Lake Guatavita – Thwarted Quest for El Dorado

Gold and emerald votive offerings, Gold Museum, Bogotá

Our itinerary, planned mostly from my bed back in Europe, included hiring a taxi from Bogotá to Lake Guatavita. But the evening before we were due to go, I was too ill to organise the taxi, too ill even to get to the reception desk of our hostel and ask them to organise it. Maybe Dr M was right – this trip was a crazy idea for someone in my state of health. Reluctantly, I had to accept defeat – I was too ill to go to Lake Guatavita

My disappointment at not being able to see the lake was a test of my acceptance of my illness. Our natural inclination is to push ourselves in our ‘can do’ culture. Acceptance is alien and difficult to master. I have partially accepted the bodily pain and physical illness that constantly accompany me and I try to get the maximum from life despite these unwanted companions that have denied me so much. But I struggled to accept that having travelled all this way and being so close to Lake Guatavita, I would not see it.

As I lay in bed feeling despondent, I thought of the advice in Toni Bernhard’s excellent book about coping with chronic illness – How to be Sick. Physical pain was unavoidable but I realised I did not have to add mental suffering to it in the form of disappointment. Although pain deprived me of a good night’s sleep, I began to let go of my disappointment. I lay in bed thinking about the wonderful things we had done so far and that were yet to come on this trip and was at least able to rest.

So why is Lake Guatavita so special? On the Altiplano Cundiboyacense, fifty kilometres northeast of Bogotá, this almost circular lake lies in a crater that forms a natural amphitheatre. Forested hills edge its circumference and guapucha fish swim in its emerald waters. But it is its history that makes it unique.

Lake Guatavita was the birthplace of the legend of El Dorado, ‘The Gilded One’. The legend refers not to a golden city but to a golden man.

‘He went about all covered with powdered gold, as casually as if it were powdered salt,’ wrote Spanish conquistador Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo in the sixteenth century.

Muisca Raft, Gold Museum, Bogotá

At the time of the conquest the area was inhabited by the indigenous Muisca people. In 1638 Juan Rodríguez Freyle chronicled the Muisca ceremony for appointing a new chief, or zipa. Naked but for a covering of gold dust, the new zipa embarked upon a great raft made of reeds. Gold and emeralds were piled at his feet and four chieftains adorned with feathers and gold accompanied him as oarsmen rowed him from the shores of the sacred lake to its centre.

As plumes of incense rose from braziers on the raft, the crowds gathered on the shores lit fires whose smoke obscured daylight. When the raft reached the centre of the lake, a chieftain raised a banner to signal silence and the zipa threw the gold and emeralds into the lake as his offering to the gods. After the chieftains made their own offerings, they lowered the banner to mark the end of the ceremony.

Detail of Muisca Raft, Gold Museum, Bogotá

As the raft moved towards the shore, the crowds shouted their allegiance to the new zipa and began the celebrations with flutes, pipes and dancing.

The conquistadors spread stories of the ceremony throughout Spanish America and Europe until the golden man became a golden city that many sought in vain. While Europeans lusted after the promise of gold for its monetary value, the Muisca valued it for its spiritual properties: it reflected the sun’s light and colour and its worth lay in its efficacy as an offering made to renew life.

Just as El Dorado evaded the conquistadors who sought its gold and the various expeditions subsequently mounted to drain the lake for its treasures, now it evaded me.

I would have to imagine the ceremony as I later gazed upon a gold replica of the Muisca Raft at the Bogotá Gold Museum and count myself fortunate indeed to be able to do that.

Quinta de Bolívar – Salad Days in Bogotá

Quinta de Bolívar

Nestling at the foot of the Cerro de Monserrate and now on the outskirts of Bogotá, the Quinta de Bolívar was once a country estate set apart from the city.

In 1820, the Colombian people gave the Quinta to Simón Bolívar as a gesture of gratitude for liberating the nation from Spanish rule, and the property was honoured by his presence intermittently during the last ten years of his life.

Simón Bolívar

Here, as President of Gran Colombia, he advanced plans for his ambitious project of Latin American unification. But, in the latter years of disillusionment, the Quinta was his refuge from political struggle and betrayal. It was also his shelter in times of ill health caused by tuberculosis, which was ultimately to kill him. Being chronically ill myself, I could imagine how the Liberator found rest and convalescence in this peaceful oasis.

European influence is evident from the French architectural details of the dining room, to the Italianate mirador and outdoor bathing area.

Dining room

The rooms are furnished as they would have been at the end of the colonial era, reflecting the baroque and rococo tastes of the aristocracy.

Some of the Liberator’s personal possessions are also to be found here. The desk at which he might have read Rousseau and Voltaire, fermented revolutionary theories and analysed triumphs and defeats stands in a living room at the front of the house. A clock he picked up on his European travels, portraits, crockery and chamber pots evoke the period atmosphere.

The Liberator’s swords

For me, the most significant object was his sword, or rather two of his swords that are placed on a chest at the foot of his bed.

One is a replica of a solid gold sabre encrusted with diamonds and rubies that the municipality of Lima presented to Bolívar in 1825 following the liberation army’s victory at the battle of Ayacucho the year before.

The other is a more utilitarian weapon that was captured by the M-19 guerrilla group in 1974 and not returned until 1991.

These swords inspired the quest in my work-in-progress novel The Sword of the Naked Liberator.

Gardens

Gardens

The tranquillity of the gardens defies its urban setting to provide a welcome respite from the city. Hummingbirds dart around pink begonias and crimson bell-flowered raques. 

Walnut trees rise from the Andean woodland floor, challenging the colonial viceroy’s orders to fell them in this area in an attempt to stamp out the indigenous Muisca population’s veneration of them. Wax palms, Colombia’s national tree, surround the ‘American fraternity tree’, one of many cedars growing in the grounds. Some of the ornamental trees are said to have been planted by Bolívar himself.

The Plaza de Banderas, a patio lined with the flags of the six nations Bolívar liberated, statuary and a modern glass cube housing an exhibition of his military campaigns punctuate the gardens.

Kitchen

Vegetables grown here supplied the estate’s kitchens which are now furnished to give a sense of how they might have looked in Bolívar’s day. Perhaps here José Palacios, Bolívar’s faithful servant, prepared curative potions for the Liberator using herbs and medicinal plants grown in these gardens.

Bolívar personally prepared salads for his guests using lettuce, cabbage, chards, potatoes and corn grown in the kitchen garden. To the recipes he learned from French ladies, he added indigenous ingredients such as cubios and arracachas.

Kitchen garden

Whether celebrating military victories or enjoying more intimate meals with his devoted lover Manuela Sáenz, it is tempting to imagine the Liberator appearing at the main door of his elegant dining room bearing a bowl of Bolivarian salad and that faint, wry smile sometimes captured in his portraits.

The Quinta de Bolívar’s rural surroundings and attention to period detail nurture the soul and allow the imagination to slip back two hundred years. A retreat from the city and from the twenty-first century, it is one of Bogotá’s most relaxing spaces.

Click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/105153060@N03/sets/72157637191715166/  to see more of my photos of the Quinta de Bolívar and here:   http://youtu.be/C4xZZCIyK9Y to see my video.

Cerro de Monserrate – Breathless in Bogotá

Cerro de Monserrate, Bogotá

Visible from most of Bogotá, the high Andean peak of the Cerro de Monserrate towers over the city. The steep rise of this mountain wall curtails expansion to the East and brings the city to an abrupt stop.

Adrenalin pushed me through my intensifying headache and struggle for breath – symptoms of my illness worsened by Bogotá’s high altitude – to get to the funicular station at the bottom of the Cerro de Monserrate.

The summit has attracted religious pilgrims since 1620 when the Brotherhood of Vera Cruz began using it as a place of worship. A chapel dedicated to the Virgen Morena de Monserrat, and a monastery that would later house the statue of El Señor Caído (The Fallen Christ) were completed by 1657.

Funicular

Pilgrims traditionally walk up the hill – penitence indeed – but we ascended in the funicular that was officially opened in 1929. Even on an 80% incline, views of the lower Andean woodland flooded through the glass roof panels and panoramas of Bogotá opened up as we climbed towards the clouds.

At 3152 metres, breathing and walking were difficult but I steadied my balance with my stick (aka ‘adventurer’s trekking pole’). A very slow pace and plenty of rest stops were key to getting as much as possible from the experience. Using my camera as an external memory drive, I was able to save what I saw for later, when I was well enough to appreciate it more fully.

Shining sunbeam hummingbird

The walk from the top of the funicular to the church passes through high Andean woodland. Hummingbirds dart amongst red-hot poker flowers and red and yellow flower-trumpets drip from burgmansia trees. In only seven-and-a-half minutes, we’d been transported from deep metropolis to rural oasis. The disparity between these natural surroundings and the city made me realise that, having been a city person all my life, I now craved the quiet, slow ambivalence of nature.

Viacrucis

 

 

 

A viacrucis – statues of Christ’s journey to his crucifixion – punctuate the woodland walk.

Bogotá from the Cerro de Monserrate

 

 

Vistas across the neighbouring peak of Guadalupe and the city below reward the visitor’s efforts.

The current church at the top of the Cerro de Monserrate was built in 1917 after an earthquake destroyed the original chapel.

 

Craft market

Church at the top of the Cerro de Monserrate

Restaurants, food stalls and a craft market provide sustenance and souvenirs for tourists and pilgrims. Unable to browse the craft market, I contented myself with photographing it from where I sat.

Teleférico

By the time we reached the teleférico (cable-car) I was ready to descend to the city for some partial relief from the altitude.   

Descending to Bogotá

Although the excursion was mediated by illness, it was possible to enjoy it, even if not in the same way as a healthy person. Accepting the restrictions of the illness meant I could, to some extent, separate it from the experience.

 

As long as little was demanded of me, I managed to shuffle round slowly and take in some of what I saw. The gaps would be filled by photographs later.

 

 

 

Click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/105153060@N03/sets/72157636476467474/  to see more of my photos of the Cerro de Monserrate and here: http://youtu.be/fiYiCc2oZRM   to see my video.

Bogotá: 2600 Metres Closer to the Stars

Bogotá

Set against the spectacular backdrop of the Eastern cordillera, ‘The Athens of South America’ stands at 2625 metres on a high Andean plateau – the Altiplano Cundiboyacense.

Plaza del Chorro de Quevedo – believed to be the sight of the original settlement of Bogotá

 

 

 

Now one of the largest cities in South America, Bogotá began life as a few huts and a chapel. Spanish Conquistador Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada founded Santa Fe de Bogotá (now Bogotá) in 1538 near the indigenous Muisca capital of Bacatá.

Entrance to the Colón Theatre

 

 

 

The city offers cultural, retail and culinary opportunities to rival any. Parks provide open spaces and the Ciclovía is the world’s largest cycle network.

 

Universities, libraries and theatres abound and the Transmilenio rapid transport system, though crowded at times, provides relatively quick travel across the city.

Inequality

‘A better world is possible. Where there is so much inequality and so much contempt for the people there cannot be peace.’

 

In Bogotá, perhaps more than anywhere else in Colombia, inequality is glaring.

Swanky upmarket districts like Zona Rosa contrast harshly with the poorer areas to the south of the city.

Middle-class professionals enjoy the affluent lifestyle that the country’s economic success has brought, whilst the poorest pick through rubbish bags for discarded takeaways.

 

 

 

But there is much that is worthy of the visitor’s attention. Here are just a few examples:

La Candelaria

Nuestra Señora del Carmen church

The old district of La Candelaria is a delight. Brightly painted three-hundred-year-old Spanish colonial houses line the streets and a bountiful scattering of churches and museums beckon.

La Candelaria

Botero Museum

‘The Dancers’ by Fernando Botero

 

 

In the Botero museum, chubby dancers, politicians and campesinos clamber, swirl and recline in the paintings and sculptures of Colombia’s most famous artist, Fernando Botero.

Gold Museum

Muisca Raft, Gold Museum

The gold museum houses an impressive collection of pre-Colombian gold from all over the country.

Exhibits include shamans transmuted into condors and humming birds, figures used for votive offerings and the museum’s centrepiece – the Muisca raft.

The raft depicts the Muisca ceremony surrounding the appointment of a new chief. Clad only in gold dust, he sailed onto Lake Guatavita with his entourage before diving into the sacred waters.

When early Spanish settlers witnessed this ceremony, the legend of El Dorado was born.

 

Plaza de Bolívar

Plaza de Bolívar

Bustling with people, llamas and pigeons, the Plaza de Bolívar is Bogotá’s epicentre.

The Primary Cathedral, Palace of Justice, Congress building and Mayoral offices surround the square and its bronze statue of Simón Bolívar, liberator of six South American nations.

 

 

Cerro de Monserrate

Cerro de Monserrate

Over 3000 metres above sea level, the Cerro de Monserrate can be seen from most of Bogotá. Atop the mountain sits a sanctuary that houses the statue of El Señor Caído (The Fallen Christ).

A funicular and a cable car carry pilgrims and tourists up and down the mountain, though it is also possible to walk.

Breathtaking views of the city, beautiful natural surroundings and a variety of restaurants contribute to the mix of faith, nature and gastronomy.

 

Quinta de Bolívar

Dining room, Quinta de Bolívar

Nestled at the foot of the Cerro de Monserrate, the Quinta de Bolívar was given to Simón Bolívar for liberating the nation from Spanish rule.

Lush gardens surround the house that now hosts a museum featuring period furniture and some of the Liberator’s possessions.

 

 

One of Bogotá’s many missing drain covers – an underfoot hazard

From fine art to street art, culture to nightlife, architecture to street life, Bogotá is a photographer’s paradise and a fantastic travel destination.

There is plenty to see and do, just be careful to avoid the ubiquitous uncovered drain holes.

Return to Colombia

Off to Colombia

Excitement and apprehension prevented me from sleeping the night before the trip. I tried to relax as I lay in silence with the symptoms of my disease. Eventually the dawn chorus mingled with tinnitus to intensify my ever-present headache.

Since becoming ill, airports are a challenge for me and I have previously ended up in a state of paralysis and pain by the time I boarded a plane, despite using wheelchair assistance. But this time it went smoothly. I left the documents, liquids, electronics and my rucksack to other members of my family and concentrated on slowly making my way through the departures system.

La Candelaria, Bogotá

On board, I was not up to reading any of the tempting downloads on my Kindle or writing anything. Instead I used the flight as an opportunity to rest. Although my health deteriorated during the flight, I was content to be on my way to Colombia.

We took a taxi from El Dorado international airport in Bogotá to our hostel in La Candelaria – the old part of town, where traffic is light and the buildings are quaint and low.

A Transmilenio bus

Even in the dark, I could see how much the city had changed since my first visit in 1986. The red bendy buses and raised stations of the Transmilenio rapid transport system were not around then. And the Torre Colpatria, the tallest building in Bogotá (and Colombia), was now illuminated by a light display of constantly changing colour and pattern – like a giant angular lava lamp.

The Torre Colpatria, Bogotá

 

Our hostel was one of many that have recently sprung up in the old Spanish colonial buildings of La Candelaria. Monitored by security cameras, we passed through the double set of locked gates and into its hammock-strewn inner courtyard. I flopped onto the lower bunk nearest the door in our four-bed dorm and gasped for breath. The cool thin Andean air that I breathed with ease before my illness now challenged my lungs. Even laying down it left me short of breath, starved of oxygen and faint.

The inner courtyard of our hostel

Unable to regulate my body temperature properly, I crawled into a chunky jumper, put on an extra pair of socks and pulled the blankets up over my nose but coldness still penetrated and my headache became excruciating. Aching and exhausted I closed my eyes.

Despite my physical pain, I was overjoyed to be in Colombia. I thought of the wonderful adventures that lay ahead and hoped I would have a sufficient measure of health to enjoy them.

Jet lag, excitement and illness conspired to deprive me of another night’s sleep. By morning I felt like I’d been in a fight or a road traffic accident, but no worse. The important thing was that I’d survived the journey.