Getting Away - Chiquinquirá - (Part 3)

Not to show me off, but to give some perspective of the scale of the church.

We had to get up early to go from Puente Nacional to Chiquinquirá. That meant no breakfast for me, which made me a little grumpy. Not even a cup of tea to start. Harumph!

Chiquinquirá is to Colombia what Rome is to Italy, but the Catholics will probably get upset with my comparison because Chiquinquirá is hardly akin to the Vatican. Still, it is where the faithful come from all over Colombia - and elsewhere - to seek an audience (and hopefully a miracle for them) with the artifact housed in the Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary de Chiquinquirá that represents the Virgin de Chiquinquirá, the title of the Virgin Mary, patron saint of Colombia. It has been stated that the first of the Virgin's miracles occurred in this city long ago.

Turning around from where I was standing, looking south.

At 8,435 feet above sea level Chiquinquirá is about two hours north of Bogotá, in the department (state) of Boyacá.As you can see from my ruaná, I am dressing for the chill. Although the sun was out for part of the day, that elevation really requires (at least as far as I'm concerned) several layers. Other hardy folks took the sun to mean warmth and were dressed in less, but I suspect they are more local than I am.

Near here we had a nice breakfast with hot chocolate.

The plaza surrounding the church is enormous. I didn't actually walk all around it, but it is larger than anything I have seen to date in Colombia.

The featured artifact is a canvas painted with natural colors from the soil and vegetable juices showing the Virgin between St. Anthony of Padua and St. Andrew the apostle. This was created by Alonso de Narvaez, a Spanish artist in Tunja at the request of Don Antonio de Santana back in 1586. The present Basilica was started in 1801 and took 120 years to complete, modeled after the great churches Europe with 15 internal chapels representing the 15 houses of the Rosary.

The painting, hard to see in the interior shot (below) of the Basilica, is surrounded by bright yellow satin curtains as part of the huge altar. It is about 30 feet above the altar, making it easy to recognize, if not clearly discern, as one approaches from the back of the church.

Interior shot of the altar in Basilica de Chiquinquirá.

As we arrived, the church was filling up with the Sunday faithful and hopeful. I was a bit awestruck by the numbers of people who were literally on their knees making their way from the back of the church up to the altar, probably about 350 feet on a marble floor. Although it was not a festival day or the memorial day of the Virgin, the church filled up quickly. I wish I could have spoken to someone about the organ. It was magnificent to hear it; it sounded as if it probably had as many pipes as St. Bart's in New York.

The distance from the painting made it hard to get a very clear shot without a tripod.

The reliquary of Our Lady of the Rosary in the Basilica de Chiquinquirá.

We stayed long enough to see the beginning of the mass, but the schedule for getting to the oldest church was tight, and we had to leave before it was over. I really wanted to hear some more of that wonderful music from the organ, so I was dragged from the church being advised the bus was waiting, only to find out we had to wait for the driver, who (it seemed) was appreciating the church, if not the music, as well.

Chiquinquirá is a wonderful place to buy guitars, really good ones for Tiple or other kinds of music, and if I'd had more time I would have enjoyed shopping at more of the tiendas around the plaza. The city is named after the tribe of indigenous peoples who lived here first long ago. They fought with other tribes and were successful - history is, after all, written by the winners.

Getting help to get the van rolling.....

As a side note, it turned out that the bus that was hired was not exactly the best. The only way it could be started was if it was on a downhill slope so it could be jump-started. The first discovery of this essential fact was when the driver was unable to park it on a slope in Puente Nacional and the men of our group, plus a few from the street, were encouraged to give it a push... I tried to tell the women sitting inside they should get out to make it easier for the men, but they simply shrugged their shoulders. In Chiquinquirá we utilized some of the Army youth to push it uphill so it could roll downhill and .... start.

Our next stop would be Ubate and Sutatausa, but because that is a very special place with lots of history and information, I am going to save that for the final part of this journey "Getting Away - Ubate/Sutatausa (Part Four)" and I hope you will come back to read that portion.

A very nice specimen of Equus near Chiquinquirá.

 We returned to  Puente Nacional from Chiquinquirá and Sutatausa, just in time to see over 600 horsemen and women (collectively called ‘cabilleros’) ride around the central park as a culmination to all the feria activities.

With each lap around the park, the group in the lead increased the speed.

At first I was excited to see so many lovely horses in one place - this is the area where the Paso Fino breed is featured, I am told - but then I found myself having a real sense of anxiety with that much horseflesh, knowing the mind of the horse, being triggered by some random event causing chaos of huge proportions.

Young horse and young rider - no judge on style & form.

But it wasn’t the horses that caused a problem. It was a man, either leaning on or being pushed up against a metal railing about 10 feet above the street, who fell to the ground almost at my feet when the railing gave way. 

My immediate reaction was to give aid, but not speaking enough Spanish, I was afraid I would only add to the crisis. Instead I became a human barrier, keeping others not directly related to the man or to the emergency personnel away from him. He was unconscious for at least three minutes and his wife had her hands full trying to keep some drunk from attempting to pull off his shoes – WTF? – and keeping other well-meaning, but obviously inexperienced people from trying to move him in other ways. As he came to, he was able to get up on his own and refused medical aid. But I could see the huge lump developing on his right temple and I sincerely hoped – and intended – that he did go to the hospital because that was a serious fall and he did have a head injury. Unlikely we will know the outcome.

After a long day of many sights and sounds, I was ready to go to bed, but we still had a long drive back to Barichara. And my intentions to have the rain stay away long enough to enjoy certain events was delivered, so I was grateful on many counts for this "Getting Away" weekend.

NEXT: The final installment with the portion of the trip to Ubate/Sutatausa - Please come back!

Getting Away - Vélez (Part 2)

Built in 1929, this church is embedded into
the Andes mountainside in Vélez.

Tucked up in the middle portion of the Cordillera Oriental of the Andes, Vélez sits at approximately 6725 feet. It was the second city in the "kingdom of Granada" and was discovered and founded by Captain Martin Galeano on September 14, 1539.  (As an aside, I wonder how accurate these dates are because back then the Captain did not have an iPod or other technical device to record things, and fighting off the indigenous tribes as well as the locals had to make getting pen to paper a little bit tough.)

The places we did not see in this charming city were: 1) the caves where the aboriginal folks hid out from the Spanish, reputed to have underground waterfalls, stalactites and stalagmites as well as fossilized remains of a chief; and 2) the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Snow, unique because it has an entrance on the side and it was the first church built here in 1560. Obviously this means another trip to try and see these antiquities.

Interior view of the church in Vélez.

Outside entrance view of College - photo by Isabel

But we did get a rather extensive tour of the National University College which was originally a Franciscan convent, established in 1549 and quite obviously of Spanish architecture. It was the idea and inspiration of General Francisco dePaula Santander to turn it into an educationally purposed place in 1824 and was fully approved as such by the Ministry of National Education in 1937. It was declared a national monument in 1973 under the government of Misael Pastrana Borrero. Although a huge building, covering more than two city blocks in both directions, the upkeep is lacking and I advised our guide that in one classroom the ceiling was showing evidence of black mold, "Muy peligroso!" I said. Not exactly helpful in a learning place.

My shot of interior courtyard of National College - immense!

I found some historical information about Vélez that indicated there was a road from here to the Rio Magdalena which served as a way to transfer goods between the city and onto ships headed downriver and off to Spain. According to this report, Vélez was suffering during the first 30 years from attrition as neither troops nor commoners were particularly delighted with the surroundings. But the discovery of gold in Pamplona circa 1560 created a new interest in living near a city and also closer to the river.

The statue of a huge guitar arm representing the influence of Tiple here and the guabina music have led to festivals that offer more of the same throughout the year. Since the 16th Century, Veleñas goods have been finding favor in and out of the city... here you can find both agricultural and crafts products in abundance. The fine art of turning sugar cane into sugar was mastered here enough so that Velenas preserves were, and still are, among some of the best. Baked goods, candy,  cheese, hams, canvas and sandals, along with leather goods including saddles are still sold extensively. Horse and mule breeding are among the top economic agricultural products.But the pressure for agricultural lands grew through the 17th century and so, like much of Colombia, it was learned too late that old growth trees are a greater function than just wood to burn or build with - the relatively new awareness of trees serving to anchor the steep hillsides is coming to Vélez as well.

Privately owned former home of First Colombian Pres. Parra

We visited the house of the First President of Colombia, Aquileo Parra, now owned by someone else. There is a house here in Barichara where it is claimed he was born but the provenance of that tale is uncertain; although he was born here, it's just not certain it was that particular house. At any rate, he was only President for two years (1876-78), but he was the first - Colombia's George Washington - and the first and only one from Santander. I could not say that the Vélez homestead reminded me of Mount Vernon, except that it has a magnificent view of much of the state of Santander.

The view from Parra's house today may be similar to 1876.

Our group in front of Parra's casa- Photo by Ana Elisa G.

We also visited the building that was once the business operations for the bocadillo and hat sales that Don Parra was famous for manufacturing. It was only five or six city blocks from his home on the hill, but what a climb after work!

Another short stop was to see an orchid farm. It is right across the street from the National University College tucked inside an old house, not dissimilar from Parra's workplace above. Everywhere you looked there were orchids of all shapes, sizes and colors. Many of which will only survive in the Vélez climate.

I really wanted this one but it is a local one.

Perhaps a familiar orchid to many... the one I chose.

Isabel's photo of this one was better than mine.

The fellow who was growing them said, "They need love and water, treat it like one of your children". Some of the group said they were a lot of work, but I was willing to try and gave myself a gift of one. As I am writing this, I can see it blooming with four (!!!) new flowers, so at the moment I am being a good Orchid mom.

COMING UP NEXT: Getting Away to Chiquinquirá - Please come back and enjoy more travels through Colombia!

Getting Away - Puente Nactional (Part 1)

Some members of our group in costume.

Following the 'Route of the Comuneros" our group made it's first stop in Puente Nacional, named for being the “National Bridge” where the first fight between the commoners (Comuneros) and the Spanish crown took place on May 8, 1781. In the state of Santander there were no shots fired and no blood was spilt (unless someone fell down from being drunk that day). So 231 years later, the people of Colombia dressed up in period costumes for both sides – the communeros and the aristocracy – and celebrated the success of that day and all the days that followed to bring them to where the city is today. This feat brought the people of Colombia their independence on  August 7, 1819.

Comunera & Aristocrat

Puente Nacional is also recognized as a great ecotourist stop at approximately 5300 feet in the foothills of the Cordillera Oriental of the Andes with over 680 beds and the ability to feed 2,000 people daily. While the hotel (Hotel Colombia El Dorado) we stayed at was clean and moderately comfortable, I cannot possibly imagine their restaurant being able to keep up with more than 20 people since our food was less than stellar in both timing and quality, a minor hiccup in our trip. Agriculture and growing of livestock seem to be the primary economic activities of the region, but to be honest I didn't have time to talk to anyone about this aspect of the area.

Dancers are rehearsing as we arrive in Puente Nacional.

Promoted across the country as the biggest ‘Feria’ in Colombia, a celebration of the First Comunera Victoria, (Primera Victoria Comunera) there were indeed visitors from Bogota, three hours to the south, and also from Bucaramanga, four hours to the north and plenty of other places as well judging from the license plates on the parked cars. Surely most of the 5,600 local townspeople and a good portion of the over 12,000 rural residents were also crammed into the town square to enjoy the activities. Almost everyone was wearing the Comunero costume of black skirt or pants, white blouse and a sombrero and some added the red necktie.

Meat hanging and other samples awaiting your pleasure.

We arrived on Saturday, May 5, about 9:30 a.m. after getting up at ‘screech o’clock’ to be on the bus by 6 a.m. If we had not stopped for a much-needed breakfast, we could have arrived even earlier in time to hear the Marching Band going through the streets at 4 a.m., attending the Rosary Mass at 5 a.m. and then joined in watching the students of numerous educational institutions parade past to the Lelio Olarte park where the formal ceremony began at 9 a.m. with the singing of the various hymns of Colombia – the national song, the state song and the city song. The park was named for the composer, Lelio Olarte Brown, born December 4, 1882 responsible for creating “Guabina, Guabina” well known throughout Santander, if not the rest of the world.

Technical college theatrical group in park plaza; city offices in background.

The Comuneros call for freedom from the foppish
fellow in the blue coat to the left (photo) threatening
more violent actions which never transpired - then or now.

 However, we did arrive in time to see the impressive theatrical presentation of the Comuneros and the Indigenous tribes facing off due to the conflicts caused by the Spaniard arrival along with the various religious leaders, the aristocracy and the troops wanting to control the lands and the people. The fervor of the Comuneros came across easily in today’s youth as the actors of the past.

Along with this energetic presentation, there were examples of old equipment for sugar cane production, leather making, forging metal, making coffee and brandy, pulling sisal for weaving and samples of various foods along with pottery and numerous other crafts for sale.

The Indigenous tribes wanted their lands back, but they
had to settle for not being under Spanish rule.

We left after lunch for a trip to Velez, which will be the subject of the next entry.

After our return from Velez that night, we all decided to get a snack before the Tiple (guitars with 12 strings playing a particular type of music) concert. While it was a nice concert and some lovely music, the day’s activities had worn me out and I was not alone in my desire to find a place to stretch out. Most of the group retired for the night and I didn’t have much time to read before my eyes were closing, even though the bed was only slightly softer than the floor.

NEXT: Velez – the first place in the world to give women the right to vote!

Getting Away on Another Journey

Rainy season & derumbas - scary road conditions.

I barely got back to Barichara when it was time for my birthday and a trip planned to celebrate. The trip was with a small group driving south in the state of Santander to Puente Nacional for their fiesta, a visit to Vélez, and a short tour of Chiquinquirá (the city where the cathedral for the Virgin of Chiquinquira is located) then an even shorter tour - after a longer drive - to see one of the very first churches in Colombia in Ubate/Sutatausa, located in the state of Cundinamarca, making it about an hour north of Bogotá.

There is a lot of information to share and I took over 400 photos (I won't bore you with all of them here; you'll have to come for tea!) and so I think I will divide it up by location so you can enjoy it all at a slower pace than I did. This will mean several blogs in sequence instead of attempting to post it all in one. I will title the series "Getting Away" with Puente Nacional as Part One, Vélez as Part Two, Chiquinqierá as Part Three and Ubate/Sutatausa as Part Four.

Colombian girls are reputed to be very pretty...

Today I will just share some unrelated aspects of the trip which managed to get lumped together by virtue of driving in Colombia. The first aspect is that when one is traveling with a group, there is a kind of team and leadership dynamic that develops. The one who organized the trip is looked to for information, the driver of the bussetta (small van) is supposed to be responsive to the organizer and since seats are not assigned, and yelling "I get the window seat!" in Spanish has no effect whatsoever, it certainly pays to arrive on time. It was frustrating to try and get photos on the way, and the driver was not inclined to stop - ever - for something as silly as a photo op.

It's cold enough in Vélez for irises to grow well.

The second aspect is that it is important to realize that Colombia is divided up into six regions: Caribe (everything from the northernmost tip near Venezuela down to Caretgena on the Carribean Ocean), Andina (Andes - the interior portion bordered by the Rio Magdelena over to Venezuela), Cafetera (the coffee region from the other side of the Rio Magdelena over to the Pacific from Cali north), and Suroccidente, (a large region from Cali south on the Pacific to the border with Equador and over to the beginning of the flatlands at the base of the Andes on the eastern side), Llanos (plains and grass lands from the base of the Andes to the west and over to the Venezuelan border) and last, the Amazonia (that portion through which the Amazon River runs in the southernmost part of the country.)

I explored some of the Caribe region in 2009, live in the Andina region and still have four regions left to explore. The most recent trip was confined to the Andina region. This meant changes in elevation from 5,000 feet (where I live in Barichara) up to approximately 9,000 feet to Velez and back down to the valley of Laguna Fúquene (a lake shared with both the states of Boyaca and Curdinamarca) where the first church was established, which brought us down to about 2000 feet of elevation.

No way to know what happened to the driver.

Finally, the third aspect is that driving in Colombia is not like other parts of the world where two and three-lane highways are the norm. Colombian drivers make every one-lane highway into a two-lane by passing on curves and other apparently illegal conditions, depending on the truckers to let them pass and other drivers to slow down when approaching. Traffic delays are common, and so are road closures due to bridges or roads being washed out. Sometimes the travel is all good. Other times it is very bad - for someone.

We had mixed conditions of rain, sun and clouds. As the photos will show, most of the time we were able to enjoy sunshine. But this is the rainy season, so it is no surprise when the clouds become unglued and end up in our laps. I am grateful our trip was only delayed by a few events and none of them included us.

Twins!

Outside my new-to-me casa camposinos (farmers) are tying
up a variety of creatures or leaving them in wheelbarrows or
boxes while they stop by the pub for a refreshment. This
mama goat and her twins were my most recent 'guests.'

What is special about these twin baby goats? They were bleating outside my Colombian door and in the hysterical way that the Universe laughs along with us, it was on the same day I learned my daughter is expecting twins! I was finishing up reading e-mails and went outside to find out what all the noise was, and these two babies were scampering around, causing the mother goat much anxiety as they tore up one street and gamboled down another one. I wish I had put my camera on video mode to show the incredible energy of these two... something my daughter will appreciate some time later on, I think.

Caught for just a moment before they began their wild antics
again, dashing about, I am struck by their exact duplicate
markings, even the way they hold their heads.

Blue heather tone for the Little Boy and lilac heather tone
for the Little Girl are the two blankets under construction.

Another ko-inky-dink was finding the January edition of National Geographic in my Nook and discovering they had done a feature on twins.
Fun Fact: There are basically five common variations of twinning. The most common type of twinning is fraternal, male-female twins. This particular combination makes up approximately 40 percent of all twins born, followed by fraternal girls, then fraternal boys. After that, there's identical girls, then identical boys. The latter being the least common type of twinning. (From http://www.twin-pregnancy-and-beyond.com/identical-twins-or-fraternal-twins.html)

At any rate, the other part of this story is that while I was in the U.S. in January, I purchased two different colors of soft yarn with no particular project in mind, only that I liked the colors and thought it would be nice to 'do something' for someone. I didn't know anyone who was pregnant and never imagined the wonderful news that caused me to start the two blankets. And shortly after I actually began knitting, there was more news... there would be a little boy and a little girl joining the family, which will undoubtably bring a lot of entertainment for my granddaughter - eventually.

So it is with great delight that I continue my knitting effort knowing that somehow I might have been tuning into this family 'project' all along. And am also thinking about travel plans this fall so I can be some help. I will keep my readers posted.

Surviving a Car Crash in Colombia

The trip from Barichara started on Friday the 13th, and while I am not normally cognizant of these mythical ‘bad luck days’ I have to say it was interesting. First, I was supposed to have a real car taxi to take me to the bus terminal, but the number I was given turned out to be for the three-wheeled jitney, So it was kind of like riding a motorcycle but with plastic cover and room for a suitcase. It actually only took about 15 minutes longer than the car taxi and I was grateful it wasn’t a horse and buggy which would have taken all day AND all night.

This was my jitney and driver from B'chara.

Then I was rushed onto the 11 p.m. bus and as I sat down and started to gather my wits, I realized one critical wit was missing - my passport! Oh crap. I knew we were on our way to Socorro and I had to think about how to solve this problem. About five minutes out of Socorro, I moved up to talk to the driver and told him I had forgotten my passport and he would have to let me get off the bus in Socorro. He reluctantly agreed and I found a taxi to take me back to San Gil.

Well, the first part of the problem - getting the passport - was solved when I called my Angels in Barichara who agreed to hire a car to drive them to the bus station and meet me there in time to catch the 12 a.m. bus. But because I was expecting to have my passport (and the slush fund I had in the same envelope) I only had $28,000 COPs for the taxi driver who really wanted $30,000. ($15 USD +/-) I told the taxi driver I could take his name and see that the money got to him... he said “No,” and judging from my frazzled appearance I can see why he wanted to be well rid of me.

I waited and waited.... time ticking by and the woman in the terminal was calling out “Bogota! Bogota!” meaning the bus was arriving. If I missed this bus, the chances of making my flight at 9 a.m. was slim to none. Just a few minutes before 12, my friends rushed in with the passport, and the money inside (so I could buy another ticket) and then they explained to the bus people what had happened and I was allowed to use my old ticket !! Yippee!! But the car man said it was going to $50,000 for this midnight run. And the reason they nearly didn’t make it was because he was just about out of gas! I think I understood correctly that he took off the gas cap and blew into the tank to get them the rest of the way to the terminal!

Finally on the bus, I was unable to sleep thinking about how many blessings I had had and how close a call it was for me to make the flight. Eventually fatigue took over and I did catch a couple of hours of sleep and as we pulled into Bogota, I had no idea what a close call was.

The right front fender and bumper were damaged in the hit;
my arm at the elbow was bruised - not worth a photo.

I did the usual bathroom run so I could push onward to get through all the lines at the airport without interruption. But the line for the taxis was horrendous... silly me, I never realized it was, of course, Saturday - the weekend. By the time I was through the line, I was already past the three-hour international arrival-at-the-airport-time. The taxi driver was young, eager, and quick. I was just about to tell him what good driver he was as we were approaching the last set of curves at the airport, when he skidded coming into one of the curves that had filled up with water and mud from the rain the day before, and plowed right into a guardrail, causing me to jam my elbow into the door.

Another reminder to wear seatbelts, folks! He jumped out of the car and instead of coming over to see how I was, he went to look at his car - WTF? I knew as we were coming into the curve that he wasn’t going to make it. I could feel the car sliding and I think I must have braced myself before he even realized he was in trouble. The jolt to my elbow wasn’t the first bump, but the second when we bounced off the guardrail and back into traffic, neatly avoiding being crashed into by some other rushing fool.

I did a quick assessment of myself - head still attached, no blood, sore arm, any whiplash? Nope. Just at that time, he stuck his head back inside the car and asked how I was. I said, “I am furious! You were driving too fast! And you caused me to hurt my arm. I am going to be even madder if you make me miss my plane!”

I took a picture of the car and driver in case there are any consequences of his bad driving, and hurried inside before the shock of the accident set in. The line at JetBlue was short and I explained to the agent what had happened. They asked if I wanted special assistance and I simply nodded, not knowing exactly what that meant. I was moved into the Special Assistance line which was very much shorter than the other one.

JetBlue staff was very helpful and I was glad
for a seat where I wasn't crammed into it.

By the time I was through getting my bag checked and received my boarding pass, they had a wheelchair for me and rolled me past everyone else in the line for the immigration and the next one for the screening, hurried me on down to the pre-boarding waiting room and I was shortly thereafter rolled down the ramp to the aircraft.

The nice young lady who was in charge of wheeling my wheelchair also got me some ice to keep the swelling down on my arm. As I write this, I am giving thanks for the accident because I never would have asked for help if my arm hadn’t been hurting so much, and  it would have been a huge rush for me to make the plane on foot. But I am also offering up some warning to riders in taxis in foreign countries... they are not very concerned with YOUR well-being, but in the investment that makes it possible for them to earn a living. If you are going to be doing a lot of taxi riding, it might be worthwhile to have accident insurance from your own country to cover mishaps.

SIDE NOTE: Once I was settled on the aircraft I began doing Reiki on myself, along with intentions for quick healing. I think the ice, the Reiki and the intention process all contributed to my being able to gather up everything and move on my own speed into US Customs and out in the humidity of Florida in April.

It’s a crap shoot when you walk out of the terminal - bus or plane - and get assigned a driver. You don’t know if he’s a drinker, a fool or worse, except that in Bogota and other cities in Colombia, the driver does have to have credentials. I guess it’s all part of the adventure.