Pack. Unpack. Repack.
Pack. Unpack. Repack.
I was only taking one 40L carry-on bag this trip so I had to be diligent and carefully choose each item that went into that bag. Over my years of travelling I’ve developed a pretty solid list of things I always like to have on hand - for example: a fully stocked first aid kit, hockey tape, a silk sleep sack, and a Swiss army knife (to name a few). However, this time, every item mattered. Everything I put into my bag had to be important and essential, not just a “nice-to-have.’
Pack. Unpack. Repack.
I settled on my final decisions the night before we left. And surprisingly, not a single one of those items on my list above made the cut. But, our flight didn’t leave until 3pm the next day so I still had time for any last minute game-day additions. However, there was still a lot to be done as M was also leaving on her own trip with Grandma and Grandpa a couple days later. I tried to encourage some packing independence for her, but let’s just say that kids make some questionable decisions on their packing must-haves. Like, I’m not sure she needed stamps, scrap pieces of paper, her entire infant collections of headbands and hats that she no longer even wears, or her Sonic the Hedgehog figurine. But, whatever. She was super passionate about it so I let her go to town, knowing that I’d just unpack it all later and she probably wouldn’t even notice. (Not to be mean of course, but what kind of a mother would I be if I let her go to the beach with a suitcase full of toys and not a single piece of clothing? I would be for sure be judged.)
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The morning of was pretty relaxed. Well, relatively speaking. I hadn’t yet had the chance to do everything I wanted and needed to, so I was flying around the house making breakfast, emptying garbages, tidying up, watering plants etc. You know, the pre-trip domestic things. I couldn’t get M to cooperate long enough to do her hair, but at least she was dressed. With kids, you can’t win at everything so you just have to take the small victories in stride. Her bed head was now a later problem for Grandma to deal with.
M drove with us to the airport that afternoon, and even though I knew I needed this time away, it didn’t make saying good-bye any easier. There was definitely a ton of mom guilt as I waved good bye and watched Grandpa pop her back into the car. But taking time for yourself is also important. So, I tried to push it aside as I smiled and blew her a kiss good-bye.
The best thing about late afternoon flights is that the airport becomes a library. We were off to Bogota via Denver and Houston, and that afternoon there were only two flights departing from the American terminal. As a result, we breezed through customs and security, and in less than 10 minutes we had already spread out at a big table and were about to immerse ourselves in an intense game of Pokemon. “A” had recently introduced me and M to Pokemon and as much as I initially didn’t think I’d be into it, I’ll admit that I’m now hooked. Pokemon wasn’t a thing while I was growing up - my childhood was more centred around POGS, hot wheels, and Ninja Turtles than Pokemon cards. But ever since I’ve started understanding it more, it’s actually pretty fun! “A” got M and I the Pokemon Battle Academy game for Christmas, as a way for us all to learn how to play, and now him and I are bringing our own Pokemon card decks with us to Colombia. So nerdy, yet so much fun!
Fight 1 from YEG to DEN was very much uneventful. Flight 2 from DEN to IAH, however, had a bit more action. We were delayed (of course, because when are flights not delayed these days?), which ordinarily is not that big of a deal. Annoying, yes, but usually it just means more waiting. All of our flights though, had super tight connections, and our window of time had just been reduced from 1.5 hours to less than 45 minutes.There were 25 of us on the fight that were trying to make this connection and we just kept watching the window of time grow shorter and shorter. You could see the stress building in some peoples’ eyes as we approached IAH. Upon landing it was announced that our flight needed to make a change in its arrival gate… which of course only served to increase the amount of time it would take to get to our connecting gate. The flight attendants asked all those not trying to make this connection to remained seated, but when do people have the consideration to listen to these requests? Instead, we were stuck at the back of the plane watching people get their carry-on luggage and move off the plane at a painstakingly slow place. I mean, quite honestly it was astonishing that people can move that slow. The rage was building, especially in the mind of the woman beside me who was continuously muttering her annoyance under her breath. Once we’d finally disembarked from the plane, the hustle was on. “It’s only 5 gates away!” the flight attendant yelled after us. Well, ok. It may have only been 5 gates away, but that doesn’t account for the change in terminals and the numerous snack stalls, restaurants, souvenirs shops, and kiosks in between.
Five gates, but 15 minutes later, we arrived... just as group number 3 was boarding. So, were we late? Or perfectly timed?
It was timed well for the food at least. As much as I dislike United as an airline, I will admit that their food was good - salad, pasta, bread, and a chocolate mint cookie. And then of course the perk of international flights - free wine. Vino tinto y vino blanco, por favor. There’s nothing quite like enjoying a glass of wine in a thunderstorm…unless you’re in an airplane and that light show is right out your window. Seriously though, in all my years of flying, I had yet to witness a light show like the one we saw. It was absolutely terrifying, and intensely captivating, all at the same time. The lightning lit up the entire cloud, and felt like it was constantly jumping from one grey fluffy pillow to the next. Amazing. Then, after a quick snooze, we touched down in BOG right on time - 0545 and ready to take on the day.
Arriving into Colombia was no stress at all. It was the same chill routine that comes upon one’s arrival into pretty well any foreign country: Bathroom. Freshen up so you feel human. Customs and eagerly awaiting the addictive sound of a passport stamp permanently marking your travel book of life (but with a small surprise of an $85 charge to Canadians). Then without the hassle of grabbing checked luggage it was straight to the ATM, then to buy a SIM card, and finally, before heading out in search of a taxi, a much anticipated cup of coffee.
That first breath of Colombian air.
Warm. Not yet hot. Less humidity than I was expecting. I felt comfortable in my jeans and hoodie. We hopped in a taxi with our Grande Caramel Macchiatos, and set off for Candelaria. Candelaria was the old town in Bogota - packed with little cafes, restaurants, hotels, hostels, and tourists. The ride there was smooth and pretty well a straight shot on the main freeway that divided Bogota in half - north (safer side) and south (keep your wits about you). Graffiti filled almost every available wall or flat surface. From territorial markings to detailed artwork. Graffiti is a staple in the capital city. It’s everywhere, and it’s legal… now. (Don’t quote me on this story, as it was told to us via a local we met.) But, the story goes that prior to 2013 Graffiti was illegal. So much so, that when the police caught a 16 year old child making his mark on the wall, it ended in his death. Of course, the response was pure outrage for the killing of a child. But it was further exacerbated only a short while later when Justin Beiber happened to be in Bogota for a concert. Instead of reprimanding Beiber for creating his own political graffiti art, the police literally quarantined off a protected area for him to paint. As such, sometime after this point, it was then legalized and artwork exploded around town.
Our first accommodation in Colombia was at the Cranky Croc Hostel. We had opted for a more low key backpacking-style trip because, honestly, it’s more our style. Basically, we didn’t want to do hotels where we felt completely isolated from others, but we were also over the younger days of a 12 bed mixed dorm hostel. Our compromise? A private room in a hostel. This still gave us the ability to meet others easily in a common space, skip out on a few meals out by making use of the kitchen facilities, but still had the privacy and security of a private hotel room.
We didn’t waste any time upon arrival. We hadn’t even finished checking in yet and we already had a hand-written list of local-recommended places to eat and where to go both in and out of the city.
Actividad 1 was due to start in 2 hours, so we had enough time to shower, freshen up and still go for an orientation walk around the neighbourhood. The area we were in had small, narrow streets, some about a car width wide, and some where you could maybe fit 3 people shoulder-to-shoulder. They were all lined with colourful shops, restaurants, bars, or hostels on either side. Pale yellow, soft pink, mint green, baby orange, bright blue, and off-white. A collection of playful architecture, complete with vibrant graffiti art.
We had decided to meet up with a group of other people for a bike tour of the city. We only had 1 day in Bogota, so figured it was the most efficient use of time and a great way to see the main highlights. Our multicultural group of 7 set off down the steep streets of Candelaria for Simon Bolivar square - where the country’s main judicial court lives and the home of the Presidential quarters. Or… for those of you more familiar with Narcos, the place where M19 set fire to the entire collection of documents that held "he who must not be named" guilty of drug trafficking. (It’s since been built back up to an incredible grandeur. There’s also a lot more to the political story here, but I’ll save you from that.) From there we cycled towards the central banking district where tall red-orange brick buildings surrounded us like a fortress on three sides, with the grand Monserrate mountain standing by on the east side…on fire. Just the day before, a forest fire had broken out atop the mountains that stood guard over the city. Fire trucks occasionally roared past with their lights flashing, or a helicopter would putter by carrying buckets of water. It didn’t appear totally out of control, but you could absolutely see orange flames flare up from out of the grey smoke every once and awhile. There’s normally a hiking trail frequented by early morning runners and pilgrims that runs from base to peak (and a trail we had wanted to hike or run), but the government had closed it that day, as well as all other government run-buildings (ie. museums) due to the reported poor air quality from the smoke. I mean, in my opinion, coming from the forest fire summer we had in Alberta it was hardly noticeable, but what do I know? There were thoughts that it could threaten the village that lived up on the mountain, but as of that point, everything was still clear and had yet to be evacuated.
We continued on towards the base of the mountain and the location of the Enrique Olaya Herrera National Park. However, rather than a pristine green space, it housed rows and rows of displaced persons. A whole village that had been run out of their rural home land due to guerrilla warfare. This was the place they took refuge - the place they chose to find safety, security, and shelter while the stability of their home land remained insecure. Thankfully, the government seemed to support their struggles and assisted with food and water provisions. It was reported by our guide that these indigenous persons had been living in this internally displaced persons camp (IDP Camp) for the last 3 months. Yet, as it stood on that day, there was no hope for a speedy return. Across the street, in stark contrast to the camp in from of us, were elite British-inspired buildings and a private University. Pristine landscaping and freshly painted housing that spoke to a vastly different group of people that occupied the area only meters away.
From there we cycled to Cafe de la Fonda. A super cute coffee roasters just on the outskirts of the dodgy part of town. But the coffee… fantastic! Although Colombia is known for their coffee, 98% of all coffee grown in Colombia is exported. Which means most of what’s drank in the country is called “tinto.” Basically, the leftover beans that don’t make the cut of perfection and are potentially cut with other beans (ex. chickpeas) or whatever else the farmers happen to have on hand. Which, PRO TIP, is why you always buy whole coffee beans and grind them yourselves versus pre-ground coffee. When you buy whole bean coffee, even if you aren’t a coffee connoisseur, you can instantly see if the beans are quality or not. ie. Are they all the same shape? Are they all intact? Is the cut right down the centre? In comparison, with ground coffee there could have literally anything in it - you just don’t know. Cafe de la Fonda was an actual roasters that roasted beans they acquired from local farmers. So, being that it’s actually surprisingly hard to find a good cup of coffee in Colombia because they export most of the high quality stuff, it only made sense to go straight to the source. And that afternoon we got our first taste of fresh, real, good quality Colombian coffee.
Now that we were caffeinated, we continued our journey through the “red light” district of Bogota, and off to a small fruit market where we tried a whole range of new and interesting fruits - lulo, blackberry tomato, banana passionfruit (that’s only grown in Bogota), grabadija, and pineapple guava. All of which I’m sure have specific names in Spanish, but much above my conversation level. We finished off the tour, complete with a flat tire and a sunburn, and couldn’t believe that it was only 2pm and we’d already seen so much.
We stopped for a quick snack of one of the local dishes - chocolate santafereño. Or, simply, hot chocolate with cheese. That’s right. Hot chocolate, typically prepared with water, and a chunk of cheese that you break up and put into your hot chocolate. Then, once you drink the liquid portion of the melted cheese coffee, you can devour the rest of the gooey deliciousness with your spoon. According to our bike guide, lunch is the biggest and most important meal of the day for Colombians, and chocolate santafereño with an arepa or piece of bread is a common late evening snack instead of a big dinner. For us, it was a mid-afternoon snack to fuel us up for our journey up Monserrate.
Monserrate is located on the east wall of Bogota and stands approximately 3152m high. At the top resides a church that can be reached by either hiking trail (approximately 2km in length), the teleferico cablecar, or by funicular. As the trail was closed due to the forest fires, we chose to take the teleferico. The journey takes around 4 minutes and has absolutely stunning views of the city. We had planned to watched the sunset from the top but unfortunately it was cloudy. So, even though we timed it right, mother nature wouldn’t allow us that moment. Even though the city itself is considered to be high altitude, I didn’t really notice much of a change in my body that day. I’ve been at altitude in the past, primarily in the Nepalese Himalayas, so I do know what to look for, but often don’t notice anything until I’m above 3000m. With this 500m change in altitude, however, I did notice a difference. My heart was beating just a little bit faster and my breathing was more laboured with activity (ie. hiking from the teleferico up to the church at the top). We sat along the brick wall and took a moment to take in the sprawling city views as the sky grew darker (wishing we’d brought a bottle of wine and an extra jacket with us). Considering the steeper streets in Candelaria, I was surprised to notice that the city was actually pretty flat. You could see forever. It was gorgeous. And since we had such gorgeous views, a glass of wine with a view at the restaurant just down the path seemed like the only sensible thing to do.
Dinner tonight was at El Gato Gris (The Grey Cat), an artsy restaurant in Candelaria that was bathed in dark mood lighting and had live music playing. The food and wine were delicious and the vibe was bumping. It had been a long day, full on packed with activity, so I wasn’t up for much more than a walk down the main bar area near our hostel where everyone was walking down the street selling homemade chicha by the glass.
Back at the hostel, it was the end of Day 1 in Colombia.
Bogota - vibrant, artsy, fun, welcoming, but with just a touch of sketchiness to make it interesting. All in all - not bad for a capital city.
Next up, we head due north to the Caribbean coast on an early morning flight. Buenas Noches!
TRAVEL TIPS:
Pro tips learned from and for Bogota:
Always buy whole bean coffee. This way you know if you’re getting a good quality coffee and can be sure it’s 100% coffee beans that make up your delicious morning blend. Also, if you're flying with carry-on only, you're only allowed to fly with whole bean coffee. Ground coffee must be checked.
The sun is muy fuerte. Even though the city is at altitude (the 3rd highest capital in South America at around 2640m above sea level), don’t underestimate the strength of the sun. Slap that sunscreen on from the get go.
There is an $85 entry tax for most Canadians upon arrival into Colombia. As of 14 November 2023, most Canadians who enter Colombia without a visa and on a Canadian passport are required to pay an $85 entry tax (in Colombian pesos) upon arrival at customs and immigration. And you are only allowed to pay with credit card. There are pieces of paper taped to the immigration officers desk that do state this and albeit look a little sketchy, but it’s in fact a valid requirement.
Hope this helps!
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