|Bob en la bicicleta|
|Streetscape in La Candelaria|
|A ghost of Candelaria|
|Up the hill eastward. It'll be all right.|
|La Iglesia de Candelaria|
|Calle 11 in La Candelaria|
|Calle 11: Look eastward, angel|
Anyway, back to the Bike Tour. It wasn't a Bike "Tour" per se, ipso facto, res ipsa loquitur. It was a more of a bike "rental," as in: Here's your bicycle. Be back in three to five hours. There were three others in the shop for the tour. A couple from Colorado and a woman from El Salvador. Off sprinted the Colorado couple at the opening gun. Thank God I wasn't going to have to keep up people from the Fittest State in the Whole U.S.A. And then I was left in the dust of the woman from El Salvador. I was on my own. A boy. His bicycle. And a very general sense of direction.
Not everyone in La Candelaria struggles with their bicycling:
|The bike-riding fruit delivery people manage|
|On the streets of Candelaria|
|Cathedral of Bogotá|
At this point, my legs were hurting. My lungs were hurting. The traffic -- lots of it and none of it functioning in a very organized fashion -- was scaring the bejeezus out of me. I hadn't gotten far enough from the bicycle shop to know how to get back quickly.
So I abandoned the three-hour tour after one-half hour. I returned la bicicleta and walked La Candelaria for the rest of the afternoon.