As I entered the frigid capital of Colombia, I realized that within a few days time, I will be back in the states. I will have access to a car, hot water, frequent visits to Target, and finally, a good bed to sleep in. But, I’m not ready to come home at all…I don’t want/need convenience right now. I pushed these thoughts aside and prepared myself to have one hell of a time and enjoy the beginning of the end (the end of chapter one that is).
As I have explained numerous times before, I love big cities. Bogota is full of museums, cafes, universities, and everything else they offer. But for me, what draws me in here are the people. Within a matter of hours, I had already befriended numerous locals and made plans to get together throughout this week. The first night, quite a few of us went out to a club, giving me the opportunity to meet even more Colombians. I busted out all of my American dance moves such as the sprinkler and the macrena. For some reason, they weren’t the hit of the night. More or less, they just branded me as an American dumb ass.
At the club, I met a girl who was studying at the University. I asked if she could show me around her school the next day, and she politely agreed (she probably said hell no in Spanish, but I chose not to listen). The next day, I gave her a call and we planned on meeting later that afternoon. Before heading out, I thought of dressing up (since the people of Bogota are usually well dressed), but figured I didn’t want to over due it for the day time. I choose to wear my one t-shirt, which also happened to smell like a horses rear. Luckily, an Irish mate gave me some sound advice…give it an Irish washing. He provided me with body spray to drench the shirt it, and surprisingly, it covered up the odor. I should have started using this process from day one…would have never had to do laundry.
We decided to meet in the center of town, which was conveniently located next to my hostel. As I waited, I was reminded about the concept of time people possess down here…always late. But see, it’s not just about showing up fashionably late. There is a strategy. And I have finally deciphered it. If it is someone of the same sex, take the time you are supposed to meet, add 3 hours, divide by two, then multiply by 1.3924. Now it gets confusing when it is someone of the opposite sex (such as in my case). In this scenario, you must first take the sum of the first 68 digits of pi and add to the time of meeting, subtract 82, take the square root of the number, and finally, plot the number on a graph, with it being the Y intercept and the slope being negative one. Where ever it intercepts X, that is the time the person will really plan on showing up. I know, I know, I’m a mathematical genius.
When she finally showed up, I was delighted to see she had one of her friends with her. Usually in my case, the more the merrier. As we walked around the University, they explained to me the different buildings and a little about university life. We eventually headed towards the recreation center and proceeded to play pool. Considering I suck at every athletic event known to man kind (except for bringing water to the chess team), of course, they kicked my ass. One of these days, I will go to Sports Camp 101. But until then, please, no one ever challenge me in a sport.
Eventually they had to head off to class. As I walked away with my head held low due to the fact that even girls can beat me in sports, the sun began to set and the temperature was dropping. Night time in Bogota had arrived, and I was determined to meet some more Colombians.