Spent one Sunday wandering about Bogota’s weekly Ciclovía, in which major streets are closed and people, a-strolling (and a-cycling) they will go. Street performers, pickpockets (by this time Bogota and advice from R had enhanced my superpowers and I was able to avoid such unpleasantry), a lady beating up a fellow (for alleged pedophilia) which was quickly resolved by the authorities on the scene (though not the authorities carrying automatic weapons; these fellows bore mere truncheons), ice skating, street karaoke, ubiquitous fruit and arepa stands. Here I am, with one of the aforementioned street performers. Below, see the fellow I would have preferred bestow the smooch (I suspect that R intentionally waited for me to look as goofy as possible before snapping) at Parque Nacional del Chicamocha in the Department of Santander. Lovely fellow whose name has escaped me, one of the few Colombians I met with conversational English (there went the immersion experience!), who gave us the loveliest little tour of the sculpture depicting Santanderian liberation. Also see the 10 lb weight gain. Yucca, yucca, yucca. A lot of meat. Sweet fried plantains. Yucca. Some horribly wonderful potato stuffed with rice and eggs and meat, dipped in batter & deep fried. Good grief. And those Colombians, they have the sweet tooth. Arequipe & figs. Good thing I ingested some helpful bacteria or some such thing at the end of the trip and spent the next several days going back to my usual size.