The Liberator died in Santa Marta December 17th 1830 at the age of 47. The sculpture of Simon Bolivar in the house uses his death mask to create his face. His features are drawn and his face is that of an older tired man, a politician who lost every friend he’d made and whose life was dribbling away thanks to terminal tuberculosis.
The statue lies in state with portraits of his parents at his head. Bolivar was born into great wealth but he was an orphan by the age of twelve. His uncle raised him and he proved to smart as a whip, handsome and worldly. He traveled to Europe, learned several languages and seduced everyone he met.
Back in Venezuela he became a revolutionary and devoted his every energy and fortune to not only ousting Spain but also to joining Latin America into one country. He was George Washington on steroids.
The bed he died in, the tub he took his baths in. I admit it, I was star struck as I stood there. Last year I read a biography of him and I also read THE GENERAL IN HIS LABYRINTH by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a novel describing Bolivars last journey down the Magdalena River to his death.
Bolivars life was a roller coaster of success and failure, he led countries to liberations, annoyed squadrons of people, sought to become a dictator because he knew best and he died alone. Then he attained sainthood.
They built allayed to his memory here where he died at a faithful supporter’s farm. It’s now a shrine on the edge of Santa Marta with a Carrara marble sculpture inside, with muses of prosperity and freedom. It reminded me of the Lincoln Memorial.
It’s hard to imagine what this place might have looked like in 1830 but the farm was founded in 1610 and made its owners a good living from
producing sugar and molasses.
It was a farmhouse and was not supposed to be a fancy residence. For a modern visitor its fancy enough! I might be persuaded to settle one day in a tropical house with a courtyard and quietest places to read.
I’m embarrassed to say I forgot my guide’s name. She was full of information and well read though she didn’t think much of Marquez’s novel! I gave her a big tip anyway.
I visited George Washington’s home on the Potomac, a man who led his country to freedom, who refused a crown and retired with honor and admiration following him home.
Bolivar’s crazy trajectory is exciting and maddening. He liberated tens of millions of people and dreamed impossible dreams. I find him fascinating and I’m excited to be here in South America at last.
Oh by the way, no dogs allowed inside. Lacking a van with air conditioning Layne elected to stay with him outside the official grounds, and there was lots of shade for him to walk. He was glad to see me which is always a joy.
Latin American generally terrible at posting signs, advertising and labeling. A big generalization I know but let me show you the entrance to this historic site.
You have to know it’s here! Thank heavens for the Internet and Google maps because you’d never know in the street outside. Amazing.
Colombia is a country of weird geography because everything is upside down. No, seriously, the points of the compass are all wrong. The north coast is on the Caribbean and the southern part of the country is high mountains. Unlike what you are used to rivers flow south to north. It’s slightly mind bending.
We were driving two hours east along the coast with occasional glimpses of the heaving green Caribbean Sea. There were no pull outs or vista points or course…
We haven’t seen Sue and Hugh from British Columbia since Christmas in Panama. Originally we expected to zoom ahead of them when our paths crossed in Nicaragua but we got held up and they got ahead!
We had lunch at their campground envious in that we only had a tiny rental car! Rusty went straight under their Land Rover like he was back camping.
They are having some issues with their vehicle and need some time to get things fixed. This time it’s not us but these problems crop up when you are overlanding.
The burgers were great and the conversation let us all vent to people who understand. It ended too soon with promises to meet in Medellin.
The Andes looming through the mist.
Traffic was light on the highway and we were driving to beat nightfall. We weren’t speeding but we had to stay focused as there are too many unlighted motorcycles and bicycles to feel safe in the dark.
Colombia is famous among overlanders for animal road signs. Everyone sees the signs, no one sees the creatures themselves, like this anteater?
We made it just at dark at a small hotel in the village of Camarones (shrimp). Too late to see anything, but that will be for tomorrow. Had we been aboard GANNET2 there were lots of truck stops to spend the night at in our own home. This hotel thing takes getting used to!
