They tell you to not drink the water. They tell you don’t eat the fruit. Well, the first night I arrived in Bogota I managed to disregard both of those bits of travel-doctor-advice with Mora con Leche. Literally: blackberries with milk. A smoothie-like drink that I proceeded to have at least one of each day thereafter (but more likely one per meal). It’s just SO GOOD.

We arrived at the San Gil bus terminal late and walked into town to our hostel. We slept.

In the morning, we went to a market. I’d been craving a banana split and boy did I get one. I couldn’t finish it. So much melty goodness. The meat below looked good, too. Raw. I think they might’ve been a little weirded by my photo taking, but when I smiled and tried to explain in a language they didn’t understand they eased up a bit.

Following the meat market, the group split up trying to find things to do. All I wanted to do was raft. That was the key that opened the lock for me on this trip. White water.

It was too late in the day, but paragliding was still an option — at least, for 20 more minutes. I sprinted back to the hostel to try to find someone to go with. Avery was there, and so we took a bus to a mountain top.

I was handed a helmet, harnessed up, and dragged off a mountain.

The next morning we went white-water rafting and that night, we played Tejo, the national sport of Columbia. It’s sort of like the popular college game Corn Hole, but with explosives.