Before setting off for exploring Bogota yesterday morning, I stopped by the front desk to put my valuables in one of their safe boxes. The receptionist, Sandra, informed me that they did not provide locks. She suggested that I head up the street to where she though that there was a ferreteria (iron foundry/store) to buy a candado (lock). I was expecting her to send me to the equivalent of a CVS, but a ferreteria worked too. So I headed out the door, walked a few blocks, and poked my head into a small convenience store to ask, donde esta la ferreria? The response: it will not be open until the 11th, when the owner gets back from vacation.
Great. I had not thought about Christmas vacation as an obstacle to obtaining a cantado, but surely there must be other ferreterias that are open? The store owner furrowed his brow deeply, and then said that I should try the llaveria (key store. . .essentially if you add "ia" to the end of a noun, you get a store that sells that). Once I reached the top of the path and climbed up the hill, I should ask for Don Alvaro. Muchos gracias, Senor, and off I went. I climbed up the hill, which at 2,100m elevation is a bit difficult. At the top, I found myself on a switchback of a highway, no stores in sight. So I asked the guy who happened to be walking by, carrying a bucket of cement, if he knew where the llaveria was. He did, and asked if I wanted him to accompany me (Eres muy linda was the explanation for the offer). “I hope that’s not necessary,” I replied, although when 30 minutes later I was still looking for the blasted llaveria, I began to wonder if I should have accepted. He sent me back down the hill, and the next guy I asked, sent me down another hill, to the plaza. I made the mistake of cutting through a cobbled alleyway and found three bulldogs running at me. Luckily they were muzzled and their owner called them off, but it certainly got my heart racing.
After getting directions three more times, I found the plaza! I asked a security guard for the llaveria. He looks at me like I’m crazy. You want to buy keys?! No, I want to buy a candado. Fine, then. Walk down the hill to the stoplight (one of my favorite words: semaforo), and it’s there. So I ambled along, tasting success in my mouth, and find the llaveria tucked into the first floor of an apartment building. I walked in and the guard asks, what are you here for? The llaveria. It’s closed. What time does it open? The 19th of January. What?! Even locksmiths get a month of vacation?! Forgetting to make my words slightly politer than my thoughts, I blurted out: but I need a lock today! He says, that’s great, but that won’t make the llaveria open. Fair enough. So then I ask him what he suggests. Walk two blocks to the left and then ask someone else (i.e. don’t make it my problem). Lovely. I walked two blocks over and find myself in the book district. All the stores sell books (i.e. they are librerias). I’m waved onward, and find myself in a bustling commercial district, although one that seems to be heavily occupied by cell phone accessory stores. And nothing else, except for the seemingly ubiquitous laminating centers (because clearly if you could pick anything to have on every corner, it’d be laminating services). A woman working at a restaurant tries to lure me in with a fixed deal for arrepas and chocolate. Tasty except that I’m still full from breakfast. I ask her where to go and she points me to the corner store. And there, right out front, next to the nail clippers and key chains, is a display of padlocks. Of every size and brand you can imagine. I don’t even bargain with the guy I’m so happy to finally find them. Of course, now, having wandered in a huge circle-ish thing, I have no idea where I am. I’ve yet to figure out that Bogota is laid out in an extremely logical fashion—the carreras run north-south and the calles run east-west and they are numbered (so my hotel is Cr. 3 Cl. 16, then #26 on the block). So I ambled onward, trying not to look too lost, and wove my way through the refrigerator district, the flat screen tv district, the optical care district, and eventually ended up back at the little park in front of my hotel.
I had managed to spend just shy of two hours on the mission that was supposed to happen PRIOR to my adventure. I’d been able to have dozens of conversations with locals, learned new vocabulary, and certainly attempted (and succeeded) an activity that on my travel acuity scale (i.e. how much do you really experience the place you travel to) certainly bumped me up a few notches. I walk back into the reception and Sandra smiles and says, “Oh. You’re back so soon!” Perspective is everything. During my quest, I couldn't help but think how much more difficult this would and will be in Dhaka, as here I have the benefit of knowing the local language. And, now have a grid system to rely on to navigate. So, trying to think about anything I need laminated so I can get that done while I'm here....
Great. I had not thought about Christmas vacation as an obstacle to obtaining a cantado, but surely there must be other ferreterias that are open? The store owner furrowed his brow deeply, and then said that I should try the llaveria (key store. . .essentially if you add "ia" to the end of a noun, you get a store that sells that). Once I reached the top of the path and climbed up the hill, I should ask for Don Alvaro. Muchos gracias, Senor, and off I went. I climbed up the hill, which at 2,100m elevation is a bit difficult. At the top, I found myself on a switchback of a highway, no stores in sight. So I asked the guy who happened to be walking by, carrying a bucket of cement, if he knew where the llaveria was. He did, and asked if I wanted him to accompany me (Eres muy linda was the explanation for the offer). “I hope that’s not necessary,” I replied, although when 30 minutes later I was still looking for the blasted llaveria, I began to wonder if I should have accepted. He sent me back down the hill, and the next guy I asked, sent me down another hill, to the plaza. I made the mistake of cutting through a cobbled alleyway and found three bulldogs running at me. Luckily they were muzzled and their owner called them off, but it certainly got my heart racing.
After getting directions three more times, I found the plaza! I asked a security guard for the llaveria. He looks at me like I’m crazy. You want to buy keys?! No, I want to buy a candado. Fine, then. Walk down the hill to the stoplight (one of my favorite words: semaforo), and it’s there. So I ambled along, tasting success in my mouth, and find the llaveria tucked into the first floor of an apartment building. I walked in and the guard asks, what are you here for? The llaveria. It’s closed. What time does it open? The 19th of January. What?! Even locksmiths get a month of vacation?! Forgetting to make my words slightly politer than my thoughts, I blurted out: but I need a lock today! He says, that’s great, but that won’t make the llaveria open. Fair enough. So then I ask him what he suggests. Walk two blocks to the left and then ask someone else (i.e. don’t make it my problem). Lovely. I walked two blocks over and find myself in the book district. All the stores sell books (i.e. they are librerias). I’m waved onward, and find myself in a bustling commercial district, although one that seems to be heavily occupied by cell phone accessory stores. And nothing else, except for the seemingly ubiquitous laminating centers (because clearly if you could pick anything to have on every corner, it’d be laminating services). A woman working at a restaurant tries to lure me in with a fixed deal for arrepas and chocolate. Tasty except that I’m still full from breakfast. I ask her where to go and she points me to the corner store. And there, right out front, next to the nail clippers and key chains, is a display of padlocks. Of every size and brand you can imagine. I don’t even bargain with the guy I’m so happy to finally find them. Of course, now, having wandered in a huge circle-ish thing, I have no idea where I am. I’ve yet to figure out that Bogota is laid out in an extremely logical fashion—the carreras run north-south and the calles run east-west and they are numbered (so my hotel is Cr. 3 Cl. 16, then #26 on the block). So I ambled onward, trying not to look too lost, and wove my way through the refrigerator district, the flat screen tv district, the optical care district, and eventually ended up back at the little park in front of my hotel.
 |
| Catedral Primada in Plaza de Bolivar, Bogota |
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment