My bus descended into a valley, with fields full of vegetables. We stop at an army checkpoint. The military searches the local males, especially the young ones. They leave me alone. Arriving at the small bus station, I try to roll my bag down the cobblestone streets, which do their best to resist. I descend some stairs and find my hotel.
Villa de Leyva boasts a large, cobblestone square with a small colonial white church on one side and a stone fountain in the middle. Some of its buildings have Moorish arches. I look at schoolchildren crossing the square, young lovers flirting and people walking their small dogs. The sun sets on this square, turning the sky crimson red above the white-washed buildings with their red-tiled roofs.
As darkness descends, I check out the craft shops on the streets radiating from the square. Streetlights give a yellowish glow to the white structures, resembling a movie scene where something big might happen, but all is quiet.
