We were on that street; following our guide; everyone was amazed by the beauty and the color of the umbrellas that adorned the sky; none of them had noticed the two native people who welcomed us to that place; those faces that were full of stories, that without a doubt gave us a clear sign that we were going to enter a space full of Colombianness; the place was a somewhat crazy mix that seemed to have come out of an old spy movie. We entered through a room that was a bakery with many Colombian pastries; the baker, an old man with a white beard and crazy hair; looked at us as we passed in front of him with a smile that conveyed tranquility; while he seemed to want to show us his fresh bread that he had just baked; I hurried to sit down, but the guide told me:

—No, this is not the part where we will sit.

She made us follow her through the display cases that surrounded the kitchen and down a narrow hallway to a door that, when opened, immediately transported us to another place. We were in one of the many picturesque towns in Tolima, a department of Colombia, far from the city of 10 million inhabitants that is Bogotá.

“Team, this is one of those pieces of Colombia that you can only see when you are on the best tour in Bogotá,” said Ivone, our guide, smiling.

As we approached our place, we could see the Willys Jeeps that transported the coffee, also the old jukebox that played traditional music for the people who drank tinto or beer.

We sat at a circular table, everyone around us and the guide standing; a tall, thin man approached us with a tray with two balls made of some kind of plant material; the guide, Ivone, did not take long to introduce us to our host; the same reason why this corner that only a Colombian could know in the great city that is Bogotá was called: Donde el flaco. According to our guide in Bogotá it was very common to have this type of traditional bakery; Don Fredy, as the skinny guy was really called; showed us the tamale, pointing with one of his hands to the tray. Ivone took one of the wrapped ones and took it to the center of the table with a plate; there the magic began; she gently removed the thread with which the leaves that covered the secret food in a circular manner were tied; they were several layers of banana leaf, the guide told us while she opened it; she also explained to us while the steam came out from inside the balls; that these were special, because when cooked with steam for hours they impregnated the tamale with a unique flavor and also in ancient times, in the time when there was no plastic; our ancestors said Ivone; used to transport their food tied to their clothes wrapped in these leaves. When we realized a rounded shape made of corn flour and rice could be seen and with a fork the guide gently opened the dough, inside were the ingredients; carrot, peas and chicken, the smell was incredible, we were all dying to try it, at that moment the guide handed us some spoons and said:

—Let’s eat guys, let’s not talk so much and eat carbohydrates; this dish is full of energy so you can walk calmly through all the hills of the city, that’s what you do in Bogota.

By Fredy Calderon