I traveled to Bogota, Colombia, last October, to perform research about travel safety, the Colombian economy, and Colombian culture.

Before traveling to Colombia, I read some terrifying “information” on the U.S. Embassy’s offical website. The U.S. Embassy portrays all Colombian taxi drivers as villians.

As the embassy explains, “Typically, the driver will pick up a passenger, and then stop to pick up two or more armed cohorts, who enter the cab, overpower the passenger, and take his/her belongings.”

After reading several pages of this sort of “information,” I became fearful. I took extreme mesaures to ensure that I would not be targeted for kidnapping or robbery…

I grew out a goatee.

Facial hair gives me a somewhat menacing appearance, and I felt that this would discourage bandits from targeting me for crimes.

My disguise worked like a charm. Not even one taxi driver tried to abdupt me. I am pictured above with a crazy old taxi driver named Alirio.

During my two weeks in Bogota, I traveled all over the sprawling metropolis. My primary mode of transportation was taxi cab.

Bogota is enormous. This city is home to more than 10 million people.

One of the strongest features of Colombia’s culture and economy is the presence of strong class divisions.

It is difficult to explain Colombia’s class structre, because terms like “upper class” and “middle class” have connotations in English which don’t apply to Colombian class distinctions. It will be easier to explain if I first offer some real-life examples, and then identify the resulting categorizations. It will take several posts for me to explain Colombian class structures.

My friend, Stephanie, migrated with her mother and siblings to the U.S. several years ago. I worked with Stephanie at M&T Bank’s Salt Lake office and we became friends. She invited me to meet up with her in Bogota, during October 2006. Pictured above are Stephanie, her cousin, and her aunt. This picture is a repeat from a previous post.

Stephanie’s relatives in Bogota live in comfort. They live in a nice neighborhood called Villa del Prado, in the northern suburbs of Bogota.

Pictured above are Tío Jorge, Monica, and Juan – Stephanie’s uncle, her mother, and her grandfather, respectively.

Stephanie’s grandmother, whom I knew only as “Abuelita,” took an instant disliking to me, and refused to have her photo taken under any circumstances.

The photo above was taken in Juan and Abuelita’s home. The walls of the house are made of brick and stucco, with no insulation. The house does not have central air conditioning or heating. Juan and Abuelita do not own a microwave or a dishwasher. They do, however, have the rare luxury of owning a washing machine, although it has no spin cycle – only wash, rinse, and drain.

They employ a maid, who works several hours a day, helping with cleaning and laundry. Each day, Abuelita makes the maid empty her pockets out before leaving, to ensure that she has not stolen anything.

Pictured above is a street that runs near Juan and Abuelita’s house. It’s pretty quaint, in spite of the graffiti. It’s the kind of neighborhood where you can walk around after dark without worrying that someone is going to jump you.

Juan and Abuelita are in the top 30% of Colombia’s households, in terms of income, assets, and living conditions. By this definition they are members of the upper class, but their lifestyle would be considered middle-class, by U.S. standards.

In visiting Colombia, Stephanie was reunited with a childhood friend, named Natalie. Stephanie and Natalie had attended a private school together as kids. By coincidence, they both have Americanized names.

Natalie lives with her parents in a beautiful townhouse in a trendy part of town. Original art hangs on the walls throughout the home. (Special thanks to Stephanie for contributing a creative facial expression to this photo.)

Natalie’s parents, known to me as “Mamá” and Guillermo, made me feel completely comfortable in their home, and they even let me crash there one night.

The family’s townhouse is made of brick and stucco, with no insulation, without central air or heating. The family does not own a microwave.

Guillermo owns a machining company, which manufactures replacement automobile parts. He is intelligent, educated, and well-spoken. He is paying for both of his children to go to good colleges, and the family owns two cars.

Guillermo and Mamá have a larger income and asset base than Juan and Abuelita, but they are part of the same economic class. They are part of the 30% of Colombians who can afford to send their children to good private schools. Their standards of living are comparable to those of middle-class Americans, minus central heating, insulation, and microwaves.

I was interested to know about Guillermo’s business, and he was happy to talk about it. I wanted to know about his company’s role in the global economy. I asked him what kind of impact the pending Free Trade Agreement (Tratado de Libre Comercio, or TLC, in Spanish) with the U.S. would have on his company.

Guillermo conceded that his small manufacturing company cannot compete with global manufacturers in either price or quality. However, his company is well-suited to adapt quickly to local and regional demands. He said that the increased competition brought by the TLC would be outweighed by its benefits The benefits of free trade include access to larger external markets, and growth for the overall Colombian economy.

While in Colombia, I spoke with several well-educated people about the Free Trade Agreement, and everyone I talked with shared Guillermo’s sentiments – that the TLC would be strongly beneficial to Colombia’s economy.

However, there exists a contingency of socialist-minded university students who do not share these feelings…

Nonetheless, opposition to the Tratado de Libre Comercio represents a minority voice in Colombia. Most Colombians, especially among the educated class, favor reducing barriers to free trade, and stregthening ties with the U.S. and the rest of the world.

While in Colombia, I stayed at a “hotel” called the Abeja Real.

The Abeja Real consists of two consecutive row-houses, which have been patched together and divided into small rooms. The cost of my room was $12 per night.

The low cost of the lodging in Bogota is attributed to several causes. First of all, laxed zoning ordinances enable residential houses to be converted into cheap hotels. Secondly, low U.S. tourism rates keep demand low. The low U.S. tourism rates are the result of highly unfavorable publicity from the U.S. State Department.

Additionally, I was able to find a good deal because I speak Spanish and I knew some locals.

The accomodations were adequate, though not luxurious in any sense of the word.

I formed a friendship with the owner of the Abeja Real, an irritable old man named Antonio. The terms of our friendship are simple:

Each night I arrive at the hotel between 12:30 and 2:00 a.m. I push the buzzer on the outside gate. Three minutes later, Antonio comes stumbling out the front door, muttering curses under his breath, and opens the gate to let me in.

Each morning between 9:00 and 11:00 a.m. I leave my room and go downstairs to the front gate. I fumble with the gate latch for several minutes before going back inside and asking Antonio to help me open it. Three minutes later, Antonio comes outside, muttering curses to himself, and opens the gate so I can leave.

Three times a week, just for good measure, Antonio and I engage in a ten-minute debate about how much rent I owe. Each of us raises our voices in attempts to explain to the proper exchange rate for Colombian Pesos and U.S. Dollars. The arguments always end the same way. After several minutes of shouting, we abruptly realize that we are both saying the same thing, so I hand him the money and he sticks it into his pocket.

This is what Colombian money looks like. One U.S. Dollar is worth about 2,000 pesos.

Pictured above is 73 thousand pesos, or about 35 to 40 bucks.

During my first week in Bogota, I spent much of my time hanging out with Stephanie and her friends from grade school. As a result I became well acquainted with several members of Colombia’s educated class. Just a few of them have been mentioned in this post.

Stephanie left at the end of the first week. During my second week in Bogota, I looked for opportunities to meet people from other segments of society. My next post will be about people from the other segments.