Day tripping in Bogota: non-fatal edition

Last year, right around this time, the city of Bogota tried to kill me. It wasn't personal, I don't think. It wasn't related to the narco-trade or even to petty crime. It was more of a topographical assassination attempt. It is also possible that my poor decision making was a factor. Long story short, I made a last minute decision to hike to the top of Monserrate, the city's highest hill, not taking into account that Bogota sits at an 8000+ foot elevation. What they have in amazing scenery, they lack in- what is the word I'm looking for- oh, yeah, OXYGEN! The air is thinner than an Ozempic-riddled supermodel up there, making breathing quite difficult, particularly on a 7,500 ft hike.

Now here I was back in Bogota with a couple of days to fill. All I knew was that I'd left nothing up in Monserrate so that wasn't happening again (although for anyone who hasn't been, there is also a cable car and funicular to whisk you up there with minimal risk of death and the views are worth it). However, there were a couple of things I had yet to do, mainly the Salt Cathedral and the El Dorado lake. 

Both are common day trips from Bogota, which you can either pay a fortune for online (#Viatorsucks) or you can do what I did. If you go to the square in front of the Gold Museum, there are always vendors offering every tour you can think of. For a fraction of the cost, they will set you up with a driver who will stay with you all day and most likely knows all the tricks to make the most of your adventure. Or maybe your driver will suck, there really is no way to find a review on your freelance tour guide. 

Lucky for us, we got a winner. Tito has been doing these tours for years and is a font of information. He also has led a wild novela-worthy life and his stories alone deserve five stars. Without getting too caught up in the life of Tito, know that he inadvertently married cousins and that while in the military, a helicopter pilot tried to do him dirty by making him miss a flight and then promptly flew into the side of a mountain, carrying loads of explosives. 

He also plans great itineraries. Our's had us going first to the town of Sesquile to see the lagoon that inspired the legend of El Dorado.

Along the way, we passed the Castillo Marroquin which has belonged to both a past president and an associate of Pablo Escobar. And it's haunted. 

Once you arrive at the Laguna de Guatavita ticket office (not to be confused with the nearby town of Guatavita, which for the record, does not have a magical lagoon), you are assigned to a tour group with a Spanish speaking guide. I was with two non-Español speakers and tried to get an English speaking guide but that was simply not an option, unless you brought your own. It's a shame because the tour is excellent and I'm certain my attempts at a simultaneous translation didn't really do it justice. 

Our guide began by gathering us in a recreation of a traditional meeting house to explain the traditions of the Muisca people. They viewed the lagoon as one of their most sacred places, where rituals were to be performed. One was the investiture of a new cacique (or tribal chief). After an extensive training period, which involved living in a cave for years and passing all kinds of tests, he would be covered in gold dust and sail out on a raft to the middle of the lagoon. With the sun shining down on him, he would appear to glow leading to the rumor of the region having "golden men".

Following the briefing, we began the hike towards the lake. With memories of the Monserrate debacle still fresh in my mind, I was a little concerned about this part but I'm happy to report it is actually quite easy. Not only is the path not as steep, but there are plenty of stops while the guide explains the multiple uses of plants along the way. 

There is one part that involves a bit of climbing but it is maybe 15 minutes worth and the view more than makes up for it. While looking at the glowing lake, our guide explained how the Muisca people would throw finely worked gold and emeralds into the lake as sacrifices to the gods. This, combined with the story of gold men, led to a legend reaching Europe that there was a place where everything was gold.

El Dorado, as it became known, brought Spaniards on the mother of all gold rushes. Attempts were made to drain the lake, with varying results. Some expeditions did find gold and jewels (some of which sits in the Gold Museum) but others led to the collapse of a canal and damage to the mountain itself. Today, the area is protected so whatever is sitting at the bottom should remain there. 

It's been theorized the color of the water is due to the emeralds within. Spoiler alert: It's actually algae.

Due to how the trail is set up, you don't exit the same way you went in. You come out the other side of the lake, which is where Tito was waiting to take us to our next stop. We were heading about an hour away to Zipaquira, home of the Salt Cathedral. 

But first lunch. I'm not going to say we went to a touristy place but as soon as you sat down, they placed your nation's flag(s) on the table and the band made a point to mention it often. That said, the music was good, the veggie options plentiful and the beer cold so all thumbs up from me. 

Post lunch, we got a Tito tip, which I will pass along here. The Salt Cathedral is a pretty popular attraction, which means the line to buy tickets can get pretty long. However,  Alma Joyeria y Artesanias on the main strip with all the restaurants sells the very same passes at the very same prices, no line required. 

Once at the Cathedral, we just strolled past all the people waiting for tickets and into yet another line, this one to descend into the actual salt mine.  The mine, which happens to be the largest deposit of rock salt in the world, has been excavated going back to the 5th Century BCE. At some point, the miners who I imagine didn't have the strongest of safety protocols, decided to build a small chapel where they could  pray to the Virgin of the Rosary of Guasa to make it through the day without any explosion or mine collapse. In the 1950's, plans to expand the chapel to a fully functioning cathedral were put in motion, resulting in a larger structure that was eventually shut down by the authorities for being unsafe- it is still a working mine, after all. Fast forward to 1991, when the current structure was built 200 feet under the previous one (600 feet in all). Lessons learned, the new structure was safe, sturdy and a massive success so much so that it was named the First Wonder of Colombia in 2007.

With the help of an audio guide, the visit begins with the stations of the cross, which are essentially 14 crosses carved in salt. The scale is definitely impressive but after the first few, there really isn't that much that you can do with the shape of a cross so to these heathen eyes, it gets a bit repetitive. 

Once past the crosses, you enter a series of naves representing Jesus' birth, death and resurrection. 

The most impressive part is the 16 ton altar, which was part of the original cathedral and had to be cut into three part in order to relocate it. 

Throughout, there are salt sculptures, light projections and cool niches to explore. 

But if I'm being honest, I was more impressed with the area you enter once you leave the cathedral itself. They have managed to carve an entire mini-city down there. There are a number of restaurants, shops, art installations and even a spa. 

The Water Mirror was my personal favorite. It is maybe 3 inches deep but due to the reflections, it looks like you are staring straight into the abyss.

The Muisca people used to work the mines and are represented in some of the carvings.

I would've happily stayed in the mini-city longer but two things were working against me. For starters, it was nearing closing time and the line for the train that takes you back up was only growing. Second problem, one elder member of our group was worn out by the day's exertions and we could only drag him from bench to bench for so much longer. 

It was this second factor that prevented us from enjoying the final part of the itinerary. We were to go to nearby Chia for dinner and drinks at the original Andres Carne de Res.  Open since 1982, this former roadside grill has grown into a empire that has expanded worldwide. It is difficult to describe but it is essentially what would happen if a traveling carnival and a Colombian food court had a baby and that baby really liked aguardiente. In order words, you've got to go!

Since we called it a night early, we asked Tito to pick us up the next evening and take us back to Chia. The restaurant, which can accommodate up to 3,500 people at one time was on the empty-ish side on this Sunday evening (meaning there were probably only a couple 100 locals and tourists getting their party on).  But, they greet you at the door with a free shot- and speaking from experience, will give you another one on departure, if you ask nicely- and the band plays songs guaranteed to get you on the dance floor so even on a "slow" night, it's totally worth it. 

The decor is pure fever-dream whimsy, as everything should be. 

We left around 1am, full and happy. All in all, even if we spread it across two days, this is what an ideal Bogota day trip looks like. It was almost enough for me to forgive Bogota for that time it tried to kill me.