Twisted Timeline

Unraveling history's alternate timelines

Field Notes

Ballet of Seasons

The seasons here in Zipaquirá don't follow a predictable order. Weather patterns are orchestrated by the plant-ruled calendar, leading to abrupt shifts in temperature and moisture. The locals carry an air of spontaneity, favoring basket hats over umbrellas, as a light drizzle or sudden gust might accompany the blossoming laughter of trees. I am left clutching my coat as though it were a willing ally in these meteorological whimsies.

Plant Kingdom Decorum

The flora here commands more than mere admiration; it holds an influence over daily life. Whether it is the esteemed Sunflower Elders casting their long shadows at noon or the mischievous Jarilla berries signaling when to socialize, the plant life is both calendar and oracle. Amidst these botanical ringleaders, there are rumors of fauna who act as couriers, albeit grumpily at dawn, bearing messages tied carefully to their tails.

A Guild of Leaf Companions

Occupations in Zipaquirá mimic the unpredictability of their calendar, with guilds focused around 'seasonally fluid' trades. Artisans work when inspired by a plant's cycle, and the potter's wheel turns to a groove hummed by gathering beetles. I met a guild of 'Leaf Companions'—equivalent to botanists—who ensure plants remain in dialogue with this unorthodox timing, a job richer in intrigue than in coin.

Valley of Temporal Layers

Zipaquirá sits nestled in a valley where time appears to pool and shimmer like an elusive mirage. Geological features echo a topography that is as much temporal as physical. The mountains reverberate a low, constant hum reminiscent of an ancient lullaby, perhaps inducing placidity in both goats and governors alike. Here, trails cleverly renovate themselves in response to enthusiastic, albeit misguided, flower paths.

Banishment of the Hourglass

In a realm where time dances with botanical partners, the traditional concept of law enforcement takes a peculiar twist. The Muisca deploy 'Keepers of the Tides,' an order who ensures harmony between the shifting cycles and community affairs. Their primary tool is not a blade but a tome listing ancient scripts describing what plants and times are 'in dissonance,' an offense carrying penalties as whimsical as the calendar itself.

My passage through Zipaquirá in 1537 as documented on Nov 15, 2024

Dancing with the Celestial Vibrato in the Land of Fluid Time

One step through the ethereal veil lands me under a sun that seems to waver in its duties. Today, I find myself amidst the Muisca Confederation, where time is a staggering dance rather than a steady march. Here, the locals abide by a unique calendar system—a major divergence from my home timeline. Unlike the Gregorian calendar with its humdrum of mundane months and predictable cyclicality, the Muisca employ the Celestial Vibrato (a name both ambitious and generous in accuracy), a system where time bends to the whims of poetry and flora.

The Muisca have divided their year into twelve "Botanical Cycles," each dictated by the bloom and wane of specific plants rather than the Earth’s heliocentric devotion or lunar flirtations. The year begins with the Cycle of Blossomed Ambitions, where daylight fluctuates based on the mood swings of the charismatic Sunflower Elders. I must confess a mild case of vertigo when the length of an hour seemingly ebbs and swells with the metaphoric tides, making it nearly impossible to determine at what precise point one ought to take their lunch.

Despite my temporal disorientation, local society thrives with a peculiar rhythm. Meetings are hilariously imprecise as appointments are set for "when the Jarilla berries blush", rendering sundials obsolete ornaments more akin to rustic sculptures than chronological tools. My attempt to synchronize my pocket watch (a relic received from a timeline where the phrase "fashionably late" was outlawed) resulted in hysterical laughter from a nearby vendor. They offered me instead a frond that wilts at a pace best suited for one who's intent on would-be punctuality.

"on the trailing tail of the Moonflower’s shadow,"

In my short stay, I grow fond of the unhurried conversations that occur "on the trailing tail of the Moonflower’s shadow," a timing specificity which somehow enhances both confusion and focus amongst the Muisca. It's as though the very essence of dialogue blooms within this fertile soil of loosened time constructs. Commerce flows with the charm of an unpredictable stream, where merchants, ever so impractically, promise delivery "before the pale orchid's sigh".

On a sociopolitical note, it seems the very elasticity of time here affords the local governance an admirable, albeit exasperating, patience that could do wonders in timelines burdened by incessant deadlines. Decisions—while delayed to a pace that could drive a Swiss bureaucrat into apoplexy—are made with an essence of thorough contemplation, much like a slow-simmering stew.

As I prepare to leap to my next parallel escapade while the wild ginger "gloats beneath the moon's ample skewer," I ponder the playful irony that those who unshackle time seem far less troubled by its relentless, regimented trappings. Perhaps, in this verdant dimension, humanity has learned the secret art of making haste with exquisite, unhurried languor. With a wry smirk, I tuck the frond into my journal as a souvenir—an artifact of a timeline where time forgets itself and thrives nonetheless.

Parallel Timelines