The hotel was in a nice part of town, and the theatre in a bad one, but I got into my intrepid head. Of course, I'd already been taking the buses, of which there were three kinds, cheap, cheaper and cheapest, the most expensive costing the equivalent of 41 American cents. The only peril was in figuring out where the bus was going, and I soon solved that. New York traffic is a funeral procession compared to Bogota. Traffic lights are a suggestion.
Pollution is awful .
I tried to walk to the gym one day instead of taking the bus, and ended up spewing up soot. And remember, we're in an equatorial country, but it's still South American winter. And in Act II, I'm up there wafting around in chiffon, freezing. The producers made the mistake of providing simultaneous translations on screens at stage left and right. Unfortunately, the audiences could now understand what we were saying.