Barrancas, Bogotá. Feb. 19-26, 2004
Mi más reciente viaje a Colombia, febrero 11 a 28, 2005.
Las Fotos incluyen 5 páginas, empezando con Bogotá, sigue el avión que nos llevó a San Andrés, el nevado (¿del Ruiz?) que vimos en el camino, y una foto de la pista que atraviesa la isla, la única de San Andrés que tomamos en camino a providencia.
Ya en providencia (pag. 2), estoy frente al avión bimotor que nos llevó , y en la 3 más fotos de providencia que terminan en la 4 con otras otras dos fotos únicas en San Andrés ya de salida en el aeropuerto y desde el aire, terminando con más fotos en Bogotá, con familia, igual que las páginas 5 y 6.
Me cuentan que les parecen.
I just spent a week in Barrancas, Bogotá.
Calle 160-A, a few blocks downhill from La Séptima, way on the North end, is as working-class is it gets.
While the other side (up on the hill) of La Séptima is full of swanky towering apt buildings, and new construction announcing penthouses and world-class office space, downhill from La Septima the working-class 'hood where my Rolita and her sibblings live, has lots of blocks of brick-homes with front doors butting up aganst the side walk; Tiendas, markets, and specialty-shops in every corner; And my fave feature, terraces with plants, clothes lines, and chickens (the Colombian version of the compost-pile), separated from other terraces by exposed brick-work topping most every dwelling.
I sat in the terrace many a mid-morning to bask in the Bogotá sun, after a hearty breakfast including mantecada and cuajada, both of which my future in laws brings peridoically from the farm, in Chiscas, deep in Boyacá, about 2 hours from El nevado del Cocuy.
From my vintage point, a third-floor height, I got to stare at the 2nd floor terraces, and those on 4th-floor terraces and above got to stare at me, shirtless, leaning back in my chair, reading my book or El Tiempo, listening to the endless city humm of vehicles, pedestrians, children playing in the school yard across the street, or right on the street below.
Often neighbors meet each other right in front, and hold long conversations about life, the living and the dead. I wished I could lower a microphone and record it just as a curio. A CD full of disconnected miscelaneous talk about every subject under the sun.
For lack of time, only once I walked to the corner, bought a Malboro ($200 Col), the day's El Tiempo, and sat on the brick retaining wall staring at life going by; young schoolers, ladies with shopping cart in tow; men decked out with tie & suit; buses and busetas; commercial trucks with veggies, chickens, bread and all types of goods; couples and lovers not unlike myself and my rolita, or our way to or from one of our many outting to market, taxi, or San Andresito, where she negotiated my purchase of 2-killer leather jackets, one black, one brown aviator-style; I saw whole families on outtings to the beauty parlor, la peluquería, or some other immediate destination. I snapped away trying to look casual, but nonetheless got my share of stares, some with smile, some without.
Paz
Neonovo
Las Fotos incluyen 5 páginas, empezando con Bogotá, sigue el avión que nos llevó a San Andrés, el nevado (¿del Ruiz?) que vimos en el camino, y una foto de la pista que atraviesa la isla, la única de San Andrés que tomamos en camino a providencia.
Ya en providencia (pag. 2), estoy frente al avión bimotor que nos llevó , y en la 3 más fotos de providencia que terminan en la 4 con otras otras dos fotos únicas en San Andrés ya de salida en el aeropuerto y desde el aire, terminando con más fotos en Bogotá, con familia, igual que las páginas 5 y 6.
Me cuentan que les parecen.
I just spent a week in Barrancas, Bogotá.
Calle 160-A, a few blocks downhill from La Séptima, way on the North end, is as working-class is it gets.
While the other side (up on the hill) of La Séptima is full of swanky towering apt buildings, and new construction announcing penthouses and world-class office space, downhill from La Septima the working-class 'hood where my Rolita and her sibblings live, has lots of blocks of brick-homes with front doors butting up aganst the side walk; Tiendas, markets, and specialty-shops in every corner; And my fave feature, terraces with plants, clothes lines, and chickens (the Colombian version of the compost-pile), separated from other terraces by exposed brick-work topping most every dwelling.
I sat in the terrace many a mid-morning to bask in the Bogotá sun, after a hearty breakfast including mantecada and cuajada, both of which my future in laws brings peridoically from the farm, in Chiscas, deep in Boyacá, about 2 hours from El nevado del Cocuy.
From my vintage point, a third-floor height, I got to stare at the 2nd floor terraces, and those on 4th-floor terraces and above got to stare at me, shirtless, leaning back in my chair, reading my book or El Tiempo, listening to the endless city humm of vehicles, pedestrians, children playing in the school yard across the street, or right on the street below.
Often neighbors meet each other right in front, and hold long conversations about life, the living and the dead. I wished I could lower a microphone and record it just as a curio. A CD full of disconnected miscelaneous talk about every subject under the sun.
For lack of time, only once I walked to the corner, bought a Malboro ($200 Col), the day's El Tiempo, and sat on the brick retaining wall staring at life going by; young schoolers, ladies with shopping cart in tow; men decked out with tie & suit; buses and busetas; commercial trucks with veggies, chickens, bread and all types of goods; couples and lovers not unlike myself and my rolita, or our way to or from one of our many outting to market, taxi, or San Andresito, where she negotiated my purchase of 2-killer leather jackets, one black, one brown aviator-style; I saw whole families on outtings to the beauty parlor, la peluquería, or some other immediate destination. I snapped away trying to look casual, but nonetheless got my share of stares, some with smile, some without.
Paz
Neonovo
posted by Neonovo at 1:44 p. m.
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