Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The train journey towards the Magdalena river is very enjoyable. The line winds through
beautiful tropical country, but the climate is hot, damp and oppressive. At the terminus one
has to leave the train and take a car across the river. For pedestrians and cars there is a good
bridge, but not so for the trains. A short drive and I was in Girardot, the river-port which is
connected with Bogota by a railroad. A few flat-bottomed stern-wheelers lay along the banks
of the river and dusky crews were loading and unloading them.
Bogota has no railroad communication with the coast, thus passengers and cargo must be
transported on these primitive boats, and if the river happens to be low the run from the coast
uptakesasmanyastwentydays,orevenmore.Absolutelynocomfortsexistonthesevessels,
and mosquitoes and the heat help to make things worse. A German company very efficiently
operates an airway between Girardot and Barranquilla, the coast town.
At 6 a.m. the train left for the capital. Gradually the line winds upwards through pretty
mountainouscountry,thetemperatureandvegetationchangingasonereacheshigheraltitudes.
After some six hours we reached the
sabana
, as the tableland of Bogota is called. Wheat is
grown here and the cool climate is very suitable for cattle raising.
On the train I made the acquaintance of a Scotchman. When we started below in the hot
parts he was in shirt sleeves and as we were rising to the cool regions he started to protect
himself with a light sweater. Later on he put a heavier one over this, and finally, when we
reached the 'sabana,' he tucked himself into an overcoat that would have made an explorer
of the arctic regions envious. My friend had obviously heard many tales about terrible cold,
thought we were about to reach the snow line, and was not going to run any risks.
Thetrainspedalongtheflat
sabana
foranothertwohours,andthenwepulledintoBogota.
It was a dreary day and a fine drizzle was falling. An impertinent cab-driver drove me along
the bumpy streets in his rickety cab that would have been an asset to any museum. I could
hardly believe that this was Bogota, the town I had heard such wonders about.
The hotel I stayed at was very good, but the prices were ridiculously high, indeed, I found
thecostoflivinginColombiatobethehighestinmyexperience,andatthesametimeitisthe
country where I received least for my money.
I visited the authorities, all of whom I found to be charming and most obliging.
The town offers very little of interest. The streets are in terrible condition, uneven, and full
of holes which were filled with water owing to the recent rains. I was going along on foot and
asnonavigationnordepthchartsexistIcouldnottellwheredangerwaslurking.Anoccasion-
al passer-by served me as pilot, but when I had put my foot into one of these holes I thought it
was time to buy a lifebelt or hire a taxi. I decided on the latter, but was a sorry man when the
chauffeur started to speed along. I thought I was riding as wicked a buck-jumper as ever has
eaten grass.
There are many churches in the town, and the Church is said to be much more powerful
thantheState.Tothenorth-east,overlookingthetown,aretwomountains,theMontserratand
theGuadalupe.Ontheformerabigchapelwasbuilt,thepopulationofthetownhavingcarried
