Whale Watching Weekend Pt1: Salsa City

It’s Friday September 7th and I get up at a slightly earlier than usual 5am. I have a quick shower, grab my stuff and head off in a taxi to the airport: this weekend I am going to Cali to meet up with some friends (Amy, Heather, Jay, Kirsty, Lucy, and Patrick- fellow language assistants from the UK) to go on a whale watching weekend.

My flights goes from Barranquilla to Bogotá, and then onto Cali. I arrive in Cali at around noon and Heather was kindly waiting for me in the terminal so we could head to the hostel together. “I am so glad you’re here Heather, because I completely forgot to write down any details about where we’re going!” Awakward turtle, Heather had forgotten too! So we got a bus from the airport to the Terminal de Transportes in Cali, where luckily a lovely tourist information lady was able to tell us where our hostel was. Phew!

We weren’t long in the hostel until Lucy arrived to welcome us to her new city, and shortly after Amy got to the hostel so we headed out for a bit. First off we went to the bank so that Lucy could pay the deposit for our whale watching excursion. I don’t think her bank is as good as mine, mainly because it didn’t have waitresses to bring you water or tea. Then again, why exactly my bank needs a waitress I’m not too sure. Our dander about Cali was nice. The city seemed quite pretty. A bit European and the warm weather was brilliant- just enough breeze to make it perfect and much more enjoyable than the intense heat and humidity of Barranquilla. We got a quick bite to eat, and for the remainder of our walk played a game called, “Real or Fake”: where we tried to discern if the bums and boobs of Cali’s female population were real, or if they’d had a bit of a helping hand from a plastic surgeon. Cali is one of Colombia’s plastic surgery hotspots and people travel here from all over the world to get bigger boobies, perkier bums and smoother faces.

Back at the hostel we met Lucy’s friends and hung out a bit. Poor Heather, a huge insect was on her back and I freaked out. “Don’t move!!!” I screamed as I armed myself with a fanta bottle and proceeded to whack the insect off her back. “Jeez Daniel it’s just a bug.” I don’t think she understands, it was huge and I think was possibly a praying mantis. Scary biscuits.

With Lucy’s amigos we went to a bar close by the hostel. It was a lovely roof terrace with a brilliant view over the city and a great place to refresh ourselves. I got a regular strawberry juice but the others were more adventurous. Heather decided to try a local drink called Champús. Well I’m certainly glad I didn’t order it. It was maize, pineapple and other stuff poured into a large glass that looked like… well, vomit. Ok so it tasted quite nice, but the chunky orangey-brown drink definitely want to my taste.

Back at the hostel we indulge in the pastime that Cali is famous for; salsa dancing! The dancing was so tricky, the footwork was very complicated and I just didn’t seem to be able to move myself properly. I swear I was doing exactly the same thing as the instructor, but somehow I looked ridiculous. I was a total sweaty Betty dancing as the room had no fan or ac and Cali’s nighttime is still muy caliente.

Shortly after our lesson I got ready to head out and lay about on a hammock eagerly anticipating Kirsty’s arrival. She finally got here (Yay!) and we set off for dinner. Just before we were about to order Patrick arrived, after travelling all day by bus from Pasto, and during the meal we all got time to catch up with what everyone had done, how we were finding work and how our social lives were going.

After dinner we were off to a Salsa bar where we had a few beers, and (attempted to) dance salsa with each other and the locals. Everyone in the bar looked like they had been professionally dancing salsa for their entire lives. Fancy footwork, extravagant twirls and shaky hips obviously all come naturally to Cali’s population. Strange to us was that all the men would ask all the girls to dance. One couple would dance, and then they would change partners; and then change again and again and again. I was so glad to have had the salsa lesson earlier, as I could sort of pretend to have a clue about what I was doing. “Just look like you’re not enjoying it all” was the best advice I was given (thanks Kirsty) as this definitely made me look more at home. One woman who I danced with, Yolanda, didn’t seem to understand that I had no idea how to dance. She kept telling me to “listen to the music” but I’m not sure why, I felt perfectly in time with the salsa rhythms!

After about 12 Jay finally arrived to Salsa City and our group was complete. We danced lots more, laughed at our less than perfect footwork and of course, continued to play “Real or Fake” until about 2am when we decided to call it a night and get some well needed beauty sleep so we could be fresh and frisky for our 5am wake up.


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