Is the end of the Bog-standard tienda nigh?

About the only thing we can be certain of these days is that the uncertainty permeating through practically every sector of society is set to continue for the coming months if not years.

'So do you want that with razor blades or not?' 'Eh, you can leave them out.'

Much has been written about the "new normals" we'll have to live with because of the coronavirus pandemic. Some of them, such as the wearing of facemasks in public, we're seeing already.

Hy-giene, goodbye defences

We can expect hygiene standards across the board to crank up a few levels and what was once merely advice will most likely become obligatory.

There could, of course, be negative side-effects to all this. There is a school of thought that, especially in the more developed countries, we're already overly sanitised.

We don't expose our bodies and immune systems enough to all that the natural world can throw at us to the point that when we inevitably "let the guard down" we're in a much weaker position to tackle whatever may be attacking us.

Personally, I've generally had a more blasé approach to this, certainly in terms of eating street food, snacking on untreated fruit & veg and such like. I like to think it's stood me in good stead.

I'm also not overly concerned about the cleanliness or otherwise of the public places in which I eat and drink.

Considering some of the establishments I've frequented in these parts, that's a good thing.

'Some places have posters detailing how to wash your hands, minus the actual means to do it.'

The washroom facilities — if they merit such a name — of many of Colombia's ubiquitous tienda bars and a not-insignificant number of its panaderías are often found wanting.

For example, some tiendas provide no more than a urinal in a not-very-private corner of the building.

Very often there'll be a poster with a step-by-step guide on how to properly wash your hands with one, um, minor snag: No sink or washbasin to actually carry out the practice. 'Thanks for the theory, guys. Now, where can I go to do it for real?'

Should there be women customers — have they nothing better to be doing than frequenting a gentleman's tienda? — they are usually given access to the private bathroom. 

It can come across at times, however, that the proprietor feels he/she is almost doing them a favour by letting them use the residents' toilet.

In an even more health-conscious, nay hypochondriacal and paranoid society as a consequence of coronavirus, the future of such places is surely in doubt if they don't improve their bathroom facilities — whenever they're actually allowed to have seated customers on their premises again that is.

Razor-sharp enforcement

One would expect that Colombian health authorities will demand, at the very least, a fully equipped, easily accessible sink for patrons to wash their hands alongside a proper toilet.

Then again, my fleeting experience with Bogotá's health authority, Salud Capital, wouldn't fill one with much confidence that authorities here are actually capable of implementing any sort of standards.

The body's response to my complaint after finding a razor blade — yes, a razor blade — in a pastel I bought in a barrio bakery (panadería) left a lot to be desired, to say the least.

In summation, the authority's e-mailed reply was: 'We inspected the panadería in question and told them not to use razor blades when preparing their products.' Wonderful.

'Eh, Juan, just had a visit from Salud Capital. Apparently, we're not meant to mix razor blades in with the dough. Currants, no problem, razor blades are out, though.'

'Really?! Who would have thunk it? What will we do with those 200 bite-sized blades I just ordered? What else are they good for?'

So, as is often the case with many things in Colombia, should new, stricter hygiene measures become law, their application in practice will be a different matter.

At times it works to one's advantage, at other times, not so.

With so much uncertainty about, we can rest assured that this Colombian quirk won't change any time soon.

With an unwashed hand looking out from the tienda urinal — mind the splashback — let's raise a Poker to that.
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'Careful now, that seat is hot!'

Right. That's it. I can't stay silent about this any more. In fact, if I don't vent now there's a danger that if things build up any further, who knows what I might do. So, let Operation De-steam commence.

'I think I'll give this seat a miss.' (photo from hereisthecity.com).

Good citizens of Colombia please, for the love of the Christian god many of you adore so much, get over your fear of the hot seat. Where on earth did such an illogical aversion come from?

If cramming (should you be lucky enough to actually cram on, that is) onto a bus or Transmilenio is part of your daily routine, another thing that you're guaranteed to see are people hovering, for at least 20 seconds, over a just-vacated seat.

The reason for this is to let the seat cool down and, I imagine, give the new occupier peace of mind that he/she won't contract some disease that may be hovering (sorry) about from the previous person. What difference, though, is a short interlude going to make? 

If you're that concerned, from a health/hygiene perspective or whatever, why not bring some disinfectant and rubber gloves in order to give the seat a good wipe down before you take the plunge? You can't be too careful now, can you? Also, the rest of us have our own concerns, so covering your mouth when you sneeze would be a help.

Top squatter: Jonny Wilkinson (photo from Facebook).

Now, it could be that those who hover are just engaging in a stagnant squat exercise, a simple, effective way to tone the thighs; never miss an opportunity to work out and all. 

Indeed, looking at it that way lessens my anger somewhat. Fair play to the overweight-bordering-on-obese 'hoverers' on making an effort to get their bodies back into shape.

Be that as it may, any benefit gained from the above is cancelled out by some other questionable hygiene hang-ups.

One of those is a reluctance for some to drink out of a real – that is to say reusable and generally more environmentally friendly – cup/mug in a public place. The reason for this is an abhorrence of using a coffee cup that somebody else used, again this being down to a disease/germ fear, even though it has been cleaned. 

No, they prefer these poor-quality plastic cups that practically melt once a hot drink is poured into them. With that they proceed to consume a concoction of coffee and chemicals from the melting plastic; just add cyanide to taste.

A deadly mix: Coffee in a reused, real cup & handled bread.

There's also this fussiness about not touching bread with your bare hands. OK, 'What's wrong with that?', you might ask – a good practice to uphold. The thing is, some people dislike seeing you eat your own bread or whatever with your own bare hands. 

This is despite the fact that bread and suchlike in most establishments is left uncovered, out in the open, free to mingle with all sorts of airborne material, including regular encounters with those dastardly sky rats, or pigeons if you will. It all just adds to the flavour I guess.

So there's a host of these rather puzzling neuroses concerning personal hygiene, yet a large part of Bogotá – plus many other urban areas throughout the country – resembles a dump, and in some cases a toilet. 

A little bit more of a desire to clean up the immediate environment rather than being overly – in a misplaced manner – occupied with self-preservation wouldn't go astray.

That might make us all feel a little better. And healthier.