. . . is 96 years old, The Matriarch of Mompos, a Mississippi river town that just happens to be located on Colombia's Rio Magdelena.  To the casual eye, this river seems as large and powerful as The Ohio. She was married at 15, had four children, then widowed in her early twenties.  She worked hard for herself and those children, developing what today is the best dulce shop in Mompos.  She makes dulce de leche, dulce de marmelada, dulce de limon, and her sweets are sold both from her home and in many of the town's restaurants, usually as a jelly-like desert.  One of her grandsons, Alfonso Aguilar,  is a certified tour guide, an articulate spokesperson of local history.

We took the bus both ways last week, leaving Monday and returning Wednesday, just to see this marvel of colonial architecture and quiet elegance.  This coming week, La Semana Santa, or La Gran Semana, is the biggest week of the year for Momposinos. Like in Seville and Antigua, religious images are carried through the community in honor of one of Christianity's important celebrations.  While we were there, everyone was cleaning and painting.  Had we stayed until Thursday, we would have joined the volunteer town clean up campaign.

At the same time, Cartagena was celebrating The Fourth International Congress of The Spanish Language that drew The King and Queen of Spain, Bill Clinton, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and a host of the most distinguished authors and scholars who work in this language that is spoken by over 400 million people.  Bill Clinton spent two hours with "Gabo," who, in some circles, is compared to Cervantes.

We caught the Thursday night closing of The Congress.  For us, chocolate sundaes were mixed with fire works, an African-style dance company on La Plaza de La Aduana, and a comprehensive "then and now" photograhic display of Cartagena.  We had intended to see the late concert, but our energy did not last

Sunday, March 11

We felt pride everywhere today as Air Force One was shown on live local television, landing in Bogota, for a six hour state visit between President Bush and Colombian President Uribe.  

Our day started with pancakes and good discussions at the harbor side condominium of Lee Miles, the ex-pat married to a Colombian. He is a leading jeweler here in town.  Other guests were David and Lynn Thorley, on s-v Wild Orchid, docked next to us. They are from London (and they leave us tomorrow).  We shared a fair amount of political discussion, with the others concluding we have no qualified presidential candidates in The United States, a proposition of questionable validity, but interesting none the less.
Then, we returned to Pachamama, turned on the TV, and let the time pass, with the usual complement of commentators.  What impressed us most was President Uribe at the press conference.  He is popular, articulate, and a patriot, who exuded pride in his nation and a promise, largely kept to date, to control the para militaries.  The colorful ceremonies, red carpets, national flags and anthems, gave us good feelings.  One element did disgust us.  Four questions were allowed at the press conference, two from Colombians, two from Americans.  The two American journalists asked about The Middle East, undiplomaticly and uselessly conveying disinterest in this nation.  Local papers picked up on this stupidity.

Our day concluded with steak and the film, "The Great Train Robbery."

By the way, Colombia is the most culturally active nation we have visited in The Caribbean.  Cartegena is loaded with festivals about language, film and music, while Bogota has numerous theaters and a fine national symphony, plus a museum to The Modern Art of Eduardo Otero.  Medellin is known to have a dozen movie theaters and five theaters for live performances.  In contrast, Bolivia has no national orchestra, and we could not think of any theater in La Paz, Cochabamba or Santa Cruz that could host a play requiring modern lights and sets.  Even in Puerto Rico, Venezuela, and The Dominican Republic, relatively large places, culture was not on display.  Last week, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Colombia's Nobel price winning author ("Twenty Years of Solitude," "Love In The Time of Cholera," "The General in His Labyrinth," "Chronicle of a Death Foretold") turned eighty.  His birthday was celebrated everywhere, with full page coverage in the papers.

is five times as large as The Mississippi.  Four of its tributaries are larger than The Mississippi.  The amount of water exiting to The Atlantic through its 200 mile wide mouth would fill Lake Superior in three hours.  Effects of river current are felt 60 miles into the ocean.

On viewing the river anywhere between Leticia and Puerto Narino, we could not tell it is a river.  Whether on shore, or on a launcha, our impression was looking at a lake.  We saw land in every direction.  We could not tell which way to turn to follow the course of the river.  Except for the obvious current carrying leaves and branches in one direction, we could have been on any large lake, and we surely would have been lost without a professional guide or pilot.

After three nights in Bogota, we flew to Leticia,  more than 14 degrees south of Cartagena, or approximately 840 nautical miles.  (One degree equals 60 nautical miles at the equator.)  Cartagena is 10 north; Leticia 4 south.  So, we were 240 miles south of the equator.  Tabatinga, Brazil, is part of the same metropolitan area; commerce proceeds in the two towns as though they were one.  Across the river is Peru.  Hence the area's description: "tres fronteras."  

Leticia feels like an old western town except that motor cycles have replaced horses.  It is busy, messy, and wet.  

Most of our time was in Parque Nacional Amacayacu, a protected area with a fine ecological lodge on river's edge.  A three hour walk, with Jaime, through the jungle, felt like a hike in Turkey Run State Park, but with much more congested vegetation and wild life.  The climb up a ladder to the tree platform, 60 meters or so, was straight forward, and the view was spectacular.  Getting down, however, was another matter. We first rappelled 25 feet to a wire bridge that extends 50 meters to another tree.  Then, down we went, 40 meters or more, on lines permanently suspended from the platform.  Guides Armando and Monica showed us how, and made us feel comfortable.

Guide Henry (pronounced 'henry) led us through an all day boat trip that started with a museum of under water river life, then to the super clean and orderly town of Puerto Narino, and on to a nearby lake in which pink dolphins usually romp.  These fresh water mammals look like their sisters and brothers of the sea except that they appear to spend less time romping on the surface and many have either pink bellies or turn pink entirely.  Our view was limited to the traditional grays.  

At another time, guide Lewis took us to the monkey house.  This is a small area near the lodge which caters to the health and well being of sick or injured monkeys.  The leader, a North American named Sara, has worked there more than 18 years here.  We missed her because she was in Bogota, but her supporters helped us.  While there, Chichi  and I usually had a monkey on our shoulders.  (We were advised to remove all jewelry and glasses.  These friendly guys take them up trees, never to be seen again.)

Back in Leticia, three hours reading Jacque Cousteau in the town library gave us a sense of The River.  We also kayaked over cabbage-like plants and near giant Lotus plants.  The Lotus are floating leaves, about 1 3/4 meters in diameter.  Except for being green, they look like pans in which large pizzas are baked. If the unwary grabs one around the edge, with fingers underneath:  ouch.  The intense array of needles underneath keeps most predators at bay.  


On the way to Leticia, we spent three nights in Bogota, a vast national capital that feels like Times Square with a bias toward youth.  We were surprised to find there one of the world's most interesting and advanced surface transportation systems.  It is called Transmilenio. Two-section buses hooked like an accordion move on segregated lanes.  The lanes were specifically built for the system with distinct curbs.  Stations are like subway stations.  When a bus arrives, sliding doors open both on the bus and on in the station allowing horizontal passage of passengers.  No steps up or down.  Apparently modeled on a system in Brasilia, it seemed fast an efficient, though, like a subway, initially confusing.  The Museum of Oro (Gold Museum), gave us a comprehensive understanding of Colombia's ancient history and peoples.  Another museum is dedicated to the work of Fernando Botero, a Colombian who now lives in Italy.  

The best of  Bogota, however, was a 75 minute trip to Chia, and to Andres Carne de Res.  Neither of us recall having more fun at a restaurant.  Take it on faith that the food alone was worth the trip, but the place itself was as alive and active as a Broadway show.  The actors were fun, the dancing fine, and the band that sang Happy Birthday to John elicited smiles from us and from everyone around us.  I wish that we could describe the decor.  The best I can say in a f few words is that we were both astounded and captivated from the moment we entered.  We took the Transmilenio home, opened a bottle of wine, and watched The Academy Awards.