The cabby drops me off. The trip from the library to the apartment is just about the length from a trip to Logan airport and back. I pay 12,000 pesos, about six dollars.

• • •

It’s Thursday and the news on the radio is all about the evening’s soccer match.

There’s a crowd outside the gate of the U.S. embassy, huddling together under umbrellas. They wait hours before they’re allowed into the embassy vying for tourist visas they’ll probably never get.

I force my way to the front of the line amid grimaces and scowls, flash my U.S. passport and am ushered in. Inside the embassy, I report my presence in the country as all U.S. citizens are advised. I’m directed towards the safety information posted in the back of the office, where I learn that the State Department strongly advises against leaving city boundaries.

Later that day, I watch Colombia defeat Honduras 1-0. Colombia is happy.

• • •

Though the countryside is off limits according to the State Department, I visit a popular tourist town simply because the country is too beautiful too leave unexplored.