Music is central to the Colombian experience. It’s in the blood of every person from here, and you won’t be able to escape hearing the blaring beats of reggaeton or the swinging sound of salsa as you wander the Streets, take a bus or even a taxi.

When I visited England this past Christmas, there was général bewilderment at my lack of a tan. For people back home, Colombia is a sun-drenched paradise where we all drink coconut milk on the beach. Now, as lovely as that would be, I’m a Londoner and so I’m thankful to be living here in Bogota where I can indulge in that great English activity: complaining about the rain, even though it’s an unavoidable, inherent part of living in England (or Bogota).

As you walk around Bogotá on a clear day, through the bustling colonial streets of La Candelaria or the leafy parks in the north of the city, there‘s one thing you can never fail to notice. Bogotá’s mountains loom large over the city, peaking through gaps in buildings at every corner, serving as a reminder that life doesn’t end where Bogotá ends. For many travelers, life only just begins once you step outside the city’s perimeters.

Last year I was in Colombia watching images on the news of my hometown being ransacked and burnt. I was a mixture of emotions, from anger to sadness. From my adopted home in Colombia I could see from an outside perspective what was happening in my country. I was embarrassed and angry: a minority of the population was causing panic in other countries, making them heighten their security warnings for my beautiful home and even go as far as to advise against travel there.