Zipaquira (Colombia) - salt and the lord

In a small town, only 30 minutes north of Bogota, lies the self-proclaimed 'number one marvel' in Colombia: the salt cathedral of Zipaquira. Not wanting to miss out, I took a weekend trip there and stayed one night, although it could easily be done as a day trip.

The cathedral itself is built in the already worked section of a collosal salt mine, the fourth biggest in the world if my understanding of the Spanish speaking guide was correct. After an hour queue to get in and wait for the tour (it was Sunday afterall), we walked along a dark tunnel down into the depths of the old mine. Religious statues and sculptures adorned the walls and eventually you arrive at the bottom on the mine where there are a serious of huge cathedral style caverns and seating for religious services. It was all pretty impressive stuff and it is a revered site for locals. But overall I was more interested in the engineering feat than the catholic iconography.

What else is there to see in Zipaquira? Well, not a lot. The usual Parque Central complete with a regular cathedral - though not one of the best examples - and a string of little shops. Otherwise, the big successes of the weekend were finding an excellent bbq meat restaurant and managing to teach my totally non-English speaking companion to play canasta. Not an easy feat.

Bogota (Colombia) - halloween, tango and risk

Make no mistake, Halloween is huge in Colombia and 31st October means only one thing... 'disfraz' (costume) time! The streets are absolutely jam packed full of people dressed up, drinking, dancing and generally being nuts. Plenty of vampires, cheerleaders, brides, angels, witches and pirates... but that is just the tip of the iceberg. I went for the surgeon option, largely because scrubs are deliberately low maintenance and easy to move around in - not to mention the natural excuse to talk to the many 'nurses' around town.

It is also a long weekend - one of around 18 per year in this party country - so Sunday was another opportunity to have a beer or ten and explore. I visited a couple of towns to the north of Bogota amidst beautiful scenery, with one of my students (in his bullet proof car, with driver and bodyguard). In the small quaint village of Tabio, amongst the artesan stores and organic food shops, is a little gem of a bar/restaurant, built around the theme of tango dancing. The venue is even decorated to mimmick the dockland brothel district of Buenos Airies, the birthplace of tango, with various couples performing for the crowd. Apparently sailors who couldn't master the key moves were denied the chance to, ahem, use the services of the local ladies of the night.

To top off a great day, I went back to my student's family home for a lengthy game of Risk with his cousins, nephews and brothers. Beer and pizza was in good supply. By 3am I was pretty done for, but managed to lead the green armies to a triumphant victory. The British always had a knack for conquering the world.

Bogota (Colombia) - enterprise culture

After a few weeks wandering the streets of Bogota, you realise that enterprise culture is alive and well in this city, helped by a lack of overly-stringent rules and regulations.

Perhaps the most marked example is when you take a local bus journey (cramped, little mini-buses with drivers who handle the fares and their mobiles, whilst navigating the crazy streets) and are confronted by a myriad of entrepreneurs - a half dozen per trip. First they board, find a good place to stand and then they start their pitch: selling pens, books, sweets, tissues, cakes, bread and just about anything else. A common trick is to hand out a sample of product - to try or just to hold - and then to return to make the sale. Another is to offer no price, but rather ask for whatever you think is right. Both are pretty clever strategies when you think about it.

Everpresent in the streets are vendors selling all the day's necessities from their laps, pockets and bags. It is not uncommon to see someone stroll up and have a coffee (from a large thermos flask), make a mobile call, buy and smoke one cigarette and finish off with a couple of sweets. These stalls are even present on random, residential walls in the poshest of suburbs. I would love to try setting one up in Hampstead or Point Piper and see what happens. The thing is, they are bloody useful and do no harm at all.

Further evidence in my case was provided when, on a first date with a local, she described herself quite passionately as a 'capitalista'. She has grown up in a very working-class suburb, now has her own little jewellery stall and works 12 hours a day, six days a week. Impressive stuff.

Finally, you would be hard pushed to find a fan of Hugo Chavez in Colombia. He is universally hated and especially so when he popped over the Russia to buy a stack of medium range missiles. Go Hugo.

(Dedicated to Adam Meltz, capitalist extraordinaire and one of only three readers of this blog)

Villavicencio (Colombia) - long weekend

Unlike Sydney, where people escape to the mountains to cool down for a long weekend, in Bogota the populace seek to drop a few thousand feet to warm up. So off to Villavicencio for the long weekend I went with my pals; a short bus trip of two hours (though getting back took more like six).

Classic bank-holiday activities were undertook and much enjoyed: a trip to the outdoor pool with water slides, dancing the night away in cheesy discoteques, strolls around the park, watching the footie in a bar (Colombia 2, Chile 4) and, erm, riding a mechanical bull.

More unorthodox and the highlight of the trip was a visit to the local cowboy fair: 'El Coleo'. The centrepiece of this gathering is a bizarre spectator sport certainly not for animal lovers and definitely not for cow lovers. First, a non-suspecting white bull with a long tail is sent running down a 300m long sand pit, to the cheers from thousands watching from the grandstands either side. Then two horse-mounted cowboys chase the poor thing, with the aim of grabbing it by the tail and flipping it on its back. Points are awarded for how quickly you down the beast and the style in which you do so. Very, very odd. Needless to say, beer, music, bbq'd meat, dancing and promo girls (woah) were in plentiful supply and the whole event was hilarious.

Bogota (Colombia) - working 9-5 or not

It's been three weeks now working in this gigantic city (which I really must write about one day) and it is amazing what you can do by just speaking the language of your birth. People are crying out here for Engish classes, although unfortunately a network of good, bad and damnright ugly outfits take the lion share of the work.

Fees for classes range from 80,000 pesos an hour ($40) per person to almost nothing, depending on the set-up. Either way, the teacher usually gets only a small percentage of this fee. I am happy with the $10 an hour my main college offers, but one place tried to lure me into working full-time for just $100 a week teaching large groups. God knows how much they must make out of that. Needless to say, I am actively looking for private students to cut out the middleman (disintermediation I believe) with a shabby marketing plan of classified ads, posters on lamp-posts and good old word-of-mouth.

My line of work largely comprises visiting people in their luxury appartments, being greeted by an army of maids, drivers, security guards and cleaners, then chatting to them for a few hours. I make up a few exercises and print a few stories from the web to liven things up. But it really is a mug's game and a great way for me to drag out this journey into 2010.

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.