I went into the cathedral at the behest of the rather skeevy taxi driver/local tour guide we had hired for the afternoon, and quickly found that they were in the midst of a deeply emotional service. I think that the services had been going on all day … the people there were being led by a battered-looking priest, whose voice was hoarse from preaching all day. He was fervently imploring God to please grant peace to Colombia, and leading the congregating in chants of “No mas FARC! No mas FARC!”
I faded to the back wall, took a few pictures, and started feeling very out of place; these people were squeezing their eyes shut and clenching their hands together with passion as they prayed. Their pain was deep and profound, and since I had wandered in as a tourist in the midst of this, I felt it best to offer up my own prayer, put some money in the collection box, and leave.