Solo Trip to Bogota
Day 1
Nervous about my first international solo trip, I landed at the El Dorado International Airport and worked up the courage to use my very limited and very broken Spanish to acquire a SIM card, exchange some cash, and grab a taxi to head to my hostel. I gave the driver the address to the hostel, which he did not recognize, and after telling him it was in the La Candelaria neighborhood and setting my google maps GPS to direct us to the hostel, I let out a sigh of relief. While he was driving me to my hostel and occasionally getting lost, I directed him by telling him “derecha aqui”, “izquierda a la calle once”, etc. With 15 minutes remaining on our drive to the hostel, I looked down at my phone to the terrifying realization that my phone only had 9% battery remaining. I thought to myself, “if my phone battery dies now, I have no way of knowing where to go, and neither does my driver”. Luckily, I made it to my hostel with 3% battery remaining, and again, I let out an even deeper sign of relief.
I put my belongings down in my aesthetic and quaint hostel, plugged in my phone, and let my mind rest. As I was hanging out on the hammock in the shared space figuring out my plan for the rest of the evening, two guys named Colin and Luke arrived at the hostel . Talking to Colin for a bit, I learned that he was a coffee roaster for a small company based out of Chicago.
Once my phone charged up, with a heart full of anticipation and nervousness, I started to wander toward the Botero Museum, but got distracted by the large crowds down the street. I wandered past artists selling their handmade jewelry and handwoven bags and into a wide open square covered in pigeons. Looking at google maps, I realized I had wandered into Simon Bolivar Square - a popular tourist destination. I sat in the middle of the square and watched as vendors went around trying to sell jewelry, selfie sticks, fruit, and corn kernels, which tourists could feed to the pigeons in the square. I scanned the square and laughed as tourists tried to stay still and pose for a picture as pigeons flocked to their corn-filled hands.
After being approached many times by vendors and being satisfied with the photos I captured in the square, I made my way back up the street to the Botero Museum. Fernando Botero is a famous Colombian artist, made known for his unique painting style of chubby subjects. In addition to artwork from Botero, the museum was also scattered with paintings of Picasso, Monet, and Degas.
The Museum was closing soon so I decided to head back toward the hostel to find a place to eat. I stumbled in on a restaurant called “De Una Travel Bar” and used my best Spanish to order myself a meal and two local Colombian beers. Satisfied with my first meal in Colombia, I made my way back to the hostel, hoping to meet and spend time with some of my hostel mates.
Oscar, who was originally from Sydney, Australia was already hanging out on a hammock in the common room and he was quick to start up a conversation with me. Soon after, Shaun and Emily, a couple from Perth, Australia joined us. Emily was originally from the states but recently moved to Perth to be with Shaun. Later, Marcel who was visiting from Germany joined us.
We went around the table and answered the following questions: How long have you been traveling, how long are you in Colombia, where have you been and where are you going? Most of the people around the table had some wild travel stories, and had been on the road for quite some time. I was the odd one out, admitting that I was only in town for the weekend.
We quickly exhausted the conversation about the logistics of each of our travel plans, and began talking about the different places we call home. I was most curious about Emily and Shaun’s story, of how Emily who grew up in the United States learned to live in Australia, whose seasons are opposite to what she was used to. Curious about what mysteries lie on the opposite side of the planet, I eagerly listened to the stories that Emily, Shaun and Oscar had to share about Australia.
Soon it was getting dark so we made plans to go to a nice coffee shop in the morning and went to bed.
Day 2
I’m not sure if it was the morning sun or the sound of cars driving by on the cobblestone roads just outside of the window that woke me up in the morning. Coffee is one of my big passions so I sprang out of bed, excited to get going to this nice coffee shop other hostel mates were buzzing about. We gathered our crew and walked to the highly aesthetic coffee shop down the street.
Luckily, this cafe had a cupping (coffee tasting) option where they brought out three different coffees in little taster cups. In addition to the coffee, we also each ordered avocado toast. As the food came to our table, we were blown away at how beautiful and delicious the breakfast looked and joked about how much this delicious breakfast would have cost in our respective countries.
Marcel, David and I planned to do the “Bogota Graffiti Tour”, a local walking tour that took us around the streets of Bogota so we could learn about the graffiti of the region, the history of the artist, and the political and social message behind the artwork. As a solo female traveler, I was nervous about venturing too far from the comforts and safety of the tourist areas, but this tour was a great way for me to comfortably explore more of the city of Bogota without risking my safety.
Our tour guide was very informed about the graffiti in the city, as he was a graffiti artist himself. He explained that many of the pieces in the city were politically motivated and made me appreciate the power of art in cultural and social movements. In addition to having the opportunity to learn about the public artwork, I was also glad to have the opportunity to witness the daily lives of the local people.
Unlike any North American city I have ever been in, I felt as though each of the neighborhoods in Bogota were wearing the emotions of the people that resided in them. In the urban, residential, and economically unstable areas where the effect of the government is palpable, the political and social frustrations of the people manifested in powerful murals that could be found along every main street. In the La Candelaria neighborhood, home to tourism and the international youths, the walls were vibrant, fun and whimsical. The political messages did not adorn the walls of this neighborhood as to not upset or confuse the guests. In the business district of the city, the walls resembled that of a North American metropolitan center - plain, simple as if trying to keep up with other technologically advanced cities.
After two hours of walking around the city of Bogota in the heat of the day, we returned to the La Candelaria neighborhood and found a restaurant with local food. We all ordered the meal of the day, which was a humble coriander soup, rice, salad and a single fried plantain. It was exactly what I needed before returning to the hostel to recharge for the remainder of the day.
I took an hour to recharge, and soon after making sure my phone was also at full charge, I ventured out on the streets of La Candelaria on my own, exploring the architectural details of this colorful town. The lights and shadows of the day played well on the brightly painted walls and the warm sun and Latin American humidity was a treat for my dry and weathered skin.
The sun was setting so I took toward Cerro Monserrate - the mountain that towers over the city of Bogota. I was told that the view from this mountain top would put into perspective the size of the Latin American metropolis. There are three ways to reach the summit - a 2,000 ft vertical hike up the side of the mountain, a cable car (which was currently undergoing repairs), and a funicular - a train like vehicle that slowly trails up the side of the mountain. I didn’t have the proper attire for a hike so I opted out of the active option, which left me with a ride up the funicular. As we climbed to the top of the mountain, I started to grasp the size of the city of Bogota.
Latin America is heavily influenced by the Catholic Church and the city of Bogota is no different. At the top of Monserrate Mountain was a giant Catholic Church that was built to honor God in the highest and most visible place in the city. Looking across to the neighboring mountain, there was a gigantic statue of Jesus Christ much like the famous “Christ the Redeemer” statue in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil though this one was not available to the public.
I was expecting to meet up with David, Marcel, and Bella at sunset so I killed some time by venturing around the tourist market while I waited. Time after time I turned down the vendors trying to convince me to buy their souvenir trinkets.
About half an hour before sunset, David arrived and together we looked out on the city in silence. Having just met, we didn’t have much to talk about. It brought me joy to look around and see all kinds of people and groups enjoying the sunset on this particular evening. Next to us was a very intimate and well-dressed couple, and if I had to guess, this was one of many romantic stops for the evening. Families with crying babies huddled together as the temperature began to drop. International groups of highschoolers couldn’t contain their excitement to be in a foreign country with their 25 “closest” classmates. And then there was David and me, silently appreciating each other’s company without necessarily needing to fill it with words.
A couple minutes before the sun tipped below the mountains in the distance, Bella showed up with her signature bubbly personality and Marcel quietly tagged along behind her. We enjoyed the final moments of the daylight and as the temperature quickly dropped, we started back toward the funicular and down the mountainside.
We went to a restaurant near the hostel called Gato Gris, another recommendation from a fellow traveler. It was a nicer, more expensive restaurant, but it was my last night in Bogota so I decided to let myself splurge. We were seated in a tiny room in the upstairs corner of the restaurant and I admired the decor in this space. The first thing I realized was that an old door had been fashioned into a dining table, and the space was dimly lit with a uniquely boho light fixture.
As we sat around the table waiting to order, I was surprised at how much our time together was dominated by silence. As a group of travelers with a royal collection of unique experiences, I was expecting our time together to be filled with conversation, jumping in and out of stories and never finding enough time to tell the best stories from each of our travels. Instead, our group tended toward silence, over dinner, while waiting in line to buy tickets for the next tourist attraction, and this uncanny silence took me by surprise.
Day 3
I woke up bright and early in anticipation for my last day in Colombia. Looking around at the other bunks in my room, I saw that everyone else had continued on with their travels. I was on my own for my last half day in Bogota so I decided to go and explore as many coffee shops as I could. Unfortunately, it was Sunday which meant that most of the cafes were closed, but I had a plan to visit two different ones.
I returned to the cafe we went to the day before - Azahar cafe and in my best Spanish, I ordered another cupping plate, but asked for different coffees from the ones I had the day before. The barista seemed to understand my request and brought me different flavors from the ones I had the previous day. I enjoyed the avocado toast from the day before so I decided to order that as well. After filling up on breakfast, I bought a bag of coffee beans to bring home and went on my way.
I stopped in at the Simon Bolivar square again to see it in a different scenery. Since it was Sunday, there was an ongoing Catholic mass that I got to sit in on for a couple minutes. Though many elements of my faith align with that of the Catholic church, the liturgy and catholic priests performing ceremonial acts made me feel very far from God.
I only had a couple hours remaining so I began to wander over to the next coffee shop. I located the coffee shop on google maps but was unable to find the storefront anywhere. Again in my best Spanish, I asked the security guard of the library if they had any idea where this coffee shop was. In very fast Spanish and some vague hand motions, they directed me into the library, through the hallway and around several corners. After asking several other guards inside the building, I eventually found my way to the very kind barista who made me a fresh cup of coffee and helped me pick out two more bags of beans to bring home.
I sat on the couch in the silent library hallway, sipping on my coffee when a stranger joined me and began to talk in very fast Spanish while pointing at my camera. I regretfully told him that I didn’t speak Spanish “lo siento, no hablo Espanol” and he lit up and responded in very good English “Oh, do you speak English”?
He told me that he was planning on buying a camera but wasn’t sure what kind he wanted, so I walked him through different types of cameras, the different models available, and the different lenses needed for different photography styles. After a short while, I realized that this all seemed to be going over his head, and I wasn’t sure if that was because of the language barrier or the content of our conversation.
It was time to head back home, and a part of me was glad. I felt like my mind was being pulled in so many directions.
On the flight home I had a lot to think about. As my first international solo trip, I carried with me excitement, and fear, and had a mind full of doubts. Being able to explore Bogota with the company of other foreign travelers, I felt much more at ease about my own safety, but felt like sticking to my comfortable, English-speaking bubble limited me from truly experiencing all that Bogota had to offer. Spending time with these carefree, fearless travelers unexpectedly stirred up emotions about a topic I feel so passionately about - the purpose and intention of travel. I once envied the boldness and bravery of people who choose to put their lives on hold to travel the world for several months, but after spending time with these people, I was confronted with the reality of this glamorized life choice.
I still have much to process about my reasons for traveling, and hope to one day be able to develop cohesive thoughts about the value of modern day travel.
