bicrom abroad

the bbc weather website sold us a crock, but in a good way. the rain never arrived in cartagena, or if it did it only dared show its face in the witching hours when the city paused for breath. if anything, the sun was more furious than we could reasonably be expected to survive; the occasional patches of cloud were a welcome relief and, in their absence, it did not take longer than half an hour or so before having to head into the pool to cool off singed skins. after less than a week of sunshine i am looking suspiciously like a south indian; my late grandmother would have had a few harsh words for her once fairskinned grandson.

cartagena continued then to serve up perfect days; fresh fruit for breakfast, lounging in the sun during the parts of the day when any kind of activity beyond reading the economist was overly ambitious, punctuated with forays into and around the old town which continued to throw up new, postcard perfect streets and alleyways down which to wander. it was a gloomy pair who checked out of our spectacular home in casa canabal (www.casacanabalhotel.com) on friday afternoon in preparation for our flight back to a bogota which had not quite captured our hearts or imaginations initially.

our gloomy cynicism was not helped by the angry grey skies when we landed and our mood darkened further, in line with the heavens, as the rain started to pour down. we were staying near zona g, a newer part of bogota to the north of the historic districts which had served as our base ten days previously, but as we stared gloomily out of the window of our slightly grotty hotel room it seemed that all we would be seeing on our final night was the four walls which enclosed us. fortunately, as is so often the case with these over excitable rainshowers, after half an hour it got bored of soaking the good citizens of bogota and fizzled out leaving vicki and i free to tentatively step outside, nervously clutching our pacamacs, and head off into zona g,

if la candelaria had been where the poorer bogotanas rubbed shoulders with backpackers zona g was very much the affluent, new bogota which was looking to impose itself onto the city as a whole. secure streets populated by roomy gothic mansions and some very fine looking bars and restaurants into which the well heeled of bogata started to trickle, ready for their friday night. we had some frighteningly strong rum cocktails, accompanied by an unexpectedly large bowl of patatas bravas, in the very chic harry's, sipping our drinks whilst watching bogota's businessmen have a quick imported whiskey before heading back to their casas and clearing space into which the young, rich and mildly beautiful (though not so much as i had been led to believe) bogotanas slithered, flirting, backslapping and sipping expensive martinis. we headed off to dinner at a colombian steakhouse which, whilst very good, produced more food than we could handle (especially having inadvisedly loaded up on potatos). having chowed down on ribs and steaks respectively as best we could we shuffled sheepishly out of our chairs and rolled back down the hill to our hotel, content with our glimpse of a side of bogota which, whilst rendered exclusive by its associated pricetags, hinted at the vibrant, openly party city which i am convinced this place is about to explode into.

and that was that. the clouds scudded overhead as our redeyed hungover taxi driver sped us to the airport and, following some incredibly thorough security checks, a combination of colombian concerns about drug smuggling and generic us paranoia, we boarded our flight and left behind a country which whilst serving up numerous delights left more than enough unrevealed to generate a yearning for a return visit. two years, five years, ten years down the line this place is going to be very different and is going to become a must visit for travellers of all ages.