“Anything to declare?” “Two kilos of cocaine and heaps of fond memories…”

Air Canada sent me to Bogota, Colombia and wanted to keep me there for four days. This makes sense, seeing as how I purchased a ticket to Lima that was supposed to allow me to arrive a day ago. As a means of compensation, our national airline sent me to the world’s third most dangerous country, you know for a quiet and relaxing stay. Colombia was considered to be the most dangerous place on earth in terms of violent crimes mostly related to the drug trade. When the world invaded Afghanistan it was knocked back to the second most dangerous, and thanks to American leg-work in Iraq, Colombia has secured third place.

Colombia is actually quite pretty, and the folks here, other than those wearing military fatigues, are very hospitable. Because of the sketchy reputation this country has, the tourist count seems quite low, which is certainly to your advantage in avoiding the career hustlers in places like Peru, Mexico, Guatemala and even good old Cuba. The currency is horribly devalued, so everything costs nothing, essentially. I was quite unprepared to arrive in Bogota. I hadn’t the foggiest idea of the currency, time zone, or even the climate. From reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez, I assumed that I’d be up against a suffocating heat smothered in brutal humidity. As it turns out Bogota’s altitude of 8,000 feet above sea level is quite pleasant.

I’ve found myself in Colombia because the unionized mechanics in Vancouver couldn’t get their plane ready for take off, and Air Canada, despite my request to be notified if the plane was late, failed to let me know that anything was going pear. AC got me on another flight that did arrive before the flight to Peru took off, but because of a last-minute gate switch, they boarded the Peru flight from the in-field, and hence I couldn’t make the connection. They offered to get me on one of three flights the next day: Miami -> Lima, Bogota -> Lima, or Sao Paolo -> Lima. Seeing as I don’t have a valid visa for Brazil, I’d be stuck in the “sterile zone” of the airport for quite a while, and seeing as how I’m not fond of U.S. authority at the best of times, I elected to go to sunny Colombia, a place I knew next to nothing about.

It should have worked, but the unionized mechanics in Toronto couldn’t get the flight to Colombia in the sky either, and hence I missed the Avianca connection to Lima. Bogota airport, like most airports, isn’t a real laugh when it is late at night. This is especially true when there are hurried and angry passengers everywhere, speaking various languages, and all venting at two Colombian women hired by Air Canada to take our abuses and solve our problems. Everything was in a panic at that airport. People rushing over people, customs agents frustrated, gate agents frustrated. Everyone wanted out, and they were willing to take casualties in the process. In fact a tiny little grandmother, stuffed into a wheelchair, sped past me in customs and took me out at the knees. My knee swelled up like a pumpkin.

So, upon arrival here in Bogota Air Canada offered me a next day stand by on TACA or LAN, and if I failed to board, they would do nothing more. It would be all on me. So I went for a secure option of a confirmed seat on Tuesday night.

Air Canada has been quite good about this whole thing, in terms of free fancy hotels, upgrades and free meals. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that while aviation is more than 100 years old, this company still struggles to get their planes from point A to point B. However, for those they favour, they are quite good on the compensation. For three days now, Air Canada has dined me, and put me up in pretty chic hotels. Even better, is that they even bought me full fare, last minute tickets on rival airlines. I checked out the price of the scheduled LAN flight that they booked me on: $5878. Ouch.

This morning (Sunday) they just called to say that they got me on the LAN flight today (two days earlier than promised), and now I’m in the airport heading for Lima. But here’s the stinger. As I’m eventually trying to get to Quito at the end of all of this, guess where this LAN flight stops for a pee break? Quito. Can I get off and stay in Quito? Nope. None of that.

So here’s hoping that I still have a hotel waiting in Lima, and here’s hoping that I’ll be trekking up the north coast as of Tuesday. Because of all of this funny business, I’ll be by-passing Cuenca on the way to Quito, and I’ll try to fly from Machala (which is in Ecuador, right across the Peruvian border).

So as it sits, I’ve been a costly passenger to Air Canada, what with first class hotels and full fare tickets on their dime. But besides that, here’s what looks really bad. I have Colombian entry and exit stamps in my passport that are within 24 hours of each other. This will make for fun chats at Canadian or U.S. customs from here on in.

“What were you doing in Colombia for less than 24 hours?”

“Oh, I just stopped by to check it out and pick up a few things, you know?”

I got a feeling that I’ll be seeing more of that room filled with Middle Eastern men and angry dogs.