My favorite scene in the Robert Redford film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was when they first arrived in Bolivia and disembarked the train somewhere in its center to be confronted by a nasty grubby scene complete with routing pigs. Butch piped up with ….
“Well , all of Bolivia can’t look like this” and Sundance’s retort was ….
“ How do you know ? maybe people travel for 100s of miles just to see this spot “
The city of Cartago where I presently sit would likely be touted by travel writers as vibrant and alive and I suppose that’s so. Its residents and native born expats like my wife will often describe it as “ My beautiful Cartago ” and fearful of sounding disrespectful I never disagree . Though in truth it really isn’t the fact that it’s not a particularly handsome city doesn’t hinder my liking it at all. In secret I think the word “gritty” to be a slightly more truthful descriptive . That is until the daily magic moment occurs .
Between 4 and 4:30 p.m. daily I find myself at one of the local sidewalk corner establishments to drink my beer and indulge my interests of street watching . The magic begins before the end of the first liter of beer as by then the sun has reached the angle in the sky that creates a surrealistic orange colored lighting that somehow turns gritty into beauty and traffic becomes entertaining . Then again , it could be the beer offering a helping hand .
Each corner that I choose to sit at usually has stop signs on one side or another and sometimes just for fun I try to count how many vehicles blow through the intersection without actually stopping. It’s a lot easier to count the ones that do as it seems only absolute necessity forces the issue and someone stops . It’s an endless parade of new cars and SUVs mixed with 1974 Renaults , 1968 Ford flatbed trucks and 1970s era Dodge dump trucks , 1950s Willys jeeps, horse drawn carts, large advertisements towed on trailers and of course uncountable motorcycles .
Went to a small town in the Andes yesterday literally perched on the side of an incredibly steep mountainside creating the need that many of its a its sidewalks to actually be stairs . Vibrant and alive does not apply there and no need at all to wait for that magic moment to marvel at the spotless beauty of the place and its surroundings as it’s all day long. We sat at a corner for a coffee and the traffic was far different . Few cars were on the road and I spotted only two motorcycles but the time invested in my local fascination with Colombian street corners still proved worthwhile .
The man came over the crest of the hill dressed in the traditional Colombian woven hat with the rolled up poncho over the shoulder . He was pushing a shopping cart that was likely once owned by a supermarket down in the valley far below and it was piled high with boxes of God knows what . Suddenly a war with gravity erupted and two long skid marks appeared on the road at alarming speed while the height of his boot heels diminished just as rapidly. Unwilling to let go he miraculously maneuvered his pilfered shopping cart around a corner.
As we left town I noticed the street he had turned down was in fact much steeper than the one he escaped and dead ended at the steep mountainside . And that’s all I know apart from the fact that no matter how diverse this place can be ….. the streets are dangerous everywhere
