Delighted to report that my bag did make it in the end! It was touch and go whether it would arrive before I set off for Medellin but it did, and I was comforted to be able to throw on some more familiar clothes. Not that the budget clothes from the Colombian equivalent of Primark were all that bad, to be fair I’m sure I’ve had similar from Next.

To get a wider view of the city I decided to join the gringo trail and sign-up for a cycling tour of the city. It’s a bit unusual for me to join other westerners on foreign shores, less still the Brits abroad. I prefer the more independent less travelled routes but sometimes it’s worth it, as the cycling tour turned out to be.

Somewhat wary of a cycling tour in an unforgivingly steep city at 2400 meters, my mind was cast back to the last time I threw my skinny leg across a mountain bike. A “casual” cycle through Leicestershire countryside with Mr King. Except it wasn’t that casual for me. “How far have we come Adam?” “oh we’re about half way” we weren’t. “How much further Adam..?” “just a couple more miles” it wasn’t. “Adam, why does it now say 5 miles to Lutterworth when we passed a sign earlier saying 2 miles to Lutterworth!?”, “Oh stop moaning Gus”…. “Adam! remember I’m fifty bloody five!”.

I needn’t have worried too much, the cycling was pretty flat and easy going, apart from some pavement cycling among pedestrians and jumping across crazy road junctions. Actually it felt good to be on two wheels and my crazy road biking experiences served me well.

The tour was lead by the lovely “Universe” the daughter of an indigenous mother and Senegalese father. By her own admission, her ADHD served her well in the role of tour guide as she frantically jumped from one topic to the next inviting audience participation but finding it difficult to stop for a second to let people jump in. Her enthusiasm was infectious and she soon had us laughing along,

After a cruise around the main official and historic buildings and some brief Colombian history – apparently the Colombians have a toxic relationship with Simon Bolivar, one of the founding figures of the country (and others in the region) – we cycled across town and out of the main shopping strip. Pausing at some traffic lights (for once) the word came back from our leader that we were going to cycle through a less a salubrious part of Bogota and we should stick close and watch our wallets. Also to not take any photos because were passing through the red light area. Warnings heeded we must have looked a real spectacle, a crocodile of nervous, pale westerners surging through the throngs of a tough looking neighborhood. “Red light district” was a bit of a stretch. I did spot a couple of scantily clad and rather sad looking women on a corner as we pedaled past, phones safely in pockets. I’m not sure the Belgian guy on the bike ahead appreciated my humour … “were you tempted?”… “no me neither actually”.

It was great to see a tough neighborhood of Bogota – most likely nowhere near the toughest. The purpose of this foray though was to get to the local’s food market. It was worth the effort. Universe pushed us through the market turning left and right and before long we were all lost. She took us to an avocado stand with the worlds biggest avocados, then proceeded to tell us all about the amazing biodiversity of Colombia and the fact it has more varieties of fruit than any other country, she then got us to try some. Well.. more than some.. a whole catalogue of fruits I’d never seen or heard of.. some squintingly sour, others sweet and juicy, others bland, others a literal cross between a tomato and a mango (apparently they physically splice the stems or something), others still passion fruit type efforts but with insides more akin to the special effects in Alien. It was all a bit much for me. After my 16th fruit I started to pass. Nice though it was, I think there’s a reason why some fruit have made it to the top of the tree (pun intended).

Next stop was an old school coffee roasting house. With industrial equipment from Germany in the 1920’s still going strong, the place smelt amazing. Sadly I’m not a coffee lover so it was all wasted on me really, but I can appreciate why some people really love it. In the attached cafe I settled for some coca tea. It’s a brew I quite liked in Bolivia, definitely good for altitude and to relieve an upset stomach. Since there has been no sign of any English style tea anywhere so far, it may become my brew of choice.

More pedaling and a few more minor stops. My favorite being an anecdote about Justin Bieber who apparently stopped his limo entourage by a city centre flyover so he could (illegally) spray paint a wall. Apparently with the support of local cops. This stuck in the locals throats a bit because only weeks before, some cops had shot dead someone for spray painting a wall. The outcry this caused went someway to ramping up the pressure on the authorities so they eventually de-criminalised graffiti and now Bogota has some of the best street art in the world.

And with that, I bid farewell to the Colombian capital for now. I have enjoyed your people and stories. Your bars, restaurants and music are a breath of fresh air. I will return and have a proper look at some of the more cultured destinations next time.

Next stop… Medellin