Solo travel in Bogotá Colombia

Arrival

I got off the plane in Bogota sore, sleeping curled up in a tiny seat of my spirit airlines flight was hardly comfortable. At least there was no clunky TV in the way of my fetal position. Going through the line for immigration in the airport I was already feeling anxious. I had barely made my flight to Colombia in the first place. Since I hadn’t purchased a ticket taking me out of the country I was informed that I would have to “buy a ticket anywhere” so I spent an unreasonable amount of time deciding where my fake destination should be, I chose the wonderfully real but personally made up destination of Ecuador. Then I made it onto my real flight with minutes to spare.

Immigration

So when faced with immigration and signs saying I needed to declare all cash, credit cards, valuables, debit cards, and have a complete itinerary ready to be checked I panicked. I whipped out my phone googling things about Ecuador, pulling out and dropping cash and cards. Then at the desk I asked what the lady needed in my rusty Spanish, pasaporte she said, I handed it over, she stamped it and waved me along. Bewildered I almost stayed back to offer information that had not been asked for or required. Don’t you want to hear the lines I’ve been practicing for the last 20 minutes? Don’t you want to hear the three facts about Ecuador I just learned waiting in line? What about my fake trip? Who was I going to tell about it now?

Is this a mistake?

But here I was in the country I had purchased a ticket to. I got into a taxi from the airport wondering was this a huge mistake? Was I insane for doing this? For planning so little? Was everyone that suggested maybe I don’t do this more informed than me? Was I a crazy gringo recklessly going places that I was not welcome? And then the taxi ride was over and I was being pushed out onto a street that looked unfamiliar in a place that one Netflix show made look like a war zone.

Where’s my hostel?

I looked around not finding my hostel so I asked a mother and daughter if they could point me in the right direction. They took a look at the address, then glanced up at me, then pointed directly behind me. I was standing in front of the hostel, too stressed to notice the obvious. I went inside and slept for a few hours.

Lonely again?

It’s funny. I always worry that I am not going to be able to make friends. That somehow the people I meet are going to already have heard the mean things that I think about myself. Like oh wow aren’t you that guy that said that dumb thing in seventh grade? And then even if they haven’t heard that they will realize I’m awful and when I leave will talk about how terrible I am. But one of the most freeing things I have learned traveling? No one cares. In the most liberating way. It turns out people have much more important things to talk about.

Themselves.

Is it dangerous?

Yes. A little. It depends.

One couple showed me pictures for an hour failing to agree on a single aspect of their experience. If she thought it was amazing he had reservations and if he thought it was great she thought it was dangerous. I asked if there was any place they both liked and they laughed.

Between disagreements they told me story after story of robbings and stabbings. But it won’t happen to you they would say laughing, then immediately launched into another horror story. And these stories scare me. I’m from Petoskey where the only scary stories are ghost stories. Which is where we hear noises and then imagine the horrible things that could have maybe possibly happened in the distant past. Like oh that creaking door? It’s probably a mafia boss that was strangled to death by his angry daughter. Now bloodthirsty and out for revenge he makes sure doors sound annoying.

Venturing out

Feeling too scared to even really leave the hostel I ask some guys if they want to go get food. I was excited to have some people along to talk to, but it turns out they were both French and decided to speak French the whole time. I don’t know French so I just nodded along while they talked. Occasionally they would look at me and I would grunt and nod feeling grateful for the company.

When night came I was safely back in the hostel where a couple girls from the Dominican Republic decided to have a dance party. I was having a blast. Though each time I lost myself in the music I could hear laughter, which had to be loud since Bad Bunny was blaring at top volume. We are laughing with you, a guy from Connecticut assured me. I nodded but am still pretty sure that would require that I was also laughing. Which I was not.

I accidentally volunteered to go out for more beer, since my Spanish was a little rusty. The guy from Connecticut assured me it was safe as we walked outside. I asked him how he could be so sure. Oh, I was in the military for 10 years stationed all over Latin America and have almost died 9 times, so this is nothing. He smiled as if to reassure me, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be part of number 10.

My kind of people

Back in the hostel people asked me what my plans were (none), I was worried they would respond like my friends did, have you made some plans? You should make some plans. Are you sure you won’t reconsider making plans?

But instead they said, no plans are the best plans.