The concert

Shortly after my last entry I set off the Jamiroquai concert with Aviv, an Israeli guy, and Sandor from Holland. I was still feeling a bit rotten from the night before when about a dozen of us had gone to a nightclub until the early hours. Strangely, Wednesday is one of the biggest nights here and the place was packed.

The journey to the concert got off to a good start when our taxi driver worked out where we were going and put the band´s latest album on his state-of-the-art stereo - which must have been worth more than his beat-up yellow taxi. He even had disco lights in the windows which caught his gold teeth as he grinned at us.

He dropped us off at a certain point in the north of the city where a fleet of buses were taking people to the venue - a nutty park about an hour from the city. It was built by a man named Jaime Duque, who famously had more money than sense. Among the attractions is a life-sized replica of the Taj Mahal, constructed from breeze blocks and clad in white bathroom tiles. The overall effect is little short of blasphemous.

The bus journey there was quite jolly as a very cute girl took the seat next to me and after chatting for a few minutes gave me her mobile number and told me to give her a ring - "perhaps we could go to the theatre?" she said. She was very sweet. At one point she told me that she made her own clothes. With a winning smile she unbuttoned her top and flashed me her chest, which was barely covered by a tight one-shouldered vest. "Goodness me, how nice," was all I could manage.

Getting into the park was quite an experience. There were several cordons of security overseen by armed police, who despite their fearsome appearance were very friendly. It was with a warm smile that they confiscated all my cigarettes and lighter telling me they were forbidden inside the stadium. Only when I got inside did I realise that they were being sold at hugely inflated prices. Aviv found this particularly funny as he had managed to get through with a clean sweep of forbidden items: cigarettes, a lighter, a large umbrella, a drink and a camera.

The concert itself was a disappointment as it was impossible to hear anything. We had standard tickets, as opposed to VIP, so we were fenced off in the rear half of the stadium. However, I don´t think even the very important people got good volume as there seemed to be only two speakers on the stage. JK himself, the lead singer, was nothing but a tiny speck prancing about with feathers in his hair.

In hindsight I don´t mind too much as the terrible sound quality led to a conversation with a lovely young lady lawyer who was standing next to me. Again, after a brief conversation she gave me her number, and with Aviv and Sandor, and two of her friends, we´re planning to meet tonight.

The journey back was interesting. First we had to find our bus amongst miles of chaotic roads filled with cars, taxis and coaches all blocking each other and honking their horns. It took a while, but more by luck than design we found our transport. After a short while the bus arrived at the distant outskirts of the city and stopped. The driver stood up and addressed his passengers, telling them this was as far as he was going. A howl of "noooo!" went up and fifty voices started to berate the driver, who stood in the aisle batting the air in defiance like a pantomime baddy. I honestly expected Bonny Langford to enter the bus wearing green tights and prod him in the bottom with a sword while we all shouted "he´s behind you!" Eventually, with a colossal huff, the driver relented and took us on to the right place.

I have to go now to give Paula, the commercial lawyer, a call to arrange tonight´s meeting. I realised today that I´ve not written much about Colombia, or Bogota, as a place, I´ll try to do that tomorrow along with a report on tonight´s meeting, if it goes ahead.