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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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.

Appreciating the gutter

The first step in solving a problem, so it is said, is realising you have one. It pretty much stands to reason really. You've got to know what you're trying to fix before you begin to fix it.

Yet, for some things, what one person sees as a problem, or at least feels it is an issue that needs modifying, may not be a cause for concern for another.

One of the best 'beer gardens' going in Bogotá: Fernando's, aka Las Panelas.

Take my well-documented liking for socialising in Bogotá's working-class barrios, or more specifically speaking La Perseverancia, as has predominantly been the case over the last year or so.

For some expats and well-heeled locals, they see such behaviour as somewhat of a problem. And it's not all to do with safety reasons, where they may have valid reasons on occasions (but where is that not a concern in Bogotá or most major cities?). 

No, it's more to do with the social aspect of it. That is to say, as a relatively young (I'll still class myself as such), single guy, I am doing myself a disservice by spending time in such places.

The chief reason being, gauged on the advice from other classier men, is that I won't find appropriate women in these locations. The way they see it, I'm wasting valuable time in the quest to find my true love by frequenting Bogotá's 'dives'.

Bolirana: What you might call a Colombian dart board.

OK, they have a point. It's unlikely I'm going to find 'the woman I've been looking for' (eh, who?) in the likes of La Perse, especially when the chicas who live there don't appear to socialise much. For there are some fine, if a little cold and flaky, ladies in these barrios. Do note that as regards flaky, there isn't really a class divide in these parts for that particular trait.

Yet, trips to the fancier ends of town don't yield greater results or, as far as I'm concerned, a better quality of woman. Indeed, paradoxically in a way, they often churn out types who are more concerned about money and image than those from the poorer neighbourhoods, with a dollop of arrogance thrown in on top.

Notwithstanding that, the chief reason I continue to hang out in working-class barrios more so than others is that, and this surprises some, I actually enjoy it; a feeling that thus far hasn’t shown signs of dissipating.

Innocent, uncomplicated fun.

This comes down to the fact that I find the people very friendly. From a La Perseverancia perspective – although it’s not exclusive to there – it has a community vibe to it. It’s what you might call ‘el campo en la ciudad’, 'the countryside in the city'. And being a countryman by birth and at heart, I feel at home in such places in the midst of a chaotic city.

In contrast, in La Candelaría/Las Aguas, where I currently live, it’s a little more solo in this regard. A big reason for that is because it’s the city’s tourism epicentre and to have a foreign face there makes it more difficult to become part of the place or an accepted local.

Many Colombians in La Candelaría see no difference between a flying visitor and somebody here on a longer-term basis. (It must be said that after over three years floating around the historic city centre, this is now less so the case for me. However, the process of assimilation happened much more quickly and with more depth in La Perseverancia.)

As for Bogotá’s exclusive locations, well they just tend to leave me cold, and, at times, angry.

Romance wise? I’m single and enjoying life, things are fine. That ‘single ship’ is rocked on occasions, but there hasn’t been a really strong reason to jump from it just yet.

Now, where’s the problem?