Yesterday was my last day in busy Bogota, and I knew that we had a long drive to go to
 Villa de Leyva. Having done absolutely zero research on Colombia before I arrived, and being completely safe in the knowledge that my hosts would have organised everything.. To my shame.. I had no clue where and what villa de leyva is.

Well a quick geographical look at Colombia shows that on the west side of Colombia, running from the north to south of the land are the Andes, the great mountains which go down to Argentina and chile. However, where they arrive in Colombia they split into three mountain ranges, which fork to almost the centre of Colombia. On the east side of Colombia, borders with the massive Brazil, it is all cowboy land, flat and dry.

But we are in the mountain range, driving south west Uruguay. The scenery I have seen through this seven hour drive, with several stops to side road cafes, with steaming bowls of soup which sustain an ox, rather than a human being, and the strangest delicacies, which rival the horrors I have seen in china, such as stuffed chicken heads and necks, are to be imprinted in memory forever. The mountains and rivers that we had to navigate through are nothing short of majestic. Miles of severe and natural rock faces with wild growth when at the top of the mountains with planes of rich copper soil in the lower regions and thousands of grazing cows. This is the milking farmland of Colombia. However, do not go away with the idea that it s completely sleepy. The heavy lorries and fantastic trucks carrying horses, milk trucks, and general produce, certainly put the gringos to shame. These very expensive toys on the road, had me smiling, due to the sheer contrast, I would see a few minutes later, when an young gaucho was deftly handling an old donkey, very dusty and laden on both sides with peddling wares, which looked like a picture from the past (except that the gaucho was on the cell phone)

In any case we made it to villa de leyva. Villa de leyva is the equivalent of castel Gandolfo for the pope. The Spanish viceroys, would travel by horse, for an entire day and night to Villa de Leyva for their summer retreats. The village is situated at what was millions of years ago, the bottom of the sea, and therefore warmer than bogota, but still surrounded by a mountain range. I will not go into more detail, because I will be exploring this village which was founded 500 years ago and is mostly intact today, and that will be my story for tomorrow. All I can tell you is that it is awesome.

John had been rather vague about friends, of his that we would be visiting, and that I would be enchanted with. Naturally, I had my reservations about this, but having no real choice, pleasantly smiled and went along. We basically started wielding our way back up on the mountain, since this is where his friends live, and it is by no means on the first tier of the mountain. Up and up we drove on a narrow track, until we got to a dirt track and then nothing else.

Tucked away in the face of the mountain, we made our last part of the journey on foot, until we came to an opening, and a view, which has left me fairly silenced in awe, in the presence of such magnificence, since yesterday. Two beautiful little villas, are hanging from the cliff edge and looking down on the valleys below. The sight is awesome, but the surprise lay more what I was to encounter within the villas. The couple who are hosting us are Colombian but have lived and travelled the world. Fred Andrade, is a world acclaimed painter, and his wife Clarita is the most wonderful, warm soul, I will ever meet in life. I was escorted to my little cottage, complete with ensuite, and kitchen, but I had to stop and gape constantly. The walls of the cottage are completely littered with works of art. Fantastic colours, in strong blues, oranges and yellow. A style reminiscent of Frieda Kahlo
The furniture is all old thick Colombian wood, that make me feel like I am in a darker version of a hensel and gretel setting. The walls thickly plastered in white, offset dark wooden beams, and the feature walls in bathrooms are turquoise, yellow and orange.

I later discovered that whilst Fred paints, clarita paints the house, has built the main house herself with some friends and without the assistance of an Architect. She had boundless energy, is beautiful outside and inside, and is over 70.

I was invited to a hearty home made dinner in the main salon, simple good food, and a lot of laughter and stories from the world, and always looking down on the valley of happiness. This s certainly a spot to provoke inspiration. I wish I could grasp the moment forever. I have been embraced by human warmth and good souls, and that is the most remarkable understanding of my entire experience.

This morning, I woke up to the fine smokey threads of mist floating below me in the valley, birds singing, and an explosion of colours around me. The day augurs very well… It will soon be time to discover villa de leyva.

My first reaction, though clearly I kept this to myself, was groan… Not yet another cathedral! Though essentially Catholic enough to rival the crusaders, the Colombians were never rich enough to build any grand cathedrals.. They were naturally divested of all their gold by the conquistadors – which results in very humble manifestations of their faith today.

The drive to the Salt Cathedral was well over an hour, during which I saw ourselves leave the city, and gradually move dreamlike into a real Wild West movie. The low Spanish style buildings are scattered all over the dusty planes, and since this is the end of summer the savannahs are quite dry and harsh, but acutely beautiful at the same time. Being Sunday, it was interesting to see the locals, this time with sharp Indian features, much more than in bogota dressed in their frilly Sunday best, and the man complete with the necessary fedora and waistcoat. A very strange sight of Indian and Spanish culture mixed together.

We arrive at the mountain of the salt cathedral. I could not see any cathedrals in sight, only an entrance to a mining area. We are standing at 9000ft above sea level and the air is thin. We labour to climb the next few feet to go into the gaping mouth of the mountain. I am still anticipating the cathedral.

The mountain is a salt mountain. Millions of years back, the water level was as high as the mountain, and when it dried up following earthquakes, it became a salt mountain, still mined up to today.

What met me inside is really something, I can hardly convey on paper. . The old mining areas at the top, have been converted into the twelve stations of the cross, and as you descend further into the bowels of the mountain, you do the Via Crucis, until eventually descend 280 metres below into an awesome underground cathedral. The play of lights and baroque church music, intensify as you descend, but the feeling is a truly spiritual experience.

Back to daylight, and the after effects of the cervesa from the night before, we stop at a local parilla, where a variety of meets are being deliciously grilled on spits and open bbq. Though not s huge meat eater, the sizzling fat dripping on the charcoal, was too much to resist. A hearty meal, washed down with some red Argentinian wine (Colombia is certainly not known for any wine production but huge on cervesa or beer) ensured that as soon as I got back into the car, I snuggled into the back seat and it was instantly lights out for me for the next hour or so.

Yet another two hours drive, and we were heading to the Laguna de Guatavita. Now this is the point where, if there was any reality to the legend of el dorado, this would be the spot. The Andes, are a beautiful mountain range, with lakes at the bottom of them, and where the indigenous tribes native to pre Colombus lived. This civilisation was a strong and superstitious one, but strongly based on the family units and the community. Their most famous Chief had been Guatsvita, or better known ad the El Dorado, The golden one.

So we start once again climbing this time as a group towards the lagoon. Seeing absolutely nothing, and therefore having the anticipation heightened, I did not realised that I would certainly end up needing Red Cross assistance to get to the top. I have to warn anyone reading, ad trying to attempt this climb, that it is a serious health threat. The thin sir, and rising up to 11,000 feet above sea level when you are not used to it, makes your lungs and your heart struggle. In fact the people who live there all have massive chests to house their bigger lungs.

However what awaits you, is truly awesome. Up at the top you finally see, a crater in the mountain , with a pool of emerald green water. It is truly a splendid sight and you can certainly understand why this was a site of holy rituals. The green mountain range, protect the pool with its still waters and make it essentially magical.

We have heard many variations of the legend, but being told the story but a descendant of Guatavita makes it essentially more mystic.

The legend goes …. In preparation for any young man to become leader, he was made to live in a cave for seven years.. This signified his previous years in a womb. Later he was taken to the village in a round room, where for four years he was daily presented ten of the most beautiful women of the village, stark naked, who would tempt him with their beauty. The rules were that if he gave in, he would be killed, but if he resisted, he would become chief of the tribe. Many would be leaders gave into temptation but
Guatavita, was of strong character (or gay) and on the day of his annointment , he was first covered in honey and then covered in a fine gold dust, and taken on a gold barge (now at the gold museum in bogota) into the lagoon. He was covered in opulent clothes all in silk,threads and emeralds, and on the rising of the sun, his clothes would be removed and his golden body would be resplendent in the morning sun. Then he could finally penetrate the woman, who herself would have had years of preparation. On such a glorious day, the villagers would throw in their gold, and emeralds into the lagoon. For the natives, gold did not mean anything. It was the colour that was essentially important. So much so, that along with gold, they also threw I corn kernels. The roads were lined with corn and gold, wherever the El Dorado walked and lived.

The Spanish got wind of this, and basically pillaged entires villages and tribes to find the el dorado. One day one of the conquistadors met a tribal princess who fell in love with him and led him to the secret lacuna. What followed was complete mayhem. Few lived to tell the story of the great massacre that followed. The princess drowned herself In the lacuna with her child, in the hope of reaching the crystal palace which they believed lie at the bottom of the lagoon.

In reality the Spanish tried to,drain . The lagoon from its water in order to find the gold. After three months of hard labour, they manage to reduce the level by just five metres, and then overnight with the turn of the seasons, the water level simply readjusted to its former depth. No one knows exactly how deep the lagoon is, rumoured around 30 metres.. But the gold remains hidden at the bottom of this fantastic emerald crater.

Naturally I remember very little of the trip back, exhausted as I was, but I did dream of El Dorado in his splendour at night.

Tomorrow is a working day.. But I still hope to find some anecdotes to entertain you with.

Well, jet lagged as I was, I still felt a rush of excitement, and exited to what I later found out to be the nation that has been voted the highest ranking in The Happy People survey which was taken worldwide. And you can easily understand why, because the smiles and laughter are printed on people’s faces like a stamp on an envelope. It’s always there.

Another observation, not at all unpleasant or expected was that in one day I saw more beautiful Men And Women, than I have seen in the past ten years travelling the world. And it is not an exaggeration, I mean 8 out of ten women would and Antonio Banderas is cheap by the dozen ..no wonder they are all smiling.

My first trip yesterday morning was to the chapel of Montserrat a further 2000 feet higher than Bogota. We reached by modern cable car, and my instant feeling was that this place was a cross between

Table mountain in Cape Town and the Sacre Coeur in Paris. Beautiful landscape – with a marked difference – along the roads behind the church are alleys full of people cooking in deep cauldrons of oils, the local mazzit and other delicacies including kirxa and pork skin , and swaying to their native music. Now, I am definitely one step closer at needing to take a cholesterol test. This nation is very much after my heart.

My hosts, proceeded to take me for a safer lunch in a typical 300 year old restaurant called La Vieja Bodega.. The old shop, where to my incredible delight was awarded with a bowl of thick chicken soup, with chunks of real chicken and dashed with hanging strings of egg, flakes of potato, and side dishes of capers and avocado.

Those of you who know me well enough, must be imagining my delight at the egg in the soup, but add the capers and the avocado, and you are certainly challenging my rather fragile constitution. But eat I did.

To give you an idea, after the meal I felt exactly like one Fernando Botero’s women – which exhibition we proceeded to go and see. Those of you not familiar with Botero’s work, can google it .. Hehe.. Botero paints men and women..like they have been inflated and ready to be sported on a string and flown off.. Pretty much like the women which Kenneth Zammit
Tabona “originally” painted. In reality it was a grand grand show, and being the further show off Botero is, he threw in his private collection amassed over ma

ny years and wonderous fortunes, for the public to have a peek at. Pieces included two Picasso, two Monets, one Gaugin, a Klimt, and a multitude of others. Certainly worth crossing to the other side of the world for just this.

A brief rest, and was once again advised that we shall have more food, but that I should also have my dancing shoes. Picked up at 7pm, and whisked off to this amazing place restaurant/club called …ugh me and names.. Cannot remember … But it is like Jubilee but multiplied by a hundred. Now that is where I learnt in the same day, that as typical food goes, they were still after my heart, but would take care of me later. On the table came what looked like this massive pizza, absolutely drenched in a sticky mozzarella. Well the base is actually a kind of bitter banana. Mashed to a pulp and then shaped in a pizza base and grilled with lots of .. Guess what… Butter.. Definitely there is a plot here. Then came what looked like a cake tray with add ons.

Another guess? There was fried crumbled delicious, I must add, meat, pork crackling , spicy tomatoes, a variation of crumbled cheese, guacamole, and few other cholesterol enhancing side dishes, which everyone promptly piled on to the pizza base… Yummee… But at this point I am wondering, how is it that everyone is fairly in shape??

The divine revelation. I did not have to wait much to find out….everybody, but I mean everybody, dances salsa in Bogota. As soon as dinner was cleared, and the local alcohols are set on the tables only in bottles – then we put on our dancing shoes. Jessica my hostess, this little fairy like imp, oozing sex appeal, starting girating her hips and Lo and behold, she had everyone’s attention. My conclusion wa

tching her is that she certainly puts Shakira to shame.. More of a surprise was her english father 70 year old John, who is certainly more sprite than John Travolta in his hay days……And all the beautiful people danced on and on. Where I got the energy from… given that I was in the country with six hours of time difference, for less than 24 hours, I have no idea, but dance I did till 3 Am. And I am here to tell the story. Salsa beats cholesterol!!!

Today am off to the Andes in search of El Dorado.. I hope I will have the energy to post you in my Colombian adventures!

Pauline
Xxx

I kept thinking about the incident for days and thinking to myself that I might be wrong to feel so involved and worried when I hear on such incidents, but I would rather feel sad and sorry than feel nothing at all.  Having said that I promise that I will do my best as co presenter of ‘Lsien’ to be positive and differ from these constant mishaps happening around us.  And I will do my best to promote good deeds and good people.  Might also launch an online news site updating good deeds.  Ahh I can imagine the headlines, always so positive!!!!! I will be editor, moira will take care of all happy incidents related to animals. Clare will have her regular article telling us what to do to feel happy and healthy and pauline will work on a radio news bulletin – all positive……ahh diga bdejt nohlom!!!!

So when it came to take the desion to move him into his bedroom, this little man of mine kicked no fuss at all and slept exactly the same as he was sleeping while in our bedroom.  So it made me think that its usually us parents who on the contrary feel the difference.

I miss having him near me just before I go to sleep and waking up to see his face beaming up at me.  So I went to tell my beloved friend Claire and she s like ‘Why are you suffering?… bring him back in!  Now you sent him to sleep alone…gejja l-kesha!’  u qalatili Hitler insomma:)

Dilemma kicks in… what do i do?  Indarrih min issa jew nghamel dak li jaqbel lili?…ufff can t decide!

On the otherhand Clare Agius Ordway goes for her early run every morning!! 5am!! How’s that for bfast??!!

I can assure you that at that time Clare Agius and myself will be tucked away in our world of dreams probably dreaming of flying from Dingli Cliffs to Filfla!