Do big guns make you feel more safe... or less safe?
I suppose it depends on who is holding them.
I wish I had a picture to attach to this blog, but you are not allowed to take photos anywhere near the presidential palace, so I will do my best to give you an accurate word picture.
Jon and I were walking around La Candelaria this afternoon, the lovely historical district of Bogota that is also swarming with heavily armed military personnel because the presidential palace is nearby. As we are walking down towards the palace, we notice several heavily armed soldiers running down the street. They do not look particulalry disturbed, but they are running with big machine guns and one of them checks his magazine before taking off at full tilt, so it strikes us as a little odd. But we've only been in Colombia for a few months, and we are not yet experts on what is normal around here. Maybe they are just late.
We continue walking down the street, and when we turn towards the palace I see the muzzle of an assault rifle sticking out around the corner, pointing straight at me. This gives me pause. Then Jon nudges me and says quietly: "Rachel, look."
I look down the street and notice that heavily armed guards are spaced out every 1-2 metres along the sidewalk in front of the presidential palace. What is startling about this is that most of them are crouched behind concrete barriers with their guns aimed out at the street. They look like they are ready for combat. Some have Uzis, some have M-16s. One has an M-16 with an attached grenade launcher, which Jon finds particularly strange. Needless to say, they are armed to the teeth.
The gun that was peeking around the corner at me is being held by a ceremonial guard who is crouched behind a wall, pointing his gun up the street. The other corner has a guard in a similar position. Across the street, more soldiers are lined up and at the ready. I scan the rooftops for snipers but I cannot see anyone. All of the roads are blocked off.
When we were here in August, there were perhaps half as many guards or less and it was open to traffic. The entire block is dead silent. All of the streets around the palace are blocked off to both cars and pedestrians. It is very eerie. We stop and look around. Is something happening and we just unwittingly stepped into some kind of face-off? But no, they are simply armed and ready for anything that could happen. I guess they were not kidding about stepping up security since the car bomb on Thursday. Jon notices two big men dressed all in black standing on one corner, obviously secret service agents of some kind.
Everyone looks a little bit nervous.
We walk through, at the same time whispering to each other: "Why are we walking through here?" Traipsing down the sidewalk across from about twenty big guns pointing at me is certainly a new experience, and not one I care to repeat any time soon. I start praying that no one sneezes or suddenly becomes trigger happy. (Of course, the writer in me is already composing my blog entry before we even reach the end of the street.)
We leave the area without incident, although I am sure that both of us had eyes as wide as saucers.
I still don't know why the first guards that we saw were running.
I wish I had a picture to attach to this blog, but you are not allowed to take photos anywhere near the presidential palace, so I will do my best to give you an accurate word picture.
Jon and I were walking around La Candelaria this afternoon, the lovely historical district of Bogota that is also swarming with heavily armed military personnel because the presidential palace is nearby. As we are walking down towards the palace, we notice several heavily armed soldiers running down the street. They do not look particulalry disturbed, but they are running with big machine guns and one of them checks his magazine before taking off at full tilt, so it strikes us as a little odd. But we've only been in Colombia for a few months, and we are not yet experts on what is normal around here. Maybe they are just late.
We continue walking down the street, and when we turn towards the palace I see the muzzle of an assault rifle sticking out around the corner, pointing straight at me. This gives me pause. Then Jon nudges me and says quietly: "Rachel, look."
I look down the street and notice that heavily armed guards are spaced out every 1-2 metres along the sidewalk in front of the presidential palace. What is startling about this is that most of them are crouched behind concrete barriers with their guns aimed out at the street. They look like they are ready for combat. Some have Uzis, some have M-16s. One has an M-16 with an attached grenade launcher, which Jon finds particularly strange. Needless to say, they are armed to the teeth.
The gun that was peeking around the corner at me is being held by a ceremonial guard who is crouched behind a wall, pointing his gun up the street. The other corner has a guard in a similar position. Across the street, more soldiers are lined up and at the ready. I scan the rooftops for snipers but I cannot see anyone. All of the roads are blocked off.
When we were here in August, there were perhaps half as many guards or less and it was open to traffic. The entire block is dead silent. All of the streets around the palace are blocked off to both cars and pedestrians. It is very eerie. We stop and look around. Is something happening and we just unwittingly stepped into some kind of face-off? But no, they are simply armed and ready for anything that could happen. I guess they were not kidding about stepping up security since the car bomb on Thursday. Jon notices two big men dressed all in black standing on one corner, obviously secret service agents of some kind.
Everyone looks a little bit nervous.
We walk through, at the same time whispering to each other: "Why are we walking through here?" Traipsing down the sidewalk across from about twenty big guns pointing at me is certainly a new experience, and not one I care to repeat any time soon. I start praying that no one sneezes or suddenly becomes trigger happy. (Of course, the writer in me is already composing my blog entry before we even reach the end of the street.)
We leave the area without incident, although I am sure that both of us had eyes as wide as saucers.
I still don't know why the first guards that we saw were running.
posted by Rachel at 8:27 PM
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