I arrived in Bogota off a mini-bus, and met a girl at the bus station who was going to my hostel. We shared a cab.
I didn’t do too much on my final day; I walked around the streets, taking in the square, Calle 7, eating salted freshly-made plantain chips. I went back to my hostel, where we swapped travel stories, ate a barbeque, and then, it was time for a few hours of sleep before my flight.
The airport was a chaotic mess. I waited in line, found out I had to go pay a tax, went to pay it and then learned I wasn’t in the country long enough so I didn’t have to pay. I went back in the original line and then answered a lot of questions about my bag and security. Then I went to another line and this guy tried to make me print out my boarding pass but the machine sucked and he singled me out because I was American. I just wanted to have someone help me in person because I had a question about my ticket. Then you give your bag to someone and then they bring it to you when you check in. Then you have immigration and then you are in Duty-Free, where I bought some cheap liquor and had a breakfast.
It’s sad – it took me longer than normal to get into this trip, and I think the main thing this trip has left me with is a lot of questions. What do I want to do with my life? How much more do I want to travel? Is this all worth it? What should I do next? I am left with even more questions, and no answers, but it will figure itself out eventually. I hope. And if not, I’ll sling my backpack over my shoulder and head out to another country to find more questions and more answers.