Late August 2010
It's been nearly two weeks in Colombia, filled with innocent sightseeing and healthy trekking excursions. We're in the coffee-break between the action. But now we're heading down south to Cali, the Colombian party capital of Salsa, things could change.
Just getting on the bus there are signs of trouble. Mark sleeps while I find myself flirting with a girl sitting nearby. She turns out to be a bit young for me, though she tries to convince me this is not the case in Colombia, and does a pretty good job of it.
Meanwhile downstairs the army entice would-be soldiers by letting them play with large guns. Happy couples and children pose for some interesting photos.
Salsa
Later we head into town, a free salsa performance is showing in the local theatre, as a prelude to the next salsa festival. It's quite spectacular. The salsa style in Cali is very showy, quite different to other parts of Colombia or Latin America.
New Arrival
In the evening we go to the airport to meet our Aussie mate, also called Mark. So now we are 3 - myself, Aussie Mark, and English Mark, who I'll call Markus or MC (Marcus Claudius). I met Mark, the aussie, probably 15 years ago in a London hostel (where else). I was a bum back then too (as well as now, not as well as him), soon after leaving university. Mark was doing the aussie travel thing. Together we hatched a plan to seduce posh women by posing as window-cleaners, and the three-musketeers window cleaning service was born (English Mark being included without warning). The service didn't live long though - some of the customers had the right idea but the wrong gender.
Mark's main duties on the tour (apart from charming the ladies of course) were head chef and comic. Never a dull or hungry moment.
Popayan
Mid-week again not much happening in Cali so we pop down further south to Popayan just three hours away. Mark was a little nervous at first, having read up on all the dangers of Colombia. But the bus ride was pretty harmless, though later I heard that the same route had been held up by FARC (a left-wing military group more prevalent in the south). Everyone was taken off the bus and forcibly held... to listen to a PR speech. They just wanted to explain they meant no trouble, they just had some disagreements with the government. Comforting words no doubt, though the semi-automatics may not have had the same effect.
That said, if someone held a gun to my head and said you have five seconds to choose a country in which to live for the rest of your life, there's a fair chance I'd blurt out "Colombia". It's a wonderful country, and this shows in the warm and friendly smiles of the people.
Popayan is a picturesque colonial town with some damned good food, and holds an annual gastronomic festival. It's almost wasted on me since as usual I've got my eye on other tasty delights. e.g. we're walking down the street when a car passes and stops momentarily ahead of us, out pops a bubbly blond, bouncing across the pavement to a cash-machine. Moments later she's back in the car and off it rolls...very slowly, slowly enough for me to flag it down. A couple of girls seem chirpy and chatty, and I'm invited for a ride.... honey-trap thinks my aussie mate, but going by intuition, or something, I disappear into the car with the girls.
I live to tell the tale, but sadly there's not much to tell. Having thrown some suggestions in the air, we settle for coffee then a private party, dance, order pizza, and well that's about it. Doh, maybe I forgot the alcohol, or there were higher forces at work.
We leave (why?), heading back up to Cali. I feel we only scratched the surface here, it's the kind of place you need to spend time to discover, and best seen with some locals. We saw plenty of bars, but the club-scene is tucked away in Menga or Juanchito sectors. One night as-good-as-married-Markus turned in early so I dragged my aussie mate all the way over there.. only to be turned away... left on the street like a couple of kids locked out of a candy store. It was a bring-your-own-candy party.
Medellin
Continuing up north we stop at Medellin, home of the infamous Pablo Escobar before he was finally hunted down and shot by the government. Like many parts of Colombia, Medellin is a place of stark contrasts. The metro service is state-of-the-art, including cable-cars that offer impressive views of the city, as well as glimpses of the poverty below.
An escopetarra, a former rifle turned into a guitar, symbol of peace.
Medellin is known for it's rampant night-life - we get a hint of it as we head out a couple of nights but it's mid-week again so we turn in early. It's also highly touristed, especially by americans, so we don't have a huge urge to stay long. The weekend awaits us in Cartagena...
Just getting on the bus there are signs of trouble. Mark sleeps while I find myself flirting with a girl sitting nearby. She turns out to be a bit young for me, though she tries to convince me this is not the case in Colombia, and does a pretty good job of it.
Not that the temptations stop there, when we get into town an impromptu lingerie fashion show teases shoppers.
Meanwhile downstairs the army entice would-be soldiers by letting them play with large guns. Happy couples and children pose for some interesting photos.
Salsa
Later we head into town, a free salsa performance is showing in the local theatre, as a prelude to the next salsa festival. It's quite spectacular. The salsa style in Cali is very showy, quite different to other parts of Colombia or Latin America.
Apart from Salsa parties, there's not much to do in Cali. The zoo is pretty fun though.
New Arrival
In the evening we go to the airport to meet our Aussie mate, also called Mark. So now we are 3 - myself, Aussie Mark, and English Mark, who I'll call Markus or MC (Marcus Claudius). I met Mark, the aussie, probably 15 years ago in a London hostel (where else). I was a bum back then too (as well as now, not as well as him), soon after leaving university. Mark was doing the aussie travel thing. Together we hatched a plan to seduce posh women by posing as window-cleaners, and the three-musketeers window cleaning service was born (English Mark being included without warning). The service didn't live long though - some of the customers had the right idea but the wrong gender.
Mark's main duties on the tour (apart from charming the ladies of course) were head chef and comic. Never a dull or hungry moment.
Popayan
Mid-week again not much happening in Cali so we pop down further south to Popayan just three hours away. Mark was a little nervous at first, having read up on all the dangers of Colombia. But the bus ride was pretty harmless, though later I heard that the same route had been held up by FARC (a left-wing military group more prevalent in the south). Everyone was taken off the bus and forcibly held... to listen to a PR speech. They just wanted to explain they meant no trouble, they just had some disagreements with the government. Comforting words no doubt, though the semi-automatics may not have had the same effect.
That said, if someone held a gun to my head and said you have five seconds to choose a country in which to live for the rest of your life, there's a fair chance I'd blurt out "Colombia". It's a wonderful country, and this shows in the warm and friendly smiles of the people.
Popayan is a picturesque colonial town with some damned good food, and holds an annual gastronomic festival. It's almost wasted on me since as usual I've got my eye on other tasty delights. e.g. we're walking down the street when a car passes and stops momentarily ahead of us, out pops a bubbly blond, bouncing across the pavement to a cash-machine. Moments later she's back in the car and off it rolls...very slowly, slowly enough for me to flag it down. A couple of girls seem chirpy and chatty, and I'm invited for a ride.... honey-trap thinks my aussie mate, but going by intuition, or something, I disappear into the car with the girls.
I live to tell the tale, but sadly there's not much to tell. Having thrown some suggestions in the air, we settle for coffee then a private party, dance, order pizza, and well that's about it. Doh, maybe I forgot the alcohol, or there were higher forces at work.
We leave (why?), heading back up to Cali. I feel we only scratched the surface here, it's the kind of place you need to spend time to discover, and best seen with some locals. We saw plenty of bars, but the club-scene is tucked away in Menga or Juanchito sectors. One night as-good-as-married-Markus turned in early so I dragged my aussie mate all the way over there.. only to be turned away... left on the street like a couple of kids locked out of a candy store. It was a bring-your-own-candy party.
Medellin
Continuing up north we stop at Medellin, home of the infamous Pablo Escobar before he was finally hunted down and shot by the government. Like many parts of Colombia, Medellin is a place of stark contrasts. The metro service is state-of-the-art, including cable-cars that offer impressive views of the city, as well as glimpses of the poverty below.
Medellin is known for it's rampant night-life - we get a hint of it as we head out a couple of nights but it's mid-week again so we turn in early. It's also highly touristed, especially by americans, so we don't have a huge urge to stay long. The weekend awaits us in Cartagena...
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