Seventh heaven: Seven benefits of living in Colombia

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

I've let it be known many times before how Colombia can be bad for one's health and well-being — or my own, at least.

The high life: Wrong Way is a fan of Colombia's highlands.

For one, there are the ubiquitous panaderías with their constant supply of fresh-but-of-dubious-quality bread that can be hard to resist, especially when it's just out of the oven.

Then there's cheap barrio-tienda beer. Its affordability often encourages those of a certain disposition to imbibe more than is advisable. (In mitigation, it does promote socialising. If one is going to drink, isn't it better to do so in a public house rather than at home? There's surely a mental health benefit to be had.)

We've also got apartment complexes and their complexes i.e. their many ridiculous rules. The mentally and physically damaging playing of loud music often goes unpunished yet prepare yourself for the firing squad if you dare to air clothes at the only window you have that the sun reaches. Well, if not quite the firing squad certainly a fine will be forthcoming.

And let's not forget the largely non-existent customer service, although this isn't exclusive to Colombia.

'You don't have to go out of your way to eat healthily here.'

I was going to include the difficult damas, the complicated chicas, but thanks to my frigidity these days, such stresses are a thing of the past.

However, in recent months the antics of some frenemies have taken their place. My ability, nay willingness, to trust people has taken a hit in these lands. I do, though, still tend to take folk at their word until proven otherwise.

Now, in light of the previous, one might think that I actively seek out negatives, that I'm a fan of self-flagellation so to put it. Not at all. It's not that I'm a sucker for punishment that I've stayed in Colombia this long. Honestly, it's not.

The following, in no particular order, are some of the main reasons why I've been captured, in a good sense, by Colombia. (Yes, I could have used captivated instead of captured but captivated is a bit too quixotic for me!) These seven benefits have played their part in my reluctance to let Colombia go.

Fresh fare sourced locally

When it comes to the bare necessities, Colombia has an abundance of relatively cheap fruit and vegetables available all year round, most of which are grown in the country. So you don't have to go out of your way to eat healthily here. And the grub doesn't have to travel too far to get to you either.

One significant snag, though, is that we can't be sure about the safety of any pesticides these natural goodies may be dosed in during cultivation. Unless we grow our own from scratch — impracticable for many — we just have to hope that the chemical balance is tipped in our favour health-wise.

Independent living

Now, there's no point in having access to a range of fresh produce if you rarely have the time to cook. For the average working-class, city-dwelling Colombian, this can be a challenge.

However, some foreigners from higher-income nations who come to settle here are often engaged in work that comes with generous me-time, more so than they would most likely enjoy in their birth country anyway.

Fresh fare: The food looks good. Hopefully it's not riddled with harmful chemicals.

The likes of native English speakers who teach the language can usually expect to earn a decent hourly rate. So they can do fairly well without having to work the long hours forced upon many locals.

It's even better for those who are paid in one of the world's stronger currencies whilst based in Colombia.

Alas, having grown tired of English teaching and not having a foreign-currency income to rely on, I haven't exactly been rolling in it of late.

Nonetheless, with my rather minimalist lifestyle — it comes naturally — I have been able to maintain my independent living to a greater or lesser extent, replete with regular, refreshing bouts of travel around Colombia.

While the fallow periods can be worrying, I'm happier to ride them out than return to work as a wage slave. One is open to all serious offers all the same!

Rentafácil

Those fallow periods just mentioned, of which there have been many of late, have been offset somewhat by, whisper it, a rather generous savings scheme.

Banco Caja Social's Rentafácil, literally easy income, has been at inflation-busting interest rates for some time, offering much better returns than the CDTs I wrote about in 2020. My cautious, doubting nature is waiting for the catch but so far, so good, it seems.

Shrewder investors will most likely find fault with the Rentafácil or view it as an amateur investment. All I can say is that if the interest it's accruing is all mine to enjoy then I'll be quite content (it is, by the way, an instant-access scheme but I haven't withdrawn any funds yet).

Active at altitude

Whatever about the future of the returns on my Rentafácil, they're unlikely to take me to the high life socially speaking. Colombia's topography, on the other hand, offers plenty of natural highs.

'In Bogotá, only the very sensitive to cold might want home heating at night.'

And while it's far from certain that living at lofty altitudes is better for one's overall health than life around sea level, I at least think that the high-ish life has been good for me. And if I think it hard enough, I can make it the truth, can't I?!

In fact, at times I feel that Bogotá, at 2,600 metres above sea level, isn't high enough. So I'm considering setting up a new base camp in Colombia — if, that is, I can make it financially sustainable and the country continues to be my home.

One option, um, high on the list is Güicán, a town I recently visited and enjoyed, perched about 400 metres closer to the stars than the capital.

Fun in the sun

Speaking of being closer to the stars, Colombia's location in the tropics ensures that the sun's strength provides sufficient vitamin D throughout the year.

Even during Bogotá's rainiest days the sun usually shines sufficiently for the average person to soak up enough of this immune system booster.

This can't be said of my native Ireland and other similar places.

Goldilocks zone

Mentioning Ireland, for large parts of the year a heat source is usually needed to keep people warm inside.

In Bogotá, only the very sensitive to cold might want home heating at night. Those aside, if one feels cold, an extra item of clothing and/or some physical movement should warm one up sufficiently. The same goes for most Andean locations at an altitude of roughly 1,500 to 3,000 metres above sea level: a Goldilocks temperature all year round.

For places at the lower end of that range, finding ways to cool down is the main issue. Well above 3,000 metres, one can expect to prepare for occasional night frosts. And because many of Colombia's buildings are poorly insulated, it can often be colder inside than outside.

Inside outsider

As for inside and outside, in my beloved working-class barrios and pueblos, I usually feel like an inside outsider.

That is, with the local people who know me, I'm not just another random foreigner. I'm viewed more as a part of the community. Yet, I can still maintain my distance and play the foreigner card (not the gringo one!) when needs be.

Now, this is the least one might expect after almost 12 years based in a country. However, settled immigrants don't always become accepted, be they in Colombia — in certain places more so than others — or around the world. This can be due to an immigrant's own behaviour, the locals' attitude or a mixture of both.

During my time in Colombia, I feel I've found the right inside/outside balance.

Some, though, argue that I've become too cosy with working-class Colombia to the detriment of my career and financial development. There's merit to that.

Yet, taking all the above into account, Colombia has been a more positive experience than a negative one. Maybe other places offer all these benefits but have fewer negatives. If so, do let us know about them!
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

The panadería's pudgy pauper

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

A boy, about 12 years old, regularly comes into one of my panadería offices asking for food.

Unfortunately, such a scene is not unusual in these parts.

Rather than helping the bread-begging boy, are we killing him softly?

Pan out

However, what makes this particular pauper stand out from the stream of other mendicants is that he seems well, nay overly, fed and is rather neat in appearance. Also, he doesn't appear — thankfully enough, especially considering his youth — to have a drug problem.

He might, though, have a sweet-bread addiction. This would help to explain both his pudginess and penchant for the panadería.

Now, before I am accused of being both cruel and a hypocrite — I've previously documented my predilection for certain panadería delights — I'm not completely begrudging the boy of this farinaceous favour.

An occasional — occasional that is — bit of bread isn't the worst thing he could consume. And because he's plump doesn't mean he's sufficiently satiated.

One concern, however, is that if his diet consists chiefly of highly processed bread, then he's most likely facing into an adulthood of health problems.

Were I to offer him a serving of one of my vegetable stew specials, I wager he'd turn it down. (He never actually approaches me, though. I must have a mean look to me.)

So, there's a chance that he's a foti — fat on the outside, thin on the inside — but in a negative way (the standard view is that a foti is healthier than a tofi, thin on the outside, fat on the inside). This is to say, he's not getting the right nutrition. He's got plenty of company on that front.

'It's a sign that I've been in Colombia too long that I have doubts about the bona fides of the boy's begging.'

Indeed, most of the fare on offer in Colombia's ten-a-peso panaderías should come with a health warning. In addition to high quantities of salt and/or sugar glued together with poor-quality flour, the majority of bakeries use what are in essence poisonous margarines and preservatives.

The giveaway is in the shelf-life. I don't think I've ever seen panadería products go mouldy. One can only wonder what these powerful preservatives do to one's microbiome.

Beg to differ

As for eating wholesomely, some argue that pursuing a healthy diet is far more difficult for society's less well-off. Unhealthier foods are cheaper and more convenient.

That doesn't fully hold true in Colombia. Here, when it comes to diet, it's not always money that does the talking. Convenience often does the "conversing", coupled with, I guess, cravings.

This is because one can buy fresh fruit and vegetables at competitive prices all year round.

Colombia's fruit & veg: Cheap-ish and cheerful (if they're not overly laden with chemicals).

In my part of Bogotá, it's common to see a range of such foodstuffs retailing at around 1,000 pesos per pound — bananas, butternut squash, carrots, green beans, papaya, peppers, potatoes, pumpkin, tomatoes and much more besides.

Throw in the amazing avocado, regularly on offer for five for 2,000 pesos, and we've got the makings of a fairly cheap salubrious snack. (One only hopes, naively perhaps, that these natural goodies aren't laden with harmful pesticides.)

OK, fish, meat and poultry aren't quite as economical but they're not off the charts either, not when compared to what one might fork out for a nutritionally poor panadería treat.

This is why I say convenience and cravings do the conversing, not monetary concerns.

Fair enough, not everyone has access to kitchen facilities to cook food from scratch. And Colombia's worst-paid urban workers often have little free time on a typical day. Between the commute and work itself, 14-hour shifts are common.

As for my panadería's pudgy pauper, I'd have to engage in some espionage to find out his exact circumstances.

A sign, perhaps, that I've been in Colombia for too long that I have doubts, owing to his overall demeanour, about the bona fides of his begging.

Would he take a banana as readily as he takes a bit of bread? Maybe if it was deep-fried he would.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

Abandoning the beer standard

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

In Bogotá's perpetual Corner Bar barrio, I explained how a working-class drinking culture permeates the neighbourhood I frequent the most in the Colombian capital. As somebody who grew up in rural Ireland, this is quite familiar to me.

It's best not to overly rely on the beer standard. Diversification is key.

One big difference, though, is that the barrio locals don't appear to have the same complex, schizophrenic-like relationship with alcohol as many Irish have. The barrio boys just drink when they want to drink — which is regularly — without this deep guilt, that nagging question, 'Am I overly reliant on booze?'

Lightweight battle

You see, both in Ireland and abroad, the notion of the heavy-drinking Irish is effectively accepted as fact. An Irishman — or woman, for that matter — who doesn't drink to excess is an anomaly.

Now, as fairly well-travelled, I've found that all historically Christian nations have a drinking culture — some a little more so than others, of course. In fact, according to various studies, Ireland isn't even in the top five globally when it comes to alcohol consumption per capita. Those eastern Europeans are our boozy betters.

Colombia, for the record, tends to be well down the list in such studies. It is, though, far from teetotaler territory.

Comparing myself to my barrio besties, it's safe to assume my weekly consumption is now below the average.

In contrast, back in 2016, when I first started socialising in Santandercito, I had what I now view as a rather immature macho-drinking attitude i.e. I liked being the one downing the most. And, more often than not, I was.

The small problem is that this set a precedent. The barrio buddies came to expect me to drink copious amounts when I "went at it".

This had less to do with the Irish-drinking reputation preceding me and more to do with that initial form.

Thus, my gradual change to not only trying but also enjoying drinking less when I socialise in such environments appears to have taken some acquaintances by surprise. Now, I may be overstating this somewhat. We tend to think that others are judging us on certain behaviours or whatever when in reality they're not.

'While many are generous, these are balanced out by numerous freeloaders. I've frequently spent double what I've actually drunk on nights out.'

There are also the vestiges of the Ireland I grew up in at play here. One would be viewed as a lightweight if he couldn't keep the same drinking pace as "the lads". All things considered, such silliness about boozing is less of a factor in Colombia (although, this isn't to say it doesn't exist at all — where there is bravado and booze it's bound to be present to some degree).

The missing rounds

Nonetheless, the fact that I've been drinking less means some barrio buddies have been seeing less of me. Of course, one can still go out and not drink but I don't consider the barrio tienda as a great place for that. I'm far more content to be in my panadería when I'm not drinking beer.

It must be noted here, it's not that I'm in need of company when I go to such establishments. I'm often happier when left to my own thoughts.

Indeed, as regards the panadería, I usually go there to read and write, so having people talk to me is an annoyance. It's just that I like the idea that I'm "out", that there's movement about me. Spending the majority of my time in the place in which I sleep is somewhat torturous for me. Working from "home" is not something I view as a positive.

Coming back to my overall reduction in alcohol consumption, alongside the health benefits, there's also the financial factor. Not only am I spending slightly less on beer for me, but more significantly I'm also spending less on others.

This is due to the popular "round culture" in Colombia. And while there are many generous folk about, these are balanced out by numerous freeloaders. I've frequently spent double what I've actually drunk on days/nights out.

OK, inviting people to a tipple or two now and again is a nice gesture when one can afford it, but multiple times a month? It tends to put me in a bad mood. And when alcohol mixes with one's bad mood, this often results in quite an explosive cocktail.

So my drinking less which results in spending less — at that moment of socialising anyway — is good for the bank balance, body and mind.

That being said, I'm not quite ready to abandon the beer standard completely. I am, however, loosening my ties to it.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

Hooked on the BBC (or CCP, if you will)

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

It's often how it goes. A person overcomes one addiction then another, for better or for worse, comes along to fill the void. (For background, see Coming clean on my Colombian.)

Just can't enough of that good old BBC ...

China in my hand

To be truly accurate — as I always strive to be — my current BBC addiction isn't actually new. I more than dabbled in it in my Ireland days. It's just that it has become particularly acute here in Colombia.

I think I'd find it very hard to live in the country, or Bogotá at least, without it. Be it work or pleasure, this BBC or, for those of another tongue, CCP fix has become a cornerstone of pretty much everything I do.

Now some people would say it's not the worst addiction in the world to have, as long as one doesn't rely on it solely. And I don't. I do balance it out.

Nevertheless, one could always do better when it comes to such things. Indeed, a good test to see how reliant — perhaps harmfully so — one has become on something is to try to do without it. On this score, well just the mere thoughts of doing without the BBC for any protracted period make me uncomfortable (protracted in this sense is in the region of 48 hours).

You see the BBC — Beer, Bread and Coffee, or its Spanish equivalent for where I'm based and following alphabetical order, CCP (Café, Cerveza y Pan), not to be confused with the Chinese Communist Party — is a staple for me.

'Some say it's the only time Colombian bread from a standard panadería is edible, when it's still warm from baking.'

It's the bread and coffee part in particular that I can't see myself easily giving up — if there was a desire to do so, that is. The beer, on the other hand, well unlike the other two, it's not a daily delight.

I also think that in the right circumstances and/or environment i.e. having my own comfortable accommodation and not living in Bogotá, I could relatively easily get by without beer. Or at least drink less. Going without bread and coffee is another thing altogether.

This is the problem — some may not view it as a problem per se — when one uses a panadería/bakery as an office on a daily basis. It's like an alcoholic going to work in a pub.

OK, a good coffee or three a day may, as some studies have shown, do more good than harm to one's overall health. The same can't really be said for the bread on the side, not the majority of bread baked in Colombia in any case. (Dr Pradeep Jamnadas wouldn't be impressed.)

'There are, however, worse addictions to have, such as CNN.'

Yet, the floured fusions are hard to resist, especially so when they've just come hot out of the oven.

In fact, some say it's the only time Colombian bread from a standard panadería is edible, when it's still warm from baking. After a day or so, regardless of the type really, it seems to become fairly bland. (Although, worryingly so as it suggests the bread is pumped with preservatives, it doesn't tend to mould.) Similar to some women I've dated here, it could be said.

'I can't believe it's not coffee!'

Regarding my daily coffee, the quality of it in my current "office" is, as far as I'm concerned, as good as you'll get in some of the more renowned establishments. Snootier types, however, might turn their noses up at it. There's an assumption, based on a long history of this being the case in fairness, that panadería coffee is ordinary at best.

The greca: Wanted for crimes against good coffee. (Image from https://laferiadelagreca.com.)

Thankfully, though, a good number of panaderías have embraced machine brewers, consigning those metal grecas with their tendency to produce tasteless, I-can't-believe-it's-not-coffee coffee to the scrapyard. (Personally, this has become more important over the last few years as my brew preferences have changed. It's no longer an 80/20 coffee/milk split, it's more like 99/1. Thus, the coffee has to be flavoursome and strong.)

As for the beer, well Poker — or on occasions Águila or Costeña or, when in Paisa land, Pilsen (they're all pretty much the same) — could win awards for being one of the best and reasonably priced mediocre lagers around. It humbly does its job.

In this regard, like the BBC media group and the political CCP my BBC — the beer and bread anyway — is of ordinary quality. Perhaps not the greatest but not the worst either.

It's also killing me softly, no doubt. Sure aren't we on the countdown to death from the moment we're born anyway?

There are, however, worse addictions to have.

With CNN — cocaine, noodles and Nutella — for instance, one is left brain-dead within days. That diet combination may seem nonsensical. But that's CNN for you.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

Home is where the barrio is

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

Before my adult days, I remember being rather puzzled about my father's strong desire to get back to his local haunt(s) whenever we'd be out and about.

Calm after the storm: The at times action-packed Barrio Santandercito.

In fact, even when I started my own beer-accompanied socialising and on the rare occasions I'd be with my Dad in an unfamiliar setting, this itchy-feet tendency to return to his stomping ground bemused me.

Where everybody knows your name

'Just relax and enjoy the new surroundings', I'd think to myself. 'What's the panic?'

Now, however, and perhaps with the pandemic serving as a catalyst, I better understand this fondness for "home" comforts. Similar to my father, this isn't an eagerness to be back where I sleep — I've never been able to truly call home any place I've rented. It's a case of being in the environment where I socialise the most, with my Bogotá buddies.

This is at odds with many an adage. Take your pick from, to name but three, variety is the spice of life, familiarity breeds contempt, a change is as good as a rest. I'm sure there are more.

Yet, forced for months on end to not really being allowed to venture outside my part of Bogotá, now that one can officially travel unrestrictedly around Colombia, my enthusiasm to do so is somewhat lacking.

'Thrifty tendencies do also have their mental rewards.'

In fact, it's at a stage where visiting the first barrio popular that I called "home", La Perseverancia, 18 kilometres south of my current abode, now seems like a holiday. I haven't brought the overnight bag there yet, but it might be an option next time after the hassle I had trying to get home on the previous occasion I visited. One can never rely on public transport in Bogotá.

Break free

What's more, the few times that I haven't been able to call into my panadería "office" throughout this pandemic, I've been left a little ill at ease. The panadería owners, acting in good faith, of course, play their part in this, chastising me for my sporadic absences, accusing me of being a traitor. 'If Brendan's not here this morning, where the heck is he?'

What all this basically amounts to is that I've become comfortable in my routine. Comfortable in mediocrity, in the unspectacular one could say.

Linked to this is a feeling, to a certain extent, that I'm undeserving of a holiday because I haven't had steady work — or at least work that puts pesos in my pocket — throughout the pandemic. You know, one shouldn't be spending money recklessly when one isn't sure from where the next meaningful payday is going to come.

That whole live-each-day-like-it's-your-last mentality is wonderful in theory. However, if I were to let the handbrake off and truly live as I wish, well then I'd want to be in my last few days on this planet — it would be financially unsustainable as things stand at present. Thrifty tendencies do also have their mental rewards.

Nonetheless, a break from the Bogotá barrio is coming. It must.

Experience lets me know that I can find as much joy — if not more, for a time at least — in a more tranquil setting. Every town has its panaderías, tiendas and streets to wander after all. Same, same but different.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

Coming clean on my Colombian addiction

OK. I admit it. I'm addicted.

For over a year, I thought I had it under control. The discipline and routine that a full-time job gave me saw my dependence on this reduce dramatically.

However, then came the double hit. The first was self-inflicted: resigning from said gainful employment. That was followed shortly by coronavirus and the resultant quasi-lockdown.

Crossing the line

In my bid to maintain some sort of routine in such uncertain times I once again found myself drifting, nay motoring at top speed, back to this old daily comfort. 

For sure, it's as Colombian (although, not exclusively so) as coffee — indeed, the two work well together — yet for some locals, the mere utterance of its name brings forth utter revulsion. 'Is that all this country means to you these days? You disgust me.'

Of course, it's not the only thing that I enjoy — if enjoy is the right word to use here — about Colombia, but I've only ever had it in this country. And no, I didn't come here specifically for it.

In fact, and you may not believe this, but I'd never heard of it before relocating to this part of the world. I first tried it out of pure, innocent curiosity. Unlike other "firsts", I don't fully remember where I was introduced to it. I think it may have been in one of my original local haunts in the La Perseverancia neighbourhood, although I can't say with any certainty.

What I do know is that it became much more of a habit when I moved to the northern reaches of Bogotá and started socialising in Barrio Santandercito. In one particular establishment, it was especially popular and readily available, at a very reasonable price.

You could have it on the premises — no questions asked, no one would take any notice bar the odd incredulous look if you were overindulging — or take it home to have later. I preferred to have it there and then, it's just not the same doing it at home alone.

That Santandercito outlet has since changed hands and the new administrators no longer sell it — they told me, rather surprisingly, that the profit margins were quite small compared to other, more "mainstream" products that require less preparation time.

'It gives me a kick at the moment of consumption but I do feel guilty, even a little shame, afterwards.'

Nonetheless, you generally don't have to go far in Bogotá to find another place where you can get it. My current dealer is based in Barrio Nueva Zelandia. It's a little pricier here compared to what it used to be in Santandercito, but you get a slightly bigger offering.

Ideally, it'd be best sold by weight as at times you think you've been handed a big one but once you start consuming it you realise there's a lot of air in it. It still goes down well all the same.

Perhaps some bigger operators sell it — if they have it at all that is — by weight, I'm not sure. Truth is, I've never looked for it in such places, I prefer to deal with independent, family-run providers.

Snorting like a pig

I've been trying to cut down on the amount I have these last couple of weeks but it hasn't been easy. I mean I don't even have to ask for it now, it's just handed to me. When I say I don't want that much, those selling it to me typically say, 'Sure go on, it'll do you no harm. Get it into you.'

Thing is, with the doses I'm consuming, I'm pretty sure it is doing me harm.

If I could get out of Bogotá for a few days, I could at least get a break from it. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. But, of course, with the measures in place to combat the spread of coronavirus, I can't leave the city.

For sure, I get a kick at the moment of consumption but I do feel guilty, even a little shame, afterwards.

Another pull factor is that in its purer form it's not actually that bad — studies even suggest it can be good for our health (see item number eight on this list). How I take it, though, it's mixed with stuff that is, to say the least, not great for one's body.

It is said the first step in solving a problem is admitting you have one. I'm crossing that hurdle.

I won't let pan chicharrón (for the ignorant amongst us, this is basically bread filled with pork scratchings — or pork cracklings as some may call it — best served straight out of the oven) control me. I shall control it. There is a way.

Pan chicharrón with a dark perico (coffee with a dash of milk), pure bliss!

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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

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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Refocusing the energy

Sorry, sorry. I know the, um, legions of Wrong Way readers have been wondering where I've got to the last while.

The recent presidential election and Colombia's World Cup exploits, nay the tournament in general, have been distractions for sure. 'Yet', I hear you ask, 'haven't they also been great things to write about?' Of course.

More pertinently and personally, ongoing visa complications have been occupying my mind. A right saga indeed. Akin to an existential crisis really — well, in terms of my permanence in Colombia anyway. A visa-run to Ecuador is now firmly back on the cards.

Focusing on a new path ...

Again, a good blog topic that, you might say. However, sitting down to upload new posts hasn't seemed the most important of exercises of late. (Having my laptop stolen has also played its part; you can just never switch off in these parts.)

No more Mr Blog guy?

Now, truth be told, this lack of enthusiasm to write isn't just because of the aforementioned. No. The thing is, there's been a slight refocusing of energies.

Basically, the blog posting has always been a labour of love. Well, the Google blog initially had a small chance of becoming profitable, but, as detailed at the time, that lucrative avenue was closed off years back.

This blog, launched back in late 2011, and the El Tiempo space which began at the beginning of 2014, were started with a view to being springboards to something greater. For the record, there has never been any hope of getting financial reward for the El Tiempo blog.

In some ways, they have served this route-to-reward purpose. They've maintained my hand in journalism of sorts as well as, so I like to think anyway, helping to develop my writing skills (I class myself a broadcaster first and foremost, the only full-time, professional job I've had in my life to date). 

It's unlikely I would have been used for reports from here for Ireland's national broadcaster RTÉ if I hadn't the blogs to prove my credentials.

The El Tiempo blog also played an important part in getting an independent visa as a journalist, something I've had for the last four years and hoping to get again if and when I get the new paperwork requirement sorted out. Let's just say La Cancillería hasn't made the visa process any easier.

Pet projects

These blog benefits now, however, appear to be on the wane. Other things have become more worthy of devotion, at least for the time being.

In a previous post this year I alluded to writing a book on my experiences here in Colombia. That's still a work in progress, slow progress. 

Indeed, while I will finish it, it may never see the light of day in terms of getting it published, be that self-published or otherwise. Whatever the case, trying to put it together is proving to be an interesting, worthwhile experience.

On top of this, the prospect of working on a long-yearned-for project with other Colombian media groups is back on the table. Or at least it seems that way. More meat should be put on the bones of that in the next few weeks and months.

If not, it will more than likely signal the time to hit for the exit door — I can't keep ignoring these signs. It would have been nice to try this project with El Tiempo considering I've been writing on its website the last four-and-a-half years, but that hasn't been possible. It's been a closed shop.

Thus, while I don't intend to scrap the blog-writing completely — it can be a bit of an addiction — the frequency of posts will drop considerably.

The barrio panadería lifestyle isn't that excessive, but one still needs to earn a bit to put that bread on the table.
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Colombia's gringo tax

One of the most frustrating things non-natives, especially those from higher-income nations, in Colombia (and other similar countries) have to put up with is the arbitrary "foreigner tax". 

This is basically the additional cost put on to a host of goods and services simply because we're outsiders. The mentality behind it is that we can afford it and/or won't know that we're being charged extra than those in the know.

Rip-off Colombia (if you're a foreigner) ...

For many tourists, short-term visitors and some long-termers here, both of those beliefs hold true. If you think the price you have to pay is reasonable, cheap even, fair enough; ignorance being bliss and all that. 

Although, it must be said that this clandestine overcharging is a betrayal of the oft-heard line that 'Colombians are the friendliest in the world.' When it comes to money, some — but not all, thankfully — are a little two-faced.

Now, after five years of having Colombia as my base — and earning a modest amount of Colombian pesos, I hasten to add — I've learnt, slowly, to always ask the price of something before committing to buy. Yet, at times the guard is dropped.

One of the most frequent of times this erratic pricing happens is when you enter a bakery, or panadería as it's called in these parts, for the first time. In your bog-standard panadería, the price of a perico — a small coffee with milk — generally ranges from $700 to $1,200 COP. So there have been occasions, even to this day, where I've not bothered to ask the price before ordering. This opens the door for a little inflation and very often the person at the till isn't shy about seizing that opportunity.

Even worse, in recent weeks I started checking out panaderías in the barrios close to my new abode. For the four or five I inspected, I was charged a standard price on my first solo visit. In the following days I returned to most of them, this time with a friend, a fellow countryman, and in two of these we were charged more for the same products I'd had on my own.

This isn't exclusive to panaderías; it happens in other restaurants where prices aren't displayed (or at times even if they are), tienda bars and also, unsurprisingly, with taxis; hence my general dislike for most of those yellow parasites. Needless to say, it's commonplace with tourism-related things, too.

This short-sightedness is understandable in some ways. For many who do it, they don't see their future being a life on Easy Street, or Calle Fácil as they might say, so it's, 'extract what you can now, to heck with the future.' 

Yet, plenty of places have lost and will continue to lose business and what may have become loyal customers by engaging in such a strategy. 'Short-term gain, long-term loss.' (It's worth noting here that in the much-frowned-upon, disorganised, neighbouring Venezuela, prices seem to be displayed in almost every café and restaurant, so you can make an informed decision before you commit.)

In further mitigation, Colombia's working classes are more screwed against than screwing (um, in some contexts anyway). Indeed, in other areas 'el extranjero', the foreigner, is treated much better. Just one example of that is in the world of film/TV extras where a foreigner can earn up to eight times more for doing the same work.

This horrible inequality, however, is not our fault. What's more, the foreigner who is willing to socialise in popular barrios is giving a greater endorsement of a now somewhat safer, less-divided country than most more well-off Colombians.

Thus, to the price inflators, you would do well to remember that not all Westerners come heavily laden with euros, dollars, pounds or whatever. We're here to contribute, hopefully in a positive way, so don't push us out.

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