Bogota (Colombia) - a crazy place

The lack of a posting for two weeks is testament either to my laziness or the madness of this city. I would suggest both. It leaves the challenge of a thousand things to say and only a limited space in which to say it. Perhaps best then just to list a few odd or amazing things that have happened or I have seen.

1. Although everone has mobiles here, no-one uses them to make calls. Instead, on every street corner stands a person with five phones attached to them by wires, wearing a jacket saying 'llamadas'. People then pay to use them. What on earth is going on?

2. I started looking for work at 2pm on a Monday afternoon, a little weary from a hard weekend. By 6pm I had English classes booked for two days time, all with no experience nor qualifications. Next week I am even teaching an English teacher.

3. The city itself is gigantic and runs down the side of an imposing mountain range. It makes navigating a cinch. At the top of a cable car ride is a fantastic viewpoint and a 300 year old church that overlooks the whole city. On Sundays the fare is half-price. A bonus only soiled slightly by the morning service being blasted out over loudspeakers. Tranquil it is not.

4. In the more upmarket boroughs, where I work not live, the streets are full of professional dog workers at every hour of the day. They look a bit disheartened if they have less than ten dogs surrounding them and each specialise in a different dog type. Ten labradors, followed by a dozen lapdogs, right behind an army of terriers. A photo series beckons... surely?

5. Every night, outside the same two or three hostels in Candelaria, backpackers are mugged at knife (or machete) point. By the same gangs. Hello police and hostel owners, do something.

6. Staying in one of these cities for a while makes you realise the deep divide between rich and poor. Here it is a fairly straight north/south divide. The former looking like an average American downtown, even including Hooters. The latter being a pretty grim and dangerous collection of shanty towns.

And finally, moving into express mode: Gabriel Garcia Marquez lived here, a hangover is a guayaba, singing kareoke in Spanish is difficult, a three foot high beer communal serving is aptly called a 'jirafe', mixing tequila, rum and aguadiente is not clever, running down the middle of the road is a good way not to get mugged, Carlos Valderrama is the face of the no.1 crisp brand, never believe someone who says they will call tomorrow and comida corriente makes for a great value lunch.

San Gil (Colombia) - refreshment and rafting

After the tortuous heat of Cartegena, and general weariness of dormitory travelling life, San Gil was exactly what I needed. An immaculate hostel, run by a delightful local couple, a cooler climate and stunning countryside. It put a spring firmly back into my step.

The settlement itself, another misleadingly called a city given the lack of the word 'town' in Spanish, was a tranquil hillside spot. It came complete with a botanical garden, running along the river, and a particularly pleasant parque central.

San Gil positions itself as the adventure capital of Colombia and from a choice of rapelling, bungey jumping, kayaking and others, I chose to go rafting on the level 5 (whatever that means) Rio Fonce, with the super professional Rafting Colombia. Three hours of pretty full-on action followed, with myself taking a front row and being almost drowned several times. The guys running the show always had everything under control and, if anything, it went too smoothly. Lots of fun was had and they even surprised us by knocking up a decent lunch, from their water-proof containers, at a half-way break.

Cartegena (Colombia) - stunning, even if sweaty

Cartegena is one hell of a place to start a South American adventure. Three days became four and five, and then it was a week. If it wasn't for the blistering and sweaty heat, I might have stayed forever.

This town of islands and beaches is built around a beautiful colonial centre, even for a person jaded of such sights. Cobbled streets, lined with food vendors and imposing churches and plazas with musicians and dancers. All surrounded by 17th century battlements and the water. Sadly, a lot of the time I was merely hiding from the heat. Yet the things I did do were world-class. Bathing in a volcano of bubbling mud, taking an open-air party bus around town at dusk (complete with a live band, bottles of rum and dancing games), an outdoor concert by Placido Domingo no less, salsa dancing in Fidels (a legendary bar in the historic centre that I visited every night) and the imposing Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas, with its scary underground cells and escape tunnels.

Overall, Colombia seems to really put the Latin into Latin America, with bustling street stalls, an obsession (rather than just passion) for football and a party spirit to envy. Which begs the question: why did I take so long to get here?

Panama City (Panama) - more then just a canal

Panama is basically a country created by the US in order to build a canal. So, naturally it is the first thing I went to check out, from the less touristy Gatun Locks - near the scary-sounding town of Colon. The view is incredible as huge cargo ships squeeze through a system of 3 locks, which lift boats to the level of the lake. This man-made body of water comprises the majority of the canal and requires another system of locks on the pacific side, to lower the boats back to sea level. Ships have basically been built since the inception of the canal to be as wide as possible, yet still fit through. Only a two foot gap seperates the ships from the lock walls. A seriously snug margin. I was lucky enough to tag onto a couple from Colombia on holiday and we set off, in their hire car, to also check out the Gatun dam, San Lorenzo Fort (in a driving tropical thunderstorm) and the Sheltered Cove Marina, where I had a half-arsed attempt to hitch a ride to Cartegena, Colombia. I failed.

Elsewhere, Panama City is a curious mix of a fully developed world trading city (as much like a Hong Kong or Singapore, as anywhere else in Central America) and a run-down colonial old town, with signs of renewal that could make it spectacular. All in all, an odd place to end one part of my travels and build up excitement for a continental shift. South American here I come.