Bogota surprised me (even though Ed gave me some warning in this regard). I'm not sure what I expected, but the first very tactile surprise was stepping out into what felt like Johannesburg weather in mid-autumn. It was about 17C, and was utterly delicious after the oppressive heat of Cartagena. In fact, Cartagena was at the back-end of 3 months of mostly tropical heat and humidity, and thus I discovered a whole new me who very much enjoyed a sub-20C day - I must have jungle fever. Again compared to Cartagena, it is much much lighter in general skin colour; faster (this is after all a city of 8 million people), but for its size remarkable for the uninhibited friendliness of its people. All and sundry are interested to chat, and look you squarely in the eye whilst doing so. Girls are bold and forward - there is no confusion as to whether they like you or not. The city is well organised (by layout and, it would appear, general administration - on Sundays, vast swathes of roads are closed off for people to ride bicycles, do roller blading, run or just stroll around - with traffic police and first aid teams hanging around everywhere to ensure a safe fun day). The rapid bus transit system (which Johannesburg is also in the process of implementing - very much based on the Colombian design and experience) is packed at all times, and - for the routes where available - works extremely well. The city, courtesy of its square layout, is easily navigable and I walked around all hours of night and day feeling safe. Save for some historical buildings in the old quarter, the city itself is not that beautiful - but the aesthetics are in the details of the different barrios - old and new, as well as of course the fact that it is situated in a large valley surrounded by mountains - very much to be appreciated from Cerro Montserrat. My favourite aspect though is that this city has - even if perhaps only in the last 20 years - paid real attention to its cultural works. The Gold Museum was an amazing experience and the curation and display - to my amateur eye - as good as anywhere in the world. The Fundacion Botero is a real treat (you have to see Botero's works up close to get a real sense of the at-once playful and utterly serious integration of caricature and reality in the over-sized hips, arms and legs and the pinched eyes, noses and mouths of his subject matter. Is this what Queen meant when they sang about Fat Bottomed Girls?) The modern art in the Museo de Moneda was actually much better than that of the Museo de Moderna Arte, which was a little disappointing. And then, finally, the Police Museum, whilst a little bit difficult to take seriously, provided some good entertainment in the display of various Pablo Escobar (and buddies') paraphernalia. The point then briefly, with a beautiful large park in the centre of town, is that for its citizens and visitors alike, Bogota offers a very attractive package. The wining and dining in Zona Rosa is sophisticated and high quality, and the clubs - of which there seem to be an oversupply yet all with long queues, are packed and heaving on Thu, Fri and Sat nights. The streets are filled with students (often drinking beer at 09h30) courtesy of the large amount of small universities spread out across the city. So a surprisingly good city experience (perhaps mostly considered in comparison with the rest of central America), with probably the highlight (ironically taking place in a smallish town just outside Bogota) being Tejs and my visit to Andres Carne de Res (loosely translated - Andre's Meat of Cattle). A theme restaurant (to put it lightly) with excellent food which turns into an all dancing all jiving all salsaing venue until 3am. To give you an idea, even if you are eating, you pay a cover charge of $8 just to get in. It is difficult to do it justice in a few lines, and perhaps is just one of those 'you have to see it for yourself' venues. But after a sublime meal, and when the Bogota girls have their minds set on teaching you how to salsa, you are rather helpless and in trouble. Needless to say I did not let the country down, and more or less passed out in the taxi as it pulled away back to Bogota just after 3h30 am. It was all I could do to drag my ass out of bed at 8:30 am the next morning - after five very good days in Bogota - to catch (as it turned out a long and rather unpleasant) bus to Medellin.