this text of mine is quite ancient, so I probably would see things differently now, but anyhow ... I always meant to put it on my web site but never got round to preparing an html version, so instead I now copy it into the blog, so much easier ...

Here goes, my first ever visit to Latin America, enjoy:

Ten days in Colombia

(17.-28. 8. 2000)

17.8. (Thursday)

I arrived on time at the Aeropuerto El Dorado, Santa Fé de Bogotá, Colombia, on an eventless flight from Frankfurt. After leisurely watching a grand total of two workers unloading the entire luggage of some two hundred passengers, and persuading the customs people that the books I carried in my rugged red sports bag had no indecent pictures in them, I emerged from the building onto the street. My friend who was supposed to meet me was nowhere to be seen, giving me ample time to observe the surroundings and adapt to life in Latin America.

The street was a kind of sideroad where yellow taxis and private vehicles occasionally picked up passengers. It was kind of comforting that even local people obviously due to be met by their family were also waiting for extended periods of time. Walking around as if looking for somebody turned out to be a bad idea -- taxidrivers seemed to read this as an invitation to approach me. Sitting down on a bench and watching the world go by was, in contrast, perfectly acceptable and appeared to be reasonably safe.

Eventually, my saviour appeared just before I would have started getting seriously worried. While she was driving me through the Thursday afternoon traffic -- imagine the density of a typical traffic jam, but all vehicles moving at high speed in random directions, and generously interspersed with pedestrians trying to get killed, cyclists using the fast lane, and minibuses making the kind of noise that seems to announce an imminent explosion -- I was wondering why people mention Colombia's crime rates and "violencia" at all. I mean, this traffic must reduce the life expectancy more significantly than any other factor including civil war.

After 40 minutes in which pictures of near-fatal incidences swished past the windscreen at a frightening pace, we arrived at the home of my friend's family in a modest but still fairly safe part of Southern Bogotá. Poverty and problems increase gradually as one moves from Northern to Southern Bogota, but Ciudad Monte appears to be a reasonable compromise between the show-offy rich North and the misery found further South. The house with its walled courtyard and barred windows felt like a safe haven. Each time I arrived there it was with an intense feeling of gratitude for having survived and escaped from the traffic.

Hospitality, warmth and friendship of everybody I met in Colombia was truly overwhelming -- I felt like I had been adopted into the family from day one (being included in the plural "niños" despite my ripe old age was just one of the symptoms). My speaking a little bit of Spanish marred with interferences from every other language I ever tried to learn was much appreciated, not only as a welcome source of merriness. My views on Colombian troubles were sought and listened to -- good job I've been following the politics quite closely while I was pondering whether to go there.

The house being located well within the conurbation and trapped between three roads enabled me to sense the status of the city life and traffic situation at all hours. (I'm not being sarcastic here, I do enjoy this kind of sensation, at least for a few days.) As the sunlight is switched off strictly from 6 pm to 6 am (something I had trouble getting used to), the city appears to go to sleep quite early, so it's already rather quiet at 11. With my bodyclock ticking to Frankfurt summer time (GMT + 2h), I woke up with a start at 3 am Colombian time (GMT - 5h), with the noises of the city totally absent. During the rest of the night, I could listen to the soundtrack of the city and its traffic madness gradually awakening. I totally adore this kind of experience, having fond memories of spending very early morning hours in both Paris and Berlin, due to my youthful penchant to the use of night trains.

18.8. (Friday)

Some academic visits were on the programme for Friday morning. Long before the trip, I had offered to give a seminar at the chemistry department of the Universidad Nacional, but somehow that proposal has been left stuck in the system. Never mind. Instead, I got a surprise visit to the Instituto de Inmunologia, located at the Hospital San Juan de Dios, part of the National University. Security at the gate was quite tight, heavily armed, rather scary-looking men even looked into the boots of cars leaving the campus.

But once we had left the machine guns behind us, it turned out to be a very agreeable campus with mildly historical looking, three to four-floor buildings and some green spaces between them. (The buildings which were reportedly rescued from inevitable collapse when they were recruited to the services of science are said to be Republican style, which is supposed to mean 1820. Or so I am told.) We chased up a friend of my host (the number of my Colombian friends grew exponentially from this point onwards), who gave me a guided tour of two hours or so, including short presentations from her friends regarding their work and expertise. I am pretty sure that the guide learned of my existence from a phonecall the evening before, and everybody else from my just turning up in their lab, but everybody had a lot of time and patience to explain to me what their work was about.

The whole institute, founded and chaired by Colombia's science superstar, Manuel Elkin Patarroyo, serves the main purpose to develop a viable vaccine against malaria (and also vaccines against other tropical diseases), based on rational design of peptides. One major asset is the availability in Colombia of one of the very few suitable animal models for malaria, the Aona monkey. One big idea, 120 people, and one of the biggest research budgets this side of the Rio Grande. My guide explained that she was involved in the actual synthesis of the peptides which are then tested for any useful effects on the immune system, to give leads to new, improved designs. Two automatic peptide synthesizers were idling in the corridor, as the researchers preferred to handle the peptides manually, sealing the resin into little plastic bags. This was justified by the presence of non-standard amino-acids, chemical branching and other special features, but I wasn't quite sure whether I believed in these reasons.

I was somewhat reassured to find out that the analytical controls (N-terminal sequencing and mass spectrometry by MALDI-TOF) of the peptides were run on instruments that looked pretty much like the equivalent machines at Oxford. Any residual doubts about the equipment quality were swept away by the NMR facility. Three high field spectrometers, and a room full of Silicon Graphics O2 machines, molecular modeling software included, could make me forget which continent I was on. Unlike at home, the computers were not even secured in any obvious way. I guess the machine guns and car boot controls were good for something after all.

Two hours and several tutorials (DNA synthesis, molecular modeling, etc., all in Spanish) later, we threw in the towel. Passing a little chemical factory attached to the outside wall of a building (synthesis of the solvent dichloromethane), we made our way back to the car, to drive to the main campus of the Universidad Nacional, more specifically, to the chemistry department.

This one was a bit closer to the real world, with student graffiti on the walls of otherwise dreary corridors. The teaching labs were looking nice and old-fashioned (like in Oxford, but for different reasons). The same observation held for the research labs which had a lot of space to house very little equipment. One piece that looked reasonably new turned out to be a charitable gift that wasn't really used. The computers I saw were generally newer than the ones that I normally use. (But then again, some people would call my 1994 vintage machines obsolete ...).

I was allowed into the library, but students normally aren't. They have to ask for the book or journal they need at the till, and wait for someone to get it from the shelves for them. I found at least a few volumes of most significant journals, but in an unpredictable, patchy coverage of volumes. The most shocking absence was Angewandte Chemie -- I just can't imagine how anyone can do chemistry without it. There were national chemistry journals in Spanish, too, serving the vast population of researchers here who haven't really come to terms with the necessity to publish in English. There aren't any specific English courses for scientists, and few make an effort to build up on what little they have or haven't learned at school.

I met a professor of inorganic chemistry, who at least partially owes his status to the fact that he did his PhD at Heidelberg back in the 70s. He's been one of the driving forces of the Latin American Journal of Chemistry, in which I am involved as well, but on that Friday morning he was in a very relaxed state of mind, neither driving nor particularly forceful. Probably he was mentally preparing for the weekend he was going to spend on his farm out in the sticks. Impossible to turn his mind to chemistry or to the journal I had been hoping to discuss. Nice guy, though.

After some specifically Bogotan soup for lunch (sorry, names of food stuff are the first thing I lose the memory of!), I was offered an afternoon round-up of the touristic sites. The gold museum (said to house 33,000 items of gold) was very impressive, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking how much suffering this particular chemical element has caused around here. And what the natives would have been spared if they had made their ornaments from some other metal, such as copper or tin rather than gold. The Plaza Bolivar, with the palaces and all that bloody history around it. The Palacio de la Justicia in particular has suffered total destruction by political violence in 1948 and 1985, and the current guards looked as if they were quite determined not to let it happen a third time. The cathedral: closed today for no obvious reason. The old streets of La Candelaria: picturesque, but not looking like a safe place to stay for very long. Museo de Artes y Tradiciones Populares: Very nice Indian arts and crafts, but I was getting the feeling that this was as remote to the present day Colombians as to me. Various colonial style churches: Probably haven't been touched for a few centuries, but unlike in European churches, worshippers outnumber tourists by far.

Also visited a halfway-decent bookshop. Classification principle according to decreasing importance: Colombian literature (not a single woman on this shelf, but I later found a book by Laura Restrepo from Bogota in Cartagena), then: rest of Latin America (usual suspects from Allende through to Vargas Llosa), generously (but not explicitly) including Spanish writers, then the rest of the world. Finally, the library, a vast modern complex complete currently hosting an art & design exhibition, and enough rooms to get thoroughly lost. But again most books hidden somewhere backstage.

Shortly after six, it's pitch dark and the street lights have not yet been switched on, which doesn't make the streets look safer. Hunting for a decent movie, but without success, as it seems to be silly season for cinemas, even though the weather doesn't know seasons here.

19.8. (Saturday)

Taking the funicular up to the Cerro de Monserrate, a mountain peak with a statue of the Fallen Christ and a church. (If you walk up any time except with the pilgrims crowds on Sundays, my "Lonely Planet" guide remarks cheerfully: "take it for granted that you will be robbed".) Religious and robbery aspects apart, the view from the top (3190 m) onto the whole city is very impressive. We were asked by a chap in uniform to sign a petition for peace and non-violence in the country. Not sure it helps, but probably doesn't harm either, and even foreigners are allowed to sign. Back down by teleferico (cable car), to enjoy some views on the way.

Next stop: Quinta de Bolivar, a country house with magnificent gardens, once owned by Bolivar, and now kind of a museum in his honour, though the garden is much more memorable than the contents of the museum. Following the Bolivar theme, the park named after him, with a substantial lake and some modern looking sports equipment (so the local machos can show off their muscles in public) was quite nice too. It was a nice and sunny afternoon, and the exposed parts of my skin gradually approached a colouring blending in with the average people in the street. (First time I was reminded of the fact that I was 2.6 km closer to the stars, as the tourist leaflets put it.)

In the afternoon, I had to return to the airport, to catch an Avianca flight to Cartagena de Indias, on the Caribbean coast of Colombia. The flight as such was short and pleasant (except probably for one woman who found that the seat number on her boarding card didn't exist on the plane), but as soon as the doors of the plane were opened after arrival, I started feeling very sweaty and sticky, and was reminded of the fact that sauna conditions aren't my favourite climate.

On the short ride to the Monterrey Hotel, the taxi driver put on some extra dose of friendliness to distract me from the fact that his car was on the brink of falling to bits, and didn't have functioning seatbelts. But in comparison to Bogota the traffic was almost civilized, and a night ride along the caribbean coast is probably not the most unpleasant way to die if I have to. Another comforting thought is that the hundreds of motorbikers who seem to ride without helmets as a matter of principle live even more dangerously than I do. The driver charged me 10,000 pesos ($ 5.00), five times the price he would have charged a native customer (who bargain before boarding!), but then again, this relation is only fair, and the ride was still cheaper than the equivalent in England or Germany.

The Hotel turned out to be just next door to the Conference centre, and facing the main entrance to the old city. The staff were very friendly and patient with my Spanish -- they didn't switch to English, giving me a chance to practice ... Having shown me my room, the chap was terribly keen to show me the jaccuzzi and something called a "mirador" as well. I didn't want a jaccuzzi at that moment and didn't have a clue what the mirador might be, but as I was having trouble finding polite Spanish words to get rid of him, I eventually followed him back out into the heat, along the corridor and onto a terrace with an absolutely mindblowing view on the old city, the sea, everything. Complete with illumination of selected buildings. I must have made some strange noise, and the demonstrator of this miracle was all smiles, saying without words, "I told you you'd like this." Anybody ever getting a chance to travel to Cartagena, do take a room at the Monterrey, preferably on the top floor. In Michelin terms, the view is worth the trip.

20.8.

Still being a little bit ahead of Colombian time, I had no trouble getting up at 7 am or so, with the idea to have a look round the old city before the heat would become unbearable. Bad idea for two reasons: 1) the heat is nearly unchanged 24 hours per day. 2) At 8am on a Sunday morning, all the crooks of the city are in the streets, waiting for the first tourist they can cheat out of a few dollars. So walking round was more like fleeing from various people calling me amigo in a way that somehow failed to win my trust. After an hour or so, I gave up on this game and opted for the occupation I saw most people indulging in: sitting around doing nothing. Worked perfectly. No-one approached me any more.

I established experimentally that two hours were the maximum time I could spend in the sauna outdoors. On the other hand, after one hour in a hotel room I usually begin to feel the ceiling falling down on me. Hence, a natural rhythm of alternating outdoors and indoors periods fell into place.

Around three in the afternoon I strolled over to the conference centre to register. A fee of 275 US dollars for five days of air conditioning, free coffee and coke looks like a good deal. Anyway, having passport-sized tag with a barcode dangling round your neck is the only way of getting into the center, so there wasn't any alternative.

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The opening ceremony was quite formal, with the national anthem being played by a marine brass band, everybody standing for most of the time, and all that sort of thing, and a speech from Colombia's president, Andres Pastrana. Then the whole assembly was made to flow out onto the "plaza de las banderas", a kind of front garden within the security fence with the flags of presumably all 90-something countries of the delegates hanging around. There were some seriously dangerous cocktails on offer (my estimate: 85% rum, 10% coke, 5 % unidentified tropical fruit stuff), plus food that was probably local but came without labels or users instructions.

Then, some brazilian carnival style music and dancing started happening right in the middle of the crowd, in attempt to bring some of those boring old scientists back to life. That worked for some, but others took flight. By then, Carolina, my tour guide from the Instituto de Inmunologia had spotted me. She had also arrived on Saturday, but on a different flight. Meant to land at six, but did so at midnight. She introduced me to four of her friends, only to announce a minute later that I'd have to dance with all of them. Did my best but gave up after two ... Some of the vibrational motions one is supposed to perform are just beyond me. Well anyway. Was a lot more fun than all the other conference welcome parties I've ever witnessed put together, but for practical reasons the participants were packaged into their shuttle buses and sent off to their respective hotels around 10 pm.

Which left me some time to enjoy the local (plus Mexican) TV programs at the hotel. There was a Mexican music channel that I quite liked, and MTV-LA, which isn't too bad either. The videos tend to be sexier than in the UK version (why am I not surprised?), and it is always funny to see some rather unexpected people suddenly singing in Spanish, including Robbie Williams and Eros Ramazotti. When I'm travelling and staying in hotels, I mainly use the music channels as a kind of enhanced radio in the background, while reading.

21.8. (Monday)

The conference begins in earnest today, but thanks to the convenient location of my hotel I can still have a leisurely breakfast, reading El Tiempo on paper for a change (used to check their web edition before the trip). Manuel Patarroyo is talking this morning, the man who is on all the photos and gets to hug all the beauties. And then a symposium on malaria vaccines, but nothing very memorable.

Scary though how in the symposia that are held in English, half the audience are using the simultaneous translation headphones.

Monday evening: Just before going to bed I had a quick flick through the 20 or so channels and found on the Colombian national channel Shakira in concert. Colombia'a hottest export after cocaine, also known as the tropical equivalent of Alanis Morissette. Been quite a big fan of her latest album (Donde estan los ladrones, 1998) for a year or so, but seeing her perform is quite a different dimension. Complete with belly dancing to "Ojos así", her most arabic song (her parents are from Lebanon). A month later, at the first "Latin Grammys", she won two gongs, one of them for this song. Oh, and at one point in June the Argentinian president Fernando de la Rua faced an embarrassing moment when the press contrasted his appeals to cut spending with the expensive holidays his son Antonio spent with his girlfriend. That girlfriend was the very same Shakira, who had managed to stay out of the gossip press until that poisened arrow found her.

22.8. (Tuesday)

I attended the conference all day, and quite gladly, enjoying the air conditioning and free coffee, plus a reasonably efficient internet café. Emailed "hello from Colombia" two a few friends whose email addresses happened to be handy. Funny how the quickest and most enthusiastic response came from a Mexican friend based in Mexico City, who normally writes about once every other year.

23.8. (Wednesday)

Half-day conference, afternoon free. Had another stroll to the old city, checked out a bookshop which was nice in that the books had no apparent order, so each new title was a surprise ... Found the book by Laura Restrepo (later discovered that it already exists in German translation, so not a very original discovery), plus some Gioconda Belli (Nicaragua).

In the evening back to conference centre for the folkloristic ballet "Colombia viva" -- which starts two hours late. Managed to catch up with my friends from Patarroyo's lab just in time to secure a seat in the cordoned off VIP area, front row even. Very nice performance, very enthusiastic reception, especially from the colombianos in the audience ...

24.8. (Thursday)

Benefited from the poster session to discuss with Patarroyo's people their recent work on using dendrimers as antigens. Appears that offering the peptide as a branched tetramer gives optimal results (in that the immune system cuts the desired fragment out of the dendrimer, while the fragment if offered individually would be digested to amino acids). Trouble is that NMR of a dendrimer with nearly identical branches is tricky, so the structure is not yet known.

Late afternoon I skipped the session on snakebites and scorpions etc. to join my friends for a little shopping trip. First to the modern beach resort part of the city, Bocagrande, then to the old city again. Found a nice necklace for Tabitha. But for the rest of the souvenir requirements I relied on the shop in the conference centre.

25.8. (Friday)

Last day of the conference. Managed to get to talk to Patarroyo for three minutes or so -- then he zoomed off to find someone more important. I meant to take the plane back to Bogotá at 16.50 and arrived at the airport very early, not having anything else to do after lunch, only to be told at the check-in that the flight has been postponed to 20.40 or so. Which gave me lots of time to explore the seaside around the airport, find some nice stones, finish the book I was reading, etc. Eventually, the departure was postponed again without explanation or apology, but at 22.30 or so we finally took off and got back to Bogotá with no further problems. As I had seen the plane coming in, I realized it took them exactly 30 minutes to turn it round. Bet they didn't do anything except refuel and unload the luggage. And Cartagena does look nice from above at night.

At Bogotá, there was a literary festival on with some very famous people including Ernesto Cardenal (whom I have seen some 18 years ago), which I had been hoping to attend this evening, but Avianca's five hours delay neatly eliminated this plan.

26.8. (Saturday)

On Saturday morning it was the same story, hoping to catch up with some literary celebrities, but a call to the Lufthansa office clarified that in order to catch the 16.50 flight to Frankfurt, I should make sure I'm at the check-in at noon. Ok, so we went there essentially after breakfast, arriving at 10.30, just in time to secure position 20 or so in what would chaotically grow to a queue of 500 people. And except for 2 hours after check-in, which we used for lunch and to visit a kind of science museum nearby, I actually spent most of that day queuing and observing people doing their respective jobs quite inefficiently. And still people around me were quite cheerful. Except for the woman who came at ten because she was kicked off the same flight last week -- she was a little bit irritated whenever she felt someone might threaten her place in the queue.

The plane took off a little bit late, so it was getting dark as we rushed towards the Monserrate mountain (and I was wondering whether the pilot would manage to turn before rushing into it). I appreciated that my life expectancy increased dramatically as I left this city, but still I was quite sad to see it fade away underneath the plane. If only they could sort out those little problems, including poverty, violence etc. (legalizing cocaine in the G7 countries would probably do the trick!), it would be a truly wonderful place.