Every foreign country we've visited requires paperwork - vet certificate and proof of vaccinations - to get Terry's dog into the country. Colombia goes one step further - you need to get paperwork to get the dog OUT of the country! So this morning, we had to take Trooper to a local vet office to have him examined, and get a health certificate, and then we had to go to a bank and pay an administrative fee. Across the street from the bank, I spotted this ornate church:

Then we all went out to lunch, at a nice restaurant called Mondongo's. The restaurant was good, but I ordered the wrong thing. I ordered the restaurant's signature dish - called, appropriately enough, Mondongo (w) - which turned out to be a soup whose main ingredient was tripe. Tripe, for those of you fortunate enough to have never eaten it, is made from the stomach of a cow or pig. It doesn't taste particularly bad - actually, it doesn't have much of a taste at all - but it has an unpleasant rubbery texture. The soup itself was very tasty, and I gave the tripe my best effort, but I couldn't deal with it.

Nati expressed her sympathy at my not enjoying my meal, but I said "Look - I like to try new and different things. Sometimes I like them - sometimes I don't. It's OK."

After lunch, we packed up, and Nati drove us back to the airport for our flight back to Bogotá.

And the next morning, we packed up and caught a cab to the Bogotá airport for our flight home. But first, we had to make a stop at the Instituto Colombiano Agropecuario office to get Trooper cleared to exit the country. The guy we dealt with was the world's slowest two-finger typist. I was afraid we were going to miss our flight.

One last picture - an interesting statue outside the Bogotá airport:

The flight home was uneventful. We watched two in-flight movies - "Heaven Is For Real" and "Belle," both of which were movies we had wanted to see.

We had an interesting encounter with the immigration officer when we got back to L.A. As I approached the desk, I wasn't sure if he needed to see our passports, or our customs declaration forms, so I asked, "What do you need?" And he responded, "A reason to let you into my country!" I replied, "Well, it's my country, too." And he shot back, "Yeah - prove it!" Then he asked where we had been, and when I told him, "Colombia," he asked "Why?" I said, "Visiting friends," and he repeated, "Visiting friends?", and gave us a long, suspicious look, like he thought we might be smuggling drugs.

I couldn't figure out whether he was just pulling my leg, or if he was being a total jerk. But then Terry started chatting with him about the trials of being a Federal employee, and I decided he was okay.

And now, Terry has a few words to add:

Grinnell has talked a lot about his impressions of Colombia, and he has provided all of us who are not knowledgeable about the country a taste of its history and other admirable qualities. I would like to make some comments here about my impressions as someone who has a love of Latino culture, and as a guide dog user.

First and foremost, I wholeheartedly agree with Grinnell regarding the helpfulness of the Colombian people. Whenever I turned around, it seemed, there would be someone attempting to help me up a step, down a ramp, over a ditch, etc. I was not my usual self in this regard, but was very appreciative of people's attempts to assist Trooper and me. Further, I would say that in terms of accessibility, Colombia is a big challenge for a person who is blind, whether they use a dog guide or not. There are constantly things of which to beware, and some of these include: steps in strange places with ramps immediately at the bottom, open utility holes (they used to be manholes, and now I really don't know what they're called), drainage ditches that one would need to step over right at the time that one would descend a downcurb, places in the sidewalk where a big gap would appear, posts in the middle of sidewalks that were not placed in any particular arrangement that would seem to make sense, broken-up sidewalks, places where sidewalks ended suddenly, places where vendors would be along the sidewalk with no room for pedestrians, necessitating going into the street, places where steps going up or down were very uneven, places where the curb would be really high to go down, and right before the curb, a place where one would have to step up, and then over an area... let's just say that if you're an independent traveler in Colombia, you are of the most intrepid. I really felt like a little old lady worrying all the time about where to place my feet!

Grinnell neglected to mention the lunch served to us at Marina's home on Sunday afternoon. She prepared a special dish of the region called "bandeja paisa," which consists of a number of different dishes, including a delicious ground beef, sausage, chicharron, and I'll have to have Grinnell see if he can fill in the rest. (Grinnell interjects: The only other thing I remember is rice). We had a drink that was served to us made of choclo and water, I believe. It was a wonderful birthday experience which I will never forget. If you have to turn sixty, do it in another country where you don't notice.

I wouldn't say that the food would rate first on my list, but that being said, I did enjoy it. I did get to taste the aguardiente, which I enjoyed. Of course, I would. (Grinnell interjects: Aguardiente is an anise flavored liqueur made from sugar cane, very popular in Colombia.)

People may ask what Trooper thought of it all. I have to say that very little fazes my wonderful Trooper. He takes everything in stride and just keeps on going, providing that loving support that he is so good at giving.