So I am finally in Bogotá. It took me five long years to come back and a short adaptation in Pereira. There is not such adaptation for Bogotá. My heart beats faster than usual in a mix of emotions and altitude (Soroche is the word). El Centro is my favorite. I am a fish in water there. You have to see the yerbateros, smell the Palo Santo, listen to the voices, watch people protesting and upraising against the right wing government thanks to an incredible long haired scammer. Walking is kind of tricky for me because there are many manholes in the ground and the sidewalks are small but I manage to jump around while picking up with everything in front of me. I am definitely from here. Everything is familiar and feels like I could have wait a little bit more to come back. But I am not here to see change. I am just here.
It has been difficult to see everyone but let's say that I am doing pretty good so far. My new notebook is full of numbers and names. I am also adventuring pending discoveries. Yerbateros, mountains and trees. Today I hug a wet three and then a sacred door opened. I took a brick stairway in a park full of beautiful trees. I saluted Shangó and then he showed me a shrine. Eleggua, Obatala and others were there. There was some flowers services from the people. I prayed of course.
My bag is loaded with Palo Santo and books. Lovely bookstores. My romanticism towards them is back. I spent money on them like back in the days. A winter of good readings is what I am bringing.
I have received many presents too. One is about chances for animals and the other is poetry and water, just perfect for Chola y Ochún.
