Walking Ciudad Perdida, Villa de Leyba and Cycling Bogota

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On my final Christmas evening in Cartagena I enjoyed the festivities in Plaza de Santo Domingo and a Colombian family invited me to share a bottle of aguardiente, an aniseed flavoured alchohol, and listen to the musicians that they had invited to their table.

The next day, I caught a bus to Santa Marta, a favourite Colombian seaside resort, behind which rise the highest coastal mountain range in the world rising to 5,700 metres. Hidden in the midst of these mountains is the lost city of Ciudad Perdida. I joined a group of 8 people on a five day trek into the Sierra Nevada to 'discover' this lost city. All we each took was a small bag with a change of clothes for the evening, a pair of sandals, a towel, swimming clothes and lots of insect repellent and sun cream. Our guide for the trek was Walter, who was at first abruptly got us all organised and ushered us into a jeep to take us the first part of the way into the mountains. However, as we started climbing up and down the steep slopes, he started to recount tales of helping to discover and restore the city ahead of us. The first day took us up a steep rocky trail where we shared the way with mules and the occasional motorbike ferrying less energetic up to Camp 1.

Accommodation at the camps was basic with open sided dorms containing lines of bunk beds and hammocks, each with its own mosquito net. However, the quality and quantity of food made up for the basic accommodation. Each camp also had it's own natural swimming pool and it was refreshing to plunge into the cold river water after each long day on the steep dusty trail. Being the Colombian holiday season the bunk houses were tighly packed with bodies. On the second night my hammock was set so close that a slight movement caused it to bumb either the wall one side or my neighbour the other. On the trail however it was easy to lose sight of others and enjoy the solitude of the forest with only parrots and birds to interupt the peace.

The third day started with a steep but relatively short half day to Camp 3 where we were due to stay the night before an early morning climb to the lost city the next day. However, Walter, our guide, encouraged us to have a swim and lunch but not to unpack our bags. So after lunch we continued on an hour's steep climb up steep stone steps to the Lost City itself where he had requested special permission for his small group to sleep over in the Anthropologist's hut. We felt honoured and priveledged to sleep in this wonderful location. A few years previously this would have been unthinkable and the journey much more dangerous and different political factions fought to control the mountains. Walter, himself had narrowly escaped being killed when two tourists who had climbed to the site independently had been kidnapped and murdered by the paramilitary. They claimed, untruly, that he had been their guide. Today there is a small government military force that control the mountains and keep it safe for tourists. Walter kept us entertained during the long dark evening at the hut at Ciudad Perdida with tales of previous travellers that he had guided such as the fat man who had taken all day to climb to the top and who the mules refused to carry, of his colleague who had escaped from kidnap and treked through the thick forest to safety and of the Kogi indigenous group on whose land Ciudad Perdida was sited. I could understand the gist of some of the tales but those of my fellow travellers who spoke some English helped me and I enjoyed the conversations that I could manage in Spanish.

Next day, before dawn, we got up from our beds to enjoy the peaceful place before the military and other tourists arrived. It was beautiful to see the ruins emerge from the night, surrounded by the forests and hills, to listen to the birds waken and to find a wonderful stillness in this historic place. Ciudad Perdid is estimated to have been built around 800AD and to be around twice as old as Machu Picchu in Peru. It was built by the Teyuna people and consists of around 170 terraces and a series of roads and the stone foundations of houses. It was 'discovered' by treasure hunters in the 1970s but subsequently became the centre of conflict between government troops, right wing paramilitary and left wing guerilla groups. Soon after dawn the military patrol emerged and the young soldiers proceded to practice their manouvres for when the helicopter arrived and to take selfies of themselves with their guns. After the later arrival of the helicopter, the mamu, spiritual leaders, of the Kogi performed a spiritual ceremony to bring peace and make connections to nature in these mountains. All visitors joined hands and stood in silence for a few minutes to feel the sun and listen to the quiet jungle sounds.

Two days later, I was back at the coast and settled into a luxurious hotel overlooking the Caribbean. My room had wonderful views spanning the mountains, Tayrona national park and the rocky beach below where the waves crashed loudly onto the shore. Welcome comfort after the grubby, smelly beds of the trail. The sea was too unpredicatable for swimming but the hotel had a wonderful infinity pool to laze in early in the morning. I had to move on to a different hotel for the next couple of nights where I had a beach cabana to sleep in and a hammock in which to relax and read for a couple of days. A nearly river provided a safe swimming area in which to cool off.

Refreshed and reday to travel again I arranged to travel overland to Villa de Leyba, a colonial village back inland and my last stop before returning to Bogota. The journey consisted of over 24 hours of bus travel, including an overnight bus to Bucaramanga from Santa Marta and a 5 hour journey through the dry Eastern arm of the Colombian Andes. The overnight journey was uncomfortable and my seat neighbour was rather large and restless so it was difficult to sleep. However at dusk the next evening I arrived in rain in Villa de Leyba and found my way to my Airbnb accommodation. Marcela's house was informal, and although not as comfortable as some, was a welcoming community of friends and travellers on the outskirts of the town. There was also the house kitten who took great delight in attacking me at every opportunity.

Villa de Leyba is a beautiful colonial town and at it's heart is the Plaza Major, the largest village square in Colombia. The buildings are whitewashed and glisten in the sunlight and the square and streets are paved in large stone cobbles intermixed with fossils. Unlike other villge squares that I had seen there were no tables, chairs or stalls allowed on the square and it was a beautiful informal space on which people could wander. I spent some happy hours exploring the museums, historic buildings of the town and the local market. I even found a lovely cafe serving cafe tinto and delicious cheesecake. I also managed to deepen my practice of Spanish by talking to others staying in my guesthouse.

I also visited the neighbouring village of Raquira, the pottery town of Colombia. The pottery was not as individually designed as I had imagined it to be but rather the workshops were artisan factories with large coal-fired kilns and a production line using various techniques to produce garden pots and figures. Nevertheless it was fascinating to see the processes being used.

On my final day in Villa de Leyba I joined up with Emmanuelle, a french girl from the hostel, and we hired bikes to cycle out to some of the surrounding sites of interest. Firstly we visited Casa Terracotta, a house designed and built out of fired clay by a local architect. It was a wonderful organically formed house reminiscent of Gaudi. Cycling further on we came to the Museo El Fosil which houses a 7 metre long fossil of a Kronosaurus. Further on again we arrived at the Museo de Muisca, an indigenous group that had lived in the Eastern Andes from 600AD until after the arrival of the Spaniards. Many of the beautiful gold ornaments now seen in the Museo d'Oro in Bogota were made by these and other similar groups in the region. The site we visited included a solar observatory and around 30 stone phalluses between 2 and 5 metres tall!

Bogota has the reputation of a dangerous city, yet during my final days in Colombia I cycled the streets of Bogota! On Sundays and public holidays the roads in Bogota are closed to motor traffic and open only for cylists and others. The event is called La Cyclovia and I was told that over 3 million people regularly participate. It must be the biggest city cycling event in the world. A city that can feel 'edgy' and at times unsafe is filled with people exercising and enjoying the open air. I hired a bike and joined a cycle tour of the historic areas and grafitti. It was an amazing experience to join the throngs of cyclists enjoying the sunshine and to visit areas that normally are out of bounds to visitors. Grafitti is also legal in Bogota and artisits are paid to brighten up sides of buildings and concrete structures. We even cycled under one of the main underpasses that leads to the airport where some of my favourite birds are painted. It was a wonderful end to a fabulous journey through this friendly country.

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