There are sometimes trips that come along that one really can't explain why they were booked; sometimes the wanderlust in our subconscious creeps out of his cage to stage a coup in the deep recesses of our brains. This I believe is what led to my recent trip to Cali- no, not the state of California, rather the city in western Colombia. Yeah, LL Cool J? He wasn't along for this ride.
It all starts three weeks ago, when my buddy Shayanne was talking to me about the city; salsa capital of the world, warm weather, beautiful women- staple subjects of normal conversations in Colombia. Later that day, I was bored and just started looking up flights, and before I knew it, the AMEX card got whipped out and I was headed to Cali in two weeks time. Again, no rhyme or reason for my purchase...it just happened. However, in the few days before my departure, I started to second guess my decision. I didn't know anyone where I was going, I heard the city was quite dangerous,and I was staying at a hostel( I hate sharing living spaces with strangers, especially backpackers).
Despite last minutes jitters, I boarded the plane and headed to Cali. The hostel was great actually, with super friendly staff that arranged airport pickup: so clutch. Second, they offered free salsa lessons everyday. I got there at midnight on Thursday and went straight to bed. It was quite a strange feeling being in a hostel again, but for $8 per night, you can't beat it. I have to admit it, in my somewhat extensive traveling experience, I may have developed into a bit of a travel snob, meaning I don't go to hostels, I avoid other travelers, etc. However, being in a hostel again and traveling with just a small backpack, I couldn't help feeling a renewed sense of adventure that I haven't experienced for some time.
So I woke up Friday morning and saw Jovitas, my hostel, for the first time. Surprisingly the whole weekend, the hostel remained sparsely populated. It was a large colonial home, so high ceilings and brilliantly painted walls with a courtyard in the middle of the plaza that had hammocks strung up all over, making for a pretty chill environment. After heading outside for some air, I decided to get some breakfast. I went to a random bakery and ordered an omelet the size of my forearm for $2, I mean it must have been made with at least 4 or 5 eggs. Needless to say, I wasn't hungry until dusk. It was hot and sunny, so I decided to grab a book from the hostel library and head to a park or cafe. Now this was a fun process because a hostels library is usually so diverse and random, each pull can be quite the experience. They had everything from a learn Japanese language book to the New Testament in Spanish to some random Lord of the Rings knock off about the God Gildron and the stealing of the magic orb of Gorbitron...However, I spotted my sought after lyrical treasure and knew it had to be-The Irish Reader. It was a thick book that had once been a deep green, but had since been caked in dust and dirt giving it an entirely new color, a color attesting to its long hard fought battle with time; and clearly it had been a war of attrition. And it's in moments like these in life when you have the rare occasion to see something that by most standards would be considered ugly and tired, as something of beauty. That is why it is so enjoyable to read old books, it's not just the appearance, but the feel of its worn pages slipping through the tips of your fingers and the smell that seems to linger until your nose becomes accustomed to it. That is what I could say about this book; a collection of short stories, plays, and other works of fiction by some of the greatest Irish writers of all time.
So with my old friend in hand, I proceeded to San Antonio church. Sweet, boring view of the city. So then I headed to a nearby cafe, where I had some espresso and read the Ride of Seafarer and The Weaver's Grave. After, a long day of total solitude and being a hermit, my soul was yearning for some human interaction. I headed back to the hostel and met Will Spellman- A Londoner who has been living in Cali and is a good friend of my friend in Medellin. We chatted for a bit, hit if off, and decided to go grab some beers on a rooftop bar, $1 each. Now I know why he decided to stay here. After heading back to the hostel for some free salsa lessons, actually more like a workout, we showered and headed out to a live Graffiti art show by some French and German dudes. So before we proceed any further, maybe it would be better if we go over some short, descriptive bios of the characters:
Me: The precarious, young, clever, handsome, outgoing, humorous, did I mention good looking, gringo from Medellin looking to discover Cali.
Will: The Captain as I like to call him, the super cool Londoner who left the rain and cold of good ole England to live Colombia and learn Spanish. Basically my guide the whole weekend...we drank beers and stuff too.
Bernie: Bernie is an Irishman from Cork, Ireland. Who is passing through Colombia on holiday and loves learning Salsa. His witty humor and frankness always kept the conversation interesting.
Marcela: Filmmaker from Bogota with a hardworking attitude. Typical rough exterior of a Bogota resident, but a true sweetheart once you get to know her. Fancies butter on her arepas.
Andy: The proverbial Scotsman. Listening to him was like stand up comedy. His accent combined with his ability to tell a story, made even the most standard conversations hilarious.
Friday night, we drank and talked, getting to know each other better. Saturday on the other hand was much different. I got up at 10:00am and went to Crossfit in Cali. I came back to go grab some lunch with Will at a cafe called Macanudo. Later we went back to the hammocks at the hostel, lounged, then got ready to go out. We first went to the zona rosa which is like the richy part of town where young professionals go out, go figure, the name of the bar we went to was called Bourbon Street. After polishing off some Jack Daniels, we headed to a club called Favela. Will, myself, and some others from the hostel. Pretty standard night, we danced some salsa with some ladies, talked, and headed back to the hostel, nothing crazy.
Sunday, we headed to a hip hop concert in a large concert venue/park. Other than having the most inept and annoying MC of all time, some of the artists weren't too bad. Typically, I can't enjoy live hip-hop, but the DJs and the sound system were great. They even broke it up with some breakdancing crews coming out to perform on stage. So after 4 hours of hair of the dog, we headed back home. Andy, Will, and I all chilled on my last night in Cali, mainly just talking and telling jokes, most of which were made by Andy.
After this weekend, I can truly say Cali broke the mold of bad stereotypes surrounding it. I found it to be a warm and colorful place, full of life. I will definitely be returning soon. I mean $80 roundtrip flight that lasts an hour, who could pass that up?
