An Old City Amidst New
February 9, 2012 § Leave a Comment
La Candelaria, the old city of Bogota, nestles itself at the base of the hills in the east. The undulating skyline changes hue from blue to green, as the light shimmies this way and that. The houses too change colors: orange, yellow, pink and green. The streets are narrow and cobbled at times, and sometimes, wide and cemented. The people, from mixed ethnicities, working and meandering, dotting the streets and their angled corners.
I landed in Bogota at the end of summer, a slight chill in the air beginning to muster courage. The days were pleasant though, the sun bright, or weakly shifting in the clouds. This was my first trip to the South Americas, and a first to an erstwhile Spanish colony. So it did not come as a surprise when I promptly fell in love. The tall iglesias, yellow or whitewashed. The plazas like islands marooned on centuries old architecture. The alleyways winding up and down the hills, with Colombian tricolor flags flapping in the wind. With so much to dizzy me, I wondered who wouldn’t have given in with weak knees.
The only thing that worried me was a seeming lack of restoration on most buildings, except of course, those housing the government bodies.
I twisted around, twiddled and fumbled with my camera. I moaned and I suffered. Oh, the insufficiency! Little did I know there was more to see, take in with open arms, drink away. Villa de Leyva, the white city. Raquira, the tiny city of pots. Nemacon, the sleepy salt-mine town. And the last stop, the historic city of Cartagena. Stay tuned my friends, much delight is on its way!