May, 1995 (continued):
Bogotá, Colombia, is always under construction, all over the city. This adds to the traffic problems. I can’t say Bogotá is particularly attractive.
Hotel Bogota Plaza
My hotel — Hotel Bogota Plaza — was quite comfortable. Even though it was located in a primarily residential neighborhood, I didn’t sense any charm in the area. At least, though, the mountains were very close, and they were pleasant to look at. The temperature was about 60 degrees, with a little bit of rain; this is Bogotá’s weather year-round.
One aspect of life in Bogotá that apparently is different from the rest of the country is the fact that almost every house or apartment building I saw was surrounded by a security fence. They were white and blended in with the structures, so they didn’t look as unpleasant as the barred windows one sees in some neighborhoods in the U.S… but everyone had them.
My arrival in Bogotá marked the first time in my life I celebrated my birthday outside the USA. I mentioned this to my host, Caracol’s Carlos Arturo Gallego. After an informal meeting at a local café, he drove me back to my hotel…whistling “Happy Birthday to You.”
Few Colombians speak English. While at the café, the owner’s six-year old boy was shocked to hear me speak. “English??” he exclaimed. (His name was Simón. I suspect there are lots of Simóns in South America, named after Sr. Bolivar.)
At the hotel that night, I decided to eat a typical Colombian meal. Looking at the menu didn’t help me much — even though the descriptions were in Spanish and English.
So I asked my waitress to describe some of the entrees in more detail. She didn’t speak English, so she asked another waiter to help. He didn’t speak English, either, so they called over a manager…who didn’t speak English.
Ultimately I was surrounded by half a dozen friendly people who wanted to help…but we didn’t speak the same language. (Finally I got help from a non-restaurant employee.)
Ajiaco
I ordered ajiaco — a typical Colombian dish of chicken, corn and potato soup. I added salsa and cream (they were brought to the table with the ajiaco, so I assumed they were meant to go together), and it was very tasty.
To celebrate my birthday, I also ordered a couple of scoops of ice cream, which led to the most unpleasant experience of the entire trip: They ruined a perfectly good bowl of ice cream by covering it with some disgusting raspberry sauce.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it now: Ice cream is meant to be enjoyed au natural. Adding things like liquor, coffee, or fruit sauces should be against the law.
Next: On to Cartagena — and the most embarrassing moment of my public speaking career.
