In which Roz and Layla eat a lot of ice cream - and visit some mangroves

By Roz

After we were sufficiently sated with ice cream it was, of course time for dinner. Food in Colombia is not instinctively vegetarian-friendly which has meant that we are having a curious time of it including dining on cuisines from around the world (though rarely Colombian, alas). After mooching round several restaurants, we settled on a sushi place called Teriyaki which is on one of the prettiest squares in Cartagena, San Diego Plaza. On any other holiday, such a place would be stuffed full of European or English-speaking tourists and we would have been disdainful. Fortunately, not the case this time as we settled down to some nice, if slightly odd, vegetarian sushi. From there we headed to a bar in a former convent called Santa Clara. We whiled away a very lovely evening drinking wine and musing on Layla's dream career path, and having met some of our fellow Villa de Leyva tourists who had only got out today, under army escort - felt very glad we'd got out when we could (though jealous of the people who allegedly got out by army helicopter!). 

Next morning we hopped in a cab after breakfast (I was feeling lazy and unenthusiastic about hunting down a bus) to an small semi-shanty town called La Boquilla. Our ambition was to go in a canoe through mangrove swamps. This seemed a most unlikely proposition when we were deposited by the cab driver on the beach. We could see Caribbean sea (albeit slightly murky since the day was slightly grey) and fisherman but not a great deal else. But before we could take two steps we were approached by some local teenagers. They made clear through a combination of gestures and our bad Spanish) that we were in the right place for a mangrove experience and that they would make it happen. With no other obvious options we decided to follow them on what turned out to be quite a long walk along the beach. So long that when the boys saw a bus coming along the beach (yes, indeed, who knew buses went on beaches!) they signaled for it to stop and we all hopped on. We got off at another bit of beach reasonably similar to the first and then proceeded to negotiate a price for a mangrove tour (something of a pretense on our side, since we both felt of we could hardly desert our escorts). After we had agreed a price, it began to rain. Unfortunate. We suggested to the boys that it might be as well to wait until the rain had gone off, but they very persuasively told us that this was silly, and that the trip took us into a tunnel (the "roof" being overgrown mangrove trees). We decided to go with it, and gingerly hopped into the canoe which was in what appeared to be nothing more than a medium-sized pool of water. Our teenage boys hopped in after us (other than one who ran off at some speed to satisfy our enthusiasm for water to take with us) and we set off to the other side of the pool of water, which turned out to be linked to the swamps. We picked up the boy who had gone in search of water bottles and went into the swamp (with the boys only needing to get out once to force the canoe on due to shallow water!). We felt somewhat mad, sat in a canoe with rain falling on us. But very cheery. And it wasn't long before we were in the proper mangrove swamps (which on occasion did form a tunnel, but on other occasions did not!). It was really fun to pass the swamps, gazing at terrifying crabs (probably just terrifying to me), fishermen, jumping fish and the odd bird (I think the rest were deterred by the rain). We were somewhat surprised at how extensive the swamps turned out to be - every now and then we would find ourselves suddenly in what felt like a lake, which seemed most unlikely. Eventually we were through, and the boys suggested we hop out and have a drink / lunch. We ended up settled for beer and plantain fritters which were very pleasant if not absolutely lunch. The rain had gone off entirely by this time, so we passed a very pleasant hour or so reading (with Layla in a hammock, until it broke and unceremoniously deposited her on the ground, which I am afraid I found very funny). We then walked back along the beach (with only a bit of wading through water required), enjoying seeing children walking home from school. We saw a bus on the beach and were very pleased to catch it. 

The bus turned out to be very slow, stopping every two minutes to pick up locals. But it was fun to see a different slice of life, and this more or less made up for the unfortunateness of missing our stop. The walk back wasn't too long and - despite the fact that it was 4pm we were both very clear that a second lunch was called for after we'd had a quick shower at the hotel. Hoping for a reprise of our tomato soup lunch from a few days ago, we headed to a place we'd been to before to find out that tomato soup was no more and they only had chicken soup. So we shared a polenta gnocchi dish and read a little more before heading to our favourite ice cream shop (for coffee and, um, ice cream). We whiled away a little more time with our books and watching people. It may not cast us in a good light if I say that after that we headed to dinner! This time, we went to an Indian restaurant called Ganesha which gets very good reviews on tripadvisor but which was sadly lacking in other diners. The food was good and after that we headed to a bar to drink mohitos whilst looking down from a balcony at passing people (including some really excellent break-dancers who bizarrely didn't seem to be collecting money).

Next morning we packed after breakfast, and then headed out. We were surprised to find it felt like the heat had been turned up - almost Washington-esque - and swiftly decided to focus our day on coffee and museums. First stop, coffee. We then went in to the Cartagena History Museum. This proved to be small, and not that brilliant but in a jolly sort of way. It was fun meandering round, occasionally seeing a sign we could understand and looking at old maps and so forth. And pondering why so many of the portraits in the museum had the subject looking as though he was winking... We dodged the bits of the museum about Cartagena's torture practices in the past (being wusses) but otherwise had a very pleasant time and felt we had learned a little more about Cartagena. 

From there, we headed to lunch. We went to a nice place called Mulata which had a good mix of locals and tourists, and sort of enjoyed the vegetarian pasta dish they produced. And definitely enjoyed the brownie and ice cream dessert. After lunch we headed to the Gold Museum via a couple of shops. The Gold Museum fell into the same category as the History museum - a bit crap, but in a jolly way. And many of the pieces were really amazing (so naturally enjoyed deciding which ones we would have if we had the chance. And after that, it was a quick stop at the hotel and then a taxi to the airport. Next stop, Medellin!

In which Layla and Roz visit the devil's mud-bath and eat lots of ice cream

By Layla

Landing in Cartagena was like landing in a totally different country - the heat and humidity hit us like a wave, and we threw off our Bogota cardigans in shock. We definitely weren't in the mountains any more - and given that our last experience of mountains had been fleeing rioters, we weren't at all sorry.

After checking in at our charming hotel and donning our summer clothes, we went out on the town. We are staying in a pretty, colonial area called San Diego with a crumbling aesthetic, all narrow streets, plazas bustling with cafes, little bars, restaurants, boutique shops, surrounded by old city walls that you can stroll along the top of, with the walled city on one side, the Caribbean Sea on the other, and the skyscrapers of the Bocagrande district in the distance. It feels very old Spain, and this feeling is enhanced by the almost complete lack of European or English-speaking tourists. We stopped in at a delightful local bookshop which also doubled as a bar. My strawberry daiquiri was excellent; Roz's mango less so... There was also cake. After a stroll around town, encountering a concert in one of the plazas, we returned to a nice wine bar near the bookshop and treated ourselves to a pre-prandial glass of wine. Dinner was mostly hummus-based (no bad thing), at a nice restaurant overlooking a raucous Plaza San Diego, and there was a sneaky mohito before bed - a successful first evening, and hooray for not being trapped in Villa de Leyva. 

The next day was started with a walking tour around town from our Michelin guide (Lonely Planet is rubbish on this trip!). We viewed all the main churches and city gates and the like, paid a visit to the small but nice modern art museum, and covetously eyed a theatre that hosts the Hay Literary Festival annually in January. we then took refuge from the sudden rain with drinks in yet another plaza, followed by tomato soup for lunch in a hip little restaurant. 

After trying to spot the house of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, we decided that our location on the Caribbean demanded a swim. We took a taxi to Bocagrande which had a Benidorm-style ambience... But it was very jolly to join the locals on the beach. The water was somewhat murky, the sand was grey and the waves were vigorous - so while it wasn't the quintessential Caribbean beach experience it was rather fun. We jumped in the waves for over an hour til I was frankly exhausted and in need of ice cream, thankfully duly delivered. 

Back in the old town, we headed out for a drink at a cool outdoor bar on top of the wall. We read our books while sipping Club Colombia beer and gazing out over the sunset, til it was too dark to see the words if our books (well, for Roz - I have a Kindle Paperwhite which Roz eyed enviously) and we headed to dinner, at one of Cartagena's best reviewed restaurants. Which was a... strange experience. Despite being a wine bar, with wine lining the walls, they couldn't seem to offer us any wines by the glass except for horrible ones. The previous bustling restaurant essentially emptied on our arrival. But we persevered and had an adequate veggie paella before fleeing to a more pleasant bar on another plaza where we had a very cheery time chatting and drinking much nicer wine. As we strolled home after ten o'clock, ladies and gentlemen, we congratulated ourselves on managing such a late night! 

The next morning we wolfed down our breakfast and were ready at the honk of a horn for a bizarre-sounding tour we had arranged: a trip to bathe in a mud volcano. The story goes that a devil lived in volcano Totomo but then a priest prayed to turn it to mud and drown the devil, and thus it was so. After an hour's drive, along with our fellow tour-goers, we eyed the ladders ascending to what is often described in appearance as a large termite mound. Tentatively we donned our swimming costumes and ascended. 

At the top, we peered down into a big hole. At the bottom was a weird scene of mud-caked people cavorting in a big weird grey mud bath, including being rubbed with mud by the locals. After a while getting sunburnt as we waited our turn, finally we were instructed to descend. The slippery ladder gave way to the mud, and as I let go, I found myself in one of the strangest sensations I've ever experienced. There is no bottom that you can stand on. Instead, the mud weirdly suspends you. It's a bit like what I imagine space is like! A local immediately grabbed me and started rubbing the mud all over me. I lay there in the mud like I was lying on a table. But nothing but gloopy mud below me. A glance to the side found Roz having the same experience. After, we cavorted in the mud, trying to push each other down to find the bottom, to no avail, and moving ourselves around this bizarre pit. Afterwards, we ascended a very slippery ladder to the top of the volcano, then down to the ground, where we stumbled about 100 meters to a lake where women poured water all over us til the mud was all off. Completely mad but definitely jolly. 

Afterwards they drove us to a beachside restaurant which might have been nice if (a) we weren't vegetarians in a fish-focused restaurant, and (b) it wasn't raining vigorously! But we did enjoy watching some people kite surfing before we eventually returned to our hotel - amusingly we both fell sound asleep and had to be awoken by the other mud-bathers when we arrived. 

That night, we ventured to a delightful ice cream parlor called Gelateria Paradiso - apt! We ate a lot of ice cream. And then wandered down to the area just outside the walls called Gethsemane, home to hostels, nightlife, and such, before returning to a nice outdoor cafe for beers and ambience. We ate at a deserted but pleasant restaurant, Torreluna, which had the novelty of a vegetarian menu, and polished off the evening with drinks at an outdoor cafe in a nearby plaza. 

Today was a snorkeling day. People keep saying the Rosario Islands can be a delightful Caribbean island experience, or a tacky tourist trap, so we increased our chance of the former by going with a posh-ish company called Dive Planet. An hour long pleasant boat ride found us on charming Managua Island, blue sea lapping at the shores, hammocks aplenty... Alas we'd signed up to snorkel, so it was back in the boat for two snorkeling sessions. Lots of fun, though not much coral or fish... Poor Roz, as usual, (1) remembered she doesn't like snorkeling, and (2) sustained a snorkeling injury (coral cuts this time), but after ditching her snorkeling kit for a pleasant swim, was rewarded with a quick lunch and a delightful laze in a hammock before it was time to take the boat home. One of our loveliest days so far on this holiday!

And now I write this from the Gelateria Paradiso again. Life is excellent...

In which Roz learns a sartorial horse riding lesson and we flee a siege

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, we were introduced to a cowboy-esque man called Raoul and led through the town square to where three big brown horses were tethered. Oh yes, it was time for a horse riding extravaganza in the countryside around Villa de Leyva. Despite both of us being incompetent on a horse, we are repeatedly drawn to this... Our incompetence was immediately apparent in the form of Roz's choice to wear three quarter-length trousers. While I trotted (walked) along, gazing at the beautiful hills and villages and weird desert-ish this-was-once-the-ocean-bed, Roz was having all the skin rubbed off her inner calves. Twenty minutes into the ride, I heard a bravely concealed whimper. But at our first stop, a bright turquoise pond (sights around Villa de Leyva are a tad quirky), it was clear something had to be done. Inspiration struck in the form of both of our shirts. One per leg, we stuck her calves through the armholes, tied them up, and created a fetching image of a wounded war hero staggering from the battlefield with makeshift bandages over her wounds. Our hitherto Spanish speaking guide felt moved to break into English for a sardonic "sexy!" comment. But Roz's pain was sorted, we learned a key lesson about riding garb, and it was on to the next 'sight'. 

This one was rather good - being the sea bed millions of years ago, the area is home to large numbers of fossils... Including two cool large aquatic dinosaurs! We may have been the only visitors at the dinosaur museum but I feel I was sufficiently nerdy to be gratifying to the many people manning the door. Onward to an astronomical, Stonehenge-ish site from the time of the indigenous Musica tribe, a field full of stone calendars and penises. Again, odd but cheery...

We trotted cheerfully back into town in the sunshine, having had what we did not yet know were our last few minutes of ignorant bliss. Indeed, we went to Van Gogh's cafe for arepas, sandwiches and juices, and cheerily read our books, til we returned to the hotel to ask their advice for how to get to Bogota airport the day after tomorrow. There was but one answer: you can't! 

When we took the bus to Villa de Leyva, the bus station people had confusingly told us there might not be any buses, but there turned out to be one. Then when it was late, the word 'blocados' was used, which was not in my Spanish lexicon. It now transpired that we had taken one of the last buses to Villa de Leyva before all the roads were closed by blockades created by farmers and others protesting free trade agreements with EU and US (and various other things). Indeed, while we'd been sipping beers and playing with horses, the country was experiencing one of its biggest protests, with the roads blocked since Monday! We went down to the bus station to check and were advised that all buses were cancelled - indefinitely. But we were treated to a TV news programme depicting the protestors, blockades, fires, police in hardcore riot gear and alarmingness. We decided to hope for the best and maybe it would clear.

It didn't, and we soon became panicky that we might be trapped in Villa de Leyva for the rest of our holiday! And even worse, the closed roads had led to the closure of most restaurants, namely the fancy ones we'd specifically planned to enjoy while in the town. So we flew our kite, and retired to Antika for a drink and to recover ourselves. We debated what to do. Then we realised we had more urgent needs: dinner! With all the cool restaurants closed, we searched for something that didn't involve molten cheese and managed a vegetables and noodles dish which was, well, satisfactory. Followed by an early night as everything else was closed. 

We were up early the next day - or I was, walking down to the bus terminal for news. There was no news and definitely no buses, so we both laced up our hiking boots and set off on the second trip we'd booked: hiking to waterfalls and the angel steps. This was quite a delightful trip with a very pleasant guide. We drove into the countryside and to a waterfall. Or rather to the entrance to a long, jungly walk / climb down to a waterfall, with our ecologist guide trying to teach us the names of plants. It was beautifully picturesque, and of course we were the only ones there. After climbing down to the waterfall, our guide had clearly only just begun. What commenced was an extravaganza of rock climbing / canyoning that took us into the big cave behind the waterfall, a sacred place to the area's indigenous people. Great fun! 

After we got ourselves back up to the road, narrowly missing headbutting a wasps' nest, our next stop was the angel steps, a long, narrow, elevated path between two deep canyons. Good fun and great views - the countryside is lovely here. Then en route back we diverted down into one of the canyons for more rock climbing / canyoning fun as we followed the almost dried-up river along for a good while, reveling in having the place to ourselves. We were sorry to return to town, but with a flight to Cartagena booked for the following day, clearly something had to be done about our current besieged state! 

Our afternoon was spent in a whirl of stressful attempts to arrange to leave Villa de Leyva, a dream that seemed perplexingly impossible. The protestors (for whom everyone seemed to have sympathy) had blocked every road, and while apparently they were making a point rather than trying to harm anyone, there was a rough element and there were various clashes with police, and all the roads had been closed. Literally trapped! Without gourmet food too! At first our driver from our tour suggested he might drive us for a hefty fee. With buses discontinued indefinitely this seemed a good idea, but then he lost his nerve and started procrastinating, saying he'd drive us at 3pm, then 5pm, then the following morning. Time was running out. Everyone said we were doomed to miss our flight and should just accept staying in Villa de Leyva which was starting to lose its charm... We briefly considered chipping in for a helicopter being organized by the hotel manager for various rich people who wanted to get back to Bogota (the blockade has no clear end), but this seemed a bit extreme (ie expensive and mad!). With an agreement that our tour driver would call at 5am the following day to confirm he was coming at 5:30, Roz and I settled down to some games of pool (she won all but one and was very smug indeed) and a quest for dinner. Shock horror, our old staple Antika was closed! So, of course, were all the gourmet restaurants. The place was becoming a bit of a ghost town. But then, hooray, a pizza place we'd previously discounted for looking grim was open, warm, and welcoming. We ordered beers and spaghetti with pesto and passed a short but pleasant dinner planning a book blog I'm going to start writing! Before a final couple of games of pool (which Roz would like to point out that she won), and off to bed with our alarm set to 5am.

Sadly I awoke at 4am, and while Roz slumbered sweetly, I embarked on a depressing effort to get us to Bogota Airport in time for our flight. Yesterday's driver proved elusive; upon eventually contacting him, it transpired he had lost his nerve and would not drive us, and so I had to be my most sweet and charming to the hotel's night watchman to get him to call every driver he could think of until, hooray, one finally said yes!

By this time it was 6.15am so I woke up Roz, we threw on our clothes, and dashed to the car before our new driver could change his mind. As we drove along, the remnants of the protests were obvious, though it was early enough that the protestors themselves were still in bed. In many places the road was blocked by purposefully fallen trees. Undeterred, our driver went off-road and got round them all. After an hour, we swapped to a different driver, who was lovely, spoke English, and considered getting us to our plane on time a delightful personal challenge. (Everyone in Colombia seems mortified that this has happened - apparently highly unusual). We drove on, past embers and cleared blockades. We stopped to ask locals about the situation and took detours to avoid any blocked roads, fire, or jaggy things that punctured tires. We were making good progress til a flaming tire in the road and some protestors (who were very pleasant other than not wanting us to carry on down the road) forced us up onto little mountain paths, past little homesteads and farms that likely rarely see a town car. We popped back onto the road, passed quite a number of police in riot gear awaiting a protest that had not yet got out of bed, and delightfully, the rest of the road had been cleared. We made it to Bogota Airport with time to spare, and much delight. And I write this while waiting for our plane to board. Goodbye besieged mountain town, hello UNESCO Caribbean city!

In which Roz and Layla cycle like Bogota locals, climb a hill, and fly a kite

By Roz

Having checked out of the hotel at an unreasonably early hour, we went in search of breakfast (having decided to shun the hotel's odd yoghurt item of the day before). Having walked past a fair number of closed establishments (this being a holiday Monday) we were both immensely relieved to find a lovely cafe attached to the city's main (only?) English language bookshop, Authors. We both had an arepa, and then settled down for a brief read and a vague discussion of our plans. Conscious that a lot of the day would be taken up with a long bus journey, we were eager to ensure we made the most of our morning. Having seen so many cheery people passing on bikes on the closed roads, we decided to head back to our hotel, take advantage of it being a holiday and thus the roads closed again, and hire bikes for a couple of hours. This we did successfully and we then hopped on to join the rest of Bogota on a bike ride, down into Candelaria and back.

It turns out that Colombians combine an enthusiasm for biking with a really remarkable lack of expertise. Let us be clear: I am not and have never been a good or fast biker. But that morning I felt a master, passing Bogota natives and dodging their dubious moves. What was also really lovely was that we seemed to be the only non-Colombians out. We passed some things familiar from the day before (including the police leading slow aerobics in the park) but really enjoyed getting to see more of the area. Heading into the center of town, we made a vague attempt to find a cafe made out of an old train carriage which I had read about. We did find it (and were smug) but it was closed. So we headed straight on to Place Bolivar, the main square in a Bogota which bizarrely we hadn't seen the day before and admired while drinking orange juice from a random stall.

We headed back, still feeling we were doing something very local, and deposited our bikes back at the hotel. Not wishing to miss lunch (as we so nearly had the day before) we headed back to the bookshop and cafe for an early lunch, preceded by a browse around the bookshop. It was a lovely bookshop, and there were loads of things I wanted to buy. But I am ashamed to admit that I couldn't bring myself to pay $25 for paperbacks I knew I could get for half the price in DC. Recognizing that this made me a bad person (independent bookshops are a good thing) I consoled myself with a giant cheese and tomato sandwich whilst we discussed what we should do when gay marriage comes into force in the UK (which continent for ceremony and celebration).  Having come to no conclusion at all (we never do on this subject) we headed back to the hotel and got a cab to the bus station. 

The journey to Villa de Leyva was fairly long (4 hours) and not especially beautiful until the last 30 minutes or so, at which point it was lovely). I nevertheless had a reasonably jolly time listening to things ( my book Americanah and, somewhat oddly, two economics lectures to break things up a bit). We arrived into the town just ask dusk was falling. To my surprise it turned out to be just as pretty as the guidebooks had said - apparently it in one of the prettiest towns in Colombia (if not the prettiest). It's all cobblestones (not great for dragging a suitcase along, admittedly) and old (well 19th century) buildings that lean. There's a huge square in the middle of the city (the largest in Colombia which seems odd - why make it so big?) which is also attractive (in a slightly desolate sort of way). 

We checked into our hotel, which is one of the oldest buildings in the city, with sloping walls and so forth. And our own balcony overlooking a smaller square. Having dumped our stuff we headed out for dinner. We found this cute courtyard with 6 or so different restaurants, and happily ensconced ourselves in an Italian place where Layla looked smug and virtuous whilst she ate a salad (and I looked neither whilst I ate pasta). We then headed off to a similar courtyard which had live music and drank wine and felt jolly before returning to the glamour of our private balcony and a night time beer. 

Alas we were both awake early again (this is starting to be dull in its repetition) but we lay in bed reading till it was a respectable time for breakfast, which we had downstairs in the hotel. From there, after some pfaffing, we headed off to a hotel / hostel that's a bit out of town to try and book a couple of tours and to go for a hike. Booking the tours took longer then one would have expected, though mainly because we were so indecisive about whether booking rappelling would be a good thing (particularly since the torn tendon in my arm still hasn't entirely healed). We came to no firm conclusion, but we did book horse riding for tomorrow and something for the day after before we went off on what we anticipated would be a super easy and straight-forward hike.  Alas it didn't quite turn out like this,with us deciding that we had gone the wrong way at least ten times during the course of our walk (mainly when going uphill, which both of us hoped was a error we could halt). It was a nice route, though, by the side of a canyon to a waterfall (which sadly had no water!) and to a couple of lookout spots. I fell en route which was surprisingly sore but had the benefit of meaning that I was able to lumber Layla with carrying the rucksack for the rest of the hike. Having read our Kindles for a while at the top of the hill / canyon, we identified it might rain any second, and headed back with some speed. Or was it the fact that we wanted lunch that had us moving with such comparative speed?! 

Back in town, we had a late lunch in a cafe on the town square, whilst Layla looked longingly at the small children who were flying kites. I was persuaded, and we then spent a very happy hour flying a swiftly purchased kite alongside the Colombian children. They were definitely better than us, and it was fun getting tips from them on how we could improve.  By the end, I'd managed two short but respectable kite flights and felt very pleased with myself. Kites are a huge thing in this town! 

We popped back to the hotel to change out of our hiking gear and then settled ourselves down for a coffee and cake in a cafe. This was delightful until we noticed it was getting on the chilly side. We eventually ended up in a nice place called Antique, where I had a gin and tonic, Layla had wine and we had some "molten cheese" which is what it sounds like but was much bigger than anticipated. We stayed there for a good while, reading, before heading off for dinner (no, molten cheese does not constitute dinner!). We ended up eating a Spanish tortilla and patatas braves (having sworn no cheese would pass our lips again) in the same courtyard as the night before, as a guy played a guitar and sang. Our night was mainly spent arguing over what name we would call a daughter (for no reason at all) and whether 'to gull' was a verb version of gullible (it is!). As the names and verb usage got sillier, we fell apart laughing much to the bemusement of the nearby waiters and diners and had a very jolly time. And now, to bed...

In which Layla and Roz find themselves surprised by Bogota.

By Layla

We had been having far too many 'normal' holidays lately, so it was with some relief that when we announced we were off to Colombia for 2 weeks, we were met with the traditional alarm and warnings aplenty - mostly around kidnapping and crime and that sort of thing. In fact, Colombia has got much safer in recent years. Particularly in the cities. So we planned a city-based adventure and off we went!

On arrival, through a thick band of clouds and spitting rain into this high altitude mountain metropolis, we were rapidly transported by taxi to our Bogota Hilton Hotel in Zona G - by all accounts Bogota is the most dangerous of our locations so we decided to ease in gently. And sure enough the Hilton was delightfully gentle. We popped downstairs for a post-flight rejuvinating swim in their outdoor heated pool, before showering and heading out to a nearby street of restaurants where we settled in Gigi's Italian restaurant and wine market, looked around, and realized we were quite surprised by Bogota. Very different from most Latin American capital cities, Bogota is cool. It's hip. It's crammed full of fancy restaurants, great midrange restaurants, funky cafes, cool bars, and all sorts of arty stuff. The people look quite hip too. A lot of Bogota stuff could be mistaken for being in New York! Other than the fact that everyone we encounter is nice, jolly, helpful... Somehow, this was all a bit unexpected! 

After our pizza and posh salad and wine, we walked off to a cool gay bar/cafe in the Chapinero district, called Village Cafe. Again, it was cool and quirky and featured hip-looking gay folk, men and women, kissing over their Colombia Club beers. We had "gin cucumber" drinks and enjoyed the ambience, before heading home to sleep. Exhausted!

The next day, after a pleasant read in bed and a weird version of a yoghurt parfait in the hotel restaurant, we were charmed to find the busy road in front of our hotel had been transformed into a giant bike lane! Every Sunday til 2pm Bogota closes its main roads and half the city takes to their bikes. This isn't a few random enthusiasts - everyone seems to be there, of all ages and persuasions. Entire families cycle along together, with the family dog on a leash running beside them. Occasional skateboarders and roller skaters and joggers punctuate the scene. It is all very cheery indeed. 

In fact our own plan for the morning was bike-related: we were off for a Bogota Bike Tour. We took a secure taxi from the hotel downtown to Candelaria, the tourist core (which is apparently quite quiet and dangerous at night but cool during the day), and after checking in with the bike place, went up to a little nearby square in search of a coffee. The square we found, decorated by bunting, featured both a cheery church, with plenty of people inside, and a hip little bar type thing where we got a coffee and a sort of polenta and cheese snack apparently called something like an "arepa". Tasty! And a good idea, as we hadn't quite realized how long the bike tour would be!

All the tourists in the city seemed to gather for the bike tour, and off we went. A great way to see the city! We went through the main streets, past famous squares, various museums, the bull ring (which only operates in January and February and last winter was turned into an ice skating rink instead due to an anti-bull-fighting mayor), and to memorials to many politicians and journalists who had been assassinated. Being a politician in the second half of the 20th century in Colombia was invariably a fatal enterprise, it seemed, and every story our guide told ended in the words "and then he was assassinated". Not very cheery stuff! We went past lots of amazing graffiti - the city pays graffiti artists to decorate the walls, including memorials to, you guessed it, various assassinations. It was impressive to look at. We had fresh juice in the National Park which was full of cyclists, hockey players, capoeira practitioners, and crowds doing aerobics with the national police radio... then stopped in at a local coffee brewer (where we desperately ate cake, by now ravenous), toured the famous graveyard, listened to some young boys rapping about how they want peace in Colombia, cycled past the red light district where prostitutes (legal here) stood in every door awaiting customers, various churches, illegal abortion clinics (Colombia has some of the most progressive rights in Latin America but abortion is still only possible in a few situations), and a fruit market where we went in and tried a variety of tropical fruits amid much amusement over the bitter ones. We finished the tour by visiting a cafe where you can play Colombia's national sport, Tejo. This involves hurling 2kg metal things across the room and into a mud pit. There are various envelopes filled with gunpowder in the mud pit, and you get extra points for making them explode by hitting them. Bizarre but quite fun. Some people stayed to play but we decided to head back as it was now 4 1/2 hours since we set off. Unfortunately the heavens opened in quite a spectacular way. Our final couple of miles were completed in torrential, monsoon-like rain. When we finally reached the office we realized our plan to try out a cool Candelaria coffee shop was not to be. After a complicated process to order a secure taxi, we dripped home, shivering and feeling that had all gone very well until the last 15 minutes!

Showered and warmed, we headed out for a very, very late lunch - a falafel burger (and a cake!) in the fancy, celebrity chef-type restaurant Rausch Bistronomy. Roz then took a notion to go to a hipster type cafe she'd found on Google, down on the other side of Chapinero. Cue a 25 minute walk, in which we prayed the rain would stay off and predicted it would be either closed or terrifying. In fact it was neither - it was very funky and cool, in a bike-on-the-ceiling, music memorabilia, black and white TV playing something old and quirky sort of way. We had mint tea and read our books, and enjoyed some people-watching (lots of kissing in this city!) before heading back up the road and installing ourselves in a Bogota staple, Wok, where we had some pleasant Thai food before heading, exhausted, to sleep far too early. Hence this blog being authored at 6am. There is no excuse for jetlag - we're only one hour behind DC! Oh well... We leave Bogota today, and are already having some regrets about not staying for longer, and having listened to previous Colombia visitors who were unenthusiastic about it. There is a lot to explore here, and it's easy to imagine having a nice life living here too!