It is not as if she has never heard of altitude.

It is not as if she has never heard of altitude sickness.

It is not as if she didn´t know of the importance of altitude acclimatization.

It is not …

Oh yes, she knew it all. Yet, this know-it-all world traveler (presumably), a well-educated and well-read fully grown woman, ignored all her wisdom, not to mention common sense and reason, and let it all fly out the window as though there were no tomorrow. Seriously, what could possibly go wrong? What could possibly happen to her? Definitely not to her. She can take on any challenge. After all, she is invincible. And by the way, doesn’t altitude sickness and/or any other altitude-related emergency only happen to mountaineers, the world’s highest mountain climbers at that, like Mount Everest?

Yet, only a few years ago, while visiting a “mere” mile-high city of Denver (5,130–5,690 ft – 1,564–1,734 m), she heard people talk, and she heard stories about the effects mile-high elevation might have. Not only on visitors but also on locals. Just last year in Fort Collins, CO, she was telling anybody and everybody who cared to listen how glad she was spending time in the city and thereby getting acclimatized for higher altitudes to which she was heading shortly – a plan that was sadly crushed by COVID.

She wasn’t going to let it happen again – let something or even someone crash her plans. So when a window of opportunity opened about a month ago, without as much as a second thought and definitely none regarding elevation, altitude, or acclimatization, she jumped on the first available airplane and flew from NYC to the second-highest capital city in the world – Quito in Ecuador. From 33 feet (10 m) right up to 9,350 ft (2,850 m). This, in itself, mustn’t necessarily mean a life-threatening situation or even trouble, danger, altitude sickness, or whatever else harmful… as long as you…

Remember where you are. Take it easy, give your body a chance, and take some precautions. Chilling is good, heaps of water (like 5 liters) are essential, carbs and dark chocolate are helpful, and observation is crucial. Listen to your body and do not take any chances. Descend if necessary. For most, the critical altitude point is 8,000 feet. At that elevation, most people require acclimatization.

If you play with fire you can get burnt

Altitude sickness can be life-threatening Don´t play with fire – Take the following steps

Train high-altitude breathing techniques prior to departure. Search Youtube There are some pills you can start taking prior to arrival. Search for them Take it very easy after arrival Use sunscreen. You´re some 3000 meters closer to the sun. The last thing you want is to get sunstroke on top of altitude sickness Wear a hat  Drink liters of water Drink matte de coca, preferably brewed from fresh coca leaves. If not available, use 2 tea bags of whatever brand you can find. Sold only at the local markets. “Naturista” stores may also have it. Some cafes run by Peruvians usually serve it Eat dark chocolate Eat carbs Take Paracetamol for headaches Buy Glaucomed Acetazolamida for altitude sickness, take one in the morning and one in the evening Some 5-star hotels provide both matte de coca and oxygen. Some have even inhouse doctor Do not drink alcohol Descent to a lower altitude Alternatively, in rare situations depending on your condition, go higher up and then descent to where you were Visit a doctor.  Get an altitude app so that you know exactly how high you are. Always fun to have. I use “My Elevation” Free Coca leaves in an airport in Peru to help with altitude sickness. Photo: unknown

Oh yes, acclimatization. This insignificant detail together with whatever common sense she might have had (or not) slipped her mind completely. For not only did she forget to take any precautions whatsoever prior to the arrival, not only did she forget to take it very easy, drink liters of water and observe her body´s reaction to the “elements”, but she also did everything one (with a bit of brain) must never ever do during the first days or even weeks at this elevation. Like power walking 16 kilometers (10 miles) carrying camera gear without any rest at all, no food, and above all no water. All that and more on the very first day in the city that beats the critical altitude point by almost 1000 feet. Very smart. Bravo.

This is exactly what she did. Seven or so hours of speedy walking. And then she run up 3 flights of stairs to her room and had a glass of wine. A big NO-NO. Of course, she was tired. A bit. But other than that? All good. So she continued. Day number 2 wasn´t as “eventful” as the previous one – nonetheless, she was exploring the hilly streets of Quito. Up and down, up and down. The elevation thingy didn´t even cross her mind. Not for a second. (After all, she spent a good few weeks in Bogota (8661 feet, 2640 m) which is only 200 meters (656 feet) lower than Quito, doing the very same activities and had no problems. As a matter of fact, nobody ever mentioned elevation in Bogota. Not once, not in any capacity).

Days 2 and 3 have passed without any issues. Due to bad weather, she slowed down a bit but was still quite active. However, she hardly drank any water during those days. Day 4 was the first sunny day and quite hot. She took a stroll around the neighborhood. Walking some 3000 meters closer to the sun without a hat it felt like walking under a fireball. Sun at that elevation is not for tanning. Hot, thirsty, and tired, she went back to the hotel, and for the first time in her life, she experienced shortness of breath. Someone advised her to sip on Matte de coca, drink plenty of water, and eat dark chocolate. She complied, minus matte de coca which she couldn´t find in the supermarket. To compensate for that she bought two bars of dark chocolate.

She wasn’t sure whether it was night 4 or 5 when things got serious. Maybe even outright dangerous. Undoubtedly she was suffering from something – was it altitude sickness or something worse? By then, she did do some reading about the matter and refused to even think about “something worse”. Everything will be alright, won’t it? Her lungs felt squeezed by some imaginary powers, her hands and fingers were tingling, her heart was whispering something she didn´t want to hear, she couldn’t walk up the stairs, she was exhausted, she lost all her appetite, her energy level was non-existent, even her teeth were hurting, and she couldn’t sleep. Insomnia hit her and hit her hard. As soon as she lay down, her lungs were about to collapse. Or so it felt. She couldn’t breathe at all. Panic. She was doing the best she could to convince herself to relax and breathe, slowly, slowly, breathe, expel, one more time, breathe, expel … give it a minute or 30 seconds, 15 then … it will calm down. It will. Two seconds later, she was up. Her head started playing tricks on her when lying down, and she couldn´t control it. So she stayed up. (Could it be a glimpse of how covid sufferers feel?) Awful stuff and very scary. She didn´t sleep for three nights.

Matte de Coca

Oh yes, she should have gone to lower altitudes right away. She didn´t. It didn´t even cross her mind. Perhaps she was too tired. She stayed in bed waiting for the crisis to pass. She should have asked for help. She didn´t. She should have called for a doctor. She didn’t. There were other things she could or should have done. She didn’t do any of them. Instead, she went to a supermarket on a third day to buy coca tea. They didn’t have it. She went to the pharmacy to look for tea. No tea. But they had the pills. She bought the pills. After three sleepless nights, she fell asleep. At last.

Descent. Why don´t you? 

How dumb one can really get? She must have gone mad, why doesn´t she leave for lower elevation, as any, even moderately intelligent person would? Descent is the only way. Why? Why? Why indeed? Leave. Go. Run. What are you waiting for?

Well, not always things are black and white. (Or maybe they are and we just mess them up.) Just before the crisis, or maybe on the day of she committed to … a cat sit … (yes, you read it right – cat sit) and felt she couldn´t break the commitment, wouldn´t even know how to do it. Leaving wasn´t even an option, or so she felt at the time. Always optimistic. Give it a day or two and it will go over, she thought. Of course, it will. It must. It always does, doesn´t it? She refused to think of any other outcome. She´ll be good as new in a matter of days. She wasn´t. 

Eventually, she got a couple of gray cells functioning and she did leave. There was no other choice if her condition was to improve. Not very far though. Only to Cumbaya, a valley some 20 minutes cab ride from the city.  A real-life saver as it lies 450 meters (1500 feet) lower than Quito. It was in Cumbaya that she patiently waited for her cat-sit-gig to begin.

The taxi ride back to the city was mentally challenging. The altitude app was only going up up up and up. The Cumbaya stay was a smart move but not smart enough. She should have traveled to even lower altitudes (and stayed there). She was better but not fully recovered. Far from it.

During the 13-day pet-sit stay in Quito, she was in survival mode, exhausted and sleepy. Idle running. Living in a twilight zone somewhere over the rainbow (or rather above clouds). Staying at home most of the time cuddling the kitty. Conveniently she was staying in a residential area on the top of a steep hill, 2844 meters (9339 feet) above the sea, with no grocery shops and no restaurants. Occasionally she had to inch 0.4 miles down the hill to shop and eat but (as not to risk anything) always took a cab back. If she only could ditch that killer mask. Ah, that would be the day. And she was waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Waiting for the day she could leave for lower altitudes. For good this time. She will never find her paradise in Quito. Waterfront in Lima looks lovely. Three days to go.

And the kitty? Sweetest, cuddliest, and most patient kitty in the world that wouldn´t leave her side. Wherever she went the kitty went. Not much of a kitty really but a senior cat with serious medical conditions who required seven meds a day (all of them syringed into the mouth) and liquids every other day that took 10 agonizing minutes to inject. And he hated them all. It was a real challenge. Almost mission impossible for one inexperienced sitter. She managed the meds but needed assistance with the liquids. Not to inject but to hold and pet the cat. All she could think of were meds, meds, and meds anxiously searching Youtube for alternative ways to administrate them, how to hide them, which treats to use, what cat-tv to play for distraction, and what music to play for calmness. Enjoyment for the kitty but stress and anxiety for her. No ideal situation for her already fragile condition. In addition, the kitty loved to sleep on her chest which was not ideal for her lungs. Oh well, no complaints, she asked for it. She got it. The cat loved it and that´s all that mattered. They really bonded. Hopefully, he had the time of his life with this crazy lady, a.k.a. moi.

And the silver lining? Isn´t there always one in every story?

Oh yes, I believe there is one. Maybe even two. After two? three? years of writer´s block I have managed to write this post and enjoyed doing it. Bravo to me. My only hope is it will not take another two years for the next one. Unfortunately, I cannot attach nice Quito pictures – there aren´t any. Spend most of my time at home. Walking was very difficult. Carrying a camera was impossible. 

Then there is also the booster shot. Ecuadorian Health Authorities provided one for me as they did for everybody incl tourists. So generous of them. Much appreciated.

Furthermore, I am hoping that this health emergency, which consequences are far from over, has thought me a lesson. That I, like everybody else, am not invincible. That letting life-saving advice in potentially life-threatening situations slip my mind is not acceptable and right out heights of stupidity, but above all, I am hoping that my stupidity hasn´t caused too much permanent damage … for I fear it wasn´t just altitude sickness I suffered/suffer from but also dyspnea.

Suma Summarum: Maybe, just maybe not all commitments are unbreakable. 

The post Crazy Lady and (not) Her Cat appeared first on One way ticket to Paradise.

Apparently, I was not the only one who found Cartagena (or rather its image) irresistible, for as it turned out this colonial, colorful, beautifully preserved walled city and fortress with centuries-long history and stunning architecture is one of the top travel destinations in 2018. In fact, it claimed the prestigious second place in the CNN survey. Canada went all the way and named the city number one of 2018 trending destination. As did I. Ever since I saw that photo I could not think of anything else. Cartagena (and subsequently Colombia) was the place I had to visit and I had to do it right away. 

After years and years of topping the lists of most dangerous countries in the world, Colombia has made a 180-degree turn around and is today doing whatever it can to restore the damaged reputation by dismantling the drug cartels, employing more policemen,  investing in tourist police and making the safety of all but specifically visitors its priority. Whatever they do they must be doing it right for the country not only lost its “prime’ place on the list of most dangerous but is today topping the lists of hottest travel destinations in the world with Cartagena being number one and Medellin being the hottest retirement destination. Very impressive. (Let us only hope the upcoming election will not interfere with the current state of affairs. There is a concern Colombia will become another Venezuela if the Petro guy wins.) 

It took me longer than planned to get there as my journey went through both Bogota and Medellin, which I originally had no intention to visit, but eventually, the day had come. I finally arrived in the Magic City and my excitement and anticipation couldn’t be any higher.

As an icing on the cake, (especially for me who is searching for a beach paradise) Cartagena is a beach town facing the Caribbean Sea and the sunset. Why not kill two birds with one stone then? Why not indeed. To embrace the two I parked myself right on the beach at Bocagrande only a stone’s throw away from the Walled City. Paradise on Earth? 

First thing in the morning I grabbed my camera, a bottle of water and off I went to the Walled City in search of the colorful architectural masterpieces – the carrot that made me drop everything for Cartagena in the first place. 

Tip: A walk from (almost) the end of Bocagrande to the Walled City takes about 40 minutes. It is pretty hot and humid so you may like to take a taxi or a bus instead. Taxi costs approx 2.5 USD and bus 35 cents. (June 2018)

The Walled City

Cafe del Mar draws crowds of tourists every sunset. Opens at 5 p.m.

All visitors to Cartagena come for one reason and one reason only -The Walled City. It is a historic part of town, The Old Town, founded in the 15th century. As the name suggests, the city was built in between the wall which (btw) is 11 kilometers long and partially some 50 meters wide. Locals and visitors come to the wall every night to watch the sunset. The thick wall is full of “windows” (after all it is a fortress), offering not only a bench to sit but also shelter from the elements.  Long before the sunset, these cozy hideaways in the wall are quickly filled up with local couples in hope of a romantic picnic and some quality time with the loved one. Visitors, on the other hand, prefer sitting in cafes on the top of the wall, like Cafe del Mar.

It goes without saying, the Walled City is where all the action is. As a vast majority of visitors “stay and play” there it is also very touristy which could be negative for some, or positive for others as the area is well lit and patrolled by the police making it the safest part of town. It is also the most expensive part of town full of fancy coffee shops, restaurants, high-end boutiques, boutique hotels, luxurious Airbnbs, overpriced hostels and… (surprise, surprise) annoying street vendors. If you’re in town for a couple of days only and not on a shoestring budget this is the place to stay.  

Tip: the best time to visit is Sunday. Most Colombian towns, including Cartagena and even Bogota, are almost deserted on Sundays as most people don’t work on that holy day, thus even many street vendors stay at home thereby making city strolls and explorations so much more enjoyable.

Slideshow with more images all the way down

Getsemani

Even thought Getsemani is (kind of) within the city walls it is in fact outside THE wall. Not by much but outside nonetheless. The neighborhood is as old as the historic district but is not refurbished. At least not yet. People say Getsemani is what the Walled City used to be. This makes Getsemani a genuine historic district. As opposed to the Walled City where only tourists can afford to stay many locals actually live in Getsemani. This offers the visitors a unique opportunity of a glimpse into Cartagena’s everyday life that every evening is displayed in front of their eyes when the locals bring tables, chairs, board games, food & drink into the streets and relax while enjoying the evening with family and friends.

Getsemani is probably the most interesting part of town, a very vibrant neighborhood with the edgy vibe and genuine local street culture. Many restaurants, bars, and best salsa nightclubs are located here. It is, of course, much cheaper than the Walled City, thus popular with backpackers. Most of the hostels are located right here.

The place is pretty safe, however, some people under the influence sitting/lying “here and there” can feel somewhat intimidating. Not that they are capable of doing anything, but why take a chance. So don’t walk alone after dark.

El Centro

El Centro is a small area between Getsemani and the Walled City. Here you can find plenty of small shops selling practically everything including electronics, souvenirs and plenty of street food. If you’re looking for a bargain or specific service (watch battery replacement or new recharger) El Centro is the place.  

Tip: there is a small park right in the middle of town inhabited by small monkeys. On the way from the Walled City to Getsemani or the other way around take a walk through the park and say hi to the monkeys.

Slideshow with more images all the way down

Bocagrande

Bocagrande skyline as seen from the Walled City

Cartagena seems to have it all, lovely colonial walled city attracting tourists from all over the world and the sandy beaches. Matchmade in heaven?

Bocagrande, a three kilometers long and about 500 meters wide at its widest spot peninsula, is marketed as a luxurious neighborhood on a sandy beach with luxurious hotels, condominiums, malls, restaurants, and supermarkets. The sea in front and the bay in the back make sure all hotel rooms and apartments not only have lovely views but are also very breezy which is hugely appreciated in hot and humid climate. Sounds good, doesn’t it?

Well, let me tell you right away. People do not come to Cartagena for the beach. Even though the neighborhood as a whole isn’t too bad the beach itself is awful. Dirty black sand, dodgy looking scam practicing bars/restaurants filled predominantly with locals and vacationing Colombians, an endless stream of aggressive vendors that make your blood boil, persistent massage terrorists that constantly hassle you, con artists that keep you on your toes. Stress, stress, stress. No chance for the quality relaxation or any relaxation for that matter. Not even for 10 seconds. (For real, this is not an exaggeration. Read reviews on Tripadvisor). At night the hassling touts are replaced by hassling prostitutes and drug dealers. It just never ends. This must be the worst beach I have ever been to.

Bocagrande as seen from La Manga

The sea is supposed to be clean, however, it is difficult to tell when the bottom is black and invisible. Clean or not, it doesn’t look very inviting.  I’ve spent three long months in Cartagena but went into the sea only once. It was 30 seconds long in-and-out procedure. Yet I love beaches and warm sea. But not the one in Bocagrande. 

What surprises me the most is that there are tourists paying money to stay in fancy hotels along the beach, there are none on the beach though. I am guessing they are there exclusively for the view and the breeze.

La Boquilla 

La Boquilla is the second beach in Cartagena, on the other side of town not too far from the airport. It is marketed as (upcoming) luxurious (mostly) residential area on the beautiful beach. Hmm… the beach is much much larger than the one in Bocagrande, however, it is definitely not much better. Even though the sand looks less dirty it is still dirty and also very compact making the beach look more like a dirt road than a beautiful soft sandy beach.

Slideshow with more images all the way down

La Manga

La Manga is an upscale residential neighborhood not more than a 20-minute walk from the Walled City. The upscale of La Manga is not really comparable with the upscale of Western neighborhoods but it is as good as it gets in Colombia. I stayed in a lovely colonial house for 1, 5 months and really enjoyed it. 

It is a quiet and secure small island with many beautiful colonial houses. There are also few condominiums. If you are in Cartagena for a longer haul La Manga is the place to stay especially if you like to live in a house. Bocagrande could be another alternative if you prefer to stay in a breezy apartment. 

Summa Summarum

Being number one tourist world destination of 2018 as well as being the most visited city and number one tourist attraction in the country comes with a price tag. Or two. Both visitors and locals pay today for that privilege. 

Cartagena has not only become the most expensive city in Colombia which almost emptied the Walled City from its inhabitants but due to the crowds visiting the city, both regular tourists and the day trippers arriving on ships, it is also invaded by pushy touts who make the life of visitors rather difficult. To say the least.

Police daily radio appeal to let the visitors be, have no effect at all. The ‘business’ goes as usual. Cartagena is still a very poor country and the locals take every opportunity they get to make extra money. 

Cartagena is hot and humid. Very hot and very humid. After long steamy hours exploring the Walled City, there is nothing more satisfying (at least for me) than an evening stroll on the beach, a dip in the sea, a well-chilled drink, a bite to eat, breathtaking sunset.

Dream on.

Unfortunately, the beach is practically inaccessible to visitors. What a shame.  

All that glitters is not gold

Don’t get me wrong. Cartagena or rather the Walled City is lovely and undoubtedly worth a visit but is it really all that? Not sure. Part of the hype (imho) is related to the fact that Cartagena is a relatively new destination.  

I am very glad I came. I truly am. But the truth of the matter is that sometimes picturesque pictures are more picturesque than reality and that 16 million colors are perceived uniquely by each individual.  Images tend to be more saturated than reality. (Even my Bocagrande images don’t mirror the reality). 

There is a small expat community in Cartagena. They are though not as active as expats in Medellin. I cannot see myself living in Cartagena. Too hot, too humid, the worst beach in the world. But above all the constant harassment by touts and scammers do not qualify the city as a retirement paradise destination. Far from it. So, I’ll keep looking. 

p.s. I just happened to come across yet another picture that keeps my head spinning – Rainbow Mountains in Peru. 

The Walled City of Cartagena – slideshow

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The towns are so much associated with seasons they represent they are nicknamed after them. Cali, for example, is the town of never-ending summer where the temperatures differ during the year as much/little as one degree. Bogota must be the town of ever-lasting autumn with daily rains, low temperatures, and overall miserable existence. People refer to weather in Bogota as “shitty”. Medellin, on the other hand, is the town of eternal spring. Never cold, never too hot nor too humid. Climate paradise for those who come from less temperate latitudes, like North America or Europe. And they come, and come, and come. In thousands. 

Medellin story is currently one of the most successful stories in making.  In a matter of only a few years, it has transitioned from the Escobar stronghold to industrial stronghold, from Medellín Cartel city to most innovative city of the year, from the most dangerous city in the world to the best place to retire in 2017, from the “murder and kidnapping capital of the world” to expat paradise. Today Medellin is premiere retirement heaven attracting retirees from all over the world. 

And it isn’t only Medellin that is super hot today. The whole of Colombia is undergoing the renaissance. The country is off the list of most dangerous countries in the world. In fact, it has been ranked by The New York Times as the second, out of 52, destination to visit in 2018. What a transformation What an accomplishment. 

Why Medellin?

Expats list many benefits of living in Medellin, like affordable prices, high standard of accommodation, security, direct flights to the US, super modern metro but the biggest of them all is… climate. Expats come to Medellin primarily for its climate. 

Is the climate really so great?

Hmmm. Not really, not if you ask me. But I only stayed 10 days. Your mileage may vary though. It was neither hot nor cold, not even humid. Just like the expats love it. Why didn’t I? The temperature was very comfortable. Warm spring. Warm but rainy spring which I didn’t mind all that much, however; it was also almost always very gray which I didn’t like one bit. Not sure if the sky was gray because of the surrounding mountains or because of the pollution which is pretty bad. Whatever the reason,  the sun was practically invisible hiding behind the clouds. And, if it wasn’t raining it looked like it would rain any minute. 

Medellin, the city

Medellin is the second-largest city in Colombia with a population of 2.5 million inhabitants, almost four in the metropolitan area. Generally, the town is safe. As anywhere else, there are pockets that are less safe (or even dangerous no-go zones), as well as there are pockets that are very safe, even after dark – like El Poblado.

Sadly, I didn’t give Medellin much of a chance. After my bad experience in Bogota, I had no desire to do Escobar tour, exploring El Centro or any other area for that matter and stayed in El Poblado during the entire time. In addition, my visit coincided with Easter which emptied the town from all its buzz. The town (El Poblado) was almost deserted.

El Poblado is home to most of the expats living in Medellin. Subsequently, it is also the priciest section of town. Even so, it is still very affordable. You can find an all-inclusive room for 300 USD a month, small apartment for the double plus utilities. Most of the buildings are high raised towers overlooking the mountains built according to the Western standard with lovely views and swimming pools. The neighborhood is walkable full of grocery stores, restaurants, bars, and clubs.

So why not? 

There is only one answer. I couldn’t find any beach in Medellin, not that I was expecting one in the mountainous landscape. This is it. My dream destination is a beach community. Like Cartagena? I am just about to find out. I am finally on my way to Cartagena, the magic city that “lured” me to Colombia in the first place. Fingers crossed.  

p.s. Medellin is a really great place. So, if you don’t care much for the beaches you may like to give it a chance.

Medellin in Pictures – slideshow

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If there is anything locals and visitors to a ten million (plus) Colombian capital city,  Bogota, can always count on; it is: 

1. The sun only shines in Bogota in the mornings – before 1 p.m.
2. Each Sunday morning and early afternoon Ciclovía takes place in the city – a reclaim the streets type of event attracting up to 2 million bikers, runners, and skaters. (The event is also organized during public holidays and in other cities.) 

The Sunday of March 18th wasn’t any different from other Sundays. The sun was shining (it was only 12 p.m.), Cyclovia was underway and the city center was filled with attendees, their supporters, tourists and plenty of “regular’ people. Armed police were everywhere, both city police and tourist police, keeping an eye on the event and the city at large.

After some two hours of shooting the newly restored Centro Historico, I found myself at the Bolivar Square – the main square of Bogotá.

The square was jam-packed with people, both tourists and locals alike, and millions of pigeons. The kids were playing and passers-by were feeding the pigeons. The herd of bikers was cycling on a bike path leading to/from the square almost overrunning tourists unaware of the event. There were so many of them that the whole procession looked like a pilgrimage or an army of ants working the path to/from their colony.  They were all going to/from one direction. Thinking there might be an interesting event going on around the corner I followed the bikers.  And yes (as I found out later), during Ciclovía, there are many sporting events like yoga organized on numerous plazas and in parks across the city.

I couldn’t have walked more than a block, one and a half at the most and was just about to turn back when I felt as if someone walking behind me ‘tapped’ my shoulder. Not very hard but it was a tap/hit, nonetheless. Instantly and without any confirmatory visuals, I KNEW exactly what it was. All my senses went on the highest alert and I remember thinking; “Oh no, this is not happening, it can’t be. No way”. But it was.. this is exactly what was happening…

On a bright sunny day, at noon, in the middle of the city full of people, in the presence of an army of policemen – I was about to get mugged.

Bogotá was not on my itinerary at all. As a rule, I avoid large capital cities of Central and South America. The larger the city the more poverty and consequently the more problems (read danger), especially for a female solo traveler. In fact, not only Bogota but also Colombia was not on my itinerary either… until one day. The day I happened to see a photograph of Cartagena. From then on Cartagena had become my travel destination number one. Cartagena was all I could think of. I had to see Cartagena. Period. So I went. Via Bogota, as direct flights to Cartagena were crazily expensive.

And there I was, in Bogota, I never wanted to visit, right in the city center, maybe 100 meters from Bolivar Plaza, amongst thousands of people and police on every single corner yelling for help in broad daylight.

There were two of them. They must have been following me. They saw me taking pictures and putting the camera into a shoulder bag made of cloth that was ‘nonchalantly’ hanging on my right shoulder. An easy target. Silly woman “giving papaya” (local slang for an easy target). Just grab a bag and run – they must have thought.

They grabbed the bag (the tap on the shoulder); the bag tore and its content fell out. But not the camera. It stayed put where it should. On a sling across my body.  This is how I always carry my camera in less friendly countries – on a sling across my body. The bag is only a ‘camouflage’, a hiding pouch so that I don’t need to have it on full display when I am not shooting.

This must have put them off guard. The easy target (snatch and run) wasn’t so easy after all. 

All victim accounts I read say the same thing: “I had no idea what hit me. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t even have the time to blink my eye, everything went so quick.” This was not my experience. On the contrary. Ever since the very first contact (shoulder tap/hit), all my senses went on full alert. and I knew exactly what was happening; I knew exactly what I was doing, and I was even having discussions with myself as to how to proceed. It is amazing how many different thoughts a human mind can process during “a blink of the eye”. 

Once the thieves understood what had happened they tried to pull the strap off my body. My strategy was to hold on to the sling and yell for help. Buy time. After all, there were so many people around,  someone must hear/see and come to the rescue. The seconds were ticking but none came. The thieves (undoubtedly) picked the best timing possible. When nobody was around.

The only advice ever given to victims in my situation is: 

1. Don’t surprise the thieves as they may become unpredictable (I have already done that – the sling) 
2.  Let “it” go. They may have a gun, or worse. It isn’t worth it. 

It was worth to me. More than you can imagine. Had I only had another second or two... Weighing all the pros and cons,… I had “upper hand”, I sat on the ground, it is easier to pull from below sitting than from above standing, just give me one more second… but what about that guy behind me, I couldn’t see him, he was also pulling the sling. I wasn’t scared at all. I’ll hold on for as long as it takes. A plan. I thought. Simultaneously, ‘other voices’ were talking to me, trying to convince me to be ‘smart’ and follow the ‘good advice’.

Unwillingly but consciously I began to let go – slowly, very slowly, inch by inch, shopping for time to the very end, while debating with myself whether it was the right thing to do.

They run off. With my camera. Watching them disappear into a narrow alley I also seemed to have noticed, from the corner of my eye, a biker chasing after them. Strangely, this only made me angry. “Now? It is too late now. You should have been here 1 second ago”. But, perhaps it was only my imagination playing tricks on me. I couldn’t be sure. 

The strangest thing of all… while warching them disappear with my camera I didn’t feel that killing emptiness and razor sharp pain one feels when losing beloved… anything really… but felt more like an observer watching a movie. Even though I was abolutly sure that was the end of the story… I was an extra in a movie. 

Still stranger, before leaving my hotel I took more precautions than ever. As if my gut feeling was trying to warn me. Left my cell and everything else I didn’t need. I even wanted to switch the lens to one that was less visible and cheaper (which never happened before). Unfortunately, I didn’t bring the kit lens with me (I am trying to travel ‘light’) and had only 50 mm prime as a backup – not so great for the cityscape shots.

All these extra preaucations as if I felt something was about to happen. All I had with me was maybe 10 USD in local currency, umbrella and a bottle of water. And a camera. 

So now WHAT? To put insult into the injury, I had my camera cleaned in Cancun only two days before and two weeks prior had the faulting zoom in my lens repaired. Collecting my camera from the repairman (yet another gut feeling) I was thinking… If anything is to happen… now is the time.  And so it was. Indeed.

Two days later, I let it all go. Perhaps I shouldn’t have. Perhaps I shouldn’t have listened to that other voice. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so smart. Too late now.

Shamed by my own stupidity (my first mugging) with a tail between my legs I began picking up contents of my bag (umbrella, water bottle) that was scattered on the ground and was just about to head back to my hotel to not-sure-what-to-do when a young female biker approached me. 

She thought I should report the incident to the police which ironically was only 50 meters away. Police? She must be joking. What can they do? Do they even care? The thieves are far away and the camera is sold a long time ago. But not having anything better to do and feeling like a fool I flowed her. The policeman directed us to a police booth located further down the square.  Once again, I hesitated… what a waste of time. But then again I thought – what’s the alternative? Sitting alone in my hotel room sulking about the lost camera? I went. 

After the initial confusion (we communicated through Google translator) I understood they caught someone. Aha? What that someone had to do with me? I couldn’t see any connection. They didn’t know anything about the camera though. Once I told them they began to interrogate the guy. After only a few seconds not only the connection was established but he also confessed to stealing my camera (???!!!). However, he didn’t have it, nor did he know where it was. He gave it to the other guy, he said. Of course, he didn’t know who the other guy was. 

Why did they catch him and on what grounds did they arrest him I will never know. But maybe I shouldn’t be asking.  It appears, however, that the biker I thought I saw from the corner of my eye was real and it was him who must have caught the thief. (Imagine if I only held on to the sling for two more seconds.)

I spend at least an hour and a half (including a ride in a police car to my hotel to get the passport) in that tiny police booth. Some five, six policemen on duty were the nicest and friendliest people imaginable offering me water and chocolate all the time and generally making sure I was okay. At one point they showed me a knife and asked if I was ever threatened with one. I am not sure if it was just a knife they showed me or the knife they found on the thief. They also told me I have ventured into a no-go zone. A no-go zone right next to Bolivar Plaza? Hmmm, I remembered someone trying to warn me just when I was about to enter the area but I didn’t understand. I don’t speak Spanish. 

Next stop was a real police station.  For me and the thief. I had to make a statement and he was to be booked. 30-40 minute ride in two separate cars. Upon arrival, I was greeted by Patrullero Jeison Florez. 

Patrullero Jeison Florez

Patrullero Jeison Florez with Tourist Police in Bogota spoke English and didn’t leave my side during the four-hour stay at the station. Not that I have any experience with the police, Colombian or otherwise, but he must be the nicest and gentlest and most carrying policeman in the world. He desperately wanted me to like Colombia and to understand that majority of Colombians are just like him. Generous, friendly, giving and carrying. 

At one point he went to the thief to speak with him. The thief stuck to his story. He didn’t know where the camera was nor who the other guy was. Patrullero Jeison gave it a bit of time and tried again. After the second attempt when the thief understood it may cost him two extra years in jail, he suggested calling his sister. She may know who the other guy was, he said. And she did. Not only did she know the other thief she also found him, succeeded to recover the camera and was now on the way to the station to return it in the belief that once she has done so her thief brother would be set free. 

No. No Way. I don’t believe you. Impossible. Things like that just do not happen, not in Colombia, not anywhere in the world, I said to Jeison. Yes, it’s true – he replied. I didn’t want to get my hopes up and refused to believe him.

But it was. A few minutes later the sister came with my camera. And the sling. Intact. 

I left a statement. Even recorded a short video thanking Colombian Police for their efforts and amazing job in recovering my camera. Don’t remember exactly what I said but something about the impossible becoming possible. We hugged after that, said our goodbyes, and someone drove me back to the hotel. I am to contact Jeison right away should I need anything. Friends for life? Everybody was happy.

Everybody but the thief. He is in jail awaiting trial. He will get two years. Hadn’t the sister returned the camera he would get four. Don’t know if they ever caught the other thief. 

How Am I?

Glad you asked. To tell the truth – I don’t really know. Not yet. I am pretty much alright teasing myself “well done, you survived Bogota exactly two hours“, or, maybe I am in denial of some sort but my primal instincts are back on the radar (so do not come near me or touch me unexpectedly); I no longer take the camera wherever I go; neither do I shoot spontaneously but choose my objects/subjects with more care; not that I did it before but today I display the camera even less. My camera feels kind of dirty – not as pure anymore. My love for photography got bruised.

11 days have passed and I still haven’t mentioned the story to anybody. 

From the very beginning to the very end I was, without really knowing or expecting it, (unconsciously) waiting for a happy ending… though I knew there cannot be one. Things like that simply never happen. And definitely not in Colombia, the (former) number one most dangerous country in the world where no one cares about petty theft like that. (I hear additional funds were given to the police, and hundreds of extra policemen were put on the streets of Bogota to fight the crime.  The efforts have begun to give results.)

There is one thing I am absolutely sure about. The story wouldn’t (couldn’t) have a happy ending hadn’t I followed the bike lady to the police as I already had said goodbye to the camera the moment I let go of the sling. I must remember…

Never give up…  It ain’t over until it’s over. 

The (almost lost) Images of Centro Historico – slideshow

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