuse again and then the bouncer steps in. He tries to intimidate me with his muscle and 6’5 frame. He shoves the bill in my face and says to me in Spanish that I have to pay it. I grab it, crumple it up, and toss it across the room. Then I get in his face and say “Fuck you. I ain’t paying shit.” This makes him angry and shoves me hard against the bar table. The manager then says “Just let him go”. As I’m walking out, the bouncer physically grabs me and throws me out. I get up angry and immediately start cursing him out. He comes after me and I start running as fast as I could down the stairs because I’m not about that life. He was way too big to catch me. I get outside and I’m fuming thinking about what just happened, getting assaulted by Colombian Deebo. As I’m standing there trying to process everything a woman standing next to me starts having a friendly conversation with me. She looked identical to Tika Sumpter in Ghana braids. Then she asks me if I want to have some fun. NOPE. I quickly walk away to avoid her. 20 minutes later as I’m walking back to my hostel I run into the Tika doppelgänger again but this time she’s with 2 other women. The three of them approach and start touching and groping me. They would not take no for an answer. They follow me for a little while catcalling and laughing. Eventually they give up and I make it back to my hostel. This was only my first day in this city and it wasn’t a great first impression.

The remainder of my trip was super chill but incredibly annoying at the same time. I met and hung out with white travelers from California, Texas, Netherlands, Italy, and Brazil. I only mention their race because while exploring the city with them the locals rarely bothered them but they insisted on trying to sell me stuff. It was like they were invisible. A common opening line they used was “Aye, my color!” Or “Mi familia!”. I thought I could avoid it at the beach but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Women carrying buckets with an unknown type of oil or moisturizer would approach me, grab me without permission, and start giving me a massage. Even after saying no and pulling away they’d refuse to stop and then wanted to charge me for it. That day I was hanging out with a traveler named Brittney from California that spoke fluent Spanish. She was very aggressive in keeping them away from me which I was grateful for since my passive approach wasn’t working. I empathize with them trying to survive and make a living but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Overall, Colombia was a fun trip. I obviously enjoyed Bogota more than Cartagena but it’s all part of the experience. I take the good with the bad. It only enhances my story. I look forward to one day returning to this beautiful, diverse South American paradise.