On the flight from New York to Bogota I meet a Colombian man who is now living in New York. After a whole 10 minutes of conversation I am invited to visit New York and stay at his home which he shares with his wife. If this is at all indicative of Colombian hospitality I will be thoroughly impressed. Near the end of my flight he asks me where I will be staying in Bogota. The cringe my answer puts on his face worries me but if there is one thing I have learned it is that locals are not necessarily in touch with their city since rumors can quickly turn into solid fact. Since I am carrying the cases for the motorcycle with me on the flight I do not want the hassle of riding the bus. Instead, I catch a cab to the hostel. On the way the driver tells me that the area I will be staying in is not safe and takes every opportunity to try and convince me to stay in an expensive hotel. I ignore him, not because I am stubborn but because I will trust my own up to date and less biased research and intuition.
After getting into the hostel I quickly get ready to orient myself since I do not want to fall asleep in the morning and mess up my entire sleep schedule. This mission ultimately proves to be futile as I doze off at noon. It feels good to be back in Latin America.
I am too tired to realize that there is a large smudge on my lens.
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