Colombians are a proud people and rightly so, but, let us explore some of the misplaced patriotism behind the national symbols.
En el barrio de Los Mártires en el centro de Bogotá, el imaginario de nosotros es que es una zona sumamente peligrosa, periodista Richard McColl visitó la zona.
Locombia, where abnormality reigns
You can feel it, the inescapable sense that intensely painful moments have occurred here in Bogotá’s Bronx. It’s a perception which clings to you upon entry of the old “L,” and stays with you until long afterwards. These ruminations do scant justice to the horrors and suffering which took place here and what this man-made Read more about A Visit to Bogotá’s Bronx[…]
A collection of images of some of the faces of Mompós. Enjoy these photographs.
Upon your descent into Bogotá, gaze fixedly at the countryside and squint carefully to see where the tracer bullets, aimed at downing your aircraft en route from the evil imperial power in the North, are coming from. If you are lucky, you might see a fully-fledged battle going on below between the Colombian military and Read more about How to Write about Colombia[…]
How do you respond to cruel and negative reviews from problem guests?
A pictorial diary of two incredibly busy weeks in January Ceci followed me home. She adopted me. Her shedding provoked allergies in my home and with a three year old boy and one dog already, Ceci couldn’t stay. It was a heartbreaking decision, but one that had to made and saw me wandering the Avenida Read more about 2 Weeks in Colombia[…]
Where the author receives a thinly veiled threat from a troll
The thermometer on my dashboard reads 82 degrees Fahrenheit, my air conditioning is on and we are cruising along comfortably. My preferred grunge tracks keep me on course taking in effortlessly the curves of Colombia’s Route 45A, the thudding syrupy baselines transporting me to Seattle although we are hugging the two-lane highway journeying from the Read more about Times of Trouble: An Existential Crisis on a Colombian Highway[…]
The yellow zapatico taxi cut me off turning right on the Carrera 11 in Chapinero. No indicator right – sin la luz naranja de su direccional prendida – he was furious with me for taking the corner slowly. I flicked him the bird, as rebellious as one gets in the family Volvo estate in response to Read more about A Walk in Bogotá’s Siete de Agosto[…]