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If I’m honest, I didn’t really believe that running away in the face of heartbreak was a wise decision, but if the Leaning Tower of Pisa is anything to go by, instability isn’t always a bad thing, right? As I welcomed my 5am flight with yet another last minute packing party for one, I succumbed to the reality of my impending frustration. It was way too late to discover my backpack could have probably been on the roomier side, nevermind my “sort from: lowest price” packing cubes failing me upon use. Disappointed, but not surprised. I’d hoped this wasn’t a sign. As the second leg of my 12-hour journey finally approached Bogotá, I’d put the greyscale appearance of my window seat view down to exhaustion. Though this oversight would later see me Google Translating “umbrella” and similarly yoked paraphernalia, this murky terrain felt homely. A familiar sight as a Londoner, in fact. The whiff of camaraderie within the airport, by contrast, was clear as day. Not one to have experienced the luxury of having a taxi driver display my name on a newly laminated sign, the en masse bedevilment was certainly a more hands-on approach to acquiring clients. I couldn’t work out if ulterior motives were at play here, and though I had no reason to think otherwise, my suspicions, too, were a familiar sight. Itinerary under way, I’d spend the first night wondering if my tendency to blow things out of proportion actually warranted a 5000 mile journey away from home. If you’d told me just a few weeks ago that I’d be in this situation, I would have commended your imagination and asked you which TV series you’d stolen that idea from. Though my wounds were as fresh as my arrival here, I was determined to have a good time. According to many a travel guide, I’d arrived just in time for La Ciclovía. A car-free phenomenon that takes place every Sunday. Road closures by the dozen, people near and far are encouraged to cycle throughout the city and, well, they certainly did. I’d make the most of this freedom by setting off into the city on foot. “Buzzing capital” certainly proved fit. Myself, not so much. Opting for a light amble, I took comfort in the shifting soil that had now transformed into my temporary stomping ground. The shrill of bike bells and synchronised street vendors would become difficult to differentiate at times – circadian clamours combining to create a hazy sensation. A scrape (or two) on the back of my ankles would soon envigour my vigilance and snap me back to reality, yet there was something about my heightening awareness of the cityscape that made everything all the more familiar. Again. I’d soon discover that buying the cheapest thing on the menu just to use a “clients only” toilet would ignite an inquiring cashier’s bewilderment at my economical Spanish (and tactics). A trip to the supermarket would become a lesson in Colombian queuing etiquette and confirmation that the psychology behind “buy one, get one free” is a force to be reckoned with globally. I’d relish at the mastery of well-to-do women donning pencil skirts and bicycle helmets, and sheepishly fumble as I brushed past strangers to escape from overwhelmingly crowded pavements. You see, this unfamiliar familiarity had me in an unexplainable state of assurance. Assurance that what I was experiencing was not to be taken lightly. That age old tale of appreciating all that you have in front of you. Marveling at the realisation that despite my emotional state, it was still okay for me to enjoy myself, I paused in a nearby corner to sample my recent purchases. A middle aged man sat on the floor with a sign that bore few words. It didn’t take much for me to understand his situation. Now all the more present, I’d wondered why my trip incited a sense of cognizance that went beyond homely similarities. As I continued on my way, the middle aged man remarked from afar that I'd forgotten my bar of chocolate, but simply gesturing for him to keep it was fine. Not a worry. I thought. I’d got it for free, after all.