Bogotá and Medellín

Somewhere around 2008, I started hearing glowing Colombia travel stories from friends and colleagues who ubiquitously declared it to be “The Next Big Thing”. I initially found it difficult to reconcile this generous praise with a fairly recent 2006 New York Times article which affected a mirthfully enthusiastic tone with regards to traveling in Colombia after breezily noting “Extortion-related kidnappings are becoming rarer across the nation, with the government reporting a 51 percent drop: 369 in 2005, down from 747 in 2004.” I’m no travel sissy, but 369 annual extortion-related kidnappings is the kind of statistic that would give even the most fearless traveler pause.
Fast-forward to 2010. Even the U.S. State Department, usually the planet’s leading authority for ultra-cautious, paranoid vigilance, reports “significant” improvement for personal safety in Colombia, yet duly details possible narco-terrorist activity, the threat of kidnapping and the prevalence of firearms. In other words, your average weekday afternoon in Los Angeles.

Landing in Bogotá at 5:00 a.m., there was little sign of the human/vehicle-swirling bedlam I’d been promised as 7.4 million people shoulder and roar around the city each day. Not so after my nap. In the center of the city, walking more than four paces in a straight line verily guarantees a collision with someone/something. One can appreciate how the Colombians are such naturals at salsa dancing. Walking a few hundred meters requires considerable timing, balance, rhythm, courage and grace. Miraculously, like a skilled salsa dancer, full-body physical contact is rare, if not intentional.