Yesterday afternoon, Seth and I took the Transmilenio to Calle 26, the location of the Cementario Central de Bogotá. It opened its doors in 1832 and has since housed Colombians off all classes and persuasions: rich and poor, citizens and presidents, guerillas and generals, revolutionaries and dictators.
The cemetery is little-known among Bogotanos and as result of this is in a bittersweet state of disrepair. Unlike the exceptionally public Père Lachaise cemetery of Paris or the meticulously maintained graveyards of the rural Czech Republic, the Cementario Central feels intimate and spiritual in a comfortable, lived-in sort of way.
Next door to the cemetery, in the Parque El Renacimiento (Renaissance Park), Seth and I spotted a beautiful blooming tree. Surrounded by various shades of gray, it seemed to signify hope and light in even the darkest of places.