stone-streeted little colonial town about 4 hours outside of Bogota. The plan was to leave Sunday morning at 9 am, sharp. We left at 1 pm sharp. I, still apparently being in somewhat of American mode, was ready at 9 am sharp. Will I never learn? Because of COURSE if the plan is to leave at 9, you don't even think of leaving the house unti nearly 11. And then you have to stop to drop something off "on the way" at a friend's house and hang around and talk for a half hour. And then you have to "pop in" to visit someone at the hospital. So we were on our way only four hours later than planned... made me laugh.I normally hate car trips but this one was fabulous. Through lots of little villages and up winding mountain roads with unbelievable scenery. I didn't take my e
yes away for even a minute, literally. There were a thousand things I wanted to take pictures of but it's kind of hard to do when you're careening around a switchback on a mountain at what feels like 70 miles an hour! And, also, the vast majority of the pictures I wanted to take were simply of the people we passed along the way. It was everything that you would think of when picturing tiny little towns in Colombia: people dressed in the old traditional garb (people not wearing it for fashion but for real practicality... these are people that can pull off cowboy hats without even a hint of looking like they don't TOTALLY belong in it); there were cows and horses and goats and sheep grazing randomly all along the edges of the highway, groups of little old men leaning against buildings, wearing their ponchos and hats and shooting the breeze, little boys leading donkeys down paths, farmers hoeing their fields by hand, sweet-faced little kids running
around in their mini-ponchos, run-down little towns full of people hanging around at the outdoor tables at the town restaurant, little old ladies carrying buckets of water up hills, dogs sleeping in the middle of the streets (you just swerve around), herds of cows crossing the roads... amazing. But there is somehow always an odd feeling of being rude when wanting to take a picture of a person and so, being hesitant, I missed a thousand pictures that would have fit right into National Geographic... and I will always regret it!
yes away for even a minute, literally. There were a thousand things I wanted to take pictures of but it's kind of hard to do when you're careening around a switchback on a mountain at what feels like 70 miles an hour! And, also, the vast majority of the pictures I wanted to take were simply of the people we passed along the way. It was everything that you would think of when picturing tiny little towns in Colombia: people dressed in the old traditional garb (people not wearing it for fashion but for real practicality... these are people that can pull off cowboy hats without even a hint of looking like they don't TOTALLY belong in it); there were cows and horses and goats and sheep grazing randomly all along the edges of the highway, groups of little old men leaning against buildings, wearing their ponchos and hats and shooting the breeze, little boys leading donkeys down paths, farmers hoeing their fields by hand, sweet-faced little kids running
around in their mini-ponchos, run-down little towns full of people hanging around at the outdoor tables at the town restaurant, little old ladies carrying buckets of water up hills, dogs sleeping in the middle of the streets (you just swerve around), herds of cows crossing the roads... amazing. But there is somehow always an odd feeling of being rude when wanting to take a picture of a person and so, being hesitant, I missed a thousand pictures that would have fit right into National Geographic... and I will always regret it!Once in Villa de Leyva, Lina and I went out late that night to have some hot chocolate at one of the little outdoor places that surrounds the main plaza. Totally charming. While we're there chatting, all of the lights go out in the whole town, every single one, and no one made even a slightly surprised sound or a comment, no "What's going on?", not even a slight breath of a paus
e in the conversations. Everyone just kept on talking as if nothing at all had happened, as if we weren't all suddenly sitting there in complete and pitch blackness. And eventually the lights just came back on, and no one even blinked. Pretty funny.
e in the conversations. Everyone just kept on talking as if nothing at all had happened, as if we weren't all suddenly sitting there in complete and pitch blackness. And eventually the lights just came back on, and no one even blinked. Pretty funny. Monday morning I woke up to the sounds of Kenny Rogers BLARING from the stereo. Yes, that Kenny Rogers. Somehow I never expected to be woken up by "The Gambler" while in Colombia. Turns out Betty is a big fan. Who knew Kenny Rogers still had any fans?
Then we took another road trip, about two hours to another little town named 
Nobsu. Equally amazing drive and equally quaint town. But of course, because it's my personal curse, we started having car problems as we were nearing it. We stopped into a mechanic's and, also of course, when he got in to drive it around it didn't show any signs of the problem. He couldn't find anything wrong with it. Some things are the same worldwide, eh? So he poked around, fiddled with a few things and then sent us on our way with his phone number in case we had any more problems that day... all for free. On the way back through, Betty stopped and bought him a little gift as a means of thanks. I thought that was cool... and classy.
Nobsu. Equally amazing drive and equally quaint town. But of course, because it's my personal curse, we started having car problems as we were nearing it. We stopped into a mechanic's and, also of course, when he got in to drive it around it didn't show any signs of the problem. He couldn't find anything wrong with it. Some things are the same worldwide, eh? So he poked around, fiddled with a few things and then sent us on our way with his phone number in case we had any more problems that day... all for free. On the way back through, Betty stopped and bought him a little gift as a means of thanks. I thought that was cool... and classy.That night back 
in Villa de Leyva we had dinner at "Don Jorge's" little restaurant. It's Betty's favorite restaurant there and she and Don Jorge have known each other for about 15 years. It's the type of place where you walk in and say (or, rather, yell out through the little window into the kitchen) "Do you have dinner tonight?" and he says either yes or no and, if it's yes, you ask what he has. And that's what you have. It's kind of like going over to your grandparent's for dinner, because they're only making one thing and you have to eat it and everything, and I mean EVERYTHING is homemade. No lie, I ordered a glass of fruit juice (maracuya, mmm) and it took him like 10 minutes to get it, which I couldn't understand. Until I looked back in the kitchen and could actually see him making it... not mixing up a powder or opening a bottle, but squeezing the fruit. Whoa, to die for. And Don Jorge not only makes the juice, but he waits on all of the tables and takes the money (for which there is no bill and no receipt, he just comes back to your table at the end, glances over what you had and adds stuff up in his head) and helps with the cooking. We had 3 amazing, homema
de dinners of chicken, fish and beef as well as salad, potatoes, plantains, rice and fresh-squeezed fruit juice for what worked out to be just under $11. Total. We went back for every subsequent meal.
in Villa de Leyva we had dinner at "Don Jorge's" little restaurant. It's Betty's favorite restaurant there and she and Don Jorge have known each other for about 15 years. It's the type of place where you walk in and say (or, rather, yell out through the little window into the kitchen) "Do you have dinner tonight?" and he says either yes or no and, if it's yes, you ask what he has. And that's what you have. It's kind of like going over to your grandparent's for dinner, because they're only making one thing and you have to eat it and everything, and I mean EVERYTHING is homemade. No lie, I ordered a glass of fruit juice (maracuya, mmm) and it took him like 10 minutes to get it, which I couldn't understand. Until I looked back in the kitchen and could actually see him making it... not mixing up a powder or opening a bottle, but squeezing the fruit. Whoa, to die for. And Don Jorge not only makes the juice, but he waits on all of the tables and takes the money (for which there is no bill and no receipt, he just comes back to your table at the end, glances over what you had and adds stuff up in his head) and helps with the cooking. We had 3 amazing, homema
de dinners of chicken, fish and beef as well as salad, potatoes, plantains, rice and fresh-squeezed fruit juice for what worked out to be just under $11. Total. We went back for every subsequent meal. And then we went home and listened to Kenny Rogers together. It's worth mentioning that we're not talking about Kenny Rogers CDs or even tapes here, but actual records... Betty's a serious, long-term fan! Funny that she has loved him for all of these years without being able to understand even one of the words. So we listened and I translated and now she loves him even more ("Lady" is her new favorite, now that she knows what it says).
Today we took it easy and hung out in the town this morning, having breakfast at Don Jorge's and doing a little shopping. And then another amazing scenic drive home. Remember that thing I mentioned the other day about how certain people aren't allowed to drive at certain hours on certain days? And how I thought it was a great idea? Right about 5 pm tonight as we were coming back into Bogota and Betty remembered that today she's "pico y placa" (on driving restriction) and we then had to kill 2 hours sitting outside the city limits until she could drive again legally in the city, I started to rethink my position on the whole thing.
So we found a little chicken restaurant in which to kill time and Betty ordered t
he bowl of soup at right. What you're seeing is a bowl full of chicken broth... and chicken hearts and livers and necks and... ready?... chicken feet. See those two little pointy things sticking up towards the back of the bowl? Those are little chicken claws! Yeah, I've been pretty adventurous with my eating here but not THAT adventurous. It was about all I could do to take the picture!
he bowl of soup at right. What you're seeing is a bowl full of chicken broth... and chicken hearts and livers and necks and... ready?... chicken feet. See those two little pointy things sticking up towards the back of the bowl? Those are little chicken claws! Yeah, I've been pretty adventurous with my eating here but not THAT adventurous. It was about all I could do to take the picture! 
1 comment:
Pictures I wish you wouldn't have posted...chicken claw soup! I'm going to be sick!!
You come home tomorrow...at least I think you do. I can't wait to see you! I'm counting down the days until AKD...I would be counting the minutes but we haven't exactly determined when it will begin. So, call me as soon as you can! (Well, within reasonable "normal-person" waking hours)
Love you! Safe travels!
Hugs & kisses,
Me
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