Up the Orinoco and down the Magdalena

by J. A. Zahm

In the beginning, however, it must be confessed that we were surprised at some of the bills presented us for payment. The first one was for the washing of some linen in a town on the Meta. The work was done by an Indian woman, for which a charge was made of two hundred and forty-five dollars. This bill, large as it was, did not frighten us as much as one that Mark Twain tells of in his Innocents Abroad, when during his visit to the Azores, one of his traveling companions was charged some thousands of milreis for a modest repast. We should have paid it without comment, but found that the articles in question had been washed only and not ironed. When we remarked upon this apparent forgetfulness or neglect, the tawny laundress informed us that it was not the custom there for the same person to do both washing and ironing, and referred us to a neighbor of hers as one quite competent to complete the work she had begun. Unfortunately, as it had been raining continuously for several days, and our laundress had no way of drying the things she had washed, except in the sun—which had obstinately refused to appear—and as we were obliged to take our departure without delay, the wearing apparel aforesaid was neither ironed nor dried.

But the washer-woman’s bill, which seems exorbitant, requires an explanation. It was all a mere matter of the rate of exchange, which, in Colombia, during the time of our visit, was ten thousand. That means that the peso—dollar—had a value of just one centavo—one cent. Some years ago the rate of exchange was much higher. Now, however, there is a well-founded hope, that the financial condition of the country will soon be on a more satisfactory basis, and that before many years elapse, it can be put on a gold basis. The present legal tender of the country is paper currency and gold coin. Outside of the large cities one never sees anything but paper money. I have known the peons in several cases to refuse coin because they thought it was counterfeit—so long is it since gold coin has been in circulation.

The present financial condition of the republic is a striking commentary on the havoc wrought by the numerous revolutions that have devastated the country and ruined its credit. One of the most difficult of the many difficult tasks that confront the administration is that of restoring the nation’s credit, and of getting the rate of exchange back to par. It is, however, making a noble effort, and all well-wishers of Colombia trust its endeavors will be crowned with success.

As one may imagine, it is necessary for the traveler to carry with him quite a bulky package of bills in order to live in even the most modest fashion. A mule or a cart was not, however, required to transport our funds, as Hazard, in his work on Haiti, says was indispensable in that ill-fated land, where a hundred dollars in gold was exchanged for several sacks of bills—huge bags—not unlike bundles of rags or waste paper.

To us it was always interesting to hear the peons talk of their fortune of hundreds or thousands of dollars. It seemed to give the poor fellows special satisfaction to deal in large figures and to speak of large sums, as if they were all rising millionaires. The monetary crisis had this redeeming feature, if no other, that it afforded the beggar in the street the pleasure of seeing dollars in his alms where, before the revolution, he would have found only so many cents. The sturdy market women we saw on the way from Caqueza to Bogotá talked in a most happy way of their prospects of realizing forty dollars a piece for their chickens and fifteen dollars a dozen for their eggs, while their husbands were rejoicing in the thought that they would receive a thousand dollars for a heifer and two thousand or more for a milch-cow. They never used the words “cents”; it was always “pesos”—dollars. Happy people, who find such delight in names and appearances!

There are but few railroads in Colombia, and their total mileage at the time of our visit was less than five hundred miles. Many roads are projected and have been for decades past, but the numerous revolutions have prevented their construction. The one from Bogotá to Facatativá, our first objective point on the way to the Magdalena, is only twenty-five miles in length. There is, however, a well-grounded hope that this can at an early day be connected with the line that is building from Girardot.[1] When this shall have been accomplished it will be possible to reach Bogotá without the long overland ride on horse- or mule-back that has been necessary since the time of Quesada.

But far from regretting the lack of a through train to the Magdalena, we were rather glad that we were obliged to have recourse to a less expeditious mode of locomotion. It required more time, it is true, to make the trip, and was more fatiguing, but it gave us an opportunity of seeing the country to greater advantage and of getting better acquainted with its people. Indeed, the journey down the Cordillera from Bogotá to Honda was but the proper complement of that from the llanos up to the Sabana that lies at the foot of the nation’s capital. It gave us an opportunity of comparing conditions on the eastern slope of the Oriental Andes with those prevailing on the western, and we have always considered ourselves fortunate in having been able to explore from the saddle the interesting country that lies between the Meta and the Magdalena. As I now think, it was, in many respects, the most delightful and instructive part of our wanderings in South America.

The track and rolling-stock of the Sabana railway are, as might be expected, of the most primitive kind. The roadbed has received little attention, and the cars and engine are scarcely fit for service. But all this can be condoned when one is familiar with the untoward conditions that, for so many years, have militated against improvements of all kinds. The transportation of the rails, cars and locomotives from Cambao, on the Magdalena, to the plateau, when the cart road between the two points was little better than a bridle-path, was in itself a Herculean task, and as we journeyed to Honda, it never ceased to excite our wonder. Great improvements, however, are promised as soon as connection shall be made with the branch, now approaching completion, from Girardot. Then the transportation of heavy freight will be a trifling task in comparison with what it has been hitherto.

The Sabana of Bogotá resembles somewhat the plain of Caracas except that it is far more extensive than the Venezuelan plateau. Both have been regarded as the beds of lakes that have long since disappeared. Whatever may be said about the existence of a lake in the vale of Caracas, it seems now quite certain that there never was any great body of water, such as has so long been imagined, occupying the region now known as the Sabana de Bogotá.[2] Recent investigations appear to have decided this much-debated question against Humboldt and those who accepted his views regarding this matter.

We were much interested in the haciendas through which the train passed, as well as in the homes of their owners and in the picturesque villages along the road. There were broad acres devoted to the cultivation of wheat, barley, maize and potatoes, and extensive pastures, over which roamed large flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. These cattle, so we fancied, were the lineal descendants of those brought to Española by Columbus at the time of his second voyage. And the swine we saw—there could be little doubt about it—could claim, as their ancestors, those which Belalcazar had brought with him from Quito, as the hens, that cackled and clucked as we sped by, were the offspring of those carefully guarded by Federmann during his famous expedition from Coro to Santa Fe de Bogotá.[3]