Scaremongering
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| What to do? |
I'd just received my salary in cash and I was armed with rolls of pesos. Now, how was I to get over to the other side of Bogotá, at night, safely?
Preparing to leave the Avianca building with my class, I presented this question to them. In the red corner they were shouting, 'take a taxi, take a taxi', 'take a taxi', however, in the blue corner they were screaming 'noooooo, don't take a taxi, they'll kidnap you and drive you to a cash machine and rob you blind then eat you'. I felt a bit like the mouse from 'The Gruffalo', save for the fact that this mouse had nearly 1000 pesos divided between his two socks, a secret compartment in his bag and, ehem, some notes comfortably nestling beneath the perineum region.
So, taxis are dangerous, as are the buses, walking for over an hour through shady neighbourhoods in the rain was clearly out of the question, see The Hidden Dangers of Bogotá ~ Part One, and I don't think I'd ever seen a bicycle in use in Colombia's capital. In the words of Johnny Cash 'what could I do, what COULD I do?'
It was hear I realised I was falling victim to Bogotá's second hidden danger, subscribing to the notion that danger lurked around every corner. Now, suspend your disbelief when I say Bogotá isn't a city of impending doom, unless you're the wicked witch of the west, in which case the rain would have dissolved you way before payday. With this in mind, I jumped on the bus and made it all the way home without so much as a dirty look being thrown my way.
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| I'm melting, I'm melting... but rather that than take a taxi! |
In a word association game, say Colombia and people will retort 'drugs', 'kidnapping' and 'Carlos Valderrama'. In the three months I was teaching in Bogotá I wasn't offered drugs, I wasn't kidnapped nor did I see Carlos Valderrama. I wasn't even mugged, in fact, it got to the point when I asked myself, 'why haven't I been mugged?'. 'what's wrong with me?'
The scaremongering came from all quarters, I usually place unwavering trust in local opinion so the seeds of paranoia were being planted in fertile ground. Ways to lose your money ranged from an honest mugging to being 'cleaned out' whilst being cleaned up by a group of unsuspecting girls who had tactically spilled a drink over you.
That's not to say petty crime doesn't occur, I met a few travellers who'd been invited to share their cash at knife point, a crime not exclusive to Bogotá, that could just as easily happen in London, Madrid or Rome. In short, there was nothing to fear except fear itself. As with all large cities, you just need to apply some common sense.
A local once asked if I ever got tired of everyone staring at me due to the fact I was obviously a foreigner. That wasn't the case at all, the people of Bogotá, Rollos, as they're more commonly known, are much like Londoners, they work long hours, commute in organised chaos and pretty much keep themselves to themselves, generally polite and helpful without outward displays of friendliness.
The real danger, the everyday tangible threat of Bogotá, was the Transmileno, a network of buses operating in much the same way as a metro system. Locals amusingly renamed it the 'Transmilleno', lleno meaning 'full'.
The Transmileno should come with a health warning, stay well away if you suffer from panic attacks or if you're claustrophobic or more importantly if you're patience deficient. The following scene could ensue: -
At the airport, on leaving the country, I was selected by authorities at random, taken to a room and encouraged, to a certain extent, to disrobe. Fear in its purist form, the thought of a surly man in uniform putting something in your bottom... but fear soon turned to embarrassment, I'd remembered to take my money out of my socks but...
The scaremongering came from all quarters, I usually place unwavering trust in local opinion so the seeds of paranoia were being planted in fertile ground. Ways to lose your money ranged from an honest mugging to being 'cleaned out' whilst being cleaned up by a group of unsuspecting girls who had tactically spilled a drink over you.
That's not to say petty crime doesn't occur, I met a few travellers who'd been invited to share their cash at knife point, a crime not exclusive to Bogotá, that could just as easily happen in London, Madrid or Rome. In short, there was nothing to fear except fear itself. As with all large cities, you just need to apply some common sense.
A local once asked if I ever got tired of everyone staring at me due to the fact I was obviously a foreigner. That wasn't the case at all, the people of Bogotá, Rollos, as they're more commonly known, are much like Londoners, they work long hours, commute in organised chaos and pretty much keep themselves to themselves, generally polite and helpful without outward displays of friendliness.
The real danger, the everyday tangible threat of Bogotá, was the Transmileno, a network of buses operating in much the same way as a metro system. Locals amusingly renamed it the 'Transmilleno', lleno meaning 'full'.
The Transmileno should come with a health warning, stay well away if you suffer from panic attacks or if you're claustrophobic or more importantly if you're patience deficient. The following scene could ensue: -
At the airport, on leaving the country, I was selected by authorities at random, taken to a room and encouraged, to a certain extent, to disrobe. Fear in its purist form, the thought of a surly man in uniform putting something in your bottom... but fear soon turned to embarrassment, I'd remembered to take my money out of my socks but...
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