Ants, Buses, and Final Destinations

Well, I throughly enjoyed my time in San Gil, and my last day there was quite memorable.

In the morning, I woke up really early and took a short bus ride out to a small colonial town called Barichara, which is known for its small artesan shops, quaint architecture, and the local specialty, Hormigas culonas. (For those of you who are yet to have done your homework, "hormigas culonas" more or less translates to "fat-assed ants.")

It was recommended by the hostel that I check out one restaurant in particular, El Color de Hormiga.

So, in need of a hearty lunch before embarking on a two hour hike, I marched right into the restaurant, set down my bag, looked straight at the waiter, and said:

"Look here. I want two large pieces of filet mignon. I want them wrapped in bacon. I want yuca, rice, and a salad on the side. I want the meat to be smothered in ant sauce. I want an army of fried ants sprinkled on top. And I want it all for around ten dollars."

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay."

It was surprisingly delicious, and just the fuel I needed for my afternoon hike to a town called Guane.

Guane was an even smaller colonial town, perhaps the size of a bloated pickle jar. It was a friendly little town. Everyone I encountered was more than happy to chat it up with the only Gringo there, and I got the impression that the little trinket I bought from one of the artesan shops was the first item the shop owner had sold in days.

Then, when I arrived back in San Gil, I had every intention of arranging my belongings and packing everything up for an easy exit in the morning.

Yeah right.

One of the great things about jumping from hostel to hostel is that youre always meeting swarms of interesting new people who are loads of fun. The downside, though, (if it can be called a downside) is that when all of these great people realize that youre leaving the next day, they tend to want to sit around till four in the morning drinking beer with you.

Ive had a number of less-than-clean exits from hostels throughout my trip, and my exit from San Gil was up there on my ever-growing list entitled, "Filthy Exits."

I sat around drinking beer with a delightful Irish couple till the wee hours of the night, stumbled out of bed the following morning on minimal sleep, haphazardly threw my shit in a bag, and rushed off to the bus terminal to catch a morning ride to Bogota.

Not surprisingly, the bus ride sucked a fat one.

I was able to cope, though, since it was to be the last monumental bus ride of my journey. And seven hours later--after stopping to pick up passengers at every street corner--we arrived at my final destination:

Bogota, D.C.

Last night, after taking a much needed nap, a Swiss girl from the hostel and I went into the Zona Rosa--the bar, restaurant, and club area of Bogota--polished off a bottle of Aguardiente, and taught the Colombians a thing or two on the dance floor.

This morning, Santiago, Sebastian, and Luisa, three of the students I met in Cartagena, are meeting me at the hostel and taking me on a personal tour of Bogota for the day.

And tonight we gonna party like its 1999.