Outside Bogota, 4 avril 2011

Experiences finally expanded this week. I escaped from the city twice, with positive change. The citizens of Bogota are exceedingly proud of their city, but I am a country boy.

I played hooky one day, with approval, and my mother took off work one day. So, she, her boyfriend, daughter and her boyfriend and I took off north de la ciudad. Totally green, once we left the brick and concrete of Bogota. The highway was still congested, and houses, apartments, businesses littered the view, but in between were vistas of the mountains and fincas (ranches). Almost a green cover below a cloudy sky, a feeling of openness.

Our immediate destination was the cathedral de sal, cathedral of salt. The site is discussed in my travel book, but walking through a salt mine was not on my original list of sites to see. But, typically, I was surprised. This particular one is reportedly the world´s largest. The working part is not open to the public. The side for viewing has been made for some hundred plus years. The miners, I suppose in their spare time, in various caverns, have carved out crosses in the slat rock. Each, has variations in its structure so as to symbolically represent the stages of Jesus´ last walk from conviction to resurrection (now twice I have seen this display). Placed in the enormity of these carved caverns, the darkness, the silence, it has a very powerful impression. I can imagine the even greater impact on these miners when there was not electric lighting for the benefit of tourists, nor sounds of tourist groups wandering through, and the constant presence of danger in their work, the difficulty and low wage. Easy to understand the desire for supportive relation with a greater caring power. Sorry, the obsuridad was not conducive to my photographic ability.

On the return to Bogotá we downsized to a small pueblo Tabio. Was my first reawakening to the S.America I love. Small pueblo, gardened plaza in the center, the primary cathedral to one side, and colorful stores and restaurants along the other three sides. Always the provison of a place to sit under tree, by flower bed, on sidewalk bench. A place to watch the interaction of family and friends as the walked, sat, ate by a central statue, after they bought helado or fruit or other, from the vendors on the perimeter. We stopped and tortas in one of the restaurants with center patio.

The weekend produced another trip. With the partial family of another friend, mother, daughter, son of eight children, we drove south. Perhaps 80 miles, we were in a constant line of trucks, buses and cars. Jose would have no fear on a NASCAR track. Previous discussion of Columbian driving was too low key. Despite the craziness of it all I have not yet seen a wreck (should not have said that). Once outside of Bogota it only got worse. Multiple lanes and divided highway disappeared around mountain curves. A continuing line of traffic, both ways, mostly trucks or buses struggling with the graded slopes. Jose takes every opportunity, or lottery chance, he can to advance our position. Regardless of oncoming traffic, blind curve, double line and no apparent opening in the line of cars in front, he took the frozen silence of the passengers as implicit agreement for his driving style. I still am alive.

Along the way we stop at a restaurant where I eat my first meal of rabbit. Not really all that distinctive, though as always expression of ¨rico¨ follows the meal. It was not the only food experience of the weekend. There was also pescado and cola de vaca (cow tail). Rico again.

Ultimately we arrived at the town of Girardot, a town on the Rio Magdelena, which is navigable all the way to the Pacific. When the highway was constructed the town grew rapidly as many condo and townhome complexes grew to accommodate the appetites of Bogota citizens wanting a weekend of holiday escape.

Jose who works for worldwide fertilizer company bought this ´´finca´´. Four bedrooms, living area, kitchen, outdoor covered patio, swimming pool, this is the smallest in the complex. As I write this alone on the porch by the poolside I catch the occasional glimpse from Amafre, the family servant as she works in the kitchen. Images of Hemingway in Cuba . . no, never mind.

Anyway, it is peaceful, quiet and though surrounded by tall hedges blocking the view of the larger homes, I can at least imagine views of the not too distant mountains. Five squawking parrots fly overhead. Despite their beautiful color, what an awful sound they make. There are a few yellow-orange canary size birds in the avocado tree, with a much more pleasant song. Columbia is the second most biodiverse country next to Brazil. Even though only 80 miles from Bogota the temperature has climbed an easy 20 degrees. I am in short and borrowed sandals. There are fruit trees, including papaya, mango, palms, with coconuts, and a variety of other plants and flowers, bright colors all. This tropical location and living situation could become an easy adjustment. I am told my pension would provide a very comfortable living style. No desire to step inside as long as the fans blow away the drops of sweat.
School continues to improve. Another new professor, very good and enjoyable. Grammar knowledge increases. Third week approaches.

When I grow up I want to be a tree
Want to make my home with the birds and the bees
And the squirrels they can count on me
When I grow up I want to be a tree.
Although my joints get stiff with my feet in the ground
Take the winters off, settle down
Keep my clothes til they turn brown
When I grow up I´m gonna settle down.

I´m gonna reach, I´m gonna reach,
I´m gonna reach, reach for the sky.
I´m gonna reach, I´m gonna reach,
I´m gonna reach, til I know why.

When the spring comes by I´m gonna get real green
If the dogs come by I´m gonna get real mean
On windy days I´ll bend and lean
When I grow up I´m gonna get real green.
If I should fall in storm or slumber
Please don´t turn me into lumber
I´d rather be a Louisville slugger
Swinging for the seats.
J.Gorka