Colombia Part 10: Cali, Popayan and Ipiales

We arrived into Cali late and night and decided to book into a hotel by the bus station. We had two early buses to catch and we had a lot of people to meet up for drinks, so there was no need to go hunting for friends in hostels. After checking in, we grabbed a brief shower and headed out to Parque de los Perros (Park of the Dogs). This is in a swanky part of town, although the park itself is just your standard park with a statue of a dog that looks rather sorry for itself. We grabbed some canned beer while we waited for Paola at the statue and took in the scene before us. The women of Cali have a reputation as being the most stunning in Colombia. In my brief time in the city I would agree with that statement. They are stunning on the whole, but still not quite up to the level of San Juan. There they are just special. Cali seemed to have a buzz about it as a city. If it was possible to take the CELTA in Cali I would most likely have opted for there to live. In the space of three days we gathered together a very good friends group of locals and everyone seemed friendly and class. Who knows. If I could get a good flat and a job to teach English I could live there for two months and then go to Bogota to work for the other one. It seems impractical, but when has that ever stopped me before. Hmm I have one day in Cali and one day in Bogota as I head to Venezuela. Perhaps that will work the tie breaker for me. This is the first country since the US that I could comfortably live in three cities of. Bogota, Manizales and Cali. Anyway we met up with Paola and two of her friends. Neither of the girls spoke much English, so the whole night would be in Spanish. It was another test for me. Now that I have finished my last English book I can go back to working on my Spanish studying. I want to finish both of my study books before I get back to Bogota. Then I will have all the grammar and I can start reading in only Spanish to improve my vocabulary. I am setting myself some steep targets for when I leave Bogota. Quasi fluency and at least good enough to label myself as an intermediate speaker. We went to someone's birthday and has a good time with Paola and her friends. She would ring me each night we were there to do something, but we had so many invites to stuff we had to spread it around. We left the girls around 2am and we decided to head out to one of the suburbs and their salsa clubs. We did not go to Juanchito and indeed I still have not been there. I need to learn to salsa properly first. I have a passable merengue and one of Raisa's friends has offered to teach me salsa in Bogota. Perhaps I shall do that and then go to Cali with Kelvin for a weekend or just before I leave Colombia. I see Raisa for her birthday in Bogota on saturday and can check if the offer still stands then. We ended up going into a club called Praga. They were not going to let us in at first because we had no dance partners. Being European I thought it would have been clear we can't dance anyway. We ended up going in and watched a lot of people dancing skillfully. Everyone was partnered up so it was not that exciting. Still there was no charge and you did not have to mortgage your holiday for a drink. Therefore it was far superior to Mangos.

We did nothing much the next day. In fact I have written that we wandered around aimlessly. We saw some of the centre and then i met up with Libertad. She was a Venezuelan couchsurfer who had written to me to go for drinks. She taught English and we wandered around the downtown chatting in half English, half Spanish. Cali has a reputation as an ugly city, notwithstanding the women. Its as undeserved as the reputation for its women is well earned. Its a quite comely city in its own way. Its no Venice, but then it is definitely nice enough and has some very pretty churches in the centre. We stopped by one church and a group of university students were taking photos of each other. It looked like a model shoot. Seriously this city is hot. In more ways than one as well, because the temperature is always above 30 degress. We departed at a bus and it was a pleasant two hours. There are apparently no lavanderias in the town on a side note. Shitty as it meant we would have to wait to wash our clothes in Ecuador as we were never in one city long enough to get it done. We had been contacted by another couchsurfer called Richie and he wanted us to come to a party that night in a bar called Blues Brothers Bar. The bar looked cool online and it sounded like a good idea. I wanted to visit a bar with the name Kunaramakara or some such. Its a live music venue that has apparently the best looking women in Cali. I was curious to see what the best looking women of the best looking town, in the second best looking country would look like. It did not open until nine sadly though and we had to meet Richie at half eight. We headed back to Avenida Sexta, which has some really tacky bars on it, but looked like it might be fun. We asked a couple of girls for directions and they were law students who decided to join us for drinks instead. They took us to a bar called london, which played traditional rock music. We grabbed a beer and they ordered two knowing they had no money. I knew they had no money from the tentative way one of the girls did not want to order. Shit, we would get stumped with a bill. One girl took a liking to Dom and they were cozy with each other till we said goodbye. They swapped numbers, but scheduling clashes did not allow another meeting. I took the other girls number as she wanted to go for some salsa the next night, but I never used it. It was all in Spanish again and I was getting tired out by this point. We had to foot the bill and I was a little annoyed. People should not really order stuff they can't pay for. At least not without the good courtesy of warning the victims of their lack of funds. They showed us the bar and we said our goodbyes. There we met Richie and his brother. They had a large posse of people with them and it was a really good crowd. The bar was classy and laidback. Always a good combination. Then Dom's friends from France showed up and I spent the whole night chatting with one of the French girls in Spanish. All the time in Cali I was using almost exclusively Spanish. I need to become as funny and witty in Spanish as I can be in English. There was a rap band that played live and everyone was dancing and having a good time. We then played doubles pool with the French girls and a massacred older Colombian woman who could barely see the table, but still pulled off some impressive potting. Paola had rang us to join them, but we did not make it that night. We would next night. We had been in the city for less than 24 hours and had so many friends and invites to everything. Richie said we should come over and use his gym and swimming pool if we liked the next day and they had a big warehouse party on the outskirts of town. We planned on going, but in the end we joined Paola and her friends for some drinks. It was a good night and I think Cali has the best nightlife in Colombia. They need to relax that ridiculous law that means bars in Bogota have to shut by 3am. We got back to the hotel and asked for room key 328. They said 327. I said no 328. "What's your name?". "James Sharratt". "In room 327 its *insert other name her*" "Thats because we are in room 328. Now give me the key". Fuck sake.

We got up knackered and decided to set off for the fabled San Cipriano of guidebook fame. Most of the locals had told us it was beautiful as well. We had to take a long bus to Cordoba and pay almost for the full fee. This despite the fact we were jumping off only two thirds of the way. LP says its two hours. LP does not know its arse from its elbow. It took three and a half. Admittedly we broke down halfway and had to get a replacement bus, but this process only lasted for twenty minutes. We disembarked at Cordoba and were immediately assaulted by Colombians trying to take us to San Cipriano by motorbike thingy. We knew it was a rail cart pulled by a motorbike, but we did not know just what it was yet. Reminded me of the hassles from the hated motoconcho riders of Dominican Republic. And I hate people in my face. They were saying I walk fast. I do when i want to get away from them. They wanted 40,000 pesos for the two of us. We said no more than 20,000 return which was still a little steep. I also had to pay to use some old woman's bathroom. These bike things were something else. In front of us was a railtrack. Next to it was a motorbike attached to a wooden crate. Now its hard to describe so bare with me. You know those packing crates that they use to carry supermarket items that can be moved around by fork lift trucks. Well imagine one of them with some movable wooden benches on top. They are held down by your weight. Now on the side is strapped a motorbike. The wheels of the motorbike touch down on one of the railway track railings. Subsequently when it accelerates the wheel spins on the track and propels the crate down the track. On average there are between 3 and 5 passengers. Locals who can't afford motorbikes propel these crates with polls like a Venice gondola. There is only one track. So if crates come at each other, one party has to remove their crate from the track to allow the others to pass. These things reach frigtening speeds. There is no safety procedure. If you crashed it would be very unpleasant. It was fun but uneasy. The forest scenery is spectacular. They needed gas for their bike (these being the hoodlums from the bus). They needed 2000 pesos, but Dom paid them all 20,000. I thought this unwise. What did they have to wait for. We got off the other end and negotiated to come back in an hour. San Cipriano is a village but also a national park. We did not know that. Its very pretty. We had nowhere near enough time. After wandering for a bit we came to the river and one local kid wanted a dollar for skimming stones. He could skim it clear across the river. Dom said he could do five skims. This kid did sixteen by my count and was only stopped by it hitting the bank. Very impressive. We still did not give him a dollar. We stopped for a great home cooked lunch on the way back and were subsequently half an hour late for our rendezvous. Surprise, surprise they were not there. Dom was apoplectic. I was not surprised. I could give them the benefit of the doubt that they went home only because we were late, but I would be being too generous. Bastards. Dom asked two locals where they had gone and came back saying they were pissed. I enquired as to whether they were angry that the kids had gone. He said no pissed as in drunk. Ah the perils of the English language. Somen local guy took pity on us and took us back for 3,000 pesos each which I believe is the correct rate. Remember that if you go. Dom bumped into one of the guys while we waited for the bus and remonstrated with him. I did not see the point. He said he had gone back for dinner and the others had sworn they would stay for us. Sounds feasible. But then so does the parting of the red sea if you are of a simple disposition. The outcome was always going to be bad. We would get no money back and if we got too threatening we were completely outnumbered and the sympathies would lie with the kid. Luckily a bus arrived before we got pasted and we had a cramped journey back to Cali.

In the hotel room we were suffering from power cuts. Just like the city of eternal spring had been hit by thunderstorms, so now was the city of the eternal summer. I bring the rain everywhere with me. Really they should hire me out to Africa and other drought threatened regions. Dom realised he had lost his camera´s memory stick again in Manizales. Only this time it appears it was actually lost, including all of his photos from before America (Australia, New Zealand and Fiji). We tried to call the hostel in Manizales but they were incompetent. We used an Aussie we had met in Bogota to check it as he was there, but he had no luck. Dom started to search for it, but the power for the tv and the lights kept cutting out. It was impossible. Then he spilt water in the dark all over the stuff on the floor. We could not clean it up because we could not see and then the power flicked on. On the music channel came a modern version of 'You spin me right round'. This was too much for me. I started laughing. This was comical. And then the power failed again. Spurs had won that day and it looked like 8th for us. Indeed it was in the end. I have written Newcastle lost and could go down. Providence favoured me and they did, but then you know that already. On a good bit of Spurs news we have been linked with Gareth Barry. Hell yes. He would be the perfect foil to Wilson Palacios and make a great club captain. Richie rang me, but i let him know we were seeing Paola that night. We got some cheap drinks in a roadside bar. I like these places. Less than $0.60 a beer. Need to find some in Bogota. We ended up debating the merits of London v Sydney. Paola wants to study English in Sydney and her friend Melissa in London. Paola believes that all Australians speak Spanish and dance salsa. She must have met the most untraditional Aussies in history. They are worse at languages than almost every other nation. And dancing is unheard of. Hell I informed her there was more chance of finding latin music in London and than more Londoners than Sydneysiders can salsa, even if her specimens were loaded the other way. A general conclusion showed Sydney had better weather and beaches. London was superior in every other aspect. This pleased Melissa no end and I sent her a long list of the best bars and restaurants in London. Wonder how many will be left when i eventually set my feet back upon my home country's soil. Oh well it was a good night and they went back to Paola's house. I would have joined them, but Dom was knackered and we were leaving at 6am. Am seeing Paola for dinner this friday on my way through and promised Richie I would join him in August when I come back through. I really like Cali. Great bunch. Oh yeah it was all in Spanish again. I need to get cracking in the next three months.

One interesting fact I learnt in Manizales. I always said that the Dominican Republic was my black hole and my Bermuda Triangle were my luck did not exist. It turns out that the Dominican Republic is actually in the Bermuda Triangle. I knew it. I am never setting foot in that triangle again. Except when i have to complete the book task of sailing in it. But not before. We grabbed a morning bus to Popayan. Popayan is apparently a stunning colonial town. It is kindof, but again Mompos is better. It is also the most religious town in Colombia and we got there on a sunday. Everything was shut. We did not know this when we entered the bus station. We wanted to see San Agustin and Tierrodentro, but I had to ring my mum at 2pm for her birthday. The last bus was 1pm, so we abandoned the plan and decided to skip the ruins and booked a night ticket to Ipiales on the border. This bus left at midnight. I will do the ruins in August when i come back this way. Everything was shut. Shit. A little anecdote. The problem with spitting in the face of fate, is that most of the time fate stands upwind. Everything was shut. I can't emphasise this enough. I dashed all over town for an internet cafe and just as i was about to drop dead from the shrugs of locals I discovered one and was able to ring my mum for her birthday after all. While I was questing for the internet, Dom had fallen asleep on a park bench and was awakened by a man blowing a whistle and trying to be his friend. Oh yeah those girls in Cali had thought we were Argentine and when Paola met Dom and I, she thought I was the Spanish guy and Dom was the English guy as he was apparently less dark than me. I mention this in lieu of something later this night. As everything was closed we went and watched the new Star Trek film. Its surprisingly good and funny. Then we sat in the shopping centre where Superman Returns was on. Dom had not seen it. They shut it off part way through. It was showing in a bar part way to the bus station and again in the bus station. Jesus that film was much longer than I remembered it being. I hate superman anyway. DC was always much crapper than Marvel. We took the night bus and were stopped to be searched in the night. Dom said he was Spanish. The guard asked me what part of Spain I was from. I said I was English. He said 'Ah Irish, good'. Fucking hell. It seems I am destined never to be from my country. Even last night in Quito when we checked into a hotel I told him I was from the United Kingdom and he said ah from the United States. They will probably take me to one side in immigration when i get back to London and accuse me of fraudulently having a Uk passport. After all it was issued in Mexico City and they will probably ship me off to my home, in whichever country the immigration guard believes I am from. Oh the stupid guard also asked Dom if he spoke Spanish after he told him he was from Spain.

We rolled into Ipiales in the morning. I started to contact the couchsrfers in Venezuela in advance now as I would be there within two weeks. We dropped off the bags in a holding place and went to see the famous church Iglesia de las Lejos (I think. I can't read my handwriting properly). Its set in a gorge and arks across it from one side to the other. Its very pretty from a distance, its even prettier in the photos. in fact it gets less pretty the closer you get to it and the more real it is in your vision. I liked it, but it was not spectacular. We sat in on part of a service. My sister is reviving her Catholocism. Very strange. After we had seen it we dawdled to stay in Quito the night, rather than push onto Banos. This was so we could meet Dom's French friends. They never made it. We switched up the itinerary for Ecuador and decided we should see the centre of the world while we stayed the night there and then head to Riobamba for the famous train. At the border we were searched for drugs (understandable), searched very laxidaisically (spelling is not certain on that one) and then once we were sleeping on the other side I was assaulted by some bint who insisted on checking if I needed a doctor and had pig flu. She said that Colombia had it bad. I said I had not seen anything. She asked if I had pig flu. The only thing I was suffering from was insufferable bints who interrupt my sleep. I convinced her I was not dying and refused her leaflet. I had a bad vibe for Ecuador. It was country 43 and I already missed Colombia.