I’m sitting at the corner of Café de los Andes listening to Florence’s OST. Finally, the sun and the blue sky came out today. Down at the El Libertador plaza, tables are starting to get occupied. These two old men have been playing chess since 3pm. At another table, an old couple is playing chess as well. Pigeons continue to fly across the middle of the park. Teenagers on the steps of the church playing a board game. All around the plaza people are either drinking coffee, beer, or having their afternoon sweets. The dogs are still on siesta, but I’m sure later on they’ll be running around, some will be jumping playing with the pigeons. The little boys will come to the plaza later on too, to play football or with the dogs. Children will soon be riding their bikes around the town.
I know because I’ve been here five days now. From three nights, to reserving another hotel on my second day for an extra 2 nights, and asking the owners this morning if I can extend one more night.
Life here is slow. Like the word ‘rush’ does not exist in this small pueblo. People take their time walking, stopping to have a quick chat with whoever they see on the streets or the café, before they start walking again.
I stop writing as soon as I feel the breeze and I look out into the park again. And just watch everyone. And I realize that maybe I’m the only person on a laptop right now. It’s like people here don’t run out of things to talk about.
You know those fiction novels about a small town filled with so many colorful characters. I feel like this town would be a good subject for that. Today I see again this old man – wearing khaki pants, white polo, and a cap – with his Rough Collie dog. The other day I saw him walking the streets, and stopping in a small store to talk to someone. Yesterday, I saw him in the park talking to the police, laughing, he brought out snacks for his dog. Now he walks across the park again, stopped in a café to chat with another old man, moved to another café. Sat down, was served coffee, and is now preparing water and snacks for his dog. In the morning and late afternoons, there is also this woman who walks her two huge dogs. Last night she said hi to me, she probably recognizes me already because I’m the only Filipina/Asian in this town. Something people always tell me whenever they see me and find out where I’m from.
This small town called Jardin. Garden. At 1750m and a pleasant climate almost all year round, it is surrounded by green mountains. One of the towns in Colombia’s coffee region. They grow almost everything here, fruits and vegetables, and flowers. They have so much flowers. There are a lot of different colorful birds here as well. I’ve seen quite a number. This town offers hikes and just good morning/afternoon walks, and coffee tours too. It’s like this place is unbothered. I wouldn’t be surprised why people would want to live most of their lives here.
It’s like the people here are showing us travelers to slow down, sit, and just enjoy this particular moment. I know it sounds like a cliché but this town will make you feel that way. I’ve been feeling guilty almost doing nothing here. All I’ve been doing really is eating, drinking coffee and wine, people watching, editing photos, writing, and just relaxing. But as one special person just told me, I shouldn’t feel guilty. I deserve to be doing nothing after the stressful and hectic few years I’ve had before this trip. And maybe he’s right. Maybe this is why I found this place. To do nothing. To just sit still, breathe, and slow down.
This place is so so special to me. More than anything, it just made me realize what I want to have when I get older. A simple life, a small house with a garden where my future dogs can play around, and hopefully in a community like this one.
It’s 4:15pm now. The park is filled with people. Little girls playing with the pigeons. A table with just three people earlier are now being joined by more people. The boys are here too. That old man, now he is joined by two indigenous men who were playing instruments earlier. Oh, and caballeros. It’s normal to see horses galloping away here too.
I bet it’s like this all year round. How amazing is that. I’m 33 and I now find this to be such a wonderful experience.
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