There's an inherent warmth to the people I've encountered in Bogotá. As a veteran of the service industry, I'm acutely aware of the saccharine affection many in the industry show with their service—especially when they're expecting a tip in return.
It's genuine here though with nearly everyone. Rarely can you pass someone in an isle without them wishing you a good day. Ran short on your bus fare? No problem. Someone behind you will spot you. Missed dinner? The bartender's wife, whom you've never met, might invite you and your best friend over for dinner (not joking about this).
Frankly, the majority of the interactions I've seen between people here has embarrassed me about how I act at home. Even if I could make an excuse to justify it, my selfishness and cynicism have no benefit to anyone. Kindness has its own way of unifying and inspiring others that a cold shoulder can't.
This holds especially true the more I learn about Colombian politics and how they've developed into what they are today. Because of its past, Colombia is most often viewed through a stained lens. So any of its current flaws are pressed to the forefront in the world's eye.
Presently, it's a nearly comical juxtaposition between the tense stance of security and the sweetness of the people. Camo-clad guards bearing AK-47s guard a minor post office. Electrified barbed wired fences surround an empty grocery store. And yet still everyone I've met today has met me with a beaming smile. If there's a singular thing pushing towards Bogotá's progress, it's absolutely the grace of its people.