Less than a week before we arrived in Colombia, we learnt about the floods. Although our holiday was neatly slotted into what usually constitutes the dry season, Colombia was petulantly in the midst of its worst flooding for 50 years, with rains predicted to last into late January. There was even a map of the floods in the Guardian. It was clearly a real problem for us. Probably even more so for the 2 million now homeless. Probably.
After a few abortive attempts to abort our plans, we stuck with the flights and packed what turned out to be an unreasonably small umbrella.
In Bogota, a man in the hostel told us not to leave the city. Bus journeys had ground to a halt for hours or days. There were mudslides. In Bogota, though, it wasn´t so bad. The rains came at precicely 2pm, and usually stopped by the time I´d finished a large and cheesy hot chocolate.
We arrived into Villa de Leyva, a colonial village North of the capital (which incidentally receives the highest 3 Hancocks rating), in blinding, sweaty sunshine. Above the village sit ominous mountains, and we decided to climb one wearing Converse and packing only our unreasonable umbrella. At 2pm, the rain came again, spitting. We carried on, expecting it to stop. But as we trudged up the hill, it got heavier, and heavier. Soon we were running back down, but not fast enough, as by the time we dragged our drenched sneakers back to Villa de Leyva, the previously picturesque streets had turned into gushing torrents. It became impossible to even cross the road.
The next day it was really nice again, and completely dry.
And actually, the rain hasn´t been so bad since. Hasn´t rained for days. Today we spent virtually every daylight hour drinking cocktails in the beating sun on a Caribbean beach. Visit Sunny Colombia.
Before the storm
the storm thickens, I take custardy of our unreasonable umbrella
the view from the hotel we had no choice but take shelter in
Visit Sunny Colombia / my new hat
There are two smelling errors in this post. Spelling errors.
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