131. Last night in Bogota.

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Social climbing Bogota styles.

So we are back in Bogotá and I have said bye for now to my friend and host. He has work to do, and I have set myself one final task here before I fly out tomorrow –  to find out how I would fit in and where I would live in Bogota, and find some PLU to play with.

It was way easier than I thought it was going to be.

I met beautiful Isabel in the lobby of my lovely Teusaquillo hotel weirdly called B.O.G which, any way you look at it, reads like a swamp.

There was an immediate PLU recognition, a squeal and a hug like long-lost sisters. Two black leather jackets, two sets of springy steps, two easy laughs and one clear sense of mischief between us. No walking mediation styles for these two sisters; we were off at a pace, thank god.

It was her neighbourhood we were heading to – Chapanero – very groovy, full of individuals, people like us but mostly with black hair and dark eyes.

We visited a bunch of independent fashion houses, where everyone knew her name.

We stopped for juices and coffees, tiny empanadas and other national treasures.

We hung out at her ‘house’, a stunning double story stone villa she leases and has filled with independent labels. She’s still looking for the tattooist, so we popped by one of those as well and chatted with some dudes.

Beautiful humans, I loved them all.

Cut to the Mexican restaurant down the road and a few tart margaritas (what did you call me?).

Cut to a growing squad of smart sassy girls and one sweet dude with a broken heart.

Cut to me in the smallest elevator in the world going up to an apartment with lovely Andrius and her broken-hearted brother Camilo and her handsome boyfriend Carlos (names have not been changed, but I’ve probably got them wrong anyway).

Gins and laughter, dancing and broken English.

Got home the next day.

Mission accomplished.

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