Christmas in Colombian Mountains

Update: 2019-12-14

Description

All the tickets were gone. It was two days before Christmas and me and my Colombian friend were standing in the middle of crowded bus terminal in Bogotá. What to do when there is no possible connection to your destination? An older couple came to us and offered us a ride to Cali, city in Colombia we had to get to, so we could split the expenses on gas. I was doubtful. Maybe I’m too paranoid sometimes but offers like this just seem too sketchy for me. While we were thinking about it, another guy approached us and offered a different possibility. They had a bus and tried to find enough people to fill it up and go to Cali as well.

“What do you think?” my friend asked me.

I couldn’t believe those were our only two options.

“Well… I don’t trust either of those guys,” I laughed. “But if you think it’s safe, I’ll trust you. You’re the local after all. But if I die, it’s on you.”

After too many hours of uncomfortable rides I made my way to Popayan in Colombia. I wondered where the hell my friend is taking me. I was invited to spend Christmas with her family, and I didn’t really know where we are going to end up. We sat in the small bus that was supposed to be the last leg of the journey, waited a little bit for the bus to fill up and off we went. The bus was going through curvy roads up the mountains and I was taken aback by the views immediately.

In the middle of nowhere my friend asked the driver to stop and we got off. Suddenly the bumpy loud ride in the bus was replaced by tranquil silence of nature. Few steps down the hill was her aunt’s house and she was already waiting in the entrance. I noticed confusion in her face and I realized that yes, my friend told her she’s coming with a friend but didn’t mention I’m a white European guy. Also I don’t really speak Spanish, so after obligatory “mucho gusto” I fell silent and just became a mime everybody around talked about but couldn’t really express himself or add much into conversation.

Luckily, Colombians are a wonderful heart-warming bunch so after couple hours they got used to this funny and a little bit awkward situation and they accepted me like one of their own. Grandmother of the family grabbed my arm, looked me in the eyes and said: “We’re very happy that you’ll celebrate Christmas with us! Welcome!” Or at least I hope that’s what she said.

I was very curious because I’ve never experienced Christmas outside of my own country and I was eager to see how other people celebrate it. It was strange enough for me because it was really warm and everywhere around me were bananas and coffee farms, unlike in Czech Republic where we have snow and cut apples in half to see if there is a star or a cross in the middle. It was all just very different, and in the beginning it didn’t feel like Christmas.