Today started auspiciously, with a “security briefing” at the American Embassy. I fell asleep halfway through but when I drifted back in we were still talking about being aware of our surroundings. I would have felt better if they’d just said, “we have no idea how to keep you safe. Best of luck out there.” I also could have lived without the advice: “don’t be a target.” Gee, so that’s what I was doing wrong. The Embassy people are known for being a bit scary, though – their employees are not even allowed to eat at sidewalk cafes. In Bogotá, that’s like being condemned to eternally bad seating. Ah well, at least the air is cleaner inside.
I can’t get over the swarms of buses. Even for a bus hugger like myself, it’s a bit much. And outside of the TransMilenio system (more on that later, probably more than you want to hear…), none of them have any kind of emission control. The result is a spew of exhaust and smoke at every stoplight. The penny competition for passengers (drivers get paid by how many they pick up, so letting people off is not as high a priority) makes every ride, not to mention walking, pure adventure. I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I could taste my heart as it jumped into my throat today. But I’m happy so long as I’m not doing the driving.
On my way home tonight I looked around me at one point, and there were no fewer than six other buses, yes six, on all sides. If the windows had been open, I could have touched a rider on the bus next to mine without reaching. The city is overrun with these tall, leaning, belching, sputtering and quaking creatures. And now that I realize that, I no longer have to ask the question, “who runs the city?”
But the convenience of having so many buses is amazing. This afternoon I walked down to the corner (well, I was walked – they’re really holding our hands here, which is nice but tiring) and got on the second bus I saw, thirty seconds (if that) after reaching the intersection. That bus, identifiable by a sign reading “VillaLuz,” took me all the way to the Biblioteca Virgilio Barco.
Simply put, it was otherworldly. I’m a sucker for libraries, but this one was different. In the distance, but seemingly closer than when in the city center, loom the mountains, gray and green and ever so slightly menacing. Knowing, they penetrate the clouds to reflect an alien glow on the library. Weirdly twisted paths, some dry and others cut out to let water flow along the walks, lead a circuitous route to the door, below gardens and more fountains. These are half-full and slowly winding as if they hadn’t decided quite whether to get out of bed yet.
The library itself is mostly made of a rich deep brown wood. The paths continue through the library entrance, snaking upstairs and out onto a roof that resembles a fanciful high school football stadium, minus the grunting and groaning, although it did seem to be a favorite couples hangout (sorry, so bad!) As I sat on a rounded concrete wall overlooking the city, I was overcome with a sense of the sacred and the profane intermingling. I shivered and just let it wash over me. I wish you could have been there.
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