Sunday in the Bogota Countryside
We arrived in Bogota late on a Saturday night. I had an old friend from college, Santiago, who had invited us to stay with him. He was born and raised in Bogota, so I knew he would show us exactly what to do. I was correct, Sunday morning he presented his plan. We would travel to his country house, about 30 minutes outside of the city, and have a picnic. But first, we would have brunch at Crepes and Waffles, a Bogota chain. (I am still dreaming of my mini-waffles topped with strawberries, bananas, and whipped cream!)After brunch, we (ironically) headed over to New York Deli to pick up a packed lunch. Santiago lives in the ritzier neighborhood of Bogota, and we enjoyed getting a glimpse of the beautiful apartment buildings and their fancy residents. He told us that during the 80’s and 90’s, most people moved from houses to apartments due to safety concerns. It was a “change in lifestyle.” Of course, these are no ordinary apartments, and I would trade my tiny NYC apartment for a luxurious Bogota apartment any day.
After picking up lunch, we headed over the mountains to the east of the city. We were surprised at how quickly the city turned to country. After a short drive, we were pulling in to his country estate. We had been warned that this home was a bit “rugged” and that they rarely visited it. As we drove up the driveway, “deterrent” cows greeted us – that is, cows purchased to make the house seem more like a casual farm. A bit farther up and we were in Paradise. The house sat at the bottom of a forested hill, next to a pond. Beyond the home, there were green pastures as far as the eye could see.
We decided to work up an appetite by taking a walk through the property. We walked toward the hill behind the house. There had previously been a path but it was now quite over-grown. After bushwhacking our way through to the other side, a pasture of horses greeted us. Apparently, Santiago’s father had used them while working on his cattle farm in the Magdalena River valley. When things started to get violent in Colombia, the family sold their farm, and their horses retired at their country house. What a wonderful retirement.
After some time watching the horses gallop freely through the fields, we headed back to the house for lunch on their terrace by the pond. We watched the sheep graze as we ate our sandwiches. By this time, the sun was starting to set, and we were warned that it was about to get very cold. We headed inside where we spent the next several hours warming ourselves by the fireplace and telling stories of our lives. It had been ten years since we had seen each other. When the fire dwindled down to nothing, we headed back to the city. It was the prefect start to our stay in Bogota.
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