It’s been a little tough figuring out who’s Colombian here and who’s a Latino tourist. The Colombians don’t have an easily distinguishable accent or a unique phrase they use like, for instance, the Dominicans who say “Como tu ta?” or the Costa Ricans who say “Pura vida!” or the Puerto Ricans who can “Que chevere!” or the Mexians who say “Que onda?” or the Cubans who say a bunch of stuff but you can barely understand any of it because they speak so fast and chop off half their words. Maybe there are some specific Colombian linguistic traits and we just haven’t been here long enough to identify them. But, in any case, I can only assume most of the vendors and workers we see are Colombian. Based on that, I have identified a few Colombian-specific traits, and not just with people, but with the way things look and are done around here.
First, they keep things clean. Every morning there’s an army of dudes in Slipknot jumpsuits with brooms sweeping shit up. You just never see that in other Latin American countries. The streets are dirty as hell and they don’t even notice it. Today we even saw a kid with a leaf blower in the Bolivar Plaza who was blowing leaves and food wrappers and dirt into the waiting dustbins of the Slipknot jumpsuit crew who scooped it up and put it into garbage bags. Oh, and speaking of that, there’s actual public garbage cans around to put your trash in. In most other Latino countries you just throw it on the ground or, preferably, in a stream or river that will wash it down to the nearest processing facility (I assume).
Second, they are really slow walkers. I don’t know how many times this trip we got stuck behind a few locals walking on the skinny sidewalk, blocking the whole thing, chatting to each other and moving at a sloth’s pace. A sick sloth. Some, even as slow as a fully dead sloth.
Third, and this applies to the dudes only, but they really like to pick their balls. They get right in there and swirl things around then pluck away at their jeans or jumpsuits or dress pants or whatever they are wearing and whatever social class they are in. I’ve got no problem at all with the occasional package adjustment, it’s just that here they do it right in the open, beside food carts, in line at the grocery store, at the medical clinic (might be a reason for it in that case), but really I guess they just like their junk lining up properly, or are just trying to remedy the incessant sack stick that’s so common in these viciously hot countries.
Lastly, the vendors here are fucking annoying. Every morning we step out of the hotel and the exact same lady asks us if we want to buy a tourist package to the Rosario Islands. Every day we politely say no. She takes a couple more swings at us then gives up. We walk twenty steps to the traffic light and there’s another guy there with the exact same laminated plastic sheet with island pics trying to sell us a tourist package to the Rosario Islands. We politely say no then cross the street, then there’s another person there who has the exact same laminated plastic sheet who tries to sell us a tourist package to the Rosario Islands. This goes on all day, everywhere we go, and it’s usually tourist packages to the Rosario Islands, but also city tours, packets of fresh fruit, bracelets, fridge magnets, cocaine, sunset cruises, watches, sunglasses, purses, restaurants specials. But you know what’s even worse than being harassed by street vendors all day? Being poor in an expensive city and trying to provide for your family.
In any case, Ana and I really feel comfortable here. We love the culture, the people, the food, the weather, the music. We’ve spent a lot of time in Latin America over the years, living in a number of Spanish speaking countries and visiting many others. Despite not speaking Spanish very often, it comes back incredibly fast for Ana (slower for me), but within a couple days we’re having pretty decent conversations with people. Of course, when Ana and I debrief after a particularly intense conversation with a local it usually turns out that I didn’t have a goddamn clue what was discussed, despite thinking I did. I blame it on my mono-lingual Saskatchewanese roots. Anyway, during this trip a renewed interest has been stirred in my soul and I feel like we could spend more time in this part of the world, despite previously thinking we’d seen enough of Latin America. We have not.
After a slow morning, our big goal was to find a great cup of coffee. The coffee in all the local cafés and restaurants has been bunk. Ana tried Starbucks yesterday and the coffee was rank there too. Remember the other day how I was picking on Juan Valdez and his dumb ass mule? Well, there is a chain of coffee shops here called Juan Valdez so we decided to give it a try. We went to one in the old city. The coffee was excellent. I had an Americano and Ana had a café latte. Of course, it cost about eleven bucks, but I suppose that’s what you have to pay for a decent cuppa, even in Colombia.
We walked the old city, up one street, down another, up a different one, back down another. We walked to the city wall, ascended a ramp, then walked the ramparts for a while, and along the way a young vendor latched onto us and began an unsolicited city tour, showing us Shakira’s house then a home of Pablo Escobar expropriated by the state then told us all about the cocaine situation in the country, then when we tried to vamos he whipped out his inventory of bracelets. I did the chivalrous thing and pushed Ana towards him while I went over to urgently inspect the rock wall. After identifying one bracelet she disliked the least, he demanded she buy it for 70,000 in lieu of paying for the free city tour. The faster she walked away, the faster the price dropped. Finally she gave him 15,000 to go away, so she got a bracelet for about five bucks which will make a fine gift for Stella.
Around this time, we came across Mr. Cigar - a cigar shop. Ana left me there with the shopkeeper/mansitter while she went shopping for half an hour. It was glorious. I smoked a local Colombian cigar and drank a Club Colombia beer, by myself, indoors, on a comfy couch, accompanied by a fine jazz playlist, surrounded by original artworks. This doesn’t normally happen to me on Thursdays in February.
We found our way back to Bolivar park and beneath the shade of the palms had a pre-planned fruit lunch which we had brought from our hotel room inventory – apples, plums, bananas, and a couple of granola bars. Next up was the free Museum of Gold, right across from the park, and it was total crap, but the AC was phenomenal so we stayed there for a bit.
By now we were sweaty, tired, and thinking of the hotel pool, but there was still time to buy a fake Rolex so I left Ana to do battle with a street vendor (strategically located directly across from the street from the real Rolex store) and I walked around for a while. I know from previous experience that it takes Ana exactly 27 minutes to try on enough watches to narrow it down to one or two, do some negotiating, decide on one, then have the vendor add or remove the required number of links. I also know from previous experience not to ask how many watches one needs (the answer is one, or none these days with a smartphone in every pocket), because that’s the wrong question to ask. The right question to ask is, “At that price, do you think you should pick up another one?”
As the end of our trip approaches, we’ve pretty much abandoned the long hot walk between our hotel in Bocagrande and the city centre in lieu of Uber rides that cost between three and five bucks. Of course, the cost isn’t the issue, it’s the exercise, but we’re doing plenty of walking once we get to the city so we’re okay with that.
The hotel pool had a real vibe going on today. There were many more people than usual and everybody was having a good time. We relaxed on the loungers, had cold beers, floated in the pool for a while, discussed the trip (and future trips), then eventually returned to the room to relax before going out for late dinner at a restaurant down the street. I had the most amazing seafood stew, with fresh mussels, clams, octopus, fish, shrimp, and other sea treats in the thick yellowy broth, while Ana had grilled chicken and we shared the accompanying green salad, coconut rice, and plantain. I hadn’t even seen a hot dog for several days so the culinary situation had improved significantly.
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