My Favorite Things

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens. Brown paper packages tied up with strings... (Alright, who still quotes the Sound Of Music I know, but it's Christmas time, let's spread the cheer yes?) These are a few of my favourite things: My absolute favourite thing to do when I reach a new place, especially a ridiculously large city like Bogota with over 7 million inhabitants, is put my walking shoes on, buy large amounts of coffee and ice cream to eat and drink constantly, whilst getting almost unmanageably lost. It's quite an effective way to learn if you ask me. If you want to people watch, learn how to use a bus route that doesn't seem to make logical sense, memorize street names and the location of monuments likety split as well as flirt with the idea of getting traumatically robbed, that will about do it. Not a word of a lie. Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels, door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles. Favourite homeboy: Simon Bolivar. AKA: hero, el Libertador, revolutionary, my good-looking husband, etc. He has been responsible for the independence of most of the countries in which I have visited and I haven't yet had the courtesy to mention him once. How rude of me. In his lifetime he led Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador and Bolivia to independence, set the rules and foundations for a democratic society in much of Latin America, and has single handedly made me fall in love with him. Although he's a bit dead right now (Was pronounced so on the 17th of this month. Of 1830 that is) I'm sure he and I would have had a massive kingdom together including our own country, all other numerous properties in far away exotic places, I myself being wined and dined every night with as much Nutella as I want, and having our own private jet wherever we go. Why are they always either taken or dead? Hmm? Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings, these are a few of my favourite things.. Favourite Museum: The Museum of Trash. I swear this made my stomach hurt with laughter. Antonio Casafus, 63 years of age, hosts his own museum out of his house. Realistically speaking you couldn't call it a house, for these 2 floors are strictly made of 20 years worth of garbage from the street. It breaks all preconceptions of what a museum should be and is considered to be one of the most exotic places in Bogota. When I first entered (with difficulty as I felt like I was in a closet) I wasn't quite sure what it was that made it hard to breathe, possibly the smell of black mould or, maybe it was just the stench of an old overweight man sitting in his own filth drinking 2 litres of whiskey a day. We (lovely german named Robbin and I) had a shot of that hard whiskey and left, quite happy but quite certain the shower we just had would need repeating. Favourite place to eat: Crepes and Waffles. They sell exactly that, as well as the best coffee and ice cream possible. There's 60 of them here so they aren't hard to find. Not only do I enjoy going there and having so many crepes filled with Nutella and caramel goodness that it makes me sick at a reasonable price, I also enjoy feeling as though I'm in support of the staff there. They only employ single working mothers, and women in need. The ambience is just like Starbucks at home, but actual quality goods this time and lacking that logo of the annoying siren girl trying to seduce you. They also have free, always clean, high quality bathrooms. On this continent, that is invaluable information causing a bit too much excitement, it's embarrassing. Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, Favourite weather conditions: This may be hard to believe as I live for beach weather, but I have a serious fascination and affection for rain. Great place to find it, for everyday in Bogota has come with torrential downpour much of the day. Brilliant. Necessities for these conditions include: rubber boots or Wellies if you are english, an umbrella, black mitts, scarf, and hat. You are now a full blown Bogotian. You're welcome. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes. Favourite thing to consistently see: Police. I'm not sure I've seen so many in one city for the entire time I've been in South America. I realize, it being the holidays, robberies and illegal activity are a bit high on the scale even by South American standards but honestly. I counted fifteen officers standing in the Plaza Bolivar today, which is no more than one square block. I'm starting to be more conscious of myself, should I have crossed in the middle of that street instead of using the crosswalk? Am I walking too fast, like I've just done something illegal and getting away with it? What am I wearing, too much black causing suspicion? Silver white winters that melt into springs, Lastly, my favourite night activity: Lights. Millions of them. Bright, sparkly, mesmerizing lights. Draped along the streets, lining the city, illuminating the plazas. They don't need to do anything, just lay there with their little glittering souls, their radiant, decadent brilliance. They catch your eye and you have all of a sudden caught the contagious, near fatal, merriness of the holidays. My sentiments to you, for now there's a twinkle in your eye, a rosiness to your cheeks and a large grin lighting up your face. Ahhhh. The scintillating glow of Christmas. Those are a few of my favourite things.. You will see me with Antonio in his kingdom of trash, whiskey always in hand. As well, an assortment of lights surrounding me in the Plaza Bolivar, one of the many lovely sets of lights in the city of Bogota.

Well, for now so long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen goodbye. The Rebellious Bogotian.