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I don't think I could live somewhere where I did not speak the language. It is far too stressful. People who snarl at immigrants to just learn English already need to be beaten.

In Canada I mean. I don't think they say that here.

The Gold Museum in Bogota

We went to the Gold Museum on Sunday (free on Sunday! But English tour groups during the week), and I have to say, I was impressed. I've been to a lot of museums and my tolerance for bad ones has gotten pretty low. Unless you are so bad that you've hung rotting stinky whale bones in the foyer, at which point you've crossed right over to awesome. (and smelly)

It's all about the indigenous people of Colombia. There is a lot of gold in the mountains and rivers here, this is where El Dorado was supposed to be, so they have room after room of ancient gold jewelry and sculptures, as well as pottery and a dead guy in a sack. A lot of it is quite artistically inspiring, they could do some crazy things with pots.

Traffic lights and roses

So in Bogota the traffic lights are set directly in front of the line of cars, not across the street. This means that if you drive too close to the line, you can't see the lights, but also if I am standing on the meridian trying to cross, I can not see any of the lights. This is why it is important for people to travel, so that perhaps they'll know THEY ARE DOING IT WRONG.

One fun past time here is to tell the locals how much roses cost back home, which is always met with a WHA!? You can get a large beautiful bouquet from the kid walking around the cars parked at the light for 5 bucks, in any colour roses grow in. Almost all of the worlds roses come from Bogota, at least the ones we get in Canada are grown here. We drove past the greenhouses last sunday on the way to the salt mine. I feel I need to stock up on flower related happiness while I'm here, though I have no idea what I'll do with them. I guess the one pot Dad has is kind of like a vase.

Medellin

Medellin was once listed as the most dangerous city in the world, with a recorded homicide rate 11 times higher then Chicago. Escobar, one of the two largest cartels in Colombia and the 7th richest man in the world in 1989, lived there and he was fond of killing anyone who refused to work with him, as well as building shelters for the poor and throwing lavish parties. His house is still there, as well as the plane used to fly drugs to the states. Escobar was killed after a call to his family was traced and they shot him through the ears as he ran, barefoot, over the rooftops.

Anyway, now it's a tourist destination.

The Antioquia Museum is there, with one of the largest collections of Botero (link) paintings and sculptures as he donated most of his work to them recently. Most of his work is of very large rotound people, which appears a lot less original after being to Medellin. They love their food there. At the museum I got told off for taking a photo of an old obscure sketch of a skeleton chasing a guy on stilts with a lasso (I know it's wrong, but I didn't use flash and they don't sell postcards or prints of it. I mean, come on.), then for standing too close to a painting (they put tape on the ground. You weren't supposed to step over the tape. It was grey tape on a grey floor.) and then for putting my hand on the ledge of a large case so I could get closer to the one inch carving that was set at the back of a three foot deep cabinet. We were also two of maybe five people in the museum and every person working there would follow us around, standing maybe 3 feet away and STARING at us. It is not a friendly museum.

Outside they have about 15 large Botero statues, and we found one of Derek's massive head.
There was a large pool at the hotel, and I forgot my swimsuit, so after we drove around looking for one, which you know I love doing, especially in a foreign language. The top photo is taken from the most beautiful mall in the world, which also has one of the best views in the world. You know, for a country that has had so many problems, they're doing alright. I swam laps for 45 minutes after dark. The water was heated (it's cold at night in the mountains) and small bats glided through the mist rising from the water a few feet from me.

The next day we checked out the small zoo. It's mostly full of local animals, which in Canada is boring as hell, but pretty awesome in a country that has rainforest, mountains, deserts, and beaches. There were large iguanas in almost every section, and we're pretty sure they weren't put there, as well as large parrots screeching from the tops of trees, and some large rodent that looked like a cross between a guinea pig and a capybara that stuck it's nose through a fence trying to get at my icecream bar. There was one large pen that had a small island in the middle with pygmy marmosets in the trees, and a zookeeper was trying to chase an iguana off and chased it around and around the island for a good 5 minutes. When he finally got it off, the iguana, a tapir, and a capybara wandered off out of sight together.

Crazy large flower growing near the sidewalk at the zoo.

Look at his silly face!

Afterwards we drove off to Santa Fe de Antioquia, a city founded 50 years after Colombus got here. The country side in Colombia is amazing.

Right before we got there, Dad had his gall bladder attack, so he lay down at a local hostel and I got lunch with the cab driver to see if the painkillers would help any. The cabbie didn't speak any English, and I speak about eight words of Spanish, so we flipped through my phrasebook and pointed at sentences. He was an incredibly good natured guy, and got us to the airport with Dad curled up in agony in the front seat at top speed. Thankfully the flight to Bogota is incredibly short, they gave me a juice box when we got in the air, and I didn't have time to finish it before we landed.

Hospital

Dad and I went to Medellin for the weekend, and right at the end, 3 hours from the airport, his gallbladder tried to kill him. When we got back to Bogota Giovanni drove us to the hospital and they said it would have to be removed. The surgery was yesterday, and he was discharged today, everything went fine. I'm really impressed by the doctors here, and they all speak fluent English, which is surprising since finding english speakers here is as common as it was in South Korea. I spent two nights sleeping on the couch in his room, the nurses brought me sheets, a blanket and a pillow and made a bed up for me. There was also a large flat screen TV with cable, and there are usually about 3 english movies on at any time in Bogota, so it wasn't too painful an experience. For me anyway.

Also it turns out to be the same hospital I was born in, and Raphael helped to track down where my records might be kept. All part of my hairbrained attempt to renew my citizenship, so I can get searched on my flights. Colombians need a visa to go anywhere. We don't realize how good we have it as Canadians.

Colombian Fruit

One of the depressing things about living in Canada is our fruit selection. We can only get the types of fruit that travel well, which usually means they have to be able to ripen after being picked (which destroys most of the flavour, and nutrition content) and they can't bruise easily. So one of the first things I wanted to do here was go to the grocery store and grab one of every fruit I didn't recognize. Turns out there are quite a few.

Pitaya (link) Also known as Dragon Fruit.
You can get these in Toronto, in Chinatown, but they are a different variety, bright pink with green tips. The yellow ones are better, they actually have flavour, and are very juicy with fewer, larger black seeds. They have a mild fruity sweet taste.

Tamarillo (link)
These are gross. The skin and area near the skin are bitter and inedible, which doesn't take long to figure out. The insides aren't as bad, kind of musky. I think this falls under ingredient fruit.

Passionfruit (link)
I always assumed passionfruit would be pink and delicious. It is neither! It's a fruit the same way a lemon is a fruit, you don't eat them. Very bitter and tart. Why the hell it's called passionfruit I have no idea. It should be called Mucas Lemon.

Curuba (or Banana Passionfruit) (link)
These taste exactly like passionfruit, but instead of having a hard round shiny shell, they are like a furry soft cucumber. Still gross.

Uchuva (link)
These are trendy in Montreal right now, you get one with it's brown leaf thing still attached when you order pastries. Here you can buy a pint of them for a few dollars, and they are very juicy and sweet. They call them snake berries.

Granadilla (link)
These are the best thing ever. When I started cutting it the shell just broke apart, it's very brittle, and the insides fell out ready to be eaten. It looks like frog spawn, the seeds are crunchy like pumpkin seeds and it's very sweet and fruity.

Guava (link)
I'm always annoyed when you get guava flavoured drinks, because they NEVER taste like guava. Guava juice should taste like you should be chewing it, which is a sensation you will only understand if you have had fresh guava juice. We had guava in Asia and it was dry and flavourless, it's much better here.

Lulo (link)
It tastes like a kiwi!

And thus concludes fruit round up one. There are still some I need to find and try, and also there are some crazy looking vegetables that I have never seen before.

Safe

If it wasn't for all the press and warnings you would have no idea that Bogota was once considered a most dangerous destination. There are the occasional army personal holding a machine gun standing around (on that note, is jungle camo really appropriate for an urban area? Not exactly blending into the skyscraper there.), but there were more of them in Paris and no one raised an eyebrow when I went there. Not to say it's as safe as Toronto, kidnappings still happen and there are still plenty of guerrillas in gum boots hiding where they can, but life goes on downtown.

When I was boarding the plane, right after having my ticket and passport checked, I turned the corner and there were 8 armed police officers checking identification and asking for reasons why one would be going to Colombia. They waved me past, I don't know if they were looking for anyone in particular, but the plane that was fully booked when I checked in was half full. I've never dealt with that kind of security before, it was kind of ominous.

On the way to Dad's apartment we drove past the building I was born in, maybe. Dad's not sure and like hell I'd remember. I left when i was 6 months old.

One thing that surprised me: they have the exact same voltage and outlets that we have in Canada. That certainly makes things easier, electronic wise.