I think I'm turning Catholic, I really think so - August 17, 2013

An early start to the day. We made our way from our hostel to the Sabana Train Station, fully documented up. Passports - check, train tickets - check. What I neglected to bring was the address of the hostel, or one of their cards, but more on that later. Initially, we wondered if it was necessary to purchase our tickets in advance but when we departed the second stop with nary a seat available, we congratulated ourselves on our forethought. This is actually something I'm a bit OCD about, as I HATE wasting time when we're off the boat. So much to see, so little time (and money). Lots of people say that they LOVE to be spontaneous when they travel....those people either have a lot of time, a lot of money, or no sense. Upon arrival in Bogota, even after our 9 hour overnight bus ride from San Agustin, I made the executive decision to head straight to the station to get our tickets to visit the Salt Cathedral the next day.   

We rattled our way towards the community of Zipaquira, a pueblo that has obviously enjoyed the fruits of having a major attraction in its midst. Beautiful brickwork lined the sidewalks and although it was a Saturday there wasn't a bit of trash on the roads. While were were in the train heading to our destination, we purchased entrance tickets for the Cathedral and the transport to/from the train. Suffice it to say we were blown away with the immense scale of the underground crosses and the Cathedral itself. Twelve different crosses, all carved/mined in a different way, representing the steps towards the resurrection of Christ. After seeing the crosses, you come to a vast sanctuary.  The last photo shows the scale of one of the columns. You don't have to be religious to truly appreciate this place, but....you have to visit it yourself to believe it. Unfortunately, I have no words to really describe it, and our photos do not do it justice. For more info, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salt_Cathedral_of_Zipaquira

After an entire day of being tourists, we are always tired and today was no exception. We had made it back to Bogota, except, we still had to figure out where we lived. The cabbie didn't know our particular hostel amongst the myriad of others in the historic center but I channeled my inner bloodhound and we drove right to it. I impressed even myself....