The man who lived on a mattress

Sometimes we all love a crazy night and sometimes we meet some crazy people and Bogota seemed the perfect setting to meet such a man. On my last night in Bogota, me and my Canadian companion, hit a local disco, a place where we would meet some girls who would invite us to learn salsa with them as it was a birthday of one of them.

Joining them outside for a cigarette a tall bearded Neanderthal looking man approaches us and invites all of us back to his place, a place he describes ‘is in the process’ of becoming a hostel, in a location not to far away from the bar we are in.

Another local, who once asked if he could show us where to go that evening, clung to our group for its entirety, encourages us not to go with him, but the very persuasive girls help make our decision, so we decide go and whilst drinking a pepsi, i did have the thought ‘what’s the worst that could happen’!

Our group head off to his house. We start walking into the hillside area of the ‘historico’ area, said to be a little dangerous for people of foreign looks. We start walking up the hill into an area which is looking more like a favela. We then walk through a gate into a house which is a carcass of walls with only one room with a roof, with one functioning light and on the floor is one king size mattress, which fits the entire room, on it some dj decks and a bundle of clothing.

We all cram inside this room, the whiskey bottles start flying round and the only Spanish I can understood from the Neanderthal was “my house is your house” and “you can stay in the spare rooms” of which i at least knew how to say no. He then proceeded to set up his decks, but in his state of utter inebriation and intoxicated with drugs he just continued to try and set them up and never quite get there.

Whilst lying down on the mattress, he brings out a leather wallet, dips his keys into it and scoops on some white powder, he puts it up to the nostrils of those circling the room whilst tipping most of it over my cheek on ‘my turn’. The night started to feel a bit uncomfortable. I hadn’t a clue what they were saying, everyone was drunk and coke’d up and I was in some random, location. Without saying anything I tell Jules i’m leaving, we walk out, not mentioning to our host as it somehow feels he will be upset with our departure at only 5am in the morning.

Walking back to the hostel we experience why we would not normally go to this area, and why his house will never be a hostel, as a man started to follow us with an empty beer bottle in his hand, poised ready to throw at some unlucky victims head, which at this present moment would be either mine or Jules. Our tactic was therefore to keep our eyes in his immediate direction and quicken up our walking pace, which he would also follow. However after following us for some time, he just took off in another direction. A cliche to end our evening, where knowing where you are going in the dark is knowledge you should inquire about prior to going there, however experiences like this wouldn’t of happened, and no harm was done. So sometimes, take the risk.

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