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Vibrant, diverse & historical Colombia!
Continuing with my trip to Colombia, the next day Sebastian, the interpretor, was our escort. As we drove through Bogota he pointed out huge graffiti on the buildings and walls. He shared that when in 2011 Diego Felipe Becerra was painting his signature piece of ‘Felix the Cat’ on the walls of an underpass, he was shot dead by a policeman. The public reaction led not only to arrest of policeman but also, the mayor legalized graffiti and street art, in certain areas and walls, to promote artistic and cultural identity of Bogota. Laughingly he told that graffiti walking tours are also available, including meeting the new generation of artistes.
Our first stop was the Museum of Gold. It displayed 55,000 artifacts of pre Colombian gold and other metal alloys and pottery, the largest collection of gold artifacts in the world. These items mirrored the times of the people in South American civilizations, down the ages. The Muisca golden raft, representing the ceremony of the new ruler, his body dusted with gold, assuming power with offerings to Gods was very popular. The golden sea snail and the pectoral Tolima culture, flat figurines were very eye catching.
Our next stop was Quinta de Bolivar, residence of Simon Bolivar. This Colonial house had been given as a token of gratitude for his role in the war of independence. Used diversely later on, as a health house, a brewery a tannery, a girl’s school and now it was a museum. It was interesting that Bolivar’s sword was stolen by a guerilla leaving behind a note, “Bolivar, your sword returns to the battle field.”
Paucity of time made us skip the Mutis Botanical gardens, Colombia’s biggest and a research center of Andean and Paramo eco systems. We stopped for a quick cup of steaming Colombian coffee and Arepas, a corn based patty, as we sped towards the mountain town of Zipaquire.
A figure of miner built out of scrap greeted us in the grounds of Cathederal de Sal. The entrance was a tunnel with rows of arched pipes, illuminated by changing coloured lights. As we went down the dimly lit sloping, serpentine passages Sebastian asked us to touch the wall and lick our fingers. It was salty. There was salt all around — roof, walls, floor and the air was also cool and salt infused. The church, built by the minors had three sections representing the birth, life and death of Jesus. The bare simplicity with two stone black slabs for kneeling and praying was uniquely appealing. The figures of Mary and child, trumpet blowing angel, another angel jutting from above in pranam mudra, 200 meters in the bowels of earth, hushed us into awed silence. The Monumental cross, illuminated from base up, projected a large shadow on the ceiling. The lavender lighting of another roof with meandering patterns added to the feeling of unreality. The place had a jaw dropping capacity of 8,000. The cafe and the tribal arts souveneir shop in the wells of the earth was testimony to imaginative tourism. The shop had geometrical patterned skirts, beaten gold jewellery and the mesmerizing world famous but exorbitantly priced emeralds.
As we emerged from the underground church, hewn into salt deposits formed around 250 million years ago which were raised above sea level, during the late Tertiary period, when the Andes were formed, we felt in a trance.
Waiting to board the return flight, I now fully understood that the real Colombia with its varied geography, ancient habitation, pulsating music, diverse culinary and vibrant people was so different and endearing from the misconceived drug capital image portayed in movies.
(Concluded) The writer is a senior
bureaucrat