Today I’m doing something that feels less like “travel content” and more like a public service announcement.

Here’s how this happened:

At a Bogotá Nomads dinner (January 30th), I met a viewer named Matt — and yes, I’m fully aware this sounds like a Spider-Man meme. He basically told me:

“Dude… Colombia has a ridiculous amount of fruits we don’t have in the U.S. I don’t want to risk my taste buds. I’d rather you do it and report back.”

And honestly?

That’s fair.

Because Colombia isn’t just “fruit exists here.” Colombia is fruit with plot twists.

So I did what any reasonable person would do when handed a chaotic mission like that:

I went straight to Paloquemao.

If you’re new to Bogotá, you might think you’ve “seen markets” before. You’ve done the cute ones. The curated ones. The ones with chalkboard signs in English and someone selling artisanal jam with a ukulele in the background.

Paloquemao is not that.

Paloquemao is the real thing — a massive, loud, working market just a few minutes from downtown Bogotá, near the city center and not far from La Candelaria and the main business districts.

This is where:

It’s colorful, intense, and completely alive. And the best part?

It gives you a real sense of how Bogotá actually eats.

If you come on a weekend, it’s chaos — shoulder-to-shoulder, packed, loud, and fast.

I went on a weekday for one reason: I like my fruit adventures with slightly fewer elbows to the ribs.

Here’s what most visitors don’t realize:

Colombia’s geography is basically a cheat code.

Within a few hours you’ve got:

So the fruit selection isn’t “a couple tropical options.”

It’s a whole multiverse.

And the flavor profiles are wild because many of these fruits aren’t bred for shipping durability the way supermarket fruit often is back home. A lot of this is grown to be eaten here, not to survive a 10-day logistics journey.

Meaning: more aroma, more acid, more weirdness, more punch.

Now let’s get into the taste test — and I’m going to keep it practical.

What’s a 10?
What’s a “sure, if it’s offered”?
And what’s a “no thank you, but I respect your culture”?

This one is a perfect “welcome to Colombia” fruit.

It looks like a grape. It behaves like a grape. But the flavor is pure plot twist: citrus, like orange/tangerine.

Texture: grape-like
Flavor: tangerine-ish
Verdict: I would eat these casually like snacks. Dangerous.

If you’re a newcomer and you want something easy, start here.

This fruit is basically: “Congratulations, here’s something delicious… now fight for it.”

It tastes great — sweet, tropical, satisfying — but the fruit clings to the pit in a slimy, gluey way that makes you feel like you’re losing a small battle.

Flavor? Excellent.
Mechanics? Annoying.

If someone offers it, yes.
If I’m buying? Only if I’m in a patient mood.

Not Colombian originally (it’s commonly associated with Asia), but you’ll see it in juices here.

Sweet and soft, but the center gets less sweet and has a little crunch that feels almost dry.

I like it, but it’s not blowing my mind.

I’d eat it again happily — it’s just not a top-tier Colombia-only discovery.

This one smells like grapefruit and lives in the same flavor neighborhood: tart, acidic, bright.

What surprised me is the seed crunch — it’s actually enjoyable here.

If you love tart flavors, you’ll rank this higher than I did.

I’m not a huge grapefruit person, so I’m giving it a respectful 7.

Looks and feels similar to maracuyá, but the flavor is more subtle. Mild. Not super expressive.

The most interesting part is the crunch of the seeds — it’s a texture fruit more than a flavor fruit.

I’d eat it if someone handed it to me. I’m not going out of my way to buy it.

I wanted to like this. I really did.

But it hit me with a weird menthol / medicinal note that I couldn’t un-taste. Like mint’s distant cousin who studied chemistry.

Some people love feijoa — and if you do, I respect you.

Me? I’m out.

This is the “safe bet” fruit.

It’s a small plum — sweet, easy, no drama. Maybe less sweet than some U.S. plums, but still great.

If you want something familiar-ish but still local, this is a solid pick.

Flavor? Really good.

But the seeds are a hard crunch — and I love crunch — but this was too much. It’s like biting into tiny pebbles that don’t want to cooperate.

If they removed the seed situation, I’d rank it high. As-is, it’s a mixed experience.

This is the surprise MVP.

It doesn’t taste like “fruit.” It tastes like dessert. Like spice — nutmeg-ish — warm, sweet, almost like it should be served with vanilla ice cream.

Also, rumor has it this is “natural Viagra,” which I am not here to confirm, but I am here to say:

If that’s true, this fruit is about to have the most impressive marketing campaign in produce history.

Either way, the flavor is a 10. Absolute standout.

White, fleshy, sweet, slightly acidic. Very good.

But like mamoncillo, you can run into a pit + slimy cling situation depending on the piece.

Flavor is great. Eating mechanics vary.

This one tasted like… apple. In a good way.

And it made me realize: in Colombia, apples aren’t like the U.S. apple multiverse (Fuji, Honeycrisp, etc.). Here you often see fewer types.

But this one? Solid. Would buy again.

If Colombia had a “signature flavor,” lulo would be in the top contenders.

It’s sweet and acidic at the same time, with a distinct tangy aftertaste. You’ve probably seen lulo-flavored drinks, even branded stuff.

As a fruit, it hits.

If you’re trying Colombia through juice, lulo is mandatory.

This one shocked me.

It’s tart and sweet, super flavorful, crunchy seeds but not obnoxious, and I basically wanted to eat the whole thing immediately.

Downside: it’s so light and hollow that if you were juicing it, you’d need a lot of them.

But for eating? 10.

This is one of my personal favorites.

Sweet, fleshy, subtle seed crunch, insanely good in plain Greek yogurt. It’s like the fruit version of “calm luxury.”

If you want a fruit that feels both exotic and universally likable: this is it.

This one is famous. People love it. It’s huge. It’s used for juices and smoothies everywhere.

But as-is? Not my thing. It hit me as sour and not enjoyable.

Now, I will say: it might shine in smoothies. Some fruits don’t want to be eaten straight. They want to be blended.

But if you hand me a fork and say “eat it like this,” I’m giving it a 4.

This fruit is work.

Hard to open. Messy. Slimy. Stringy. Pit. Strands get stuck in your teeth.

Flavor itself is fine — but you don’t eat fruit just for flavor. You eat it for the whole experience.

And this experience felt like a test.

Worth trying once. After that? I’m good.

This one is used in juices, and I’m sure it has its fans.

But for me, the taste had a weird pungent profile and an aftertaste I didn’t like. It’s not sweet, and it doesn’t behave like a normal “tomato” either.

This is one of the few I would actively avoid.

Absolute yes.

Sweet, easy, satisfying. Also a reminder: Colombia’s street mango culture is a whole thing — sliced mango with salt sold everywhere.

This one? Immediate 10.

One of my favorites.

It’s light like it’s full of helium, shell cracks like cardboard, inside is seed-filled jelly that’s sweet, slightly tangy, and ridiculously snackable.

Also: another fruit that would be amazing in yogurt.

Granadilla is a top-tier Colombia fruit. No debate.

If you’re coming to Bogotá (or Colombia in general) and you want the “easy win” fruit list, here it is:

And if you want the full Paloquemao experience: don’t treat it like a tourist stop. Treat it like a living system.

Go early.
Go weekday if you can.
Bring cash.
And don’t be afraid to ask vendors how to eat something — because half the battle is simply knowing what you’re looking at.

This might sound like a fun thing to do, but it’s actually one of the fastest ways to understand Colombia.

Because food isn’t just food here — it’s geography, culture, habit, and daily life.

And Paloquemao isn’t a curated “experience.”

It’s Bogotá doing what Bogotá does: feeding itself, loudly and efficiently, with a sense of abundance that makes you realize how diverse this country really is.

If you want to live abroad long-term, these are the moments that matter — not just the skyline shots.

The real magic is learning the routines.