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After an uneventful flight to Bogota, I started the process to get my motorcycle through Colombian customs, AKA “DIAN”. However, you have to do a little walking around. The international cargo terminal is about a 15 minute walk from the passenger terminal. However, DIAN, or customs, is at the domestic air cargo terminal (naturally) which is another 10 minute walk from the international cargo terminal. Go figure.
Anyway, go take care of all the paperwork and get your vehicle permit over at DIAN, then walk back over to Girag (international air cargo terminal) then get the bike out. Plan on at least 3 to 4 hours to take care of all of this as there could be delays over at DIAN and delays at Girag as well. For example, when I was at DIAN, no one there at the time knew what to do with my paperwork, so I had to wait for them to call in someone who knew the procedures, and that alone took a couple of hours. Once all your paperwork is done, you will wait around Girag as well since it is a constant stream of trucks getting uploaded at the docks where you need to ride your bike down the ramp and out of the building. This will take time.
All said and done, I started the process at 11 am, and was on the road at 5 pm. So the whole thing took six hours from the time I walked into the Girag office. Absolutely no one in the Girag office so much as lifted a finger to help me out. They acted like they didn’t know anything. Who knows, maybe they didn’t actually know shit about anything. I’ve been around air cargo joints for the better part of 2 decades, so this doesn’t really surprise me. I had to find out what to do from one of the guys loading trucks at the docks. One would figure that after spending almost a grand to ship the bike that the service would be a little better. Nope, what was I thinking? I should know better.
Just before dark I managed to free my moto from captivity, and headed toward the old historic centro of Bogota in shockingly horrible traffic to find a hotel. It took about an hour and half to go 10 miles since I could not split lanes with the boxes on the bike. Welcome to Bogota.
Bogota is home to some 8 million people, so its a big, crowded city. The climate here is cool all year long. At 8500 feet elevation, the days are in the low 70’s and the nights require a jacket. Very nice climate. At the west end of town at the base of some mountains is the financial district and historic centro, which is a nice place to walk around and reminds me of upscale old neighborhoods in the States.
Complete with a nice park.
Lots of motos in Bogota. The cops ride Wee Stroms.
Even the local hotties ride.
Only a couple blocks from the upscale historic centro, things start to change a little bit. First you notice the graffiti. I had no idea the skinheads were down this far.
“This shit is not democracy.” And “Yankees get out of Colombia.” Uh Oh, the only Yankee I see around here is me!
Then the scenery starts to change a bit in another block.
A girl showing her wares at one of the numerous houses of ill repute on this street.
Hey man, I see you have plenty of BMW parts in there, but have you got a KTM front sprocket as well?
“Hey buddy, you know where I can find a…………….ah never mind.”
Anyway, I met a girl named Agueda in Bogota the first day I arrived. I was parking the bike at the hotel and she started chatting with me. She offered to show me around town. She also said that she liked motorcycles and wondered if I would be able to give her a ride sometime. Ah, now the truth comes out, I knew that it wasn’t my charm she was attracted to. However a local tour guide sounded great to me and as a bonus, my Spanish would get quite a workout as well.
So on Friday night, she took me to the cockfights. But first, we had a few roosters to pick up at her house.
Well come to find out, Agueda, has a few brothers that raise fighting roosters, and they come into Bogota every weekend to try and make some money at the cockfights.
Its a much more upscale place than the ones I have been to in the little towns in Mexico. You mean I cant bring in my guns? Can you say, “no fun allowed here?”
Weighing in the birds on a specialized rooster scale. I learn something everyday. I never knew that there was actually was a scale made for the sole purpose of weighing in fighting roosters. Life’s little surprises…….
Getting the birds stored for the fights.
The business ends of these roosters are made out of polycarbonate and taped up to the bird’s legs. They can inflict some serious damage.
I’m not saying whether this is right or wrong, it just is what it is, and I was there.
“And in this cage, weighing in at a whopping 4.7 pounds, the undisputed heavyweight champion of the……………..”
Lets take some bets……….
This poor guy wound up getting cooked in the lobby food stand, right outside the ring. Bad day for him.
The boys didn’t win much here. However, they went to an after hours cockfight place where they won almost $1000 bucks. That’s a mighty big payoff for these campesino boys.
Interesting times at the old cockfights. This was actually one of the most tame cockfight places I have been to. Everyone was relatively sober and a bit reserved actually. Although it was a late night, the next day I had to rally because I was supposed to take Agueda on the bike and go up to the finca where her brother and his family live.
I picked up Agueda in the morning. As we made our way through Bogota traffic, we found that the highway was closed a bit outside of town. There was a big bicycle race coming though so they closed off the course. It would be a couple of hours before they opened it back up.
So we decide to walk up to the corner restaurant and have a little snack. Man, this was some great BBQ.
The road opened up and we went on our way toward the pueblo of San Francisco, about 70 miles northwest of Bogotá. It turns out that in San Francisco there was a big fiesta going on. Everyone was riding their horses through town in a big parade, and drinking beer and aguardiente, which is kind of like a black licorice type of liqueur. Very sweet, and very strong.
Everyone seemed to be having a great time. This is what I call a “self propelled campesino boom box.” Jeff Foxworthy would have a field day with this one. “You might be a redneck if………….”
And of course there was some great BBQ as well. This stuff was incredible.
How about a nice plate of………..MEAT!
The church in the town square.
Horse parking.
After enjoying the town festivities, we headed out of town behind the parade.
And out into the country side.
Down some dirt roads………
There were dangerous critters in the road.
We continued up into the hills.
………as the road winds further into the country side.
Agueda seems to be pretty happy riding on the back of the KTM. And pretty brave as well, dirt road, no helmet, with me driving.
Finally we arrive at the finca. The boys are pretty impressed with the size of the bike, and even more impressed that I didn’t crash numerous times getting to the finca with their sister on the back.
This is Jose. Tough kid. He has a really thick campesino accent. I cant understand a word he says to me. When he talks to me, he gets right in my face and yells at the top of his voice. Its funnier than hell. He figures if he yells really loudly, I will understand. He couldn’t figure out why I understood his sister perfectly, and I couldn’t understand him.
A few years back when he was in the Army, during a firefight with the FARC, he took 2 rounds from an AK through the hips and into the guts. Both rounds entered and exited, but in the process did a mighty fine job of shattering his hip and churning up his intestines. 7 months and 14 operations later he would live to tell about it and make a pretty good recovery, although he still has trouble getting around.
Spending time in the cities, its easy to forget that the war is still going on. However, when you talk to these folks, you get an idea of the hardships, pain, sacrifice, and loss that many Colombians have endured over the years, and continue to endure even now.
Here is the view from the finca. Apparently, that is a dormant volcano in the background. The boys said that occasionally there have been emeralds found in the quebrada (a creek drainage) next to the finca.
Here is where they make the feed for the few head of cattle they have.
It was getting about dinner time so Jose hands me a chicken and tells me to kill it. I grab its neck and give it a good snap.
Then the boys go to work plucking and dressing the bird before they hand it off to the girls in the kitchen.
The dinner was great and we even had some left over for breakfast the next morning.
“Hey Gringo, you got any chicken for us?”
We then saddled up and headed back toward Bogotá. A view of the pueblo of San Francisco.
Leaving the finca.
I had a fantastic weekend hanging with Agueda and her brothers and it was great experience. In my travels, it seems that when I have a random meeting with a person, it usually turns into a special experience. I will always remember this part of my time in Colombia. Wonderful people.
Saludos, Vicente