We’re heading south along the Pan American Highway today on a three hour journey from Cali to Colombia’s second-best preserved colonial city, Popayan. The drive takes us along the flat valley floor of the Cauca river, without the remarkable scenery of the more mountainous parts of the country, and as we enter the outskirts we’re surprised to see an extremely modern city.
However, like its more famous colonial counterpart Cartagena in the north, the historic centre is a real treasure. It’s full of grand churches and public buildings, with Hispanic mansions and beautiful, old streets leading to a pretty plaza at its heart featuring a grand cathedral and clock tower. Yet the similarity with Cartagena stops there for, unlike that multi-coloured gem, the entire historic centre is dazzling white. Every building is whitewashed to create a monochromatic vision, giving the city its moniker, La Ciudad Blanca. And unlike Cartagena, it’s a ghost town, and seems completely empty.
We check into our hotel, Camino Real, right next to the plaza, and head out for lunch, only to find almost every shop and restaurant closed and the historic centre deserted. Popayan is a city of 300,000 inhabitants with seven universities and a large student contingent yet everyone seems to have vanished. We eventually stumble across an Italian restaurant that’s open, and take a seat, grateful to at last find some food.
The couple on the table next to us turn out to be the owners. Chantal is a chef from Switzerland and moved to Popayan 43 years ago, “por amor!” she tells us. Her husband Dario, is a real character with a proper twinkle in his eye, and - at 80 years old - a real spring in his step. He tells us of his youthful past, skipping school and breezing through life, moving to New Orleans, and then San Francisco before moving back to Colombia and meeting Chantal. They are very friendly and welcoming and also explain to us why the city is so quiet today.
We hadn’t realised that it’s Epiphany, or El Día de los Tres Magos, and with Popayan being one of the most religious cities in the whole of Colombia, the feast day is celebrated with an enormous fiesta in a stadium in one of the suburbs. The whole town essentially shuts down for it, which is why we’ve struggled to find anywhere open. However, the plus side is that we get to eat a fantastic Italian meal and can also wander around the historic centre freely taking photos without having to avoid hundreds of people.
As we walk we spot a large hill, which seems to provide a vantage point above the city, so we head towards it and climb its slope as the sun is starting to set. It’s an unusual shape and at its summit is a modern concrete structure, covered in murals, that is reminiscent of a ritual temple. And sure enough we later find out that this entire mound is called Pirámide El Morro de Tulcan, constructed millennia ago and abandoned to nature 500 years before the conquistadors arrived in Colombia.
The views of Popayan are beautiful, yet the rolling mountains to the south west of the city look slightly daunting, knowing we have a bumpy journey over them in a couple of days’ time. Families are gathering to watch the sunset and we take a seat with them but, not having sprayed ourselves with mosquito repellent, we’re soon a target for the little buggers. Reasoning our skin is more important than the final rays of the sun, we make our own fast descent back into the city once more.
That evening we find the only other restaurant in the centre that is open, a steak house called La Cosecha Parillada, and order the only two vegetarian things on the menu; patacones (plantain fritters) and a mixed salad. Thankfully it’s enough to fill our bellies until the morning, when we are met by our new guide Sarah. She doesn’t look on top form and has brought with her a sweet young man called Juan Jose.
It turns out she has been violently ill all night but didn’t want to let us down, so Juan Jose is there to keep her propped up. We send her straight back to bed and suggest that Juan Jose gives us the tour instead in Spanish. He’s a genial chap and takes us around the main sites, but due to the Epiphany hangover, all the museums and churches are still shut so it’s a pretty brief affair.
We start at the Iglesia de Santo Domingo which we admire from the outside, being allowed a brief glimpse into the adjacent monastery, which in 1827 became the University of Cauca, and teaches law. And we also find ourselves outside the Museo Nacional de Guillermo Valencia, a grand mansion that was the home of one of Colombia’s most famous presidents. Sadly it too is shut, however Juan Jose is at least able to fill us in on some of Popayan’s history while we walk the streets.
The city was founded in 1537 by Sebastian de Belalcázar, a year after he established Cali and another year or so before he went on to found both Quito and Lima. It derives its name from the indigenous leader of the time, Pa Yan, and the added ‘Pop’ is an exhortation to adventurous Spaniards to visit, essentially meaning, “Come to Pa Yan”. It remained a very important city for 300 years, but after Colombia gained its independence from Spain other cities started to gain prominence above it.
However it is still famous because more Colombian presidents have come from Popayan than any other city, and it also hosts the biggest Semana Santa (Holy Week) procession and festivities in Colombia, bringing in tens of thousands of Catholic worshippers every Easter. Sadly tragedy struck during Holy Week forty years ago when, on 31st March 1983, a huge earthquake shook the city and the cupola of the cathedral crashed down on the congregation killing hundreds of people just as the Maundy Thursday procession was about to start.
The cathedral has been restored since then, as has the rest of the historic centre, with many of the ancient-looking buildings having been completely rebuilt. The huge clock tower beside the cathedral in the plaza however is completely original, having survived every earthquake since its construction.
The plaza itself is called Parque Caldas and is very pretty with a striking statue of Francisco José de Caldas at its centre. He was a brilliant strategist, born in Popayan, and a national hero, hugely important in the overthrow of colonial rule. He was killed by the Spanish but is revered more in Popayan and the south of the country than Simon Bolivar. He is also said to have discovered a particular species of orchid which has become Colombia’s national flower.
The pathways around the plaza seem extremely white underfoot, and Juan Jose tells us that on January 5th and 6th, as part of the lead up to the Epiphany celebrations, Popayan’s residents gather in the square to throw talcum powder at each other, coating the ground in white. It harkens back to the original reason the city became painted white which was due to the fact that there used to be a particularly nasty tick that lived in the ground around Popayan, and would burrow into the feet of the poorest citizens who could not afford shoes.
The infection it caused resulted in profound itching and the residents would coat their feet in chalk and then rub their feet on the coarse outside of buildings to try and alleviate the irritation. Eventually the city authorities decreed the entire city to be painted white to stop the peasants’ footmarks appearing unsightly for its richer citizens. We’re also reminded of the gulf between rich and poor at one of the city’s other historic sites, La Puente Del Humilladero.
The Bridge of Humiliation is so called because it connects the rich colonial heart with what was originally the poorer district. Before it was built there was just a steep rocky mound that the peasants, farmers and domestic servants of the wealthy would have to climb up, sometimes using their hands and knees, to reach the colonial city streets to be able to sell their wares. In the mid 1800s the grand 11-arch bridge was built to enable them to reach their masters more efficiently but was given its name to remind them of their place.
Next to it is a pretty little bridge, Puente de la Custodia, which crosses the Molino river, and is very similar in style to the bridge which commemorates the Battle of Boyaca we saw a few weeks ago. Juan Jose tells us this bridge is a replica of that one but a simple bit of research establishes that it was actually constructed almost a hundred years earlier in 1713 to allow priests to bring holy orders to the poor when they were sick. As ever, a reminder that history is all in the re-telling and a frequent lesson from all our travels is that different guides tell contradictory versions of events with absolute conviction.
After our unexpectedly short city tour, Juan Jose takes us to a little coffee shop called Mora Castilla to try local empanadas, aborrajados and a rather delicious ice-cream dessert called an Eduardo Santos cake. As we leave we meet a family from San Agustin, five hours over the mountains, who confirm our route tomorrow will be a bone-rattler. They’re very chatty and Mario, the father wants to hear all about our trip, as did an old gentleman yesterday afternoon who stopped us on the street, delighted that tourists were visiting Popayan and keen to know what we thought of the city and the country as a whole. Like almost every Colombian we’ve met on our travels, they’re incredibly friendly, open and smiley.
We finish our time with Juan Jose at a little sweet shop where he buys us some local pastries and traditional doughnuts, which we take with us later for lunch. Having exhausted Popayan’s charms due to its attractions being closed, we go shopping for new glasses for Coman, making it back to the hotel just as heavy rain starts to fall. It’s pretty much the only downpour we see in our entire time in Colombia, a country used to lots of rain, and although we are travelling in a drier time of year, we’re repeatedly told by people we meet that they are very worried by this change in weather patterns.
We do our bit for the planet by searching out one of the few vegetarian restaurants in Popayan, called Deleite Vegeteriano. It’s hidden away on a side street behind a locked iron gate and we are the only diners. The restaurant is pretty much akin to us eating in a family’s front room but despite the slightly strange setting, the food is amongst the most delicious we’ve tasted in our entire trip. So to help spread the word we leave a great review on social media, retiring to bed more than ready for new adventures elsewhere.
The road to San Agustin awaits…
