How Not to Get Robbed in Colombia
In January, I left China to spend three weeks in Colombia for my winter holidays. “Be careful, I’ve heard some crazy stories about that place,” my friend said. What does he know, he has never traveled outside the Canadian Prairies, I thought. In my experience, most of the places under “avoid all travel” advisory lists are not that scary. In 2011, I photographed the apartheid wall and the surrounding culture in the West Bank and Israel for two months (mostly happy memories.) In 2014, I shot a music video in Kati Pahari; a notorious hill area in Karachi, Pakistan that was occupied by the Taliban (no guns were fired.) In 2016, I went to North Korea (the biggest warning was not to get a haircut, unless you wanted to look like Kim Jong-un on Halloween.)
Of course, as a traveler, you should always be aware of your surroundings, regardless of where you are. But if you act like a dumb ass, you’re bound to be dragged like one.
When I first started traveling, I always went to the library to read Lonely Planet guidebooks. Those were the old days; when we didn’t have smart phones or interactive blogs. But the best method that I discovered was to talk to local people; they would tell me about hidden gems that couldn’t be found in travel books or in any top travel blogs. Still it’s one of the best ways to experience the real culture of a place; a method anthropologists have used for centuries.
The first few weeks in Colombia were extremely pleasant, especially my time in Medellin (Pablo Escobar's town) where I met an Italian-Colombian girl who showed me around; she was my local connection. “I love seeing my country through your eyes,” she said, “I never realized before how beautiful my town was.” I love hanging out with local people where ever I travel. What’s the point of going to crowded bars in the touristy areas of the city, you’ll experience the same shit; drunk tourists making fools of themselves, shrewd sellers following you, and all the unauthentic artifacts (yes, sorry for the reality check, but pretty much everything is still made in China) flashing in front of you. If you want to experience something different, then go where locals drink. Try to blend in, or at least don’t attract unwanted eyes, keep it low key, respect the culture, and you’ll have a great time. But if you do something stupid like what I did, then you’ll be more than sorry. Spending time with the Italian-Colombian beauty had made me feel like I was a local; especially because my looks are deceiving. If you have ever met me, you know that I can easily blend in many different cultures without being noticed (that is if I don’t dress like my normal self). People were speaking Spanish with me because they thought I was from Medellin, so I felt that maybe I didn’t need to be that careful (I was wrong).
I got robbed in Cartagena, the night she went back to Medellin, “please take care of yourself and be very careful,” she said. I thought she sounded exactly like my friend from the Prairies, so I laughed, “nothing’s gonna happen, ahora soy un local (I’m a local now),” I kissed her and got into the cab.
That was my first mistake; revealing the truth in front of a taxi driver. Of course he spoke Spanish to me, not because he thought I was a local, but because he wanted to make sure I wasn’t. During the ride, he made a few calls, which I didn’t understand. He suggested a few brothels that also served the best coke in town, but I politely smiled and pretended that the girl who got me into that cab was my wife. His eyes in the rearview mirror said it all, but I was too drunk to realize that.
He dropped me to my hotel, I went in to get some money, and saw my wrist watch on the table; it was a copy of Breitling Chronograph (original goes for over 20K USD) that cost me 30 bucks in Thailand. Unless I’m in an area like a diplomatic enclave, I avoid wearing anything flashy that could bring the spotlight on me. But that night I wasn’t being careful. I changed into my party clothes, put on the watch and my fedora, and went out. The streets were full of dancers, it was colorful, and I wanted to have fun.
When I got to the end of the lane, a street vendor offered to sell some cigarettes to me, “I don’t smoke, gracias,” I said. “I have coke, weed, girls, whatever you need my man,” he said. I tapped his shoulder, smiled, and walked away. “Your wife is beautiful,” he said, and whistled to get the attention of one of his friends. These were all red flags, but I was too drunk and stupid to notice anything. Then three guys approached me and asked for 5K USD. Their spiel was that I was recorded on the CCTV camera talking to the street vendor asking for coke, who had then whistled his connection to get me some, and now if I didn’t get them the money, they would call the cops. This was all a setup that I could have easily gotten out of if I wasn’t that drunk and stupid that night (I was once targeted in Buenos Aires but I had flipped the story on them, but that time I was actually careful). I gave them $20 worth of local currency I had on me, “I don’t have anymore cash,” I said. That wasn’t their first rodeo, “let’s go to your hotel and get your ATM card,” one of them said. That is when I got a bit sober, things were escalating, these guys were serious. “We can go to my hotel, but I don’t have any cash there and I didn’t bring my ATM card with me, I only use cash,” I said, “I bought this hat and the watch yesterday from the market and now I only have enough money for a taxi to the airport tomorrow,” I lied. I can be a very good liar when I want to be. They took the Breitling and disappeared into the crowd of dancers.
The next day, I saw them having lunch with the local police, one of them whistled at me, “last day my friend, want some coke?” They laughed, but I didn’t. I walked across from them, and got an arepa de huevo for lunch, but the guy didn’t take my money, and pointed to the cop. I turned around to look at him, sure enough, the Breitling looked better on him.
