10/10/11
Buenas Amigos!
It has been a week in Bogota since we left the states. I haven't experienced this total need to feel normal since elementary school. When you walk down the street at 6 feet 3 inches and have a white face, you may as well be wearing a bright green tail that sings Bowie at the highest possible pitch. Every person we pass on the street sports a wary glare in our direction. This was very disconcerting at first, but we've since become used to it. We thought maybe since nobody knew us down here, we'd be somewhat anonymous...not so much. At one point we were on a corner in a busy section of Bogota when I heard a teenage girl yell "GRINGO!" I looked over to see her pointing directly at us with a startled expression. I matched her stare for stare with bugged out eyes and a healthy amount of creep in my voice and said "Siiiiiiiiiii!" She was not intimidated.
It is hard to blend in and my Spanish is not what I thought it was. We went to our first Colombian meal and saw that tamales were only $2.50 US. We foolishly assumed a grown dude could put down at least two of those in a sitting. So I ordered two tamales for each of us. The waitress interrogated me with a fervor, she repeated my order so loud that the whole restaurant could hear. I guess ordering that many tamales is the pinnacle of Colombian humor. The entire restaurant was in stitches, even the old lady sitting in the corner whom I secretly took pity on when we first entered, laughed and snorted up whatever underpriced food they preciously swallowed. Once again we were easily identified as the gringos that we are.
We've come to the conclusion that being so different is so unavoidable that we might as well embrace it. Friday night we walked into the club (a REAL Colombian nightclub) with our gringo heads held high and a little cerveza-induced spring to our step. We had one helluva time. Turns out the looks we get aren't all hostile, in fact plenty of people were fighting to get a picture of us--the strange creatures de los estados. We've seen great things here, from El Dorado to the homes of indigenous indians in Bogota's outskirts and we travel them as two strange gringo tamales (with a twist of ginger).
Next up, the Caribbean Coast of Colombia, Cartagena y Santa Marta. Maybe afterwards our skin will be a little less gringo.
Hasta Luego!
