The yellow-painted parish church on the main square, where García Márquez was baptised in 1927. The structure is unremarkable colonial — a single nave, a flat-fronted bell tower — but the square in front, in the merciless midday heat, will be familiar to anyone who has read the early chapters of One Hundred Years of Solitude.
Open during daylight hours, usually empty. Sit on a bench under the almond trees and watch the town move slowly around you.