The first thing that came to mind as a Brit entering the bolera (bowling alley), venue of bolo criollo (literally Creole bowling), the centre of sporting and social culture in the Santander region of Colombia, is just how much success one built in London could have.

Bolo is perfect for your average British sportsman: it requires the brute force and learned subtle skill of an experienced Sunday League footballer; it has the feel of a game of darts down the pub with your mates; it is a chance for the village cricketer to find a use for his occasional off-breaks; and, more importantly, a beer in your hand is a necessity.

The game involves launching a heavy metal ball (bola) underarm to the other end of a sandy gravel track to knock down three wooden sticks placed in a line, one in front of the other, facing the thrower at a distance which typically depends upon space available but usually is at least the length of a cricket pitch.  Yet before you think this seems like a budget version of tenpin bowling, the bola must land within a certain area a metre or so in front of the wicket, as it is most easily described to a Brit.

Your best chance of knocking down this wicket is from the side, rebounding off the wooden board behind it, meaning rolling your fingers round the bola to have it spin in and gaining as much height as possible in order to get a decent grip on the ground as it lands.  This leads to signs announcing fines of 5000 pesos (about three beers) for hitting the fragile-looking corrugated-iron roofs which cover the target.

It also means a torrid time for the garriteros.  These brave souls return the bola, tidy up the target, and have the important task of announcing how many sticks were felled, but they spend most of their time dodging wayward (and by the end of the night they really are wayward) attempts from less professional players.  My shout of ‘fore’ was not appreciated as I came inches from testing the strength of the hardhats – their only protection.

Yet the beauty of bolo criollo lies in its sociability.  A high number of boleras are suspiciously close to university campuses; many a top player has refined their skills pre and post-lectures, often beginning worryingly early in the morning and resulting in frequent naps in class.  Hundreds of organised tournaments take place in the same spirit despite some intense rivalries, but above all this is a night out.  Lanes are not paid for by time – as long as the drinks or food are flowing, bowling is usually free.

My entrepreneurial plans made in the hazy mist of yet another lost match (do not begin to accept bets from the locals, beer does not improve your aim despite what you might think at the time) have hit a major snag, however: how do I get past the Council Health and Safety Officer?