How about a quick lesson in personal space in South America. In the U.S., we stand in lines and seemingly have a force-field around us that keeps the stranger near you at a respectable distance. Researchers have found this distance to be, on average in the U.S., 18-inches – I have several credits in geography don’t ya know? Most other parts of the world this distance is 6-inches. As I found while stationed in South Korea during my time in the Army, while out mingling with Koreans, this distance can be zero. Being in contact with the person in line with you seemed to be the norm. In fact, any gap was quickly filled by someone taking ‘cutzies’.
While standing at the end of the line waiting my turn in the glass booth with the gentleman sporting a blue paisley tie. I was standing with my 18-inch force-field at maximum power. A woman came up to join the line. The tight-panted, halter-topped (standard attire), late twenties woman busted right through my happy space. She pressed against me and began to hold a conversation with the woman in front of me. I’m just 5-10, yet I towered above most of the people in the line. I stood in line holding my hands in front of me and became aware that my left elbow was nestled between the breasts of the force-field busting halter-topped one. I moved forward some. The elbow remained well positioned. Kinda like a hot dog in a warm bun. I moved forward, again. Same result. Finally, I was nearly touching the woman ahead of me. She gave no indication of being disturbed by my encroachment. I looked at the goings on in the booth. Suddenly, the paisley tie’d man let someone out of the booth and looked at me. He gestured for me to come in. I nodded to the rest of the line-up ahead of me as they should go before me. He beckoned again. Others in the line turned, looked at me, and began to make way for me to proceed. My left elbow was still nestled. A woman at the head of the line said something as paisley tie did also. I gestured that all these people should good first. In a stern voice the woman at the head of the line nearly barked something at me. I understood the tone instinctively. I undocked my elbow, and waded through the line as paisley tie exited the booth. As I conducted my transaction I realized what the gentleman was doing for these people. He was helping them complete their transactions. They may not have been able to read. I came out after only seconds in the booth, and wading through the throng saying ‘gracias’ for allowing me to go ahead. I had to brush past many of these people to get by. The woman whose breasts cradled my elbow was pressed against the woman who was ahead of me. They glanced at me and continued their conversation.
Kathleen had a good laugh over my experience at the ATM as we prepared to leave for a bus to Barichara. Kathleen is not a whopping big fan of being touched by strangers. She’s more relaxed with me now after 23 years. We hoped Barichara was similar to Villa de Leyva at being quieter and less busy. We found the bus terminal and paid our fare (~$10USD for both) for the 45-minute ride to Barichara.
The bus pulled out and, as usual, collected and dropped off people along the way. A little over an hour later we arrived in Barichara. Kathleen and I sat at the plaza while I sent a Spot GPS message. Aahhhhh. This place was serene and quiet so far. Even in the company of a 13-foot flamingo. We walked to our hotel, the Hotel Corata, just up the street from the cathedral.
Hotel Corata, Barichara, Colombia
Kathleen and I spent the day walking about Barichara and found the place to our liking. We found a portion of a neighborhood where some trees were producing fruit and a few shrubs were in bloom. Birding here was good. We saw a number of species and could get pictures of a few. By evening, rain started as a steady drizzle and went into the night with thunder, lightening, and steady down-pours.
Streets become rivers, down-poor in Barichara, Colombia
Blue-crowned motmot
Blue-necked tanager
Violaceous Euphonia
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