Loving Colombia

In a previous episode of The Colombia Cast, the "Colombianised" British-born historian Malcolm Deas said, in response to a question about his love for Colombia: 'One doesn't love countries. One loves people and dogs and cats and that sort of thing.'

I get where he's coming from to some extent. It's not the country in terms of its institutions and general modus operandi that people come to love.

The railway route: One of Wrong Way's favourites in Bogotá.

Fair enough, those of a certain disposition may indeed become enamoured with the state, especially if they find favourable tax laws, see it as being well organised, affordable and safe with a fantastic health system, things along those lines.

Failed state, fine land

Nonetheless, such pull factors don't tend to set the heart racing, leaving us weak at the knees. They're also not perpetual.

Now, if we take the above in relation to Colombia, it doesn't score well at all. Indeed as a foreigner, if these were make-or-break issues, you'd have to question why you're here when you don't have to be.

'I do like Colombia, in terms of its landscape that is to say.'

For example, personally speaking in any case, I don't love the inequality and the many ways it manifests itself, the public transport (from a Bogotá perspective anyway), the often irrational bureaucracy and the not-being-paid-for-services-rendered (hint, hint Semana, and to a lesser extent this publication, although I am perhaps the bigger fool, especially in relation to the former; I'm currently looking to rectify that).

Moreover, and more tellingly as this brings it into the realm of reasons why one should "love" where they are, I'm not a fan of the interesadas (gold-diggers), the ubiquitous lying, the regular inept service in so many spheres and the excessive national pride — 'Colombia is the best country in the world, with the friendliest people' — that overlooks all the other shortcomings mentioned.

Te amo Colombia

It's here where I depart somewhat from Deas' assertion that 'one doesn't love countries'. You see, I do like — I rarely use the word "love" for anything — the country itself. I like its geographical area and all the many wonders contained within it — I just don't explore them as much as I should really.

I like power-walking on a daily basis at 2,600 metres-above-sea-level because, perhaps misguidedly, I think it's good for my overall health, the frequent air-quality issues notwithstanding.

Of course, there's a bit more to it than just the topography. As I've oft-written about, I do enjoy the barrios populares and some of the characters that frequent them, even if they may be doing me more harm than good.

'With time, the infuriating practices of some Colombians might change.'

I like being what I'll call a light-touch local in Bogotá. The city has been home now for well over eight years, so in many respects I feel as much a part of it as anyone. Yet at the same time, I am an outsider, a northern European outsider, and that is an advantage for the most part.

So, as I yet again contemplate my Colombian future, perhaps "loving" the country, the territory it occupies, the natural landscape, is the most important thing.

The infuriating, irrational practices of a not-insignificant number of its inhabitants, emanating from the top and flowing down to the bottom rungs, maybe these will change for the better in the not-too-distant future.

You see, despite what my "B negative" blood type might insinuate, I am an optimist at heart.
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The accidental gomelo

"You're a posh boy now, a gomelo." So go the jibes from my old barrio buddies now that I find myself living in a swankier part of Bogotá (gomelo, for the uninitiated, is the Colombian word for what you might call preppy types).

Santandercito: Out of sight but by no means out of mind.

Yes, it's true, my move a few kilometres south of my beloved San Antonio/Santandercito sees me placed in plushier surrounds.

The thing is, however, when my hand was forced to move, the chance to live within a more reasonable walking distance — 4.5 km versus 10 km — of the office appealed (I'm still in that full-time job, somehow). Save time and, potentially, money.

"Perhaps I'll embrace the gomelo guise."

For, as surprising as this may seem, the rent in my new Cedritos Lisboa location is comparable to what I was paying out on the city limits. What's more, it comes with much more in terms of furnishings and appliances.

Having a well-kitted-out place is a bonus, of sorts, considering I still, after almost eight years based in Bogotá, have a backpacker mentality when it comes to settling down and making a house a home.

The state of the kitchen in the new abode could yet become a contentious issue, as it often tends to be when sharing. I have to revise my theory that all elderly women always keep their homes in pristine condition. The situation is more than manageable for now, though. 

Stranded

The biggest drawback is that it's pretty much right in the middle of Poshville. That is to say, you have to walk a bit of a distance — not a big deal for me, in fairness — to get back to the barrios populares for the "proper" panaderías, tiendas and all that kind of good stuff.

Some of Bogotá's other upper-class areas, in contrast, find themselves stuck next to the riff-raff. Closer to the centre, La Macarena bordering La Perseveranica, my spiritual home in a way, is one example of this.

On top of being stranded in salubrity, so to put it, these richer neighbourhoods tend to be a little sterile. There's no real life to them. They're bland at best. The barrios, on the other hand, have a buzz about them.

Go gomelo

Nonetheless, for as long as I have this full-time office job, staying in such a stale sector with its proximity to work is fine. 

During the week, with the current eat, sleep, work, repeat routine, I don't really have the time like before to enjoy the barrios in any case. It's purely a weekend delight these days. That's OK. Too much of a good thing and all that.

Or who knows, maybe I'll adapt to my new environment and take on this gomelo guise. "What say you, güevón?" "Osea, Lord help us!"
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The Colombia caste

"You can take the man out of the barrio, but you can't take the barrio out of the man." OK, that old saying doesn't really apply to me in its entirety.

For Bogotá's 'barrios populares', the working-class neighbourhoods are still where it's at for me, in a living and socialising sense. So, for better or for worse, I haven't removed myself from them.

At home in barrio tienda ...

Moving on up?

The most significant change in the last few months, outside of the new trial podcast, has been the addition of a full-time, relatively well-paid job, the first time I've had a proper 8-6 gig in Colombia (Dolly Parton would have to change the lyrics of her 9-5 hit to suit these parts).

"Most aren't from very rich backgrounds."

With that new employment have come, unsurprisingly enough, new colleagues.

Now, I think it's safe to assume that none of these, or at least very few of them, is from uber-rich Colombian backgrounds. No, the majority would appear to be associated with that growing — so the government here likes to tell us it's growing anyway, being as it is a sign of a country on the up and all that — middle class.

So, in this regard, I'm paddling the same canoe as my new workmates. Earning more than the majority but still a good bit off the strata five and six living.

The thing is, when it comes to socialising, while I'm happier to do that in these aforementioned barrios populares, a lot of my colleagues prefer the swankier and — as far as I'm concerned anyway — unjustifiably expensive parts of town.

Penny-pinching?

Yes, I've been banging on this drum for some time now. The situation isn't going to change in the near future, if ever.

Nonetheless, to restate the point, some people see my reluctance, nay refusal, to socialise in said swankier parts of Bogotá as being tight, 'tacaño' as they say here.

"It's like paying over 20 euros for a pint in Europe."

I have no problem paying more for something that I feel is worth it. However, when it comes to socialising or more specifically nights out, what is anathema to me is paying multiples, perhaps over five times more compared to what I'd pay in my barrio, for practically the same thing, "la misma miér...coles" as the locals might say. In all honesty, it makes me uncomfortable. And a little bit angry.

Barrio is best

To put that difference in 'First World'/European terms, when you compare the price in a barrio bar/tienda to Bogotá's 'plush' places, it's like paying over 20 euros for a pint of beer in the latter. How many of you would be willing to do that?

This isn't a case of 'knowing the price of everything but the value of nothing' in relation to the fancier establishments, especially so when it's pretty much the same bloody product, often delivered with poorer service. Fair enough, the price of this service, i.e., the extra staff, has to be taken into account.

What's more, there are generally higher utility charges and the like (this is where government action is needed to provide a reasonable middle ground).

That being said, handing over what I deem to be excessive amounts of cash is not my idea of a good time.

This is why I'll be largely sticking to socialising in 'my' barrios for the time being.
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