Miss Colombia, and the Baptismal Font

Colombia - August 2003.

Michele and I had travelled from England to Colombia to meet the family of Wendy, our dear exchange student, who stayed with us in 1999. In fact we had just spent 10 days in England with Wendy, who had come over from Germany (where she was studying) to travel with us.

She saw us off at Heathrow airport, and hours later we were welcomed at El Dorado Airport by her sizable family, and a wonderful South American adventure began.

One of the most notable events was our visit to Zipaquira, and the famous Salt Cathedral. For the trip our party included Wendy's Mum (Mami), her sister Karen, cousin Jaime, and Uncle Edgar. We were travelling in fact to the town of Ubate, for a family gathering. On the way we encountered the *Tourist train*, which we understand is the only train in Colombia.

Then to Zipaquira, once called the Manchester of Colombia, because of the smoky chimneys of the local salt evaporators.

Zipaquira

Zipaquira sits adjacent a very large and ancient salt mine, and in the mine is a cathedral, carved from salt. It's hard to imagine, but it's true, and here are a couple of sites which give some more detail.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salt_Cathedral

http://www.catedraldesal.gov.co/ (In Spanish)

My own pictures turned out poorly - it's not easy to take pictures in a salt mine with a simple camera.

We paid to enter the mine, and walked in through what we'd call an adit - basically a tunnel which goes straight in. We met a young woman who would be guide for our group, which included several other english-speaking tourists, which was not at all common in Colombia. The guide was a little nervous, and explained that although she had guided many times using her native Spanish language, this was the first time she had guided in English.

Karen and Michele with our guide

In fact she was excellent, and began to take us down to the level of the cathedral proper, through tunnels and ramps along which were the Stations of the Cross, all carved in salt, and very well lit. The various Stations are imaginatively done, although they baffled me, as a non-Catholic. Soon we were down at Cathedral level, and began to explore the several chambers which made up the whole structure. The Nave of the church, which was first seen from a gallery higher up, was splendid, and the acoustics were said to be excellent for choral singing.

At one point the guide and I found ourselves a little ahead of the rest of the group, and I complimented her on her English. She was very pleased, but confessed that she still didn't know all the words needed for the job. *For example* she said, as we approached another key feature, *what do you call this in English?*, and she struggled for the word - *Bautismo*.

I recognised the Spanish word, and the structure we were approaching. *We would probably say it's a baptismal font* I said. *Ah thank you* she said, and turned to face the rest of the group, who had just come up behind us. *Ladies and Gentlemen - this is a baptismal font*. Perfecto!!!!

Jaime, Mami, Karen, Uncle Edgar, Michele, and the Baptismal Font

Finally it was time to emerge, blinking, into the daylight, and there another surprise awaited us. Just coming into the mine was Miss Colombia 2003, and her entourage.There was a flurry of smiles and Spanish, and Michele and I (and our Colombian family too) found ourselves being introduced to her. I managed some appropriate Spanish, and that delighted all concerned.

Her manager was extremely pleased because we were foreigners, and it was good exposure, and she was very happy for us to pose for a cheesy holiday snap - a happy chance encounter in a strange and faraway place.

Karen, Michele, Miss Colombia, Self, Mami, Jaime

We later made it to Ubate, where a splendid time was had by all, but that, as they say, is another story.....

Ubate, Colombia
(Click for large panorama)

The Ocarina

A couple of posts ago, in *Shelley and the Steps of Doom*, I mentioned an ocarina.

The ocarina in question occupied a small part of the story, and in fact I could have told the tale without it, and nobody would have been any the wiser.

But having mentioned it, I was then dismissive of it, and at the end of the tale I declared that I had no idea where the ocarina was now.

In the succeeding days, amazingly, the ocarina has returned.

It is actually prettier, more attractive now, than I remember it. The picture shows attractive colouration and pattern, and that's not simply for the benefit of tourists. It's a traditional 6-hole instrument, with two more thumb holes on the back. There's a loop moulded into the clay on the back so it can be strung around the neck, so it can be easily carried.

It really IS an ocarina too - I was afraid that I was taking the coward's way out, by using the Italian name for a similar instrument, and not finding the Peruvian name. It pleases me that I got it right, even if by accident. (Information here on ocarinas)

Now I look closer I see there's a fine crack on the front and back, which means sometime soon I may have to introduce superglue to keep it from falling apart.

I was a little unkind to the thing at the start, but I'm warming to it. It's entirely possible that I may finally clean it up and consider learning to play it.

Anything might happen.

Shelley and the Steps of Doom

In 2003 I travelled with my wife Michele (aka Shelley) to South America. The whole trip deserves a blog elsewhere at a later time, but it's fair to say that it was punctuated by several incidents which stand out very firmly in our minds.

One such incident was the case of Shelley and the Steps of Doom.

We were in Peru.

Peru is a remarkable country, and we would go there again tomorrow if we could. During our trip there we travelled to Cuzco, and like all tourists there we visited Machu Picchu, as well as taking a city tour, and travelling through the Sacred Valley of the Incas.


The Sacred valley trip was in a private car, and took us through some awesome countryside, and to several notable Inca sites. One of those was Olayantambo, which is a series of ruins and terraces, accessed by an enormous stone staircase.


Another notable site was Pisaq, and it was here that our incident occurred.

Our driver was not a qualified site guide, and so when we got to the ruins at Pisaq, way, way up a steep hillside overlooking the town of Pisaq, he had to stop at a certain point, and let us go on by ourselves. He indicated that he would wait in a car park some way below, and that we could walk around the mountainside and the ruins, and find a path back to him quite easily.

Before we could get onto the path we were accosted by one of the ubiquitous hawkers that we encountered everywhere in our travels. This man was a vendor of wind chimes, and he was intent on selling us at least one, if not more. We shook him off firmly but politely, saying words to the effect of *perhaps later*, which are not, it turns out, wise words to use on a vendor of wind chimes.

We set off... but not knowing much about the place, we were walking blind. I ventured up a ladder for a look at one higher part, but Michele stayed on the main path, which at the start was very good to walk on. Now I should mention here that Michele doesn't like heights, and has a poor sense of balance - a little short of vertigo sometimes.

Imagine then our dismay when we rounded a corner, and found that the broad footpath suddenly gave way to a set of stone steps up the side of a cliff!! The Incas were evidently like mountain goats, and did this kind of thing quite a lot (as we found out). But this was the path to another part of the Pisaq site, and logically we had to continue.

The drop on the left was not terribly far, (it looks worse in the picture), but far enough and steep enough to do a lot of damage, and Michele baulked at going up the steps at first.
After some prompting she climbed 2/3 of the way up, which impressed me very much, and sat well away from the edge for the photo . Then we tried to complete the climb, and Michele made it to the top, just behind me.

It was at this point that the Inca appeared. With a tootling of a flute, a real live Inca shaman appeared at the top of the stairs, and things began to fall apart rapidly....

For a start, the Inca was taking up space on the path. And for another, the path was now incredibly narrow. At the top of the stairs the path had turned into a narrow ledge, made worse by the fact that the rock wall to the right bulged outwards. To go past required a certain amount of nerve, and a clear run, which we didn't have.

If the Inca hadn't been there, perhaps I could have got Michele through that part, and the rest would have been much easier. (In fact, as we paused, an Austrian walker came from the same direction as the Inca, and assured us that the going was much better after this).

But then it got worse!! The Inca offered to help Michele, and was trying to help her to her feet. Michele was very disturbed, to say the least, by the fact that the Inca's heels were over the edge of the path as he was trying to assist her, and it was beginning to get to me too. I could easily see him taking us all over the edge if he wasn't careful.

After a couple of minutes, Michele decided that she would abandon the steps, and go back the way we had come, to find our driver, and I would go on to the other part of the site with the Inca.

The ledge was indeed the worst part of the path, although other parts were still precipitous, but after a few minutes we rounded a corner and were treated to the site of more excellent ruins.


The Inca gave me a running commentary about the buildings and their nature, and made appropriate gestures inside the small temple structure. He also sold coca leaves to a couple of passing walkers, from his colourful blanket.

Eventually it was time for me to leave him, and head back to the car park. As I got closer I saw Michele sitting near a wall, with, I assumed, our driver. But no! - this was the vendor of wind chimes, who had literally followed Michele halfway around a mountain to make a sale. He was very polite, yet insistent, and indeed it was a nice ornament, but before we could decide, yet another vendor appeared, and tried to sell us exactly the same thing!

In the end, and in the confusion, we bought our chime from the second vendor, leaving the first a little miffed, so I bought from him a small pottery ocarina (flute thing), which I vowed never ever to put to my lips, regardless of how much I might boil it in disinfectant first.

We finally made it home to Cusco after a wondeful day out, and two cameras full of pictures, complete with wind chime and ocarina.


The chime hangs outside out lounge window now, and although it is not as shiny as when we first saw it, and is a home for spiders, it rings beautifully in the breeze and reminds us of our encounter with The Steps of Doom.

I have no idea where the ocarina is.

NEWSFLASH!! The ocarina has reappeared!! - See this blog