“The mother of Light”. There is an electricity plant a block and a half away from my mother-in-law’s. The walls had just been painted afresh. I’ve seen this particular artist in my previous – and exciting – street art safari in Bogotá. I will look for the other mural for comparison.
“What’s on the menu?”. Usaquen, Bogotá. I’ve already published a night version of this.
“The hand”, by Fernando Botero. Botero is one of the most well-known Colombian artists, with a very particular style. I am not a big fan of Botero, but since there is a Botero museum in Bogotá, which we’d never seen… Well, it is very much worth it. Whether you like Botero or not.
Driving down the Andes. I’ve “done” this road more than a hundred times. I’ve seen it evolve from a murderous two-lane road to a highway. This time, there were new “actors” in the scenery. Walking down the road, on foot, small groups of Venezuelans, who’ve fled their country. To walk all the way south to Peru. In small groups. Families, parents with small children, pushing their sad suitcases down the Andes, with all their meagre possessions.
By the time we passed them, they’d already walked close to a thousand miles. Climbed 9,000 feet to Bogotá and up to the highest point of the Cordillera. To reach Lima in Peru, they still need to walk 3,000 kms (2,000 miles). Associations try to help. Donate food, shoes… But the numbers are overwhelming: an estimated 2.3 million people have left Venezuela in the past three years. (No further questions, Your Honor).
Barber shop, “Macondo”, Colombia. (Yes, I’ve been to Macondo. Sort of. Will come back to it).
Vintage. My sister-in-law’s country house. Ain’t working though. I tried.
Olive street, Bogotá historical centre.
Cézanne, by Fernando Botero (Born in Medellín, 1932). A wonderful hommage to one of the pioneers of modern art.
Grandson’s car, Bogotá, my in-laws’ parking lot. He went with his parents to visit the family last November. After the second day, whenever my sister-in-law would park her car, back from whatever visit they’d been to, Grandson would rush out two spaces away to what he had decided was HIS car. He is two and a half year old.
Complete with lights and honk. We are negotiating the sale with the neighbours.
“The goddesses of the campfire”. 7th Avenue, Bogotá. I’ve been chasing this particular mural for three years. First time I saw it, there was too much traffic to stop. Second time, when I went on a Street Art safari with my niece, my I-Phone suddenly turned black & white on me. Remains a mystery to that day. The third time, my brother-in-law and I had just dropped another niece at a her place. (Lots of nieces in the family.) And I realized we were close. So I told my brother-in-law to take the 7th Avenue route. Voilà.
Casa del Florero. Bogotá. The house of the flower vase. In this house the fight for Independance started on the 20th of July 1810. The house itself was built late 1500’s.
“Big ass ants.” Detail of the previous picture. (Which I hadn’t seen until I started editing.) A literal translation of “hormigas culonas”, a Colombian delicacy. Those ants have a very large abdomen, and are edible. Toasted like peanuts and served cold. Very tasty. Nowadays a treat, it is, like “escargots” in France, a reminder of harder times when food was scarce and anything remotely edible was eaten. I always wonder how it went? “Hey! Pedro. Your turn to try this!”. “What? Not me. I already tried the snails last week and they were disgusting. Find somebody else!”. The ants are fine though. Try them on your next trip.
Urban lizard. Bogotá. I don’t know whether it is edible or not.
Eyeliner. Bogotá. January 2019.
“Oh my girl you’re so young and pretty…” (I recommend the Animals’ version).