Time is starting to look tight, with a heavy heart we packed our bags for departure. However we had a growing optimism that Columbia has many more wonders awaiting us.

Before heading to the bus terminal we had breakfast at the usual place. This time we got farewells from complete strangers that happened to be eating there. The bus was full but we simply jumped into another that went five minutes later.

Zipaquira (a really difficult one to pronouce) is half way to Bogata. This requires a change either at Bogata or a place that wasn't even show on the map. Not wanting to be stranded in the middle of nowhere and being not too far from Bogata we took the easy option - go into Bogata and get the connecting bus from there.

Two things we didn't count on: firstly the traffic and secondly the bus breaking down. The driver got the tools out and after repeated tries we limped into a place where we could swap buses.

Bogota looked OK for a third world city with over 8 million people, however we didn't go anywhere near the center. We were kind of in and out of the bus terminal, bought tickets and departed on a bus within 5 minutes. Columbia has such a good bus service.

We arrived at a very wet Zipaquira, just short of the intended bus terminal. The bus terminal charges you to use it so no one does. Instead the bus just stopped in the busy street just outside and consequently blocking it off. We were abruptly made aware of this when the bus conductor seeing that we were still on the bus shouted "terminal" twice in an get your arse moving way. We went out to loads of horns from the blocked cars but still had to get our bags. The bus left as soon as the bags came out, we then dived for the pavement as the cars moved forward.

We try and save money where possible and being a relatively small place we fancied the walk to where we were staying. So with the aid of a map from a pamplet we headed out (in the wrong direction). Despite a grid system, and asking a few locals (one that spoke good English) we had zero confidence of finding the abode. We decided to flag down a taxi which took us in the opposite direction (we were no where near). The cost of avoiding a mile walk in the rain whilst packed up and with a bad back was £1.60.

This is a salt mining town, we are only here to see the famous underground salt cathedral. We didn't expect the place to have lovely historical buildings. However one thing was on our mind - food. Found a lovely place overlooking the historical square and it was cheap. I get the impression from the kids reactions that few tourists stay here. Few tourists mean that things are cheap but vegetarianism for the locals is an unknown affliction beyond understanding. So it is not surprising that after saying we are vegetarians and asking for a meal without meat we still got meat. I picked around whilst Liz left anything that had been in contact.

A definate good pattern is emerging: art and good taste in making places good to eat and drink in. This means that we didn't have to take the opportunity of going into a cosy looking bar that we spotted on the way back. Another pattern: cable TV meant that we could save money and I could do some travel planning on the Internet.

You might be wondering on the choice of picture. Due to the altitude it was really cold (for us) last night, it is the first time since America that we could see our breath. Liz my little blanket snaffler kept nicking the blanket (this is the evidence).