Monday, November 12, 2012

Graffitti or Art or Both in da Streets

Can't go wrong with Superman



Nice garage door

Bogota is full of graffiti and street art. The smart businesses let the graffiti artist's "do their thing.."
Something subversive?
Oh Dios Mio


Good doggy, Woof
Laying down on the job
Short and sweet


Good kitty, Warm kitty

In the Middle of the Road







Something amazing happens Sunday in Bogota. In a society where gathering around the town square is ingrained in the collective consciousness, what does a city the size of Bogota do to retain the sense of  community? Well, they close one of the main arteries thru the city (Cra. Septima) to cars and buses and taxi's and motorcycles - about 100 city blocks, in all and leave it open to pedestrian traffic. Bikers, joggers, walkers and dogs!




 We were out and about around 9am, to go to the Pulgas de San Alejo Flea Market and what seemed to be the most of Bogota was out with us. Most of the stores in this city are closed, therefor the street vendors were out in force. Folks of all shapes. sizes, colors walking, biking, skateboarding, - everyone who had a dog was walking it. Monkey Man and I walked from about Calle 20 to Calle 72 and the street remained packed.




 The Flea had some of the best furniture I've seen, evah! Of course, when you can't possibly buy anything, it's all fabulous, rare and exotic. Continuing our stroll after leaving San Alejo, one couldn't help but notice that all the side streets had fleas up and down of used "everythings". One lane had nothing but children's toys.




It took us 4 hours to walk home.




Harvey did not go hungry.

 



Street food is varied and delicious here. Folks are friendly, coffee is plentiful. There are no Starbucks, only the Juan Valdez Cafe's.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Montserrate




Montserrate is 10000 feet above sea level and overlooks the city of Bogota. Built 400 years ago, it has a name sake outside of Barcelona, which I have also visited.








To get there one must either walk up (not! we can barely breathe here anyway) or take the venicular, straight up the side of the mountain, thru a tunnel of solid rock.










Once at the top, there are several splendid buildings with beautiful landscaping and terracing. The Church at the top is very plain, considering how the Cathoholic's usually built these older Churches. In fact, it was hard to know if Montserrate was still
inhabited by Priests or Brethren, as it did not look to be any area that was "off limits". However, there were lots and lots of folks there who were actually making a pilgrimage to the top. I hear on Sundays, that it is packed.










What I love about Latin American countries, is that often times, Mary and Jesus (whether a baby or the man) are black. So closer to the truth. There was a walking path which had statues depicting the crucifixion and resurrection, in 10 different stages. Harvey had his first Sunday School lesson. There were no menorahs to be found up here, either.










As there are so many tourists and pilgrims that ascend to the top, there were at least 20 small eateries to choose from, for your family picnic. All of the food was displayed like this and taste tests were offered at all. Harvey had a taste of crispy intestines. Yum!





At the summit and after the intestines, we lingered over a steaming cup of coco leaf tea. Without a doubt, the tea helped with breathing at high altitudes.
Both of us made it down the mountain on the cable car/sky lift without crying (secondary to the height for me) or flipping out (secondary to the tightly packed car for Harvey). Perhaps it was the tea.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Easy Tourist Day




Yesterday we went to Usaquien, a small town that has been swallowed up by the ever expanding Bogota. Like Candelaria, the old section of town, Usaquien is easy to navigate and does not have the touristy feel......yet. There were many murals painted on the few streets of this small hamlet. Calm and a wonderful place to just hang out in the square and wait for the day to pass.















Afterwards we headed toward Parcque del Chicos. Beautiful grounds in the middle of the city. Spring fed fountains and a museo, which unfortunately was closed. Many flowers in bloom. The museo was an old colonial school at one time.











See, I do let Harvey have the camera every once and a while.










We finished our day at Zona T, which is the upscale shopping end of town. All the big designers have stores here. Lunch was had at Central Cevicheria,
http://centralcevicheria.com/ , which was packed and very, very delicious. Tired and mostly cold, we returned to the apartment for home cooked chili. This is our back terrace, where it is too chilly to hang out.


Friday, November 9, 2012

Museo del Oro y Candelaria

2 Headed Rulers-Male and Female
Gold Flying Fish
 
Look at the size of the safe-a large room!


Thursday, November 8, 2012

Blogger Hates Me

First no No Name Temple

Second No Name Temple



 I had to add these pictures additionally, as Blogger would not behave this morning. 
Off to Old City # 3.

The Lost Tribe




Today we went in search of the lost tribe and came away with a revelation: The lost tribe of Israel is alive and well, but in hiding behind thick, tall walls and concertina wire in Bogota, Colombia.
Marte and I were on a mission. Every time we make a major trip, we like to bring home something special. Turkish rugs from Istanbul, Masks from Africa.....you get the picture, right? This time, it was a menorah for Chanukah from Colombia.
The only Menorah in Bogota


 


Turns out,  there are not that many Jews in Colombia. Having been exterminated during the Spanish Inquisition (ouch!), and also refused immigration during the war (dammit!), Colombia has not been the friendliest of places for the Jews.
Having done some research prior to leaving the states, we knew that synagogues were few and far between. Anybody can buy a menorah in Miami or New York City (at least before the Super Tormentor, as Sandy is know down here), but how much more meaningful it would be to bring one home from a place with the history of Colombia? Surely one of the community Schuls would jump at the opportunity to supply a wandering Jew with a menorah, right? So today, our first day in Bogota, was our day to search 'em out on foot.

Our first stop was Communidad Hebrea Sefaradi De Bogota which turned out to be a compound with a 12 foot stone wall, and Concertina Wire strung across the top. There is no name or marking to tell you this is a Synagogue, only the repetitive motif of the star of the Star of David high on the windows. There is a guard and a dark glass window with an intercom and a bell.


Somewhat intimidated, we approached the window and explained our quest as best we could, given the language differences. The guard behind the glass told us to wait. A woman finally came to the front door while a second, non-uniformed security man readied himself to protect her.  Not being invited inside, we conversed on the sidewalk in broken English/Spanish. She was able to convey that they had nothing for us. Though she acquiesced (finally) to a request to view the temple, the security man vetoed the idea by insisting that Rabbi Shlomo be consulted. Not wanting an international incident, we withdrew both our request and our bodys.




 Continuing our lazy walk thru the streets of North Bogota, we found Synagogue #2, but not from the address given on Mavensearch (listing of all the synagogues in the world). Casa Lubavitch was listed and turns out to be the Hebrew school. A dad in front picking up his children told us that the school did not sell menorahs and that the actual Temple was up the street 2 blocks.
  We recognized the temple by the domed roof, though it could have also been mistaken for a Mosque. Nowhere on the building was a name or any identification that this indeed was the second Temple. Another dark movie ticket window, but no one was there. No buzzer. I tried several doors. Eventually, concerned by the strange man testing all the doors, a security guard appeared and yet again we explained who we were and why we were at their door. Again we were told to wait while the guard disappeared behind dark glass and locked doors.


A kindly elderly woman finally appeared in the dark glass cage. Conversation was conducted through an intercom, barely audible above traffic noise. Though the nice lady was kindly, there was nothing for us here as well.
Shuttered behind layers of security, I am reminded of a paranoia-filled drug-deal (sorry mom!). Who are you? Who do you know? Wait here. No, you cannot come in.
Turns out, we just didn’t have the secret password, even though I know I belong to the club.