Landing in Bogotá, I expected buyer’s remorse. As much as I love to travel, I often am plagued with insecurities and doubt in my first few days in a new city. But not here. The Bogotá I woke up to filled me with energy and excitement.
I walked up one of the main roads, and followed a hip looking kid into a Cafeteria and we had breakfast together. Me, an omelet of tomato and onion (huevos revueltos), him a tamale. John told me about his studies in Anthropology (like Indiana Jones, I joked) and complemented my English. I complained about how impossible it is for me to roll my rrr’s. Deep conversation I know. But it was all in Spanish and that’s no small feat for me.
I then followed the masses to the foot of a green mountain with a church at the very top. It is holy week and, in classic Catholic fashion, it’s a city tradition to make the trip up to the church on the top of the mountain. Some walk, but there is also a tram.
And my first picture of the day? Cops in drag. I first didn’t know what was going on but they all explained it to me in rapid Spanish. They’re new recruits, as they showed me their shaved heads, and it’s tradition for their company to make the trek every year in drag.
After I took the picture, some actual trannies stopped to take a picture of the young men as well. I smiled at the ladies and was dying to ask what they thought but they simply smiled and quickly walked away arm in arm, laughing.