My Journey to a Remote Colombian Waterfall
Patience has never been my strong suit. Since childhood, I’ve been a restless mess of a child incapable of sitting still for very long. It got me into trouble at school. It exhausted my parents. It made me anxious. Luckily, with age, I’ve learned to always carry headphones and a book to keep my mind occupied.
However, I was wholly unprepared for the challenge my impatience faced on my last day in Colombia. During my research in preparation for the trip I came across El Salto de Tequendama; a beautiful waterfall about an hour and a half outside of Bogotá. My dad and I both agreed that it should be a part of our trip and I couldn’t wait to see it in person, (gah! impatience).
Well, it was finally happening. My dad and I hopped into a taxi driven by his childhood friend Mario and we were off. Thus we entered Patience Level #1. I settled into my seat and started off by listening to some music to calm my excitement. Thoughts about how the waterfall would compare to the photos crossed my mind. Would it meet my expectations or surpass them? Or would it let me down?
After about 45 minutes of what felt like endless highway, I thought to myself that we must be getting close; with that, I slid into Patience Level #2. I wasn’t really into my music anymore but I kept listening just to occupy myself. As I stared out of the window I felt the taxi come to a slow stop. There seemed to be a little standstill in traffic. Rolling my eyes I looked down at my phone to avoid becoming annoyed by the sight of motionless cars.
I found myself in Patience Level #3 after about 45 minutes of bumper-to-bumper traffic. We had barely moved and I was beginning to be so frustrated that not even music could soothe me. I switched gears and opened my book, Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex, hardly a breezy travel read but I was hoping it would require a moderate amount of concentration.
We reached the two-hour mark and my will to concentrate had faded. I began to turn into a child; fidgeting in my seat, sucking my teeth, looking forlornly out of the window. And I wasn’t the only one, my father seemed to start feeling impatient as well. We had only made a modest amount of movement but it was enough to discover what was causing the traffic. It seemed to be a protest of some sort. A massive crowd of people had gathered carrying signs and banners IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY. I’m a firm believer in the right of assembly but certainly not IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY.
I was violently catapulted into Patience Level #5. I began to complain and be angry. My dad silently and wholeheartedly agreed and eventually suggested that we just turn back. But Mario, our driver, refused. An unexpected and honorable determination had arisen in him and through a series of Fast and Furious-like swerves he managed to get us onto an equally congested side street. He was hoping to find a detour and get away from the angry protesters IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY.
Patience Level #6 involved my dad and me getting out of the car to get water and snacks. Patience Level #7 had us consulting various traffic apps to little avail. Patience Level #8 set in when we were so off course Mario wasn't even completely sure where we were.
Finally, we drove into a clear stretch of highway, (and into Patience Level #9), and hope had rekindled. Thirty minutes of really scary mountainside driving later we reached the four-hour mark and, THANK GOD, our destination. Mario parked the taxi and just like that, I hit Patience Level #10. But instead of the overwhelming rage, I thought I was building toward a feeling of sheer amazement that flooded my entire body.
El Salto de Tequendama was absolutely breathtaking. The air all around us was saturated with a refreshing light mist coming off the waterfall, relieving us from the heat of the day. There was a woman with a grill who made food that you could eat right the edge opposite the waterfall. Couples had gathered here and there, holding hands, kissing and taking in the view. I was snapping pictures from every possible angle when the clouds had moved a little to allow some more sunlight to shine and reveal a rainbow at the foot of the waterfall.
It was a sign. Nature had used all of its resources to tell me what my parents and every teacher I’ve ever known have been telling me for years: have patience. Life is one big waiting game. Cliché after cliché instruct us to stop and smell the roses, good things are worth waiting for and that we shouldn’t be in such a hurry all the time. My New York City millennial mindset is so hardwired to expect things instantly that exercising any amount of patience is not only difficult but an insult to my carefully timed-out schedule. It took basically being trapped in a taxi for four hours to realize how much stress I tend to put myself through.
On our way back to Bogotá I thought that despite how harrowing our journey had been El Salto was the perfect way to end our trip to Colombia. All in all, I had had an amazing experience and I couldn’t wait to come back—I mean, yes, I can wait.
