I haven’t, yet…driven in Colombia, that is. I honestly don’t think I could—and this coming from a guy who drove in México for more than a decade. There’s a certain inherent rhythm that the people here seem to have, a rhythm that is not ingrained in me. I have enough trouble crashing into people on the dance floor; for me to go bopping around on the streets of Bogotá in a motor vehicle would simply be irresponsible.

The first thing I noticed was the motorcycles—or their riders, at any rate. They all wear these funny looking vests with huge, reflective letters and numbers on the back. My taxi driver said that yes, they were mandatory for every motorcyclist, and that even passengers had to wear them. I nodded, thinking that was a very third-world way to do things, and although I didn’t give it all that much more thought, the actual function of the alpha-numeric code puzzled me, and I made a mental note to investigate further.

As in most Latin American countries, motorcyclists wind their way through traffic to make it to the head of the line, and, as soon as the light changes, they’re off. In fact, an interesting note about Colombia, the traffic lights change from red to yellow to green like a countdown light in a drag race, most of the motorcycles taking-off as soon as the light turns yellow, followed a split-second later by taxis, buses and cars.

The best advice I can give anybody who visits Latin America: be very, very careful when you cross the street.

In Bogotá’s centro, the traffic—both vehicular and human—is overwhelming. The incessant cadence of honking horns, screeching brakes and growling diesel engines were distracting to the point of being dangerous. People ran out in front of speeding buses to get across the avenue, and I was sure that at any moment I would have a traffic fatality to take pictures of. But somehow they all made it across.

As I stood on the street corner waiting for the light to change, all sorts of vehicles thundered by. A pickup truck with llamas in the back, a mule-drawn cart with truck tires, even a man in a wheelchair rolled past, cars, buses and taxis honking as they swerved around him at the last moment and kept going. I looked down at the rough sidewalk at my feet—of course there wasn’t any wheelchair access.

I was amazed at how many rows of vehicles could fit into one lane. The taxistas are exceptionally agile drivers—either that, or they’re just plain crazy. As they merge into traffic, they honk their horns as if by doing so, they create a protective force field around themselves. I was just itching to get a shot of two taxis colliding, but somehow they always made-out just fine.

Driving friendly does not exist in Bogotá, and if you fail to drive offensively, you’re screwed. Nobody’s going to let you back-out of your driveway, nobody’s going to let you merge-into traffic. If you want in (or out) you just have to go for it, and don’t be offended by the blaring of horns—it comes with the territory.

Trancones (traffic jams) are to be expected in Bogotá at all times, and all you can really do is wait them out—and honk your horn! The city’s poorly planned infrastructure is not able to effectively handle all the traffic that more than eight million people generate, and any attempt to build new roads or to widen existing ones throws a monkey wrench into the machine, oftentimes causing more trouble than it’s worth. The lack of a subway system or metro is also a major thorn in Bogota’s side. If they only knew then what they know today, I have no doubt that Colombian officials would have eagerly broken the banco nacional to save themselves from the debilitating chaos caused by overland transportation.

In Bogotá, as in other over-crowded cities, there are vehicle circulation restrictions—primarily during rush hour, or la hora pico. Pico y placa means that vehicles with certain license plates are allowed to circulate on certain days. Don’t worry about not being able to get around on an off day—there are more than enough taxis for everyone.

I did find out what the alphanumeric code was on the motorcyclists’ vest means: the characters on the back of the riders’ vests (as well as those on the back of their helmets) match those of the vehicle’s license plates. This system was conceived as a means of combating the violence wreaked on Bogotá by criminal motorcyclists who were able to commit a crime and then escape rather easily into traffic. Because of this law, it has become much more difficult for offenders to use motorcycles as get-away vehicles.

Regardless, motorcyclists in Bogotá still pose a serious threat to the public. It is estimated that only two out of ten motorcyclists take the obligatory safety courses that are required before a motorcyclist is issued a license. An alarming number of accidents and deaths are attributed to unqualified and imprudent motorcyclists in Bogotá every year.

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