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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The Bogotá bubbles

In a Colombian context, especially in relation to employment, Bogotá is where it's at for the most part. 

As the capital and most populated city, it's the place that attracts the most job seekers, both from within and outside the country.

In many employment sectors, such as education and finance to name just two, it's where the best money can be made. Yet, as we've oft mentioned on these pages before, it's a very unequal city.

Bogotá: It looks fairly equal from this viewpoint ...

Colombia's inequality is, arguably, most apparent here. In simplistic terms, financially speaking, it's broken into three groups: 'The have lots', 'The have a littles' and 'The have nots'. 

For our time in the country, putting aside our First World background that, in theory anyway, puts us on a higher plain in this regard, we're firmly in that second group. 

We share this space with perhaps about 60 to 70 per cent of those who currently call Bogotá home. (In actual monetary terms, we're talking about an average monthly wage of roughly 350 to 450 euros at current conversion rates.)

That is to say, if we operate within certain circles of the city, a working-to-lower-middle class bubble so to put it, we can live within our means. 

Indeed, with a not-overly frugal existence, those of us in this middle group can even put some money aside on a monthly basis.

Nonetheless, from a socialising perspective, the likes of the city's exclusive Zona G, Zona T and Parque 93 are largely off limits, save for on very rare occasions.

Not only that, but on the seldom times that we do go out in those places, we tend to be quite uncomfortable. Paying multiples of the price for the exact same product, or something very similar, that we can get, with a smile, in the barrios doesn't sit well with us at all. 

OK, there are some places, although not too many in our experience, that offer both good quality and decent service — this being a particular rarity in these parts — at reasonable enough prices.

The thing is, after six years of having Bogotá as the base, remaining in that more modest income bracket, even if we were to see a significant upswing in terms of take home pay (while we're always striving to improve our lot here personally and professionally in the pursuit of a happier existence, money's not the chief motivation), it's unlikely that our socialising habits would change that much.

We now have a very clear idea of what the price of things should be. So when we're asked to pay significantly more than that for no real strong reason, we don't like to. 

For many of the more well-to-do Colombians, not only do they not have many major issues paying above the odds for things, it's actually a status symbol to do so. 

Going out in the fancier establishments is a true sign that you've made it; style, questionable as it is, but with little substance. It's also a good way to help ensure the riff-raff are kept at arm's length.

Of course, the quest for a life without these socio-economic divisions, or bubbles as we'll call them, is idealistic in the extreme. The best we can hope for is to see a fusion of some of the bubbles, a levelling out of living standards. The likes of Colombia has a long way to go in this regard, but there's always hope.

From a global perspective, it's also worth bearing in mind the following, which we read in an official UN source a few years back: If the poorest 80 per cent on the planet were to live like the richest 20 per cent, at current consumption levels we would need four planet earths to sustain us.

Thus, it's not just a case of improving the lot for our most unfortunate. The richer amongst us need to learn the art of modesty in living. We all can't over indulge in the man-made finer things in life.
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Keeping your potential enemies close

It’s nice to feel part of a community. Indeed, for the most part, we’re social beings, thus to associate with a group is usually good for the body and soul. The majority of us are born into communities, some of which are more tightly knit than others. But regardless of the strength of the bonds we generally come to feel more at home in one place over another.

Bogotá's Calle 31, looking up from Carrera 5: You might want to consider an alternative route.

When you move outside of that 'comfort zone', there is always the risk you'll become some sort of a lost sheep. This is what faces expats across the globe. It's one of the reasons why similar 'tribes', miles from their original home, tend to find each other: 'Birds of a feather' and all that.

From a personal perspective in Bogotá, the few close Westerners I rate as true friends apart, I've found that sense of community, as written about before, in certain working-class barrios.

Yet as much as I feel at home there, my slowly improving Spanish apart, every now and again something happens to remind me that this isn't small-town, west-of-Ireland country.

So a few weeks back, while enjoying some 'beer garden' Sunday drinks outside one of my favourite tienda bars in La Perseverancia, a not-too-shabby-looking jeep passed by. Nothing out of the ordinary in that, of course.

Slightly more unusual, however – or at least it was something I’d been largely shielded from over the last while – was the sight of four men sprinting after it. Now, this wasn’t a bunch of lads out for some healthy, innocent Sunday afternoon exercise. No, these were, well, 'men at work'. Their gig, if you haven't guessed by now, was to, um, acquire the vehicle by force.

As infuriating as I find such a modus operandi, a little more personally disconcerting is the fact that the main protagonist of this group of thieves, Felipe, is an acquaintance. Indeed, he usually goes out of his way to salute me whenever he sees me.

Unfortunately — for Felipe that is — this robbery attempt not only failed but he also got nabbed by the police who, accidentally and strangely enough, appeared on the scene instantly. What's seldom was wonderful for the jeep owners in this episode.

A little bit of physical abuse from the police and a night in a cell was about the extent of my ‘friend’s’ booty from this raid. (For the record, the other three guys involved weren't caught.)

Typically, rather than disown one of their own for the attempted criminal act, he received a little bit of sympathy from some quarters. In fact, the police seemed to get more abuse for their slightly heavy-handed arrest tactics.

It is, in a way, understandable that sympathy for such types is forthcoming. We're talking about an impoverished neighbourhood left pretty much to its own devices, largely neglected by officialdom. Survival is by any means.

The view from 'above': Looking down the same street as in the above photo.

Yes, as noted, I find the idea of stealing from another, especially when force and violence are used as opposed to opportunism, repugnant.

Yet, in a city with enormous inequality, that those on the bottom rung resort to these acts isn't surprising.

So while I disagree with what Felipe did, the truth is I've never found myself in such desperation to seriously consider doing it myself. The last thing he needs is a lecture from a northern European on his unacceptable behaviour.

The solace I take is that by socialising in barrios such as La Perse, I am helping their micro-economies and perhaps in some small way lessening the need and desire to steal.

Plus, maintaining acquaintances with the likes of Felipe might help me – might that is – from becoming a future victim (again).

Keeping potential enemies close at hand and in favour you might say.