This is a gorgeous old spanish style town. We had Saturday evening promenading with the towns folk, and even an invitation to stay with Christina , a local school teacher. Doors are open, church bells are constant and frantic, the hotels don’t have armed guards, concerts in the street, welcome to Colombia.
We are up early as today we are only going 100km, and have a morning to enjoy the markets, church bells and amazing faces of the old guys in felt ponchos and brimmed hats. We get some huge avocados and tomatoes, 2000 of their paper is about 70 NZ cents, eveerything really cheap.
I get to onother of the magnificent catholic churches by the cemetery and can’t resist a stroll through the maze of burial-walls. Busy day and lots of visitors for the departed. Loved the way they would line up at the little doors, smooth their hair and clothes and then they all knock on the little door. You could imagine the words, ” Hello Mary, It’s Gareth here, Sunday again hope all is peaceful… yes the kids are great. Miss you, must rush mass is starting soon.” The cynic in me also has him saying to his mates “that’s the mother-in-law sorted for the week,”
You know I mentioned the 100 km, a short afternoon flit to the next village. 5 hours of partially slipped mountain road, cold at altitudes of 3800 up and down mud oozing from the wet hills, slumps of up to a metre and the lumbering trucks. Another afternoon of road excitement and now a gorgeous 16th century hotel on the square of Giron. Don’t get too excited — no hot water.