Dispatches from Mompos
In the late afternoon dozens of teenagers gather on the street running parallel with the Rio Magdalena to learn dance routines.
On the two days I’ve seen them do this, there must have been almost 100 young girls and boys learning the steps to tunes belted out from a large speaker on the pavement.
I felt a wave of nostalgia for the simplicity of an adolescence not hampered by likes, filters and diet culture.
This is Mompos, a town that’s always able to show you the way things were.
In the days before the Spanish conquistadors, this land was ruled by the indigenous chieftain, Mampo.
But in 1537 Alonso de Heredia arrived and founded the town as a key port on the Rio Magdalena.
Its strategic position brought prosperity and with it, more beautiful churches, convents and large houses than seems possible in such a small town.
Strolling through the streets, you’ll turn a corner to be faced with yet another faithfully preserved colonial relic.
Queen among them is Iglesia de Santa Barbara, constructed in 1613, it sits reclining in glorious yellow splendour on the banks of the river.
The town hall is another yellow wonder, Palacio San Carlos, a former Jesuit convent dating from 1600.
Mompos’ attitude towards its own beauty seems casual, compared to the more polished facades of big sister, Cartagena.
The streets are lined with mostly low key, white terraced houses, with colourful exteriors belonging mainly to shops.
The pavements are really high up from the road, so a meander round town involves a lot of hopping up and down.
Large houses don’t loom over the street, you only really notice their size once you’ve peered through the gate and into the inevitable gorgeous courtyard within.
In the mid-day heat, it’s possible to have entire squares to yourself as the locals head inside for a siesta.
Maybe it’s the intense temperatures and humidity that keep the town so tranquil. Maybe it’s that wherever people need to be, they know they’ve not got far to go. Maybe the river that once brought hustle and bustle now sets a slower, more laid back pace.
Whatever it is, being in Mompos is like watching treacle slip off a spoon; soporific but strangely satisfying.
