Bogota, city capital of Colombia, is found in the center of the country, less than 5 hours south by plane, from the southeastern region of the United States. population 7 million plus, the altitude is high for recent Seattle-area dwellers - about 2600 m (about 8500 ft), but the average temperature does us well - about 14 C (a little less than 60 F) year-round. january nears the end of the dry season for bogota, and we have been graced with alternating sunshine and soft sprinkling our two days here. the sun is suddenly hot when it peeks out from behind the big mountain clouds, and we find ourselves removing and adding layers on the hour (thank you REi for easy-smoosh, quick wash layers!). guidebooks advise acclimatizing slowly to the high alititude, resting and hydrating, to avoid dizziness or other effects of the possible altitude sickness. we arrived late saturday night, so sunday found us wanting to head eastward and upward (UPWARD!) toward the peak of Cerro de Monserrate (Cerro = Mountain). both teleferico (cable car) or funicular railway are available, but if we wanted to walk the footpath with the masses of pilgrims, we were cautioned to do so only on sundays or risk becoming a target for thieves. so each with a litre of water and ivan with our extra litre cantene and a mutual promise to stop to rest as needed, we took off toward the mountain. we all too soon found the need to adhere to our promise and did so intermittenly, as the climb sharpened drastically just outside the city center. we kept a sharp eye on each other, having just as quickly been swallowed into the crowd, all of us swarming en masse up the large stone and dirt stepping stones carved into the mountainside like the catepillar couple heading toward the sky in the story i would read Nancy at l'Arche Tacoma. in the tale, one catepillar leaves the other in order to join the masses seeking the top.... the top is an unseen destination, and no one knows anyone who has come back to share the story of the climb, and so the prize remains a cultural myth of glorious success and freedom. and the closer to the destination the catepillar manages to climb, the more danger presents itself: hundreds or thousands of catepillars ruthlessly stepping on other catepillars, pushing them off the mound, causing them to fall to their destruction, each focused only on reaching the top, carried by the belief that it must be wonderful at the top! everyone knows it! everyone says so! meanwhile, the friend wanders off to find the dark wait of the cocoon....
in our own story, we reached the top of course, and stepped up to the cathedral that is home to the statue of the Senor Caido (Fallen Christ) to which miracles are attributed. the view from the cathedral was breathtaking. at eye level, the twin mountaintop of Cerro de Guadalupe with its own enormous standing statue of the Christ, whose outstretched arms also overlook the city of Bogota sprawling out toward the west fed our eyes immediately (both cathedral and statue are lit up at night and can be seen from miles in the distance). we sat off in a corner to catch our breath and (practicality calls) for me to take my noontime anti-malaria pill with the remaining bites of our New York bagel stash from the flight out). we walked up the front steps of the cathedral and turned into a smaller (do not read as small) moving crowd attending Mass. we went among them, soaking in their Spanish praise, if only in body, translation unnecessary. the scene was vivacious with the commotion of families with children and infants moving en masse toward communion or toward the sides of the church to light prayer candles. this was no european or north american church service. there was something particularly connective to me about the experience, and i felt as if the heart of the masses had created a relational image of the Kingdom of God, or at least its descendant on earth.
after the service, nature called, and i stood in line with hundreds of women and paid 800 pesos (about 40 cents) to use the facilities (a charge for use of public bathrooms is common). the line snaked down outside stairs, and then continued down a curve of inside stairs, past a money-window, toward a giant roll of toilet paper, and then turned left toward the stalls, which were fairly states-looking. i grabbed a handful of paper in turn, which was quite a revealing experience (no one watches how much toilet paper i take in the states after all) and jumped, luckily only slightly embarrased, into an empty stall, locked the door, and noticed how suddenly alone i was. it was crowded out there! as i write this, i recognize now that it felt a bit refreshing being inside a bathroom stall – and i shake my head, amused at how used to personal space i am. the feeling didn't have time to name itself in that moment; before i knew it, i was walking back out into the crowd to join ivan for a stroll through the bustling marketplace that ran the length of the outside of one side of the church. we entered only a third of the way, but in that time, we could have purchased thousands of clocks or other household items, all with painted images of Jesus and the Saints, a handful of Bart Simpson t-shirts and other pop culture wear, and hundreds of miniature Colombian souvenir house. instead, we happily soaked in the rapid exchanges happening all around us, took a picture, turned around and found ourselves walking backward. realizing our mistake, we gingerly snaked our way across to the proper side of the crowd trying to exit, and stepped out toward the side, startled once again by the heavenly view.
the way down was easier and harder than the way up. our breathing was no longer labored, but we found our legs starting to shake anytime we paused from the steep climb down. happily, we began to recognize some of the language we had heard swirling out from the tens of vendors lining the pilgrimmage route: a la orden! quinientos! ochocientos! a la orden, mil, mil, mil!! endless varieties of fruits and juices, triangles of firm white cheese on jelly palates, freshly swirled taffy, grilled corn, mas cerveza, grilled chicken and potato cuts on sticks. we bit into salty yellow cheese fried into cornmeal dough patties shaped like fat flying saucers and looked out at the moving view of the city beneath us. i tried to walk and eat and enjoy the view all at the same time. “bueno!” i said, oogling the city below. “watch your step!” ivan reminded me again, and i managed to miss another pineapple cart perched precariously close to the edge of the step.
two of us on this climb was a good idea.
