01.19.2013 - 01.19.2013
After suffering another night of troubled sleep, I could not rouse myself at 5:45 this morning, so we find ourselves still in Salento, sitting on the balcony and listening to the clip clop of high-stepping horses amidst other less charming street noise.
We didn't do much today. Just visited Restaurante Andrea (this time sampling the trucha campesino--delicious), climbed up to the mirador for another glimpse of Valle de Cocora, peeked into a few artisan shops, and then spent the rest of the day napping and reading.
Hostal Bienvenidos seems truly a family-run place. I can detect no other guests besides us, and yet a whole troupe of people seem to eat, cook, and sleep here--running the bakery and the crafts supply stores next door. At night and in the morning we hear all the racket a family typically makes (and smell its good food smells as well), and we feel for a moment as though we are in a home again. I keep wondering if we might not pay a bit more to sit down and eat with everyone else, but I get tired trying to think of the words, and anyway we have our trucha place.
Oh God the sky is pink now, and its little masses of perfectly puffy clouds are all lit up in quiet, humble glory. I think of Rachel who always said that beauty made her cry, and I feel my throat going thick.