She describes having felt something in her stomach, something in her soul. Love at first sight. She mentions the courtesy of people on buses, and the absence of stray dogs and street trash. As I read it, I was impressed with her gift with words and the way she described the enchantment she experienced, but…
Bogotá and I did not experience love at first sight. No magic. No spark. Neither she for me nor I for her. Bogotá for me is more like a cat, a mangy cat. This mangy cat is not for everyone. Many will cast it off at first sight, thought, or sound; many will try to love it, but never truly will; and many will watch over the cat temporarily and decide nothin’ great, nothin’ terrible, just another mangy cat.
But I like mangy cats, in the best sort of way. They’re the best kinds really. You may have to work for their love, but once it’s there, it’s the strongest, best kind of appreciation and respect.
There’s no spectacle, no show, no hip-hoorah. It’s a city of people living, working, and studying. The streets aren’t terribly clean, it’s a game of push and shove to get on the Transmilenio (public transportation system), and taxi drivers are frighteningly untrustworthy, whether you’re a foreigner or not. I wouldn’t call it high fashion or couture. The city is riddled with corruption; the mayor just got tossed out for precisely that. But there are people here, around 9 million actually, who need this city, this mangy cat, because unlike their hometowns, Bogotá is a beacon of opportunity. It has a little bit of everything; that’s why it’s so mangy!
Bogotá is a mangy cat with a soul that runs deep. I wish more people would give it a chance. Cities like Bogotá are those that keep the world running. I see a bright future here: for this city, for this country. I love this mangy cat of mine.