Higher ground

As mentioned, my port of call in Bogota was la Candelaria, the colonial old town. Tourists flock here like flies to stale cheese, since most of the notable sights are centered in this part of town. Such as the main square, Plaza Bolivar, with lots of pigeons and a rather forgettable cathedral.

And pictoresque and steep street.

With cotton candy street vendors.

Like all the old parts of Bogota, La Candelaria is nestled next to the Cordillera Oriental mountain range.

The most iconic peak of this range is this guy:

Cerro de Monserrate peak (3150m), which rises from the edge of la Candelaria. Apart from the views over the whole of the city, a major draw is the- convent on top of the peak, which houses a weary looking statue of the Fallen Christ from th e 1650’s to which many miracles have been attributed.

Adhering to the time-honoured principle of ”when in Bogota do as the Bogotans do”, I duly headed out to the peak. 

I wisely took my decrepid state and slight altitude maladjustment into consideration and took the funicular up - the love child of a tram and  a cable-car: it runs on rails, but is pulled up the mountainside by a cable.

The views from the top were rather stunning: a 180 degree view of the whole of Bogota - home to nearly 8 million inhabitants and a lot of pidgeons.

Yet all one had to do was turn ones back on the metropolis and there would b e a view of uninterrupted green forests and rolling hills, as can be seen in the first photo in this posting. On the top I also saw my first blooming flowers on this trip! The vitality of nature is always a joy to behold for one comin from the fifty shades of grey of Northern winters.

The bit where I was less wise was deciding to walk back down to la Candelaria. It’s a descent of around 500 meters, which doesn’t sound so much untill you do it. Especially since the whole descent was oversized stairs, the tops of which were definitely sloped at a downwards angle. 

(Ok, just because this one guy was running up the mountain doesn’t mean I have to!) 

When climbing mount Kinabalu in Borneo, a mountain guide gave me excellent advice: when going downhill, run, don’t walk, as this is much easier on the legs, especially the knees. Well, I would gladly have run, but in many sections of the walkway people were practically queueing to get up / down the stairs and one simply had to proceed at pace - the pace of a 70-year old woman being helped down by her son for example. 
’End result - three days later and my thighs are still burning up.

I will have to leave any serious investigative journalism about other bits of Bogota for my return - in about seven weeks or so - since I’ve by now headed out to other bits of the Andies. Just in time, since the news have been broadcasting about the damage due to a hail storm of epic proportions that hit Bogota the day after I left! The only hail storm I managed to get stuck in was epic enough with hail the size of a thumb nails and striking hard enough to solicit involuntary ouch!-es.