A Morning in Bogota

What does a morning in Bogotá look like for me? This photo captures a snapshot of my daily life over the past few months. For breakfast, I cooked a rice paper omelet, topped with habanero-mayonnaise and a drizzle of agave syrup. Green onions were sorely missed.

The aftermath of breakfast lingers on our 3D animal placemats - well-used plates and a crumpled napkin keeping company with two ceramic coasters, gifted from a friend after her visit to Spain.

There are pink roses that I got for Mapy before she returned from visiting the doctor's office about her knee. They sit in a one-liter kettle, the only thing we have that can accommodate them.

There is also an incense holder with a few ashes and a small bag of napkins that forever slides around the table. The table and chairs are plastic patio furniture. Like almost everything here, they came with the house.

Looking beyond the table, we see the window that I love to look out. The best part is the dogs across the way running in the field, playing.

This particular park seems to be the one for dog families. The park a few hundred meters in the opposite direction seems to be one for kid families.

The worst part is the two withering trees in the center. Not because they’re drying, because they form the informal public urinal for all of the gig workers, taxi drivers, or anyone in a rush.

Between the trees and the park lies a large and, usually, dry canal. Just on the other side of the canal is a street that few people walk down, but cars frequently pass, and a long queue builds every rush hour.

However, the street doesn't go unused; most days there are a few recicladores that set up camp on the grass with their dogs. They're part of the informal waste system of Bogota, collecting and sorting cardboard and other waste to be sold.

They often have a small bonfire to stay warm and cook a snack. A quiet group, they always seem to be working. Even though the mess they leave behind is displeasing to the eye, there is a pleasure from observing this family, or group of friends, working and playing, and making the best with what they have.

Through the doorway there is a wind-beaten turquoise tarp. It is a visual reminder of the primary sound I hear throughout the day, which is the work from the construction crew that put up that tarp and are putting together a new building. So far, it seems rather well put together, unlike some of the shoddily constructed houses around. They start work early with their hammers, drills, and trucks. I don’t mind it much… I guess it is the sound of progress.

Between the construction site and my apartment is another building with an enclosed driveway housing nine perritos (little dogs). When the sun shines bright, I love to sit just outside the doorway, playing a daily game with my unseen neighbors - sending a "woof woof" floating across the air, guaranteed to trigger a chorus of excited yips and barks.

This is the view I have seen and enjoyed the most these past few years of travel. I have much peace, pleasure, and respect for this quaint community I have observed and become a part of.