'¿Cómo conduzco?' 'Um, not very well'

Sometimes, what is seen as a bad practice in one culture can be viewed as something to be lauded in another. Or at least no one seems to get too worked up about it, which can be a bit puzzling if it wasn’t what you were brought up on.

Is that '¿cómo conduzco?' sticker a cry out for help?

Now, while many of the cultural traits in Colombia are not that far removed from what this writer is used to, there are a few head-scratchers all the same.

Enough has been written previously in these quarters about relationships and suchlike, so let’s stay clear of that area this time around. Plus, considering the topic, it’s best not to be completely, erm, ‘driven round the bend’ by trying to analyse this in too broad a scope.

Thus, the focus this time around is on the style of Colombian driving, especially – but not exclusively – in relation to those who drive for a living.

Basically, the general custom is to drive your vehicle as hard as you can, weaving in and out of whatever traffic gets in your way, then equally brake as hard as you can when you must stop (as inconvenient as stopping is when you’re in ‘full flow’).

In fact, quite paradoxically in a country where not much trust is put in anybody or anything – often with good reason – many Colombians appear to put a huge amount of trust in mechanical brakes.

Indeed, given such behaviour, there’s little wonder why a good number of Colombians, women from this perspective anyway, have firm figures. 

For when you have to make a move to get off a city bus, or when you’re standing from the moment you get on, you’d have an easier time keeping your balance on a small yacht in the middle of a violent storm on the high seas. A good workout for your body’s core you might say, to go along with the regular squat exercises taken on public transport.

It's easier to keep your balance when the bus is crowded.

It’s also a common occurrence to see rival bus drivers go to battle with their vehicles – like modern-day lancers – if they’ve been impeded trying to do their route as fast as they can. ‘Passengers. What passengers?’

Of course, from a Bogotá point of view, this rough-and-tumble, aggressive way of driving was due to change with the arrival of, firstly, the Transmilenio and then the SITP. Commuting in the city would be transformed into something resembling an angelic procession. Well, so some people told us.

However, to paraphrase the old saying, ‘You can take the man out of the colectivo, but you can’t take the colectivo (style of driving that is) out of the man.’

The SITP and, to a lesser extent, Transmilenio drivers are from the same mould as their predecessors.

Yes, it’s early days for the new system and changing a culture takes time. Plus, drivers in Bogotá, and throughout Colombia, aren’t helped by the appalling state of many of the main highways and byways.

Yet, for the moment, some money could be saved by not bothering to post those ‘¿Cómo conduzco?’ (literally, 'How do I drive?') stickers on the back of most vehicles. That’s because there’s pretty much a universal answer: ‘Not very well.’

Or perhaps we’re looking at the question the wrong way (as is this blog's wont, obviously). It could be a cry for help, as in ‘How do I actually drive this vehicle?’ The evidence certainly supports this.

Driving lessons – another opening in the Colombian market.

Fine and Pandi

You don’t tend to base yourself in Bogotá for its weather. OK, on sunny days it can be pretty nice, but such occasions are balanced out by chilly nights. 

The great thing, though, is that if you are looking for hotter climes all you have to do is take a short trip in basically any direction out of the metropolis to find them.

Pandi, Cundinamarca: It beats the madness of Bogotá, at least for a time.

However, there’s not much point in having such hotspots on your doorstep if you don’t utilise them. That’s how things had been for me lately, cooped up in the city, letting work and Bogotá’s, nay La Perseverancia’s, social life dictate the course of events.

In fact, it got to the stage where I needed a gentle push to break the routine. Somewhat paradoxically, that push came in the form of work; well, work of sorts.

What I had to do was be an English-speaking guide for a group of students of the language from a university in the south of Bogotá. They were having a day out, via the fledgling tour agency Colombia Limite, and to keep things English, the lady in charge felt it would be a good idea to have a native speaker on hand.

The fact that the majority of the group were at beginner level and thus couldn’t understand most of what I said (who does?) didn’t matter. It’s the thought of making an effort to have the day educational that counts, right?

Our destination? The unheralded town of Pandi and its surrounds in the Sumapaz province, 103 km south of Bogotá.

Pretty in purple: The gualanday tree. (Photo from clorofilaandcompany.)

Now, in a country that has quite spectacular natural beauty around every corner, each little town and village has to fight hard to get a piece of the tourist action. 

So considering that to reach Pandi requires a 30-minute drive on somewhat of a dirt-track road off the main highway about two hours outside of the capital means that it could easily be forgotten by many. The belief may be that other, more accessible places offer pretty much the same.

Yet, that it is a bit off the beaten track can be a pull factor – such secluded places generally do it for me, at least for a time.

Plus, it does have its own treats. As the welcome sign to the town proudly boasts (positioned miles outside, at that), it’s the home of cambulo and gualanday. What, you haven’t heard of them? They’re trees of course, special trees, apparently.

Unfortunately, on the day I visited nobody was able to tell me which one was which – a reason to go back, I guess. 

While both are pretty spectacular when in flower, from what I was told gualandays seem the most helpful for humans. A secretion their leaves produce is good for relieving sore throats and aching bones; better than a hot whiskey you might say.

'Devil Construction Ltd.'

The trees aside, another little ‘gem’ is The Natural Bridge, El Puente Natural, a gentle 20-minute downhill stroll from the village. 

Legend has it that the devil created it after losing a bet for the soul of an indigenous mortal. In frustration he kicked out at the narrow gorge walls, the force of his actions forming a natural arch over the river, which lies over 100 metres below.

Whatever about that story, the bridge has a much more haunting recent past, being the alleged dumping ground for dead and dying bodies throughout Colombia’s internal conflict of the last 60 plus years. The devil did not go quietly into the night after his construction project, so it appears.

Thankfully, a sense of tranquillity in the quite stunning scenery is the main vibe you get about the place today.

So you could do worse than go along with that feeling and take advantage of the serenity. In that regard, further on from the bridge is a residence that offers accommodation/camping facilities for those looking to overnight it in the wilderness.*

The chilly nights and madness of the metropolis can wait.
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*Colombia Limite looks after the accommodation and can also arrange activities such as rappelling and treks. You can contact the company via Facebook.

'Make mine a shot (rather than pot)'

Colombia’s Minister for Health and Social Protection, Alejandro Gaviria, created a mini-stir recently by claiming that alcohol consumption was more harmful than smoking marijuana.

His remarks come amidst moves in Congress here to legalise the use of the drug for medical purposes.

Well, they do say we should get more 'greens' into us ...

Mild marijuana

In one sense, it’s a bit puzzling to understand why what he said caused consternation in some circles; in reality, it was far from shocking. For from a societal point of view, he’s probably not far off the mark. Excessive alcohol consumption is very often at the heart of violence both here in Colombia and across the globe. It can destroy families and friendships.

In contrast, you’d do well to find an aggressive person high on pot; rather, such people are generally very placid.

So looking at it that way, if we are going to indulge in some sort of drug, perhaps we’d all be better off smoking marijuana instead of gulping down bottles of beer. ‘Make peace, not war’ and all that jazz.

However, at the individual level, anecdotally anyway, regular pot smokers tend to be quite lazy and lack motivation to do even the simplest of things. Maybe that’s just my bad luck and experience? There are, though, at least some supporting studies.*

On the contrary, and again this is a personal observation, consistent drinkers – not out-and-out alcoholics that is to say – seem more proactive when it comes to work and day-to-day activities. (They might just be a little crankier than non-drinkers, at times.) It could be argued that this is down to many societies’ long association with alcohol. Our bodies have learnt to cope better with it than other drugs.**

What’s more, the idea of consciously inhaling damaging fumes into your body isn’t exactly the most natural or life-prolonging thing to do. Although, in a city such as Bogotá, puffing on a joint mightn't do you much more harm than breathing in the urban air.

On the other hand, we all must ingest water to survive, the chief component of most alcoholic products. Plus, in the right amounts – as can be said for marijuana, too, of course – the likes of beer and wine can be beneficial for your health.

Bavaria, the home of beer in Colombia. Sure when it's free ...

That’s pretty much the case for most things in life: Whatever you’re having, have it in moderation; 'less is more’. Knowing your limits is the key.

Bearing all that in mind, if I was pushed to choose either alcohol or marijuana as my regular vice, I’d be firmly siding with the former.

It's horses for courses, I guess.

The bottom line with all these things should be that if there are harmful effects, it's the individual user who bears them. Alas, that's not always the case.

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*For example, see Regular pot smokers have shrunken brains, study says.

**The Koreans obviously don’t believe this though: ‘Irish alcoholism nature’ reason for job rejection for Irish teacher in South Korea.

Colombia: The only risk is becoming too relaxed

As mentioned in our previous post, you can never drop your guard in Colombia. It’s up to you, naturally enough really, to be responsible for yourself and your belongings. 

Be that as it may, it still doesn’t, or at least shouldn’t, make it more acceptable if you do happen to have something stolen while having ‘a moment of weakness’.

Scene of the crime: Oma may be upmarket, but that doesn't mean it's safer.

Que pena 

That such things happen, as they do across the globe, doesn’t mean that we should just shrug and accept them. Disappointingly, this is often the reaction of many people in these parts.

It’s the whole ‘dar papaya’ mentality, that it’s the victims' fault for allowing themselves to be robbed. ‘Silly you.’ This is linked in with the ‘que pena con usted’ expression, ‘isn’t that awful for you, but I don’t really care.’ ‘Eh, thanks, guys.’ 

Personally, having been based in Bogotá for three years now, I feel relatively comfortable in my environs and I am usually clued in to any potential threats. 

Yet, there is always the risk that you can become too relaxed. My excuse for the latest incident where I let the city’s ladrones (thieves) get one over me was that I’d just donated blood (for the first time in my life it must be said) and perhaps I wasn’t my usual shrewd self (don’t laugh).

Now, this time around the scene wasn’t your typical Wrong Way working-class venue, but rather a much more upmarket Oma café (the newly opened one in Torre Bicentenario on Carrera 4 with Avenida Jiménez), equipped with a security guard and cameras.

However, therein lies the danger; the feeling that you and your possessions are a little safer in such a place. 

In fact, it could be argued that the sheer volume of security guards employed in this country dilutes each individual one’s impact. I certainly wouldn’t be relying on many of them to have my back in a tight corner.

The "fatal" errors on my part were not having my bag in eyeshot or tied around something secure and not taking notice of the movements around me; the intense conversation I was having with an old friend was occupying my mind.

Whatever the case, the relatively well-dressed ladrones saw their opportunity and seized it.

'On the ball' security. Well, not quite ...

Thankfully, it was far from spectacular the booty they got. Basically, there was the bag itself, a few USB sticks, an old jacket (of sentimental value albeit) and a pocket-book of Spanish grammar along with an English-Spanish dictionary – at least those latter items might help our pilferers overcome their illiteracy problems.

Predictably, when we reported the robbery to the building’s administrator, her initial reaction fell firmly into the ‘dar papaya’ mindset. 

To her credit, though, she eventually showed some morsels of taking affirmative action, agreeing to set in train the process of reviewing the premise’s security cameras.* Perhaps next time she'll realise that this should be her first response.

You see, as official Colombia grapples with a potential peace agreement with the Farc guerrillas, real peace and security must come from the people, ‘el pueblo Colombiano’, each and every part of it. Taking a strong stand against all who jeopardise this is what’s needed.

There are positive signs in this regard, but by its very nature, it’s a never-ending process, consisting of many different, overlapping strands. This country, however, has too many decent people to let a thuggish minority dominate the landscape.

Yet, turn a blind eye to that minority’s behaviour and the vicious cycle will continue.
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*That process is still ongoing. Hopefully, if and when the cameras are reviewed, we’ll have a good picture of the thieves, something that we can publish.

'You've been had, Bogotá style.'

There’s an old story about a man in a restaurant who begins friendly banter with an adjacent table. 

He gets on so well with his new acquaintances that he offers to pay their bill. So up he gets, goes to the till operator and points down to where his friends are sitting. They wave back, acknowledging that it’s them who are to be the recipients of the man’s generous offer.

False friend: This tienda owner (the man in the yellow T-shirt) appeared all friendly. He was, however, anything but.

Yet, the snag is, the man has actually told the restaurant employee that it’s the guys at the table who are going to pay his bill. And off he goes, before anyone realises what’s happened, never to be seen again.

It’s an interesting yarn, but one that you’d have to think falls into the urban myth category; you couldn’t get away with it in this day and age, surely? Alas, not so. There are a few crafty operators in Bogotá who are not only willing to give it a go but, aided by incompetent, indifferent employees and owners, manage to get away with it.

In fact, the Bogotá version doesn’t require any acknowledgement from those being duped, as happens in the account above. No, the trickster just leaves, apparently giving a knowing nod to the owner and his bill is placed on the tab of those he had been casually talking to, uninvited at that.

Of course, the till operators know full well that it isn’t the intention of those remaining to fork out for the man who just left. Nothing, though, is said until it comes to payment time. Then, it’s expected that the extranjeros (foreigners) will nonchalantly pay for everything; sure it’s what we’re here for, to treat the locals.

Unfortunately, I was the victim of such an incident in downtown Bogotá. Now, my approach would be, and was, to refuse to pay, but the company I was with pulled rank and handed over the cash to avoid any hassle. It was probably the safer move for where we were (which was a tienda bar on Carrera 10 with 18; see photos).

'Relax, the foreigners will pay for everything.'

In one regard, hats off to the guy who had his tab transferred to ours. If there’s a chance he can get away with it, why not? My anger is directed more at the establishment’s owner. That he could just cheekily expect that we’d pay for things we didn’t ask for nor want is infuriating, to say the least. ‘A plague on his house’ is the best I can wish for him.

The lesson to be learnt from this: If there’s a tab system in operation in a place that you’re not too familiar with, it’s best not to go with the norm, but pay as you go instead. Messy episodes as the one mentioned can thus be avoided.

Plus, it underscores, again, the fact that you can never drop your guard in these parts. It also, sadly, betrays the mantra of many Colombians that they are amongst the friendliest in the world.

On a slightly more positive note, I can rest assured that this wouldn’t happen to me in my local watering holes in the barrios of La Perseverancia or Egipto; at least there they’d ask for a drink if they were stuck.

You see there’s still hope for Colombia, just about.

Colombia's best bank: And our winner is ...

Sometimes you have to accept that certain things are the way they are – at least for a specific moment in time. So while the Colombian banking system frustrates more than what I had been used to, you just have to deal with it.

However, depending on your circumstances and requirements, it is worth shopping around if you're looking for a safe place for your money here.

Banco Caja Social: Wrong Way's kind of bank. (Image from Facebook.)

What’s more, reflecting the general lack of customer service in this country, banks don’t seem to care one iota if you decide to ‘take your money and run’, closing an existing account. A great business sense that, leaking clients at will. My ‘millions’ are better off in Ireland and the UK for now.

If you do, though, require a Colombian bank account, from my investigations, coming at it as an independent visa holder, without having to go to extraordinary lengths to prove your importance,* here’s the low-down on the lukewarm to the damn right cold:

Banking is Caring and Sharing: 

First place goes to Banco Caja Social or in its initialism form, BCS (hence the introduction, geddit?). 

This bank offers a standard savings account without any management fee, or so they say. 5,000 COP (Colombian pesos, roughly €1.90) is held in bolsillo (‘pocket’) and taken from your account each month. 

However, it’s your money, not theirs; you can access it whenever you want, apparently. You’re allowed up to five free ATM withdrawals per month – in BCS’s own cash machines that is, of course (there is a fee to use those of other banks, the standard practice in Colombia).

Moreover, all you need is your Colombian immigration card (Cédula de Extranjería), and cash obviously, to open an account. That is to say you don’t need to show a certified proof of income, a requirement in many of the other banks and something that can be a bit of a hassle to get as an independent, non-contracted worker.

On top of all this, in a case of what’s seldom is wonderful for this country, the guy I dealt with in the bank’s 19th Avenue with Fourth Street (Calle 19 con Carrera 4) branch was extremely friendly and helpful and seemed genuinely interested in having me as a customer (cheers Oscar!).

Worthy of mention: 

A much smaller bank than Caja Social, Bancoomeva’s standard savings account comes free of charges for the first six months. Thereafter, there is no standard monthly fee, but you pay for every transaction. 

At their own ATMs the fee is minimal; 1,300 COP for each of your first four monthly withdrawals. However, it’s more than double that if you withdraw from other banks. This could prove costly considering the current small size of their network nationwide.

A newcomer to the market, the Ecuadorian Banco Pichincha, has a monthly management fee of a not-too-excessive 6,900 COP. Like Caja Social, it’s simple to open an account, with no proof of income required. On the downside, like Bancoomeva, the network is small.

Banco de Bogotá’s monthly fee is 6,500 COP, which allows up to five cost-free ATM transactions per month. The paperwork required to open an account there is somewhat off-putting, though.

It’s relatively straightforward to open an account with Davivienda but the monthly fee of 9,500 COP is at the higher end of the scale. Plus, in one of its branches at least, employees could do with some intensive customer-service training.

Best to be avoided: 

With a total monthly fee of a whopping 18,000 COP, broken down as 10,000 COP for management plus an 8,000 COP administration charge for good measure, Banco Popular is certainly not popular with Wrong Way anyway.

Three of a kind: Disinterested, costly banks ...

Bancolombia charges 9,700 COP per month and requires proof of income. The Spanish bank BBVA is also one of the more expensive ones with which to do business.

I have it on good authority that Citibank’s priority in Colombia is at the upper end of the market; fee-wise it’s at the upper end of things in any case.

It must be said that some banks such as Banco Av Villas, Banco Occidente and Banco Agrario failed to provide me with information as requested (and promised in a couple of cases). 

Also, if anyone knows of any other bank operating in Colombia that can trump Banco Caja Social – bearing in mind this little study is based on an independent visa holder or somebody without contracted employment – please do tell.

For now, though, it’s off to Caja Social I go.
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*By ‘extraordinary lengths’ I mean having to write, in a strong manner, to branch managers and indeed company directors to get any sort of positive attention. Even that doesn’t guarantee any improvement in conditions. 

End of the Strata Republic?

Colombia’s unique strata system has been under the spotlight of late. To the uninitiated, this basically divides the population into rich and poor according to the area they live in, not by the actual living standards of each individual or family.

One of La Perseverancia's, nay Bogotá's, finest establishments, Don Fernando's.

The system ranges from one, the poorest, to six (or even seven), the richest. The overall idea is that people living in the lower strata pay less for everyday utilities such as water and electricity, subsidised in part by the higher service charges paid by the other strata.

Areas are judged and numbered according to general housing characteristics such as a garage, a front yard and the quality of the neighbourhood. So, as you’d expect, on the whole the wealthier, that is to say the minority of Colombians, live in the upper strata, with the working- and lower-class majority living in strata one, two and three.

Thus, you could say, the system is fit for purpose: Those who can pay more in terms of services, do.

However, there are obvious flaws; hence calls to do away with it are growing stronger.

For one, you can find relatively wealthy people living in the lower strata, while it’s not always a given that those based in the more affluent parts are "flush".

Also, many rural areas have a low ranking, presumably because of distance from everyday services, yet you can find pockets of wealthy inhabitants in the Colombian countryside, especially on the outskirts of cities.

Then you have the social stigma that comes with being from strata one and two, or even three, depending on your outlook. While outwardly some universities and employers may say it’s not an issue, in a country that pays too much attention to status and background, the reality is different.

Taking the above into account, a more personalised approach into how people are socially assessed – that is to say the international standard – would seem a fairer way of doing things.

Of course, assessing the needs of the population is one thing; actually providing aid and support where it’s required most is another matter altogether.

What’s more, getting rid of stratification won’t, obviously, see the lot improve automatically for poorer areas. The rough-and-ready, simple-and-satisfying qualities of my beloved La Perseverancia (La Perse for short), a stratum two in Bogotá, won’t go away in a hurry. In any case, from a personal point of view, I don’t want to see too much change there.

Yet, those living in La Perseverancia and its ilk practically operate in a different world compared to the wealthier parts.

The 'not very Irish pub' in Bogotá's "exclusive" Zona T. (Photo from Facebook.)

Yes, there are clearly demarcated rich and poor areas across the globe, there’s nothing surprising in that. However, the difference between the haves and the have nots in Colombia seems particularly pronounced.

For example, looking at socialising in Bogotá, the kind of prices you pay for a night out in the fancier barrios are multiples of those in the "majority" (as in where most of the city’s inhabitants live and operate) neighbourhoods. And you’re paying for basically the same products, but with – a lot of the time – a less personal, poorer service. 

Plus, the richer parts are not always safer or more aesthetically pleasing, as they claim to be.

These huge price differences are something that could, potentially, be reined in with an end to stratification. Now that would, or should, be more a case of pruning the excesses at the top rather than cutting from the bottom.

In the meantime, I’ll continue the keeping-up-with-La-Perse strategy, dabbling only very occasionally into the world of the other five per cent.
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For a somewhat related piece, see In defence of hoping (and fighting) for, at least, a 'Freer Bogotá' and Budget Bogotá.