Discovering Bogotá: The South

Bogotá is a sprawling metropolis with horrific traffic. Like Chicago, it has nearly nine million residents. This is a drastic change from my life in DC, Sarajevo and Islamabad, all with populations around 500,000.

Recently, I decided to spend a long weekend in Bogotá, rather than escaping to the next pueblo, rain forest, or ashram. I had been feeling disconnected from the city.

I live on the seventh floor of an apartment building in the wealthiest, most secure and guarded part of town—across the street from President Santos’ penthouse and the Russian embassy. In a city this size, people don’t talk to their neighbors. My building is no exception, other than one morning at 3 a.m. when I knocked on my neighbor’s door in my pajamas and asked him to turn the salsa music down.

The joy of living in a small town is the possibility of running into people you know. In Islamabad, I regularly ran into acquaintances picking up pirated CDs in the Jinnah super market, grabbing a samosa at Rana Market or hiking up trail three on Saturdays.

Similarly, in Sarajevo, you couldn’t walk one block down the town boulevard, Ferhadija, without running into people you knew. One of my closest friends and co-worker, Lejla, lived a five-minute walk from our office. She had to take a cab to work, because if she walked, she’d never make it to the office on time, she knew too many people along the way.

Ferhadija

A city this size must have neighborhoods, and this weekend, I was determined to explore them. Outside of my guarded building, my armored vans, and my walled off office I imagined pueblitos teeming with life where I could practice my Spanish, get a cheap cerveza, and roam little tiendas selling Colombian soccer t-shirts.

I chose to explore an area simply known as the South. It struck me as odd, that in more than two months, I hadn’t received an invitation for anything happening there, I knew no one who lived there and never heard anyone say, “Last night in the South…”. In fact, yesterday, I spoke with a Colombian-American friend who has been living here for three years and she has never set foot there.

The South is another world and I planned to explore it with a local guide. I called a cab to my super safe building.

“Please take me to the Avenues of the America,” I said politely.

He responded, “Why would you go there?”

“I am meeting a friend.”

“Why doesn’t he meet you here?”

“I want to explore the South. Senor, where exactly does the South begin?” I probed,wondering if there was a river or some arbitrary distinction between this mystical division between North and South.

“The South is any part of town South of First Avenue.”

I laughed out loud. I am totally a foreigner. He offered to show me around in the future and then proceeded to double charge me for the ride.

On the other side of the tracks, the streets were full of people walking, selling empanadas, and popping into a zillion small bars to drink a liter of beer and dance salsa. In the North, the streets are empty. I think the residents there pack themselves into the shopping malls and New York priced restaurants. Despite Bogota’s historic 5000 plus city parks, in the North no one’s outside, unless they are walking their dog.

I interviewed residents on both sides of town this weekend, asking, “What IS everyone doing around here?” I learned that in the North, they are mostly exercising, having large family lunches and traveling to their fincas. In the south they are also eating big family lunches, however, they are not exercising, instead, they watch hours of Colombian soap operas. The famous Cyclovia doesn’t extend  more than a few blocks into the South.

Somewhere in the South, between the salsa bars and the liters of cerveza, is the Bogotá I am looking for.  I plan to explore the Southern limits of Cyclovia this weekend, as my colleagues say, just make sure you make it back with your bike.