A little ways outside of Villa de Leyva is a scenic viewpoint overlooking the town. It requires a modest hike, which Christi feels I am more than capable of accomplishing on my own. “You have, after all, completed the Inca trail and the Roraima trek,” she points out. While Christi does something far less energetic, I slosh through muddy pools and stumble over slick hillsides until more by luck than judgment I find a suitable spot to take some shots. By this point, however, thick dark clouds have rolled in, but such is my commitment to taking the perfect image that I wait patiently – for more than an hour – for a suitable break in the clouds. Alas, there is no Kodak moment and I’m left with some dull cityscape shots instead of brochure-quality sun-drenched images.
I return muddied and sullied to a by now bustling Villa de Leyva. Saturday is clearly a busy day. First, there is a wonderful market: fruit, vegetables, potatoes, clothes, cooked dishes and no tourist crap. There’s plenty to photograph including more of the indigenous Musica Indians. Second there is a wedding (in the rain) in the local parish church on the east of Plaza Mayor. Christi and I almost become part of the ceremony as we nip in through the open doors for a quick peek. We watch the bride arrive in a horse-drawn carriage from a café on the north side of the square. I can’t resist the urge for a few photos and dash out into a wet and windy plaza to capture the moment. The driver of the carriage even poses for a few shots.
Sadly, it’s time to leave Villa de Leyva and return to Bogota. Hasiento, our driver / guide, thinks we should return via Chiquinquira, the religious capital of Colombia. Its fame arises from a miracle that supposedly occurred here in 1586 when a decrepit painting of Mary, the Virgin of Chiquinquirá, was miraculously restored to its former glory. Word of the miracle got around and flocks of pilgrims have visited over the centuries, including Pope John Paul II in 1986. The painting is believed to be the oldest in Colombia, dating to 1555. The artist is a Spaniard called Alonso de Narvaez. His painting, which is once again faded and decrepit, sits above the high altar of the Basilica de la Virgen de Chiquinquira behind protective glass no doubt waiting for yet another miracle to restore it to its former beauty.
The road back to Bogota is wretched with trucks and Hasiento does some crazy driving to get us back to the capital. Flooding continues to be a problem and a major road into the city is lined with sandbags to keep it open. Although Christi thoroughly enjoyed her stay at the Hotel de la Opera, she wants to try a new place tonight – the Abadia Colonial. The floor of our room is covered in pink rose petals, which is rather romantic, although quite why the staff think Christi and I are deserving of such special treatment is unclear. Colombia really is a very friendly place!
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale.
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