Colombia, Part 3: Back to Bogota

On Wednesday, we left Cartagena and returned to Bogota. According to Dan, this point in the trip was to be when the “real” drinking would begin since the election was now over. But our bodies, specifically Josh’s and mine, would soon conspire against Dan’s desire to accelerate the pace of our partying. That night, at a packed bar in the historic district of Bogota, both Josh and I suffered dramatically from hot flashes, upset stomachs, and profound exhaustion. Traveling to a foreign country, living at 8000 ft above sea level, lack of restful sleep, and excessive consumption of foreign food and drink had finally begun to take its toll. We could barely put down any beers. Not long after we arrived, a visibly disappointed Dan allowed us to go home. I promptly fell asleep.

The next day, partially recovered, we did our best to rally from the failed night before. During the day, we went go-karting and bowling, proving once and for all that the two are not mutually exclusive and setting a bold precedent for future trips. That night, we finally met Dan’s ex-girlfriend, Serena, when she and her friend Angela accompanied us to dinner at a Benihana-style restaurant. After dinner, we drank two jirafas at Bogota Beer Company, and then took the girls to a dance club not far away. The club was packed, and, despite still being somewhat ill, we stayed until closing at 3:00 am.

Friday was our last full day in Colombia. Unfortunately, a large thunderstorm developed, preventing us from going on a site-seeing trip to the top of a nearby mountain. Instead, we did some souvenir shopping and generally laid low, in preparation for the evening’s festivities.

And it was a good thing we did. We started out drinking frozen alcoholic beverages at the appropriately named Tropical Beverages and then made our way to our final destination -- Salto del Angel. The three-story, high-ceiling, multi-bar dance club was full to capacity – and beyond – that night. Though we would only be there for two hours or so, I can honestly say that this was one of the best venues I’ve ever seen. The crowd consisted of the who’s who of Bogota, as well as a high percentage of foreigners. A live band played Colombian hits to the delight of the patrons. It was truly unfortunate that we had to leave early the next morning.

Epilogue

With only a handful of travel inconveniences between us, Josh and I returned safely to the US that Saturday. To be sure, I was glad to be home; but not for the reasons I would have thought before the trip commenced. Given the dire warnings showered upon us by friends, family, and the State Department, I expected the trip’s end to be followed by an overwhelming sense of relief for having escaped what was sure to be an anxiety-producing, fear-filled experience, like walking through a dark alley in a bad part of town late at night. Instead, I felt relief only because I would finally be able to rest, to pause, to catch my breath. The real Colombia, not the version that exists in the collective mind of the West, offered too much fun, proved too intriguing, and, totally unexpectedly, was almost too welcoming – until you get in a cab, of course.