Visiting The Homeland With Dad

So after a few delays, we made it to Cali, the TRUE birthplace of dad. (Back story time: dad was born in Cali, moved to Chicago when he was 7, Jorge became George, it’s a whole thing, and the reason for this trip). When we arrived in Cali it was dark and sketchy and rainy and everything was more expensive (rude). We checked into our hostel (dad accidentally booked a hostel, but it was really nice and quiet and everyone had their own rooms so it didn’t feel like a hostel at all). The next day we took a tour because we didn’t know what else to do. The guide was cool, and told us some cool history of the place, but also rambled about super random specific history a few too many times. My favorite part was park full of cat statues.

That night (or the next night idk) we went out to a salsa bar that was HUGE and there was a class being taught by this famous salsa dancer (over 100k on Instagram famous). He was. So good. The class was 2 hours long which I wasn’t prepared for, and Caleno style salsa dancing is different. In a beautiful and fun way, but super intense. I asked a bunch of people to dance with me because not many people asked me (lol). The social dynamics in any dance situation can get so intense. The music is so loud so you can’t really talk to people, and you just have to go up and ask people by putting out your hand and hoping that they take it. If not, they will shake their head and then you go to ask someone else or sit down. I’ve never given it much thought, but it’s kind of a funny thing we do.

I danced with a lot of people. Including some French guy who was so sweaty but so funny. We danced a lot together and made up some of our own moves and laughed a lot. I also danced with this 22-year-old Israeli who was being so annoying and trying to mansplain some of the moves to me. Moves I knew how to do!! He was just leading poorly!! So eventually I said “shut up Tomer” (even though his name isn’t Tomer) and left.

Dad went and visited the hospital he was born in (aww) and I got 400 bug bites. We spent only two days in Cali (which is nothing) but it kind of gave me a bit of a ghetto vibe. Everyone we met there though was nice and absolutely loved living there. This is something I found throughout my time in Colombia — everyone loves where they live and will try to convince you to move there. Like chill out guys, I’m literally trying to move here.

We made our way to the coffee region after Cali and went to a town called Salento. The climate here was chilly and rainy, kind of like Bogota, but more. We signed up for a downhill mountain bike tour and I was so excited to watch dad mountain bike. We rode in the back of a pickup for almost two hours through pristine views of the Cocora Valley, with the greenest grass I’ve ever seen, pretty cows, and tall palm trees. There was a man on the tour who lived in Arvada (transplant) and he kept some good conversation going, but was a typical Denver transplant. He mentioned skiing like 6 times and how he was remotely working while on this trip. So we didn’t become friends.

But the biking was amazing. Dad could only manage to do part of it, which was more than I expected (he also had an upset stomach, he doesn’t have stomach of steel like me. BTW my stomach has been so good here, no bad poops whatsoever). One guy fell of his bike and I tried to help but I think he was too embarrassed and wanted me to go away (fair). It also started pouring rain at some point. Which was glorious, but so muddy. My butt was so muddy it looked like, well, ya know. When the tour was over I sprinted back to my hotel to take a boiling hot shower and then fell asleep naked in bed, and then woke up 20 minutes later for a JOB interview. All my frantic emailing and resume editing back in Bogota landed me a few interviews.

That night (at 11:00, like right before going to bed) I went to check in for our flight that was supposed to leave at 8:00PM the next day. My plans for the next day were to sleep in super late, go for a leisure run, walk to a look out point, and checkout one of the local coffee farms. When I went to check in for the flight, the time of the flight MAGICALLY changed to be at 6:00AM??? I was so confused and outraged. I have never heard of a flight changing the time, to be 14 hours earlier, with no warning??? I tried so hard to call the airline to figure out what was up, but it was almost midnight and it’s a budget airline and I needed an English speaking representative. There was no hope. So instead of all my fun plans, we had to wake up at 3:30AM, (so in 3.5 hours) and be sad. I almost couldn’t go to sleep I was so outraged. Don’t mess with a sleepy girl’s sleep.

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