Bogota and beyond...

After a couple of fun nights drinking arguardiente and listening to vallenato with our host Colombian family, it was time to strap on the formal clothes for our intensive Berlitz teacher training. We did this over 7 intense days, as people from the class were dropping out and being compulsorily dropped out, like getting voted off a reality tv show. To add to the pressure, I had an interview for my dream job back in the UK with Oxfam, so instead of resting over the weekend I had to frantically prepare. But we passed, and were offered contracts to work with Berlitz - the next challenge would be to take Laura´s dodgy emergency passport back, through FARC and bandit country, to the Ecuadorian border, from where we would head to Quito and the Colombian embassy for our work visas.

Our introduction to Colombian bureacracy didn´t bode well, as after a relaxing weekend away with Caro at the popular colombian retreat of Melgar ("over 1000 swimming pools in this (very small) village" as a proud local told me), we were presented with the documents to take to Ecuador. Lots of them, all which needed to come from government departments, be stamped in triplicate and then verified by a public notary. Helpfully, Berlitz HR told us that we would carry all the risk and expense of getting the visa, so after a couple of frantic days complying with the bizarre legal requirements for foreigners set forth by the franky opportunistic Colombian government, changing bus ticket times as new requirements were ordained on the spot, and doing the rounds of most of the departments that deal with extranjeros, we set off on a night bus to Ipiales on the border, already reminiscing about innocent days dipping cheese in hot chocolate and having lunch in our classmate´s home.

From here things started to take a turn for the forboding; as our bus had left so late, we were going through the "most dangerous part of Colombia" (there turned out to be a few of these!!) at night, something which every blogger and guide says not to do. We passed the border quickly and without incident however, and were soon sailing back into Quito, and the lovely Colonial House Hostel, our favourite home way from home in SA where we had spent happy, innocent days drinking wine and watching DVDs from their massive collection.

The San Blas neighbourhood of Quito

Church in the centro historico of Quito

The next day dealt the body blow - because Laur was on an emergency passport, and despite the protestations of Berlitz, and the promises of myriad government officials - she was denied a work visa. Weeks of stress, expense and worry since we had first flown to Bogota had come to their perhaps predictable conclusion, and we sadly saddled up again, determined to enjoy the rest of our remaining time in SA.

Taunting the guinea pig before eating it

The main course ("cuy")