Cali, Columbia

I pulled into Cali early in the afternoon to meet Cheech’s family. Cheech, or Cheechy down here, is a friend of mine in Baltimore that was born down here. His grandmother, cousins and aunts are still here and they offered to let me stay at their house for the night. Cheech's email said “when you get to town, go somewhere safe and call my cousin. He’ll meet you wherever you are. Cali is very dangerous and their neighborhood isn’t very safe.” So I pull into the Intercontinental Hotel and call Steven. I sit outside on the terrace, have a coke and steal their internet while I wait for them meet me at the hotel. Back on the bike, I follow them to their house.







I pull the bike into the living room, and finally through the house to the dining room/ courtyard toward the back of the house. I love parking the bike inside a house or hotel. I meet the family, 4 cousins, 4 aunts, grandmother, a few uncles and a couple of friends. I still, even after spending an entire afternoon and night with them, can’t keep everyone’s name straight. Steven, one of the cousins, speaks pretty good English, everyone else almost none. But they are all so friendly. And with Steven there to help translate when needed, I am able to talk to everyone.


We hang out for a few, telling them what I’ve been up to and telling stories about Cheech. I get a shower and the grandmother cooks me a delicious dinner. Then I take a ride with Steven, one of his uncles and another cousin to pick up birthday cake, tomorrow is the youngest cousin’s 9th bday. On they way they took me for a tour of the neighborhood, Fatima is definitely not in the Lonely Planet, but I really dug it.

The whole time in Cali and in their neighborhood, I never once felt unsafe. It may have been another story had I been walking around there alone, but the family knew everyone and it was very chill. This is despite Steven was telling me stories about the neighborhood a few years ago and how, even now, there are gang members and oher shady charactes that live in the barrio. But he gtold me that everyone in the neighborhood looks out for each other and there are almost no problems these days.







We get back and hang out for a few and Steven and I head out to the mall. At 8 on Saturday night, the mall in Cali is hopping. There are a bunch of bars inside the courtyard where people are hanging out. Cali’s reputation is well deserved, the women here are gorgeous. I don’t think I saw a single unattractive woman the entire time I was there. And the mall was definitely no exception. We have a few beers, hang with a few of his friends and head back to the house.

We get back there and everyone is hanging out in the park across the street. Kids are running around, parents and sitting around and talking. Down the street, several parties and just beginning. Some very large speakers have been carried out into the streets and salsa music is blaring. For the next several hours we hang out there in the park. I, at least in my mind, am doing pretty good chatting with everyone in my poor Spanish. We have a few beers, then some aquadiante. More beers, more aquadiante. None of them would let me pay for a thing and everyone made sure that I always had something to drink, as soon as I finished a beer, someone would be off to the tienda for more. And, of course, more aquadiante. A couple of the aunts can party! The were putting back the aquadiante and dancing in the street with the neighbors. Everyone there was a lost of fun. Then, maybe the highlight for me, Steven's mom made the best empanadas I’ve had in Colombia.








Steven, his brother, one of their friends and I went out for some late night food. We ended up a carbon place, basically a big bbq restaurant. I had the ribs, definitely wasn’t Kansas City BBQ, but it was damn good. At the restaurant and the mall, actually my entire trip from Bogota to Quito, I never saw another gringo. Love that. On the way home we came up on an accident. It must have just happened, some guy ran off the road and hit a tree. Not sure if he was completely wasted or in shock from the accident, but he was stumbling around, holding his head, blood gushing all over the place. The windshield was smashed up, blood all over it as well. Pretty crazy scene.







That night in the park was one of the most fun I’ve had in Colombia. It’s cool how down here, and in most Latin cultures, the family is so close. I have no idea how many people live in the house, I’m guessing 12 or so. The house is beautiful and pretty big, but about the same size as a house for a family of 4 in the states. For the most part, it was just the family, a couple of girlfriends and a few friends, hanging out all night.

The next morning I woke up feeling a bit guayabo (hung over). A cup of coffee, eggs with chorizo and some awesome pastries/ rolls, a few photos and some Micheal Jackson videos with the birthday boy and I was ready to hit the road. I was really bummed that I didn’t have more time there, and I think they were too. They kept asking when I was coming back and how long I could stay next time. They have a house in the mountains that looks beautiful they they want to show me. Hopefully I can make it back up there soon.