London - Madrid - Bogota: In transit introductions
It all got off to a surreal start arriving back in Madrid which I hadn´t been back to since living there as an English teacher 2 years ago. A 13-hour layover in Europe´s highest capital meant that myself and travel companion Freddy - a fellow Steep resident - could meet up with some friends I had still living out there.
Arriving in the old, cobbled and characterful Malasaña district brought memories of my time there flooding back and strolling into a Mexican bar at 1am (flight delayed) to meet with childhood friend Emma and Australian singing sensation Leisha and their gang was a reminder of the late start and late finish of Madrid nightlife. A shot of tequila was, for some reason, decided upon as a good warm-up drink and with thoughts of a 10 hour daytime flight in mind, I enjoyed it slowly, intermitted with nibbles of the orange slice covered in chilli flakes (the mexican way to drink it apparently... that is, with the orange and chill - not the slowly & nibbling).
A further few drinks were enjoyed whilst catching up with old friends and my brain was working overtime with tiredness and language shock with Emma´s boyfriend Nico warming up my spanish for me, it felt like my brain was on a treadmill. We wandered the city a little before making it into a spare bed at 5:30am - an normal to early finish for a Saturday night in Madrid. Three hours of sleep were rudely awakened by an alarm telling me to get up and get to the bus stop to return to the airport for onward flight to Bogota. Emma and Nico, against my persistent refusal of their offer to accompany me to the bus stop (and get up on their Sunday morning after far too little sleep) were out of bed with coats on ready to walk me to the station. Filled with Emma´s delicious pan de platano (banana bread) and a bus ticket kindly bought by Nico I was set on my way with such amazing hospitality that I knew this trip would get off to a good start.
Meeting Fred back at the colossal Madrid Barajas airport that seems to sprawl over the north east corner of the city, an aspect of scale which you only really get a sense of from the bus.
Fortunately no further delays were experienced with our flight and we made ourselves comfortable. I enquired with my sizely neighbour in the seat next to me whether, as he was travelling alone, if it would be possible to swap seats with Fred so we could sit together. He responded with little enthusiasm that he would ¨luego¨...later. Once we were at cruising he then informed me that he didn´t feel like moving to which I had to politely respond ¨no pasa nada¨! He subsequently became quite chatty and I had an early exposure to Colombian accent and character. The conversation was pretty one-sided, not due to my lack of Spanish, but I was pretty sleep-deprived and it was more that he spoke at me with rhetorical statements or asked me about football and tour de france, both of which I must admit I know very little about! We eventually introduced ourselves and Nesti (his name), a Bogotano who had been living in Bilbao the previous 15years seemed to adopt me as his new buddy, referring to me only as ´Carlos´ for the rest of the flight.
I enjoyed some of our conversation and practising more Spanish, but he appeared not be the brightest light on the Christmas tree and I managed to catch a mere 30min nap on the plane so wasn´t in my chattiest mood. Furthermore, the 3 movies I watched were regularly interrupted by him saying something to me, to which I had to pause the movie, remove an earphone and ask ¨que¨ rather bluntly and unenthusiastically, to which he took no hint. He offered to show me around the city and also even accompany me to the Carnaval in Barranquilla, North Colombia and although kind, I made no promises!
My doubts on his mental sharpness were cemented when he was asking me about what words meant on the landing card...it was in his native language and it was his country!? Wasn´t I the vulnerable new tourist to his country? Anyway, he obviously filled it out all wrong as me and Fred had to chuckle when he was turned away upon exiting the airport for filling it out incorrectly and had to do it again. Ah Nesti.
We were lucky enough to be offered a place to stay by my Colombian friend who I met whilst she was studying in London. The taxi arrived at her fathers apartment complex and me and Freddie were soon aware that we weren´t just staying in any old Bogota neighbourhood but rather a nice one. After registering our arrival with a good scattering of security guards we made our way up to the top floor apartment. We were made very comfortable, sampled some of the country´s varied and exotic fruit and admired the views of the city, neighbouring golf club and the striking mountains from the rooftop as the sun set.....we were in Colombia, and had landed on our feet.
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