Day 4 :: Salen de Bogota

A few more pictures and some sketches.

Today was a lazy day that necessitated some much needed rest and time to prepare for the imminent chaos that will be Caracas tomorrow morning. I woke up realizing I only had enough pesos to either get to the airport or eat something; the problem set in that it being Sunday, most banks and casas de cambios were closed and so I would have to wander through the usual Sunday street festivities to find someone that would take my money. I decidedly ate only churros, purchased from one of dozens of street vendors whose primary clientele seemed to be children of the age of 4. Here I am, a grown ass man waiting in line with bambinos to feast on a meager lunch of sugar a dough in the chance that I couldn’t find more money to make my flight in the morning.

Luckily I found something shortly thereafter and stopped in at a restaurant to grab a real meal. I roamed around a little more and realized I have exhausted my stay in Bogota; it was nice enough to visit, but like most places in the world, not worth inhabiting for more than a few days.

At this point I had to cancel the trip up the mountain side due to the price (60.000 pesos) and the time. I instead sat at a cafe and drew in my sketchbook in what seemed like much too long. Side note: I lost my first sketchbook yesterday – first time ever!

The sketches above show the beginnings of an idea I had back in New York – to take my on-going project SCARCity and somehow tell the story of its architecture and its coming to being through the eyes of a little homeless girl named Amalia. The character design is far from where it should be but I hope that if I can stick to it I can produce a series of stills (10-20) that would convey the intent of the architectural project through the format of a childrens graphic-novel (in the vein of Akira, Persepolis, Maus, etc).

Back at the hostel early, I am looking into places to see in Caracas, trying to review some Spanish (because feeling like a jackass everyday gets old), and was invited by the owners mother to have some traditional Colombian soup she made fresh in the kitchen. God bless her shriveled soul, but that soup was abysmal. I pretended to enjoy it and sat down to write this and talk to some of the other travelers in the kitchen. I got to talking to the old American gents again and we discussed everything from our work, travel experiences, and politics in general. It turns out both of my new friends are in the market for new houses in their new countries of residence (one bought land in Colon, just north of Panama City, Panama and the other land in the suburban outskirts of Medellin). We exchanged contact information and let’s see what happens. Until tomorrow.


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