Traveling in Colombia

A Chance Encounter

The square slowly comes to life early in the morning, as the sun's rays flood its stone pavement. The pigeons have gathered for their morning feeding at the hands of an old Andean woman, dressed with a round, red, woven hat, beige woollen socks, thick red jacket, and heavy black skirt with a red border that looks pleated because it's several sizes too big, but really isn't - it's just the style. Her wrinkled face gives away her age, despite her pitch-black hair. The rest of the early birds, mostly tourists, are dressed in shorts and short-sleeve shirts, anticipating another beautiful day for touring this historic part of town. The pigeons have swarmed the old woman and are taking turns at feeding from the grains that she releases one handful at a time, from the deep pockets of her red apron. Her colourful Andean attire makes her stand out even more in the sea of white and grey plumage that surrounds her. Not far from the old woman are two young girls dressed like her, but more colourfully, they are probably her grandchildren helping the family earn a living, rather than being in school like the children of lighter skin colour. Their smiles are as bright as the sun that is quickly rising above the mountains. The slight chill of the early morning has given way to pleasant warmth, by the sun's energy converted into heat by the square's pavement and the buildings around it. The young girls have become magnets for the tourists, who want to have their pictures taken with them and their small white llamas. For some of them, that's as close as they get to seeing the Colombia that dwells beyond Bogotá, the Colombia of the Andean people, who lived there for thousands of years before Columbus arrived. With their colourful souvenirs stored electronically in the tiny card inside their cameras, they move to the cathedral that just opened its large and heavy wooden doors to receive them.

It was here, in Plaza Bolívar, named after the hero of the independence war, that we met Milva, Nina, Pino and Silvio, two couples that would become our almost constant companions for the rest of our remarkable journey. Some unknown forces of nature brought us together at the same place and time, sharing similar travel plans. With some adjustments to ours and some to theirs, we maximized the amount of time we would spend together. By the end of our travels, we had become family and we still exchange e-mail and talk on Skype. Of the six, Silvio is the more colourful character. An ex bank teller, his passion is singing. For years, he has been a tenor in the choir named after the late Luciano Pavarotti, in Modena, Italy. We would soon become accustomed to pre-breakfast serenades and impromptu performances at the most unlikely places, like restaurants, cafés, and the Manizales Music Conservatory that got us an invitation to the symphony the next evening. He had developed a knack for attracting attention when we least expected it, but which we always enjoyed. Our trip without Silvio would still have been fantastic, but it would have been less entertaining. From two crazy Canadians, well past their best before date, embarking on the adventure of our lives, we had suddenly grown to six. While we tripled in size, we sextupled in enthusiasm. The rest of the trip promised to be a wonderful experience, though it would not be without incident.

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