Just to be clear, there isn't actually a road from Colombia to the UK or I would have taken it. However, I needed to get to Bogota to get my flight home, so I decided to spend my last week or so visiting a few more places en route to the airport.
Paipa
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| The full sign reads "Being Here is Good for You". |
I asked Stella, my landlady, where I should fly to and she recommended "Paipa". I arrived at their minuscule airport and had a wander around and after I'd been there a day, I realised it was nice enough, there wasn't really much to do. I asked her why she recommended it, and she said she hadn't recommended it, she'd just wondered what it was like. So now we both know, it's nice enough, but there's not really much to do.
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An abandoned bridge on the edge of Lake Sochacota
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Never saw a train running sadly
 | World Peace Gong (Scotland not invited)
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Tunja
So after taking as much excitement I could handle, I hopped on a surprisingly modern and comfortable bus to take the hour long journey to Tunja. I only stayed a couple of nights here (again, not a great deal to do), although the hotel was absolutely crazy (in a good) way, and it did have a town plaza that was as smooth as a bowling green (as opposed to the ankle-snapper in Villa de Leyva)
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My funky hotel in Tunja
 | My hotel boasted a fine selection of hobby horses
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| I imagine someone polishes the town square every morning |
Villa de Leyva
My final stop before the airport was an old colonial town called Villa de Leyva. It was certainly a pleasant wee place, although wasn't as nice as Salento / Filandia, although what it lacked in pretty wee painted houses, it made up for by not waking me up with a massive earthquake.
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| There's a reason why few people walk in the centre of the square! |
A short walk out of town lies what is apparently the largest terracotta house in the world, the imaginatively named
Casa Terracota. I bravely / foolishly opted to take the tour in Spanish, so I can't really tell you much about it, except that it's basically a giant piece of pottery that baked in the sun.
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| And no terracotta house would be complete without a phallic symbol on the roof |
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| A terracotta bedroom |
Rather further outside town was The Convent of Santo Ecce Homo, an old Franciscan monastery now open for tourists. I had to take a local bus that dropped me off a mile away, but it was a pleasant walk through the countryside to reach it, and the monastery itself was charming, if completely devoid of monks.
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| Number of monks seen in monastery: zero |
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| A little light reading |
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| Dinner is (not) served |
In fact, the monks had built a new complex over the road to do all their monkly business, so I had a wee snoop around there to see if I could see any, but sadly, none were to be seen. They must have been on retreat somewhere.
I was also faced with the prospect of a 7 mile walk home, but I was feeling brave on my last day in Colombia, so I just stuck out my thumb at passing traffic, and as luck would have it, the same bus that dropped me off appeared by magic and took me home, and the next day, I hopped on the slowest bus in South America to take me to Bogota and its airport.
Cheerio Colombia
And that was Colombia. An incredibly diverse country with five distinct areas (some of which are too hot, too dangerous, or too jungley to visit) but all-in-all a wonderful place to live for a few months. And the people are absolutely love (apart from the ones that want to rob and kill you that is).
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| Bye bye Colombia. Also bye bye baseball cap as I left it on the flight. |
The next and final stop ... London.
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Love
Jackie xxx