That time Bogota tried to kill me

It didn't have to be like this. I'd been to Bogota twice in the last few months. I knew how much cool stuff there was to do and see. I could have gone back to the cool, funky La Candelaria neighborhood and checked to see if there was any new street art to admire.

I could have returned to wonderful Botero Museum. Not only does it have a spectacular collection of native son Fernando Botero's work, it also showcases works he collected along the way.  Let's just say the guy has a good eye. His collection includes such names as Picasso, Leger, Dali, Monet and Beckmann. Best of all, the cost to get in is $0.00. I'd already bought the giant heavy-ass book of the museum's collection so I wouldn't even have to carry that all over town, again.

I could have returned to many great restaurants and bars I'd been to on past visits and rekindled my love affair with the vegetarian Bandeja Paisa and its sidekick, aguardiente.

Hell, I could have gone back and taken the nice comfortable cable car up to the top of Montserrate. It takes you effortlessly to the top of the 10,000 ft mountain that overlooks all of Bogota. The views are fricking amazing. 

I'll bet the same lady was by the ticket kiosk selling Big Ass Ants. Now before anyone accuses me of body shaming these shapely insects, know that they are actually called hormigas culonas (aka Big Ass Ants). They have the misfortune that has befallen many a living creature before them in that humans have decided they are an aphrodisiac and thus opt to eat them. 

But no, I did none of those things. Instead, I decided that instead of working out in my room or at the hotel gym like a normal person, it would be a good idea to hike to the top of Montserrate. That is 2,350 meters (or 7,709 feet) worth of hiking! That is 1,115 steps worth of hiking!! And here is the kicker, Bogota sits at an elevation of 8,612 feet!!! That's 3,300 feet higher than Denver aka the Mile High city. The practical ramifications of this that oxygen doesn't fucking work at that altitude. 

Yet, none of this factored into my last minute plan to climb this beast. You have to get on the trail before 1pm so having the uber drop me off at 12:50 left no time to buy a bottle of water. I couldn't have been more unprepared for this undertaking. 

I simply started following the path and was quickly huffing like a 5 pack a day smoker on a runaway treadmill. I was already second guessing the wisdom of this plan when I saw the most shocking thing these eyes have seen. It was a sign welcoming me to the start of the trail. What in the ever-loving fuck was all the walking I had already done?! How was that not part of the trail. Who begins a trail 20 minutes in??? Those Colombian bastards. 

These signs became both my biggest source of hope and my bitter archnemeses. On one hand, they were testaments to how much ground I was covering but in between, I was always certain that someone had swiped the next sign for surely I had already covered the required distance. 

Thankfully, I eventually found some vendors and was able to buy some water. They also had snacks and beer but I was certain that if I stopped, there was no way I'd be able to keep going.

There was also the issue of the black menacing looking clouds rolling in. I was struggling as it was. If I had to do this in freezing rain, I would be completely hosed. I pushed on, as quickly as a person gasping like a dying fish could possibly push on. One interesting thing was that the more difficult it got, the more a sense of camaraderie developed amongst us idiots climbing this hill. There were calls of encouragement, offers of candy and a general sense of "we got this"- even when it did not look like I, in fact, had this. 

And then at the two hour mark, there it was!!  The Montserrate sanctuary!!  The same one I had seen months prior when I breezily stepped off of the cable car.

I had made it to the top without dying and had even beat the rain.

The rain would eventually come down but by that point, I was safely ensconced in a cafe with the best cheesy bread and coldest beer of my life. Maybe it wasn't but I was just so thrilled to have conquered what at many times had felt unconquerable. Would I do it again? Hell no, I almost left a lung on that trail. But having already done it, I realized that walking up Montserrate was the exact best choice I could have made.