We´ve all heard clips of Latin American football commentators screaming their trademark word at outrageous volume for a seemingly impossible length of time - for many people it´s probably the one thing they associate above all others with the continent. Last night, for the first time, it actually meant something more than a moment´s mirth at the commentator´s expense. Last night, for ten glorious minutes, Colombia led the mighty Argentina in their second game in Copa America´s Group C, thanks to a smart backheel from Edison Perea. For just a moment, the country dared contemplate victory against the hot favourites for the competition, and with it some measure of pennance for their shocking 5-0 defeat to unfancied Paraguay in the opener. In the event, Argentina triumphed with ease, the 4-2 scoreline flattering my adopted team somewhat. It was something of a Pyrrhic victory for Argentina, however. Chelsea misfit and Argentina star Hernan Crespo, now shorn of his trademark outrageous greasy locks, converted the crucial penalty, but in the process proved he is still as idiotic as ever, seriously injuring himself running to the crowd to celebrate.
Unlike Crespo, however, one man who has definitely not lost his defining outrageous barnet is Colombian football icon and scourge of hairdressers everywhere, Carlos Valderrama. His gurning visage and ludicrous shock of orange hair shines out from billboards across Bogota in his new role as marketing champion for a popular brand of potato chips. Personally I daren´t go near the things for fear of waking up with an Einstein-like mop on my head, but the locals seem to like them. If you ask me he´s no Gary Lineker though.
Aside from joining in the all too familiar experience of national mourning that follows the highly predictable exit from major competition of a country´s football team, I´ve also found time to continue my exploration of Colombia´s capital, and I must say, I think I like it here. Somewhat surprisingly to many of you I´m sure, Bogota is in fact a very modern city, which in parts more resembles Mayfair, Miami or Manhattan than the grimy crime-ridden shanties of popular imagination. As I sat sinking "tintos" - the strong, sweet, black coffee on which the nation seems to run - outside a Zona Rosa cafe yesterday afternoon, watching hip, good-looking Bogatanos wander in and out of Versace, Dior, and Diesel boutiques, it occurred to me that I could really have been in any sizeable city in Europea, Australia or America. Yet 24 hours previously I had joined thousands of devout Catholics ascending Cerro de Montserrate, the mountain which dominates eastern Bogota, on their weekly pilgramage to an allegedly divinely empowered Christ statue. My own motivation was more temporal than spiritual - Montserrate provides spectacular vistas across the entire Sabana de Bogota - but it was fascinating to see the faithful go about their business.
Catholicism is at the heart of Latin America´s contradictions, and Bogota is no exception. Prior to my Sunday afternoon pilgrimage, I had inadvertently engaged in a controversial political protest. It was only after the tenth or eleventh volunteer stopped to ask for my participation in their survey that I realised the precise focus of the proceedings, however. The conversation that follows is in Spanish, though it doesn´t require any great grasp of the language to understand.
- "La primera pregunta señor. ¿Usted es - 1) gay, 2) lesbiana, 3) bisexuelo, o 4) transgenero?".
- "Perdon, er, no soy gay"
- "¿No es gay?!"
- "No"
- "Verdad, ¿no es gay? ¿No?"
- "Grrr......"
Still, I guess we´ve cleared up the apparently inexplicable ability of the supposedly nymphomaniac local females to keep their hands off me. It later transpired this survey was part of a much larger rally - this I realised when I stumbled obliviously into a mass protest in the Plaza de Bolivar. In the shadow of the ubiquitous statue of this continent´s great Liberator, an obviously ennervated series of speakers raged against the improprieties inflicted on them by the "Fascist" regime of President Alvaro Uribe. And gay rights are not the only area of Colombian life in which the dominating spectre of the Catholic church holds sway - like much of the continent abortion is illegal here. I for one find it somewhat difficult to reconcile the hedonistic lifestyle, highly provocative dress sense, and all the trappings of modern consumption culture so evident here, with the highly conservative religious underpinnings of being a Catholic nation. Perhaps Colombians do too?
In an effort to answer such questions, or at least to engage with the locals on a more meaningful level than pointing and shouting at items in shops, I today began an intensive Spanish course. When I booked the course a couple of months back I´m not at all sure I quite realised what "intensive" meant. Anyway, five hours of one to one tuition and an hour of conversation practise at lunch later, I am now struggling to stay awake. Ordinarily this wouldn´t be such a problem, however, I have significant amounts of homework to complete by 8.30am. Think of me tomorrow - while you´re swigging Starbucks, trolling the internet and sending personal e-mails by the dozen, I´ll be slaving away in a cold Colombian classroom, struggling with the rudiments of Spanish grammar. I know where I´d rather be...
Please find below a few photos from my initial explorations of the city.
Unlike Crespo, however, one man who has definitely not lost his defining outrageous barnet is Colombian football icon and scourge of hairdressers everywhere, Carlos Valderrama. His gurning visage and ludicrous shock of orange hair shines out from billboards across Bogota in his new role as marketing champion for a popular brand of potato chips. Personally I daren´t go near the things for fear of waking up with an Einstein-like mop on my head, but the locals seem to like them. If you ask me he´s no Gary Lineker though.
Aside from joining in the all too familiar experience of national mourning that follows the highly predictable exit from major competition of a country´s football team, I´ve also found time to continue my exploration of Colombia´s capital, and I must say, I think I like it here. Somewhat surprisingly to many of you I´m sure, Bogota is in fact a very modern city, which in parts more resembles Mayfair, Miami or Manhattan than the grimy crime-ridden shanties of popular imagination. As I sat sinking "tintos" - the strong, sweet, black coffee on which the nation seems to run - outside a Zona Rosa cafe yesterday afternoon, watching hip, good-looking Bogatanos wander in and out of Versace, Dior, and Diesel boutiques, it occurred to me that I could really have been in any sizeable city in Europea, Australia or America. Yet 24 hours previously I had joined thousands of devout Catholics ascending Cerro de Montserrate, the mountain which dominates eastern Bogota, on their weekly pilgramage to an allegedly divinely empowered Christ statue. My own motivation was more temporal than spiritual - Montserrate provides spectacular vistas across the entire Sabana de Bogota - but it was fascinating to see the faithful go about their business.
Catholicism is at the heart of Latin America´s contradictions, and Bogota is no exception. Prior to my Sunday afternoon pilgrimage, I had inadvertently engaged in a controversial political protest. It was only after the tenth or eleventh volunteer stopped to ask for my participation in their survey that I realised the precise focus of the proceedings, however. The conversation that follows is in Spanish, though it doesn´t require any great grasp of the language to understand.
- "La primera pregunta señor. ¿Usted es - 1) gay, 2) lesbiana, 3) bisexuelo, o 4) transgenero?".
- "Perdon, er, no soy gay"
- "¿No es gay?!"
- "No"
- "Verdad, ¿no es gay? ¿No?"
- "Grrr......"
Still, I guess we´ve cleared up the apparently inexplicable ability of the supposedly nymphomaniac local females to keep their hands off me. It later transpired this survey was part of a much larger rally - this I realised when I stumbled obliviously into a mass protest in the Plaza de Bolivar. In the shadow of the ubiquitous statue of this continent´s great Liberator, an obviously ennervated series of speakers raged against the improprieties inflicted on them by the "Fascist" regime of President Alvaro Uribe. And gay rights are not the only area of Colombian life in which the dominating spectre of the Catholic church holds sway - like much of the continent abortion is illegal here. I for one find it somewhat difficult to reconcile the hedonistic lifestyle, highly provocative dress sense, and all the trappings of modern consumption culture so evident here, with the highly conservative religious underpinnings of being a Catholic nation. Perhaps Colombians do too?
In an effort to answer such questions, or at least to engage with the locals on a more meaningful level than pointing and shouting at items in shops, I today began an intensive Spanish course. When I booked the course a couple of months back I´m not at all sure I quite realised what "intensive" meant. Anyway, five hours of one to one tuition and an hour of conversation practise at lunch later, I am now struggling to stay awake. Ordinarily this wouldn´t be such a problem, however, I have significant amounts of homework to complete by 8.30am. Think of me tomorrow - while you´re swigging Starbucks, trolling the internet and sending personal e-mails by the dozen, I´ll be slaving away in a cold Colombian classroom, struggling with the rudiments of Spanish grammar. I know where I´d rather be...
Please find below a few photos from my initial explorations of the city.
Bogota - bigger than London. Less terrorism too.
La Plaza de Bolivar - you know you're in South America
Colonial architecture in La Candalaria district
Gold "Jaguar Mask" in Museo del Oro
Carlos Valderrama says: "eat Margaritas for curly hair"
For some reason they call it cloud forest
Room with a view - Cerro de Monserrate, Bogota
