You gaze at that jewel.

Bogotá throws it at you head-on: the Colegio Mayor de San Bartolomé.

You breathe deeply. The air hides away.

To your left, the house where Bolívar’s beloved sighed toward the Liberator.

You cross. The Teatro Colón smells of art.

One more step: Silva’s childhood home.

You push your son’s stroller uphill. Your lungs protest.

He looks at you, smiling, as if the climb were a game.

Suddenly, the Military Museum.

You advance. Caro and Cuervo: letters and beer.

Your breath quickens, your heart pounds.

You don’t know if you lack oxygen or words.

The street grows steeper. La Pola resists with you.

Bogotá doesn’t forgive. Bogotá enchants.

You stop. The view is pure magic.

Your son points to the horizon, as if discovering a secret.

You take out two empanadas. They clash like a toast.

You both laugh. And in that instant, the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

One street. That’s enough to fall in love with this city.

By Fredy Calderon

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View of Bogotá street leading toward the mountains, blending urban life with the Andean horizon