Photo Feature by Caridad
HAVANA TIMES — It’s been a year, perhaps, since I walked down the narrow streets of a town named Jajo. We had made our way to Trujillo, on the Venezuelan Andes, hoping to get to know my country of residence more in depth. I also wanted to get away from the city, the hectic pace of Caracas, the noise, the haze, the armed robberies.
Though Jajo is no longer the idyllic little town devoid of criminals where I could once have pulled out my camera without worries, it is still not to be compared with other places in Venezuela.
Walking up there every morning – it’s a shame it was only for one week – proved almost magical. My eyes refused to stay shut beyond 5 in the morning, not wanting to miss a minute of those beautiful landscapes at dawn.
Jajo was founded a little over 400 years ago and is located some 1.800 meters above sea level. Sometimes, for those of us who aren’t accustomed to such heights, the air can seem a little bit too thin and keep us from moving about as energetically as elsewhere, but this isn’t something that conspires against having a good time there.
When I leave Venezuela, and I may do so well before planned, given the current circumstances, I will take away with me many beautiful things from its people, and the family who took us in there those days will always occupy a special place for me. I think one of the things that characterizes those who live in remote towns is hospitality, and, in this case, it is one of the things Jajo has no shortage of.
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