Colombia 2024, part 9 (Bogotá)
Although I had hoped that my cold or whatever it was would have subsided overnight, that didn't quite happen. Nevertheless, after waking up slowly and not feeling entirely well, I still set out to walk around La Candelaria with the intention of visiting a few more interesting sites and places. After all, I was leaving Bogotá the next day and though I had planned to return here for a day before heading home, I thought it best to explore everything of interest now. I could always come back to this part of the city casually at the end of my stay in Colombia.
Firstly, I headed towards the Santa Clara Museum (Museo Santa Clara), which is actually located within a former church or, rather, monastery. I had wanted to visit this place on my first day as I wandered these streets, but back then I couldn't reach the museum. The streets between several blocks near the museum were blocked off with metal structures, almost like barricades, and there were several policemen stationed at these locations.
On the first day, that's all I saw, so I didn't attempt to get to the museum. Eventually, at one of these spots, I asked if it was possible to reach the museum and a very kind policeman (although heavily armed and fully equipped) told me I could, but at a checkpoint one block down.
I didn't quite understand all of this at the time, but on this occasion, I approached that checkpoint and asked if I could go to the museum. A young policewoman spoke with someone on a walkie-talkie, then she checked my small backpack and waist bag, and then she allowed me to pass. At the next intersection, I encountered another checkpoint where they checked my waist bag and backpack again, and that's how I finally reached the museum.
The reason for all this is that in this part of Bogotá, there is the residence of the President of Colombia and due to some unrest in the previous weeks (as I understood), as well as constant potential political disturbances so characteristic of Latin America, this part of the city and the facilities within it were heavily guarded during my visit.
Regardless, I made it to the museum and began my tour.
The church was erected in the first half of the 17th century and from the outside, it is a very subdued building except for the main entrance, which stands out from the strict facade, although it is also comparatively simple.
However, when a visitor enters through the side entrance into the former church (now a museum where an entrance fee is paid), the situation is quite different – immediately encountering a multitude of picturesque details.
I first went to the front of the nave to get a better view of what everything looked like overall. You actually enter through these blue doors that you can see in the next picture on the left.
In the centre of the nave, during my visit, there was also a small hut illustrating a part of the life of the indigenous people who used to inhabit the territory of present-day Colombia. Inside the hut, you could see an artificial fireplace. I'm not sure if this is part of the permanent exhibition today, but it was there when I visited the church-museum.
However, the main attraction of this space comes from the gilded details, intricately decorated vault and numerous paintings.
When I approached the altar, I turned around and captured the interior of the church from that direction, while the impression was equally remarkable.
Next to the pulpit, there are also some doors through which I continued my tour.
Parallel to the western longitudinal wall of the nave, there is a very narrow corridor where it was quite dark.
I walked through that corridor and from there I could see small rooms with openings in the walls, and when I squeezed in there, I could see a chair on the other side. It wasn't until later, when I returned to the church nave, that I realised what was actually happening here. Namely, the church was part of a women's monastery (a convent) and the nuns regularly had to do their confession. From the church, you enter these small rooms where, on the other side, a chair was obviously placed for the priest, while the nuns would approach confession from the direction of that narrow corridor, which was clearly connected to the other parts of the monastery.
It was clear to me that I had only skimmed through the museum superficially, but as I’ve mentioned earlier, I wasn't feeling well and just wanted to see what everything looked like without delving into any details. Despite my physical condition, I had set myself another ambitious plan for the day's activities, so I needed to move on.
Since another church I wanted to see was also within this fenced-off and guarded area with limited access, I thought of heading directly there, but I couldn't. I had to go back to where I came from and go around until I reached yet another checkpoint where I had to show my waist bag and backpack again. I don't mind police officers checking my bag and backpack, but the problem lies in the model of my backpack that has four compartments that all need to be opened and inspected – it's quite a hassle.
In any case, I mentioned to the security here that I was interested in visiting the building of the National General Archive (Archivo General de la Nación) since “the building was designed by the renowned Colombian architect Rogelio Salmona and listed on the Tentative World Heritage List” (my words). I explained all of this to them nicely, but they looked at me blankly, clearly confused by this foreigner talking about things in their country that they didn't even know. They told me I could go to the archive building but not to take any photos because it's within a fenced-off area. By the way, in that area, there are also some ministries, not just the presidential residence.
It was all a bit strange. Online, you can see photos of pedestrians, private cars, taxis, vendors with carts and so on, passing along the street in front of that church. So, it's not like that part is shrouded in secrecy. Since I arrived here on a Sunday, a non-working day, I didn't see anyone around. However, since they told me what I could and couldn't do, and I had no intention of causing any trouble or potentially getting myself into any problems, I behaved very obediently and didn't film anything else except for that church.
It's a very beautiful church from the 17th century, the Church of San Agustín (Iglesia de San Agustin).
Here, too, the interior is richly decorated, though not as ornately as in the Church of Santa Clara. The decorative details begin right from the entrance and continue throughout.
When I exited the church, I continued towards the nearby archive building. At the end of the street, I saw another checkpoint and it turned out that I could exit the fenced-off area there, which suited me much better than having to go all the way around. On the other hand, I realised I could perfectly well photograph the archive building from the street since only a part of it is within the fenced-off area, while the main access is from a street accessible to everyone.
All of this was in order for me to see another executed project by the renowned French-Colombian architect Rogelio Salmona (1927-2007), whose seven works (including four in Bogotá) are collectively on the UNESCO's Tentative World Heritage List.
The construction of the General Archive of the Nation lasted from 1988 to 1994 and, from what I've read, considering the period of Colombia's most significant violence, it was crucial for the entire country that the construction of this new building symbolically transforms the place of "memory of the nation" into a "collective meeting place."
Since it was cloudy that day, with occasional light rain, my camera and mobile phone decided to play games, capturing the same building using different shades in their visual expressions – on one, the building appears beige, while on the other, it appears red. Objectively, the colour of the building is something between what is seen in my photos.
But regardless of the colours, I found it interesting that I could now recognise the architect's "personal expression" – there were bricks, colours, canals in the ground, low steps, window shapes and more.
In the previous photograph, you can see cyclists riding along the street. On this day, which was a Sunday, I encountered a wonderful tradition in Bogotá. As one taxi driver later told me, for over 30 years, a significant number of streets in Bogotá, not just in the historical centre but also some major roads in other parts of the city, are closed from 7 in the morning until 2 in the afternoon (on Sundays). This closure allows cyclists to enjoy their bicycle ride safely and freely.
Furthermore, I later found out that this tradition is called "Ciclovía" and was introduced as early as in 1974 (which means over 50 years ago!). Today, 127 km of city streets (!) are closed to motor traffic during this period. It's very impressive and highly progressive. So far, I have been able to see cyclists enjoying their ride through the historic centre of Bogotá – La Candelaria.
Be as it may, I then walked to the Botero Museum (Museo Botero). Fernando Botero (1932-2023) is probably the most famous Colombian painter and sculptor. As it turned out, he passed away just four months before my visit, albeit in Monaco.
By coincidence, I had already attended a major exhibition of his works when I visited Scheveningen in the Netherlands several years ago, where a friend of mine lived and worked. On the other hand, I also recognised Botero's famous "chubby figures" from various media.
Regardless, Botero at some point donated a significant but impressive number of his works, as well as pieces by other artists from his private collection of 19th and 20th-century artworks, to the Colombian state (or the people, I'm not sure), thus establishing this museum. From what I’ve read, since Botero was born in Medellín, the residents there were not thrilled that he donated these works to be displayed in Bogotá, but that's how it is.
Although I felt particularly “heavy” during my visit to the museum, I truly enjoyed it.
Probably the hallmark of Botero's work is his distinctively and sympathetically plump figures. Most often, these are people, but he explores other themes as well. Botero's artworks are best left to speak for themselves.
By the way, the museum is housed in an old and spacious colonial-era house, which typically includes an inner courtyard. Today, these courtyards are often beautifully landscaped and maintained.
When I finished exploring the museum, I stepped out onto the street and soon came across a few more beautiful old houses that La Candelaria is known for.
Since my hotel was very close to the Botero Museum, I first returned to my room to rest a bit, drank half a litre of orange juice that I bought along the way and prepared for my next adventure, which was visiting Usaquén. Usaquén is a well-known place, especially on Sundays, and it was indeed Sunday.
Historically, Usaquén was once inhabited by the Muisca tribe, but has now merged entirely with Bogotá (formally in 1954) and is practically one of the districts of this fairly large city (Bogotá has more inhabitants than the entire country of Serbia).
Today, this area is particularly famous for its flea market (Mercado de Las Pulgas), which is organised on Sundays.
I didn't know exactly what to expect, but looked up directions on my phone. Usaquén is about 12 km from La Candelaria and there are various transportation options. Interestingly, the weekly Ciclovía practically means that one of the main city streets leading to Usaquén is closed to motor vehicle traffic, allowing cyclists to safely reach the area. However, I wasn't up for cycling, so I continued on foot.
Needless to say, my plan wasn't to walk there, but I saw on my phone that there was a direct public transport line. Feeling already well versed (or so I thought), I headed to the station shown on my phone. However, it was not nearby...
Anyway, I reached the bus station eventually, only to find out that the next bus was coming in three hours!!! I checked multiple times and got the same answer each time. Later, I realised that the reason for this was the Ciclovía and that the bus route used a street closed to motor vehicles on Sundays. It was clear to me I would have to take a taxi, but with various stories about taxis in Bogotá and concerns about safety, I wasn't keen on experimenting. There was no one on the street whom I could ask for help.
Then I remembered I had the Uber app on my phone. I opened it and saw that everything was working fine. Within five minutes, I was in a taxi heading to Usaquén and it turned out that taxis in Bogotá (at least Uber) are significantly cheaper than in Belgrade. Everything went smoothly, and soon I arrived in Usaquén, ready for a leisurely stroll.