We were driving through the countryside and I should have been enjoying the peace and quiet I’ve come to know it provided. But reggaetón at 3am was the wake up call I received instead. As our overnight bus journey came to an end, the new day began. The sun was beginning to rise over the mountains in the east, a laborious process as the light has to climb the mountains so large you have to crane your neck to see the horizon. At that time, the sky resembled the sea: teal, aquamarine blue, hints of pale yellow streaks stretching from the still hidden yet eagerly climbing sun. The mountains remained in shadow, grey navy waves preparing to crest.
Our bus weaved away from the terminal in Armenia toward Pereira and passed a few taxis waiting in a line around a roundabout. I presumed this intersection would be bustling in an hour or so. But for now, the cabbies yawned over their coffee while their future patrons finished their last dreams. Father down, man sleeping under cardboard on the sidewalk rose slowly and stretched. Then, he took a moment to stare into the darkness in front of him before shaking awake the child to his left.
The music may not have provided clarity or calm, but the sunrise did. As the sun continued to surf up the mountains, the valley below opened its petals to reveal its colors: grass and shrubs as green as limes, dark, mossy hills like ripples in a pool, animals of grey, brown, and white. Unlike Bogotá, the morning dew did not mix with pollution making grey clouds of smog. Rather, it clung to the trees and rooftops waiting to be lifted from the sun.
Life was generating again in the east. Yet the sky remained darker to the west, hues of navy and forest green. The small light from the sun hand't reached the mountains to the west yet. A line of frothy, low hanging clouds stretched over the ground making the appearance of a settling wave.
The sun finally summited and with it came to light the inhabitants of the valley beginning to stir from their homes. The yellow shine warmed the series of tin roof slats supported by wooden pillars, bricks slabbed together for a back wall to protect the open fire from the wind. A woman in pink pajamas collects the laundry from a wire. It reached the red, Spanish tiles with Mercedes in the driveway. A man stands on the porch with coffee and watches the sun. The sun cascaded over waves of thatched roofs connecting homes to bodegas to restaurants. Another man stokes a fire to prepare breakfast. A priest unlocks the gate at a large red and white church with a trim of barbed wire decorating the roof. And in the distance a rainbow arched over glittering aluminium shacks.
The thoughts in my head and observations on this page were from the luxury of a spacious coach, which cost me $20. Aware of the differences between the people of the valley and myself, I continued watching, observing, and reflecting on what life does and does not provide.
The sun was up, the mountains are blue.
Pereira, 06:25
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