Bogota is known for its Museo del Oro, aka Gold Museum, and, well, there’s a lotta gold up in there. It’s in the building of an old bank, which would be impressive on its own if I didn’t go “behind the scenes” of a bank vault every weekend at the Brooklyn Flea, a BK flea market held at the beautiful and also phallic Williamsburg Bank Building near my apartment. Annnnyways.
We were fully expecting to encounter a Scrooge McDuck-style Gold room with a diving board over a bottomless pit of doubloons.
We were, perhaps needless to say, disappointed. (Also: I stand corrected—its not bottomless,” but in fact 90 feet deep.)
On another barely related sidenote, I cannot count the number of times, in my career as a private equity blogger, I have used the above image to illustrate a story. I would guess upwards of 15 times over 2 years. That is a LOT of Duck Tales references for a professional publication, and I just want to put it out there: I’m proud of that stat.
BACK TO THE GOLD.
So Colombians used gold for a lot of shit because they were rolling in it, and they would often dump a ton of it into the middle of lakes as an offering to Gods and also to honor earthen royalty. They also wore a tooooon of that shit to the grave. I think I remember reading that the Spanish kinda pillaged some dead bodies for it even. Which, imperialism. Yeesh.