Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D
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Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. Janelle married Edwin, moved to Bogotá, had a baby, F, and invited me for a visit—not necessarily in that order. I arrived shortly before midnight on December 31, 2017, and Janelle, Edwin, and F met me at the airport. They gave me eleven grapes to eat; that’s the traditional number for New Year’s Eve. I ate more. They showed me a record-breakingly huge pumpkin (it’s traditional to cook an enormous pumpkin for New Year’s Day). And they gave me a New-Year’s wall-hanging. The idea is that what one has when the new year arrives is what one will have all year long—since I was traveling for the New Year, I will travel throughout this year—doing well so far. The wall-hanging includes a variety of foods and a little wad of money, for prosperity throughout the new year—doing well on that, too, if prosperity is having enough to eat. The delight of having enough = 1 Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. Janelle is one of my favorite people. I haven’t been able to figure out as much as I would like, but she’s fun to watch, and I try to figure her out in order to enhance my own life experience: she walks around in a swarm of people who want to be her lovers; I walk around in a swarm of mosquitoes. She’s incredible. She likes cities, including huge cities like Bogotá. That makes sense in her case; people love her. Why I like forests, where the mosquitoes love me, is more of a question. Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. We walked around the neighborhood, and out to the edge of Bogotá. F loves to go out for walks. She was more conflicted about busses while I was there, but they were also a less common and less fun experience. Colombia is the best place in the world to be a baby because, as Janelle says, every baby is the Baby Jesus. Babies taken for walks are adored by everyone who sees them; everyone stops to worship. This is the Baby F being adored just by the three of us, on the way to the botanical garden. The delight of good friends = 2 Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. The paving stones for the walkway into the main part of the botanical garden in Bogotá are concrete, with leaf impressions. There are dozens of them. The Spanish names of the plants are also on the stones, in this case, bear paw (hand of the bear) (in Latin, Dendropanax colombianus). It is a native Colombian plant and grows in higher-lower Andes altitudes (3000-3500 m). It is important for timber and for bird habitat. The delight of languages = 3 Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. The Botanical Garden of Bogotá is one of the best botanical gardens I’ve visited. It has five main areas that display plants from five main ecological zones of Colombia, encompassing the hottest deserts, the soggiest rain forests (this picture), and the highest mountains. Some of the garden is dedicated to conserving and breeding rare and endangered Andean plants. The largest collection is of plants from the páramo, high-altitude areas that are above tree line but below permanent snow line. The delight of new information = 4 Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. The garden is landscaped in part with coprolite, fossilized dinosaur feces (that’s becoming a theme: coprolite in Arizona in late 2017, coprolite in Colombia in early 2018, coprolite gift for a friend who recently acquired a doctorate from a program run by abusive people and people who accommodate those abusive people—fossilized crap seems an appropriate and entertaining recognition for her achievement, given what she was given for a decade), some of which includes fossilized mollusks. Was the dinosaur eating the mollusks, or just pooping in the water, like my pet birds seem to enjoy doing, or were these land gastropods? Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. The great thrush (Turdus fuscater) is fairly common in Colombia and throughout northern South America, at altitudes above 2000 meters (6561.68 feet). Bogotá itself is a high-altitude city, the fourth highest in the world at 8612 feet (or 8661, or 2640+ m). Mating seasons vary depending on where the birds live, and January is the start of the mating season in Colombia, which is probably why the thrushes in the garden were active throughout the day and not primarily in the dawn and dusk hours. Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. Edwin and I have a great deal in common, including a love of hiking and being outdoors for extended periods of time. We decided to rent a car and go to the Parque Nacional Natural Chingaza, the Chingaza National Park. But it’s a little weird to get into the national park, and we stopped by the office, which is located in Bogotá (the first time I’ve visited a national park office outside of the national park), for information and reservations. We could not go on the day we rented the car, so we decided to get used to the car and driving in Colombia and in Bogotá by going to a salt mine in Zipaquirá. Salt—my favorite. Edwin won all kinds of bonus points for suggesting this outing and making it happen. Zipaquirá is a less urban town with more hills and trees within walking distance. It also has the Catedral de Sal de Zipaquirá (the Cathedral of Salt). I liked Zipaquirá. The delight of Zipaquirá = 5 Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. The Cathedral of Salt is now a Roman Catholic Church built into an old salt mine. The mine is much older than the church, and was opened in 1954 and dedicated to Our Lady of Rosary, patron saint of miners. At least some of the mine was dug out by the Muisca (or Chibcha) people, a pre-Columbian civilization that used gold as an art supply rather than as a means of exchange and who are the source for the legend of El Dorado. It is thought that there might have been a group working in the mines even before the Muisca arrived. I failed to join either the English or the Spanish tours, but both could have been interesting. The Spanish tours provide religious information; the English tours provide geological information. I ignored most of both: salt is delicious, and smells delicious and crunches deliciously underfoot. Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. In transforming the mines into a cathedral, any remnants of the pre-Christian activities were destroyed (the idea to make the place a cathedral seems to have come from the Muisca, who had carved their own symbols into the walls of the mine), and a number of large chambers were carved out, and many (Christian) religious symbols were carved into the walls, including places to consider the twelve stations of the cross. This is a carving (note the spider) of the tree of life. I licked the walls. I sampled the purified salt. I bought a refrigerator magnet of a Muisca symbol made of salt, which I’m trying not to lick. The cathedral remains a place of pilgrimage for Catholics (for religious reasons) and for me (for salt). The delight of salt = 6 Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. Outside the Cathedral of Salt was a hillside covered in mostly native plants—having recently been to Kaua’i, seeing the plants where they started out seemed like an interesting opportunity. Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. The next day, we left very early for the Chingaza National Park because there are limited times during which there is a guy being paid to open the gate, and if he’s not getting paid, he sure as heck is not opening the gate. The road into the park is not particularly well maintained (it’s a close competitor to the Baja 1000 portion of the route to Bahía de Los Angeles, and for a longer distance), which makes me wonder why a gate and a guy are needed at all. The people who make it to Chingaza are a dedicated few. Eleven Kinds of Delight: Colombia, 2017-2018: Marla Perkins, Ph.D. Renting a car and driving in a place like Bogotá were not on my list of things to do, but it was the only way to do what was on my list, Chingaza. Janelle did the icky city driving, because I don’t like driving in or around large urban areas (I have some negative life goals, one of which is never to cook a traditional Thanksgiving dinner and another of which is never to live in or around Los Angeles and another of which is never to drive anything in Jakarta—I’ve been successful so far on all of these, but driving in Bogotá might be more similar to driving in Jakarta than I’d like to think), and I did the mountain driving, because Janelle is having some trouble with acrophobia. Some of the road into and in the park was so steep that it couldn’t be taken in even second gear, so I did a lot of driving in first.