Cali, Cartagena, and Armenia

My arrival to Colombia was marked by delayed and rerouted flights, the loss of all of my luggage, and dozen of phone calls to different airlines in the United States, Panama, and Colombia to find someone who felt like providing information about my bags’ whereabouts. Luckily these memories quickly faded, replaced by the new ones created during my last two weeks of travel. It has been a whirlwind, but well worth the fifty-six hours spent in a bus.

Salsa concert, Estadio Deportivo Cali

My first stop was Cali, which lived up to its name as the capital of salsa. I arrived thinking the characterization was an exaggeration, but was proved wrong as I listened to salsa in buses and taxis, on the street, early in the morning, late at night, everywhere at every time. The salsa highlight, without a doubt, was a twelve-hour concert featuring the salsa artists I mentioned in my last post and many more. Paula and I also went to a bullfight, a part of the Feria de Cali not recognized as a national heritage event this year, a first in Colombian history. Despite this victory for animal rights activists, thousands of (wealthier) caleños turned out for the event, many of them displaying the work of Cali’s finest plastic surgeons—a cultural lesson in itself. The lives of two of the six bulls were spared as a result of their stellar performance, and we left happy knowing that survival of the fittest was well at work. Away from the Feria, I enjoyed meeting a number of Paula’s family members, sampling as many foods and juices as possible, and bringing in 2009 watching the burning of años viejos, effigies of old men lit on fire to symbolically erase the bad experiences of the past year.

Corrida de toros, Cali

With 2008 behind us, Paula and I left Cali and continued on to Cartagena. Cartagena was a principal port through which the Spanish empire exported the richest it robbed from South America. The old part of the city is surrounded by a large wall and is further protected by a variety of forts. These aspects as well as the prominence of those of African descent make Cartagena similar to Havana in many ways. In recent years, Cartagena has exploded and is the country’s primary tourist destination, for Colombians and foreigners alike. It excels in the culinary arts—one of my favorite meals, shrimp cooked in a passion fruit sauce—though the service was notably poor, a surprise given the hospital nature of all Colombians I’ve met so far.

View from Cafe del Mar, on top of the wall surrounding Cartagena

One of my best experiences in Cartagena was going to Playa Blanca, a beach far from the city, away from crowds and unadventurous tourists. To get there, Paula and I paid to ride a cargo boat that left from the local fish market, as the beach is extremely difficult to get to by land. The beach was incredible relaxing—made more so by the massage I received from one of the beach’s many wandering masseuses. I’ll definitely return later this year, this time with plans to stay a couple nights on the beach, where you can rent a hammock for a few dollars.

Playa Blanca, near Cartagena

The last stop on my journey to Bogotá was Armenia, where I got to know the other side of Paula’s family. I liked them all a lot, especially two of Paula’s cousins. Luckily, Paula made it through the last couple days without me trading her in for either one of them. I got to know less of Armenia than Cartagena and Cali, but enjoyed my time there nonetheless.

Paula and cousins at a quince we attended in Armenia

I arrived to Bogotá on Saturday and began exploring yesterday, meeting up with UNC alum, my roommate from Cuba, and the finest Fulbright in Colombia, Anthony Dest. He is also in the program at the Universidad de Los Andes, so I’m sure he’ll be popping up in the blog often. In any case, more on Bogotá very soon...

(A note for my worried family members: I’ve had no problems with safety in Colombia, and the only violence I have experienced has been a bite on the hand from someone’s pet monkey. While Colombia may not be Iowa, there’s no need to worry about me.)