Day 1- Travelling day (9/7/25)

 

The start of a long journey to South America began at Lara’s house, with Tilly laying next to me. Tilly has always been very aware of any little signs that I might be going away, even before I start packing. So, the last few days, despite her suffering from a tummy upset, she has stuck by my side all the time.
When I was having a coffee with Lara, Tilly was giving me that look that says “you’re going away and leaving me, aren’t you?”; she does it so well.

Lara drove me to the train station at Ford and we said our goodbyes. The journey to the airport takes you through some of the most beautiful countryside that the south of England has to offer. And, as a bonus, the train takes you directly to the South Terminal of Gatwick.

The flight to Madrid left a little late for some unknown reason. Knowing that I had a fairly small window to get to my next flight, I was getting a little anxious. However, the pilot seemed to be in on the plan and flew the plane like he’d just stolen it.

At Madrid airport we had to wait for buses to take us to the terminal as we seemed to have parked somewhere near Barcelona. There was only 1 bus performing this task so we were waiting for about 20 minutes. Thankfully, I was waiting on the plane rather than out on the tarmac as it was 40 degrees outside.

I will summarise my journey across the airport to the next flight as being a mixture of running, getting lost, asking for directions, being allowed to take a shortcut through security (thanks to a lovely pair of security officers who clearly took pity on me), and a lot of sweating.
However, I arrived at the gate on time.

The 10 hour flight to Bogota was boring but comfortable. The cabin crew were a little tardy at bringing me drinks to help me get some sleep, but I did manage to doze.

Whilst in the hour and half long queue at immigration, I noticed that the air seemed somewhat depleted of oxygen. It could have been partially to do with tiredness too, but it was a strange feeling. I was light-headed and my breathing felt shallow.

When it was my turn, I was lightly interrogated about my purpose for travelling, where I was staying, where I was from, where I was going etc. Then I was on my way. A long wait at the ATM where numerous people were having difficulties with withdrawing cash, mostly because they lacked enough knowledge of Spanish to follow the instructions properly.
The woman at the official taxi office seemed apologetic about the cost of my journey, some 30 minutes across the city (it was about £20). She showed me to my driver Julio. Crawling through the traffic, Julio was pointing out various places of interest. We managed a rudimentary conversation about La Candelaria, where I was staying, and where I should visit whilst here. I was already starting to feel more comfortable speaking Spanish and really enjoyed the journey. It was nighttime and it was raining, but already I could see the diversity in the city.

When we reached the Hostel, he jumped out and pressed the bell on the door entry system, then waited until the receptionist appeared. This small act was reassuring to me given our conversation about safety in the area. He had told me that the area was safe, during the day, but at night not to walk about alone as robberies were common. I gave him a tip of 10,000 pesos (about 10% of the fare). He accepted this with great pleasure and pumped my hand firmly. I wonder if I would get the same reaction in the UK to a £2 tip!

Checked into to my room, dumped my bag and went and sat in the garden for a couple of beers before turning in for the night.