Voyassitude

Feeling energized after the sangría we shared, Aurélie and I walked under the rain at a hurried pace as I realized I had become a sort of tour guide for her in Bogotá.

I met Aurélie three days before that tempestuous rain. We had booked the same pub crawl that promised to end at the famous, mythical Theatron nightclub. A French artist with a passion for traveling and dancing, Aurélie made it easy to chat and connect with her. We navigated the labyrinthine structure of Theatron along with a Mexican guy, all of us amazed by the colossal party unfolding there till three a.m. By the time we said goodbye, we had danced to more genres than we could count, and the tired but open smiles on our faces confirmed that it had been a splendid evening.

Three days later, on Aurélie’s final afternoon in Colombia, we reunited to explore a bit of Bogotá’s city center. We met at the Bogotá Museum of Modern Art, MAMBO. That’s where I discovered she is an artist. Not so much because she told me, but because she took advantage of a museum feature that let you draw anything you wanted on a blank piece of paper to leave your mark there. And what a mark she left. A slender, colorful figure of a girl that resembled her, Aurélie drew with patience and almost absentmindedly, the traces of her hand rapid and easygoing. As she drew her figure, we chatted a lot, and I really came to know her beyond the cool dance moves and passion for traveling.

Our museum exploration was shorter than we anticipated. So, with a bit of free time, I knew exactly the place I wanted to take her. We headed to El Chorro de Quevedo (a popular fountain hotspot where locals and tourists converge to get a drink, listen to storytellers, or do some sightseeing). We walked through a popular avenue where a plethora of stands offered anything from food to antiquities, gambling games, or local art. We talked about Colombia, France, the beauty of the church we went into, and the right price for a pair of earrings she bought for a friend. Then, the rain began. And Aurélie was ecstatic. Before she traveled, all she kept hearing was that Bogotá was a rainy place, but all she had experienced were the sunny Colombian days so typical during Christmas. By the time the first raindrops hit her face, she felt accomplished. Now she could leave Colombia in peace.

We took refuge in a restaurant once the downpour combined with a hailstorm. We ordered sangría because why not? A window close to our table offered a view of a cathedral far in the distance, while a Colombian flag at the windowsill proudly withstood the storm outside. I was afraid we wouldn’t make it to El Chorro, but the rain weakened enough to let us leave under the cover of an umbrella. The conversation flowed just as the streams of rain came down the streets. Our steady march finally left us at El Chorro and, luckily for Aurélie, street vendors had ignored the storm, so  she saw one of them and ended up getting a ring for herself as a reminder of her Colombian adventure.

We walked around narrow alleys with street art and Colombian patriotism on display; she tasted the locally famous chicha; I captured a few pictures of her with the rainy atmosphere and street art in the background. El Chorro is not a big area, so you can easily walk through it in a few minutes, but that was sufficient for Aurélie to grasp its beauty and vitality. For her, it was all even more enthralling thanks to the rain that had just bathed the narrow alleys, because it came as a magical occurrence she thought she wouldn’t experience before her departure.

Nine years before that afternoon walk with the French artist, I had traversed nearby streets with a similarly splendid person from Uruguay. On that occasion, I was serving as a host, but my minimal knowledge of the surrounding areas made me look like a terrible tour guide. I had my redemption with Aurélie. Ever since I started traveling, I frequently dream of becoming a tour guide here and there. It seems like a fabulous job I could enjoy. And, although unexpectedly, I became a tour guide for Aurélie, a somewhat knowledgeable guy who knew where to walk, how to get to our destination, and someone who helped her to explore the authentic splendor of my hometown.