Ponderances

Surviving one night in Bogota (to be well placed to catch the next morning plane) turned out to be no big deal.  The Bogota taxista didn't rob us - or even try.  And our hotel, Niza Norte, turned out to be small and friendly.  One of the employees even went about her day with a glowing, joyful smile.  Odd.

Since the neighborhood was purportedly safe, we even took a walk to a nearby mall to see a piece of big-town Colombian life.  Clearly the best selection of consumer "stuff" that we have found in this country can be found in Bogota.

Even still, I have to admit that being n Bogota makes me grumpy.  The only reason we're here is to go "home": you know, that place we left in early October; that place where we've already sold most all of our possessions - and even re-homed our precious cats; that place where our wonderful upstairs neighbors moved out while we were gone; that cold, wet, beautiful place that still remains our official residence.

Our original aspiration was to locate an area or a town in Ecuador or Uruguay we'd like to return to call home.  Obviously we never made it to Uruguay, as the trip was not recommended for Jeff when his typhoid fever was spiking. 

Did we find what we were looking for?  We're not sure.  Identifying places we'd readily pass over is simple - and the list long.  And identifying the qualities we're in search of has become much clearer.

But did we find them all in one area?  Or does the quest continue, even now?

Shall we return to Salento, to the coffee growing region that we came to love?  Shall we return to the more northern region that holds Villa de Leyva?  And then there's the one area of Ecuador that continues to pique our curiosity: Ibarra, close to Otavalo.  We went through there on a bus when Jeff was still sick and didn't stop to explore the possibilities.

One thing's for sure, the price of land and of living in general in Ecuador is much lower than Colombia.  Actually the main drawback to Colombia is that land prices are often as high as in the USA.

Another certainty is that Colombia has undergone massive changes in recent years.  Yes there continue to be dangerous spots there, though that's true of Los Angeles, Seattle, San Francisco, etc., etc.  Also, in general Colombians are a most endearing people: clearly the nation's greatest natural resource.

Occasionally we ponder taking another similar trip, this time to Central America.  Perhaps our undeniable home awaits us in Belize or Nicaragua.  However that's a lot of work to go to.  This traveling around routine has its romantic elements, granted.  But at the same time it's a heck of a lot of work and inconvenience.

One of the most troublesome inconveniences is having to eat food prepared by strangers of whom I know nothing of their hygiene habits.  Even for as careful as we are with selecting our food, Jeff contacted  deadly disease and we still have no idea from which meal.  Where's the romance in that?

And speaking of the inconveniences of travel, we've worn the exact same very limited selection of clothes for 6 weeks, all continually whispering "reuse, rewash, rewear".  But boring clothes are of little concern when compared to the larger more consequencial issues at hand.

We'll land in Atlanta within the hour for an overnight before connecting with the final flight to Seattle.

I already miss . . . I'm not sure what I miss and I'm not sure why.

The Coneheads of Dorf Kneipe

It started as a vague feeling of unease. Like a whiff of a rumor. Something just out of the corner of my eye.

What was it? 

That thing I saw, or thought I saw. I can only describe it as a sort of whitish cone-shaped, I don't know . . . 

In the great central plaza I finally saw it clearly! 

A white conehead hat hovered mysteriously in the darkness of the evening over the dark heads of certain indigenous men, on certain benches, outside certain doors. 

I realized then it was NOT the first time I had seen it. 

In Palmira on Halloween! I had assumed it was a costume. Yet I had been oddly drawn to it, as I still am.








I decided to ask our usually talkative friend Carlos from the US Embassy. He hastily muttered an excuse about a prior engagement and scuttled off up the street. 

Obviously the CIA is involved. 
That's when I knew I was on to something big. Really big.

Attempting to photograph this phenomenon I played the casual tourist. Yet native men constantly blocked my view until finally I was able to capture this one blurry photo of a Conehead sitting on a bench just outside their headquarters . . .

. . .  with the single chilling word "DORFKNEIPE" clearly spelled out above the door. 

I submit it as absolute proof that the Coneheads of DorfKneipe exist and they roam freely among us. 

I strode quickly up the steps towards the door to Dorfkneipe. The man had vanished in the blink of an eye! As a further demonstration of their arcane powers, DorfKneipe headquarters instantly morphed into a CONE shop - ice cream cones, not hats. 

Inside three wooden Indians taunted me with ice cream cones. 

Not funny, you Coneheads! 

In sheer frustration I had a double blackberry and chocolate gelato. 

While my intense curiosity burned even brighter.

Attempts to capture more photographic proof were foiled by their many clever disguises. 

The Conehead riding on this horse was talking to the man in the street, yet he is INVISIBLE in the photo!






The amorous Conehead sitting on the knee of his lady in the restaurant appears to be a dog in the photo. I swear he was not a dog! Dogs cannot say the things he said to her! 








By all standards I know I have failed to convince you. 

I can't blame you. I can't believe it myself!

Maybe the typhoid fever has returned. 

I tried a cold shower, but it had no effect. 

I simply can't deny the naked truth.


I was unable to penetrate the dense DorfKneipe mystery. At every turn they deftly turned aside my best efforts to expose and investigate their ancient and mystical purpose. 

Yet I shall return. I shall succeed. 

I vow to reveal the mysterious Coneheads of DorfKneipe. 

My allies have already reported to me the location of their stronghold in the North. 

For now I must settle for another cup of the local espresso. It's really got a kick.

Villa de Leyva

About 4 hours travel by bus from Bogota, tiny Villa de Leyva claims a mere 10,000 inhabitants - but from what we saw, we'd guess that there are at least 5 times that many people there every weekend.  Yep, a little tourist town. perhaps the most well-known in Colombia because of it's proximity to Bogota.

When we stepped out of the bus and began the walk to the town square, we were immediately charmed by the cobblestone roads and walkways.  However in less than 200 feet of walking on these cobblestones, we realized they have a big downside:  cobblestones are not flat.  They're little hills, a sea of little hills with no reprieve, no cement sidewalks. Heaven help the wheels on our luggage.

But remember that cobblestone roads are cute and quaint - and THESE cobblestone roads along with the colonial tile roofs, are the visual trademark of this pueblo.

A fantastic safety element is that cars are only permitted in a few of the streets of the pueblo, leaving the rest for thousands of weekend strolling pedestrians. 

The drier climate, the well-stocked weekly farmer's market, and the warm, sociable people have Jeff and I immediately musing about the possibility of calling this place home.  We stayed here on the outskirts of town for 3 nights and became ever fonder of the notion of returning to this area for further exploration.




With sad regret, on Monday morning we once again packed our bags and hopped our last bus back to the bedlam of Bogota.