Eleven million people live in Colombia’s capital at 8,600 feet and the place has a terrible reputation for tangled traffic made worse by a new metro system under construction. We managed to avoid all that by being smart, we hoped and we actually did very well avoiding traffic snarls.
Our neighbors in the campground asked to come with us to the city so we gladly took Patrick and Ana with us, cheerful world travelers with whom we had lots in common. Our first obstacle was the weekend recreational cyclists clogging the road into the big city.
Bogotá as though seen from the air:
I was surprised what a lovely drive into town we had around eight o’clock. The cyclists were scary, hundreds of them spread over the road like a collective death wish had seized them. But once we got down into the fancy neighborhood they lived in the streets were clear and passed through lovely hilly wooded parks.
We found an empty parking lot and for five bucks we got all day parking two blocks from the Gold Museum and a fifteen minute walk from the Botero Museum. Perfect. The others went to order breakfast while Rusty and I went for a walk.
Flea market! All I had to do was keep Rusty off the merchandise and he led me by the leash nose down. Big dog fun here!
The bus stop poster reported the arrest of a paramilitary assassin drug dealing gang. Great stuff. Except I’d prefer if they weren’t around at all!
Colombia loves skyscrapers.
Breakfast ended up being a combined meal lasting us all day with the usual Colombian cornucopia.
We had eggs and rice and shared a bowl of soup. Patrick grew up in Alsace, a region of France close to Germany and much influenced by that culture. He was hired by a German multinational and for much of his life traveled all over the world for work. He settled in Brazil with his Brazilian wife Ana who is the child of Japanese immigrants to Brazil. She speaks Portuguese French English and some Spanish but she has never been to Japan. Patrick loved the fact that I am just as mixed up in my ancestry and we got along very well. Layne enjoyed their company as well and we all spoke English.
After our hair raising encounters with recreational bicyclists it was ironic we got to see bits of a road race in the cafe TV beamed from France…Patrick was ravi-delighted.
Patrick and Ana ran their own hotel for many years and now have their children operating their dive business, the largest in Brazil. With homes and RVs in Brazil and France they spend a lot of time moving around. We felt at home in their company.
Breakfast over we set out, Rusty secure and napping in his bed guarding GANNET2 in the cool mountain air. We took on the streets of Bogotá.
Then the Gold Museum from yesterday’s post. Layne bought some earrings while a busker performed some acrobatics while we waited for the doors top open:
After that we wandered over to the Botero Museum as posted yesterday with Patrick marching ahead.
This is the Candelaria neighborhood, a hip street fair on weekends.
We got nailed by a couple of students seeking answers to a tourist questionnaire. And they practiced their English. I wear shorts when not freezing and that marks me as a foreigner if nothing else did.
Layne also located a pothole deftly dealt with by a car city council. They painted it orange.
It was early afternoon and time to get back to Rusty and GANNET2 and Google Maps took us through the main street fair. Enjoy, we did.
We drove out of town on the freeway without great difficulties.
Sure there were some backs and slow downs but the drive wasn’t too bad, no aggression or beeping horns and pretty comfortable driving on decent roads. I was surprised.
Dinner was a strange affair in a suburb of the capital city called Chía (like the pet!) a place recommended to Patrick by a friend in France. The menu is vast and comprehensive for food and drink.
Andre’s’ House of Beef was said to be in the top ten of restaurants in Colombia but we all agreed it isn’t that. The food is okay but over priced and instead of spending thirty bucks we could have spent a third that for these food at a more modest, normal, joint.
We got a mixed plate which had less meat and more starch than we had hoped for while Patrick and Ana had a platter of four corn cakes (arepas) which looked to me like personal pizzas with mushroom, avocado, tomato and cheese toppings.
Layne and I declined desserts but Patrick and Ana ordered a Napoleon off an electronic menu.
Loud music and insipid dancing and several birthday celebrations all added to the cacophony of this very popular place.
I was glad to escape even if I had a 35 minute drive back to the campground in the dark at the end of a very long Sunday.
For as long as I could I followed a bus so he could unwittingly highlight any obstacles on the road so we made it back in one piece.
Patrick and Anna, the travelers I respect, left Monday saying goodbye to Carlos the campground manager.
They are making a loop for a few weeks more around Colombia and Venezuela back to Brazil. I’ll miss them.
