COLOMBIA • CALI // ARMENIA // SALENTO

Maybe its so that when you realise that another little adventure must come to end, you’re feelings start to float more lightly, like dreams and memories of all these new perceptions that you have now gained. Its a sadness and a joy. I had returned to Norwegian soil. My skin, coloured by the Colombian sun shivered altho it had not yet felt the frost that hung on my airplane window. I could not help but feeling this type of emptiness, arriving. Returning to a city I know so well, with a heart filled with so much from a country, that truly out weight any expectations I might have had before. 

Half a year before we traveled I shared the interest I had in exploring this part of the world to my family. Not only were they shocked but they claimed I would die, no doubt. I would get robbed for anything of any value, and my life would not be considered in comparison to the value of the objects I would carry.

They weren’t the only ones to exaggerate their concern; friends spoke of rumours of people being picked up on the street, at random, beat up, or even murdered and left without anything in some street corner somewhere. And what if I met paramilitaries in rural areas? According to apparently everyone, the dangers of visiting this country were overflowing. But I couldn’t get myself to believe that any of this would actually happen. I mean, I would be with locals - people who knew how to win the game of survival in a country so ‘extravagant’.

I was however given a hand full of rules on our first day of exploring the city of Cali, or Santiago de Cali, as its full name goes as. 

•  Don’t flash nor walk around with your camera unless we say its a safe area to do so 
  
•  Don’t flash nor walk around with your phone out, unless we say its safe to do so 
  
•  Don’t wear any expensive jewellery, or any at all really 
• Don’t get in taxis off the road, you call the taxi, it comes to you 
  
•  Don’t speak english, or any other foreign language when outside 
  
•  Do not accept anything offered to you from a person on the street or the beach 
  
•  Do not walk too close to people on the beach as they might blow some drug in your face, in order to make you unconscious.. 
  

The members of my family in law, had the most serious look on their faces while loud and clearly stating this, with my Milton translating as they spoke. They were not joking around, and I took the seriousness of it and made it into an instinct to be aware. Excluding two dead human corpses I saw in Cali and Cartagena, my trip thankfully never at any given moment consisted of feeling any threat, danger nor worry about mine, or anyones else’s safety. In fact every single day I felt rather overwhelmed with the radiant positivity that, so to speak, every person we met projected on to us. Everyone was so happy, even with nothing, they would still offer a smile. You couldn’t help but offering a smile, double the size, back. I was also surprised by the hundreds of different dialects of Spanish spoken…and whistle. Living in New York as a female, you’re pretty over all the cat calling that goes down in a just one single day, however occasionally my very own Milton would be whistling as well, where I in my shocked reaction would burst out ‘What are you doing?? That’s so incredibly rude omg!!’. He’d always excuse it with, ‘What..? I can’t help it, its a Colombian thing..’. I didn’t have to spend long in Cali, before I indeed could see that it is in fact very Colombian thing. It’s not just a way of getting someone’s or somethings attention, its like a language of its own. Every time I saw a Colombian whistle, the receiver, even if it was a dog, seemed to always understand what the intention was. A Colombian whistle is loud, strong and sharp. You can sing any song with it, and you can communicate for miles across a jungle. I am amazed. Sorry for nagging Milton.

 My first impressions of Cali was that it was lush, lovely, dirty and out of control. I am forever convinced that Colombians are by far the greatest drivers in the world. The fact that no driver has any care to give to the rules of how to take part in traffic, makes me so amazed with how few collisions occur on a daily basis there. In Oslo I feel I hear about a collision maybe up to once a week, in NYC - everyday. But these people drove like wild beings and dodged each other the only way a wild being could - serious skills. This includes the scooters where you’d find 3 individuals on board, the person in the middle most likely under the age of 5, not wearing a helmet. What makes it even more intense to me is the fact that in Colombia you don’t wear seat belts, unless you’re sitting in the front. Other than that, you can look all you like but all you’ll find is me in the back, stretching my arms and legs across my co travellers, trying to become a semi human seatbelt.

 Colombians also don’t give a lot of time to worry about planning things. Anything from travels to buying a house, after only seeing it for the first time.
‘Oh there’s this beautiful mountain top, its about an hour drive on this rather narrow, steep road, in fact its probably this city’s most dangerous drive, also its freezing up there, its so high up you’ll be driving through fog. Wanna go?’ ‘Wow! Yes, lets go next weekend, I imagine the sunset would be amazing up there!’ ‘What? No no.. If you get cold just rub on to someone *winks at you*, we’re going now.. ”

Cali residents also have a tendency to be ready to break down into some serious salsa sessions at whatever time. I can easily see why though; Cali is the salsa capital in the world for a reason, you can hear it play almost 24/7, which kinda forced me to fall in love with it - I have grown a love towards the fact that the instrumental parts of salsa always sounds positive and energising, even if it would tell the story of two lovers being separated by death, it’s still so beautiful, and you can’t help but wanting to move. If only I had the hips of a Colombian, those things slice through the air like machete knifes, always on point with the beat.

 My first day of exploring eventually moved to a pool party. The salsa was pumping. Hips were slicing. Everyone had an artificially coloured cocktail in their hand and a beer, every child with their high sugar sodas, and of course burgers. This homemade burger consisted of the meat being the same size as an attempted squeezed tennis ball, with two layers of ham, bacon and cheese, maybe a little slice of tomato and lettuce and of course onions. What I can’t seem to understand is how I did not see one overweight individual the entire time I was in Colombia. Everyone had some extra junk on them, but no one was seriously overweight, this despite the fact they consume more meat than any group of people I’ve ever seen before. I lost count of how many times one of Milton’s cousins, aunts or uncles would come over and shout ‘Señorita! No tienes hambre?’ And I would explain that indeed, I was not hungry. I quickly learned that if I would attempt to explain that Milton and I are powered by plants only, confusion would occur, which would result in his family members trying to push even more food at me, thinking that I’m actually starving myself.

As the party rolled on, I would attempt to speak Spanish, and when that failed I’d simply just listen; to the salsa, to the parrots singing/screaming and the Spanish going from passionate distinctive pronunciations to mumbling drunk laughter. And then, out of no where, came Sebas and his squad; Milton’s primo/cousin who that same night suggested we’d speed up a freezing cold foggy mountain. No time to get an extra sweater, and certainly no need to worry about seat belts, as there were non. I could definitely feel any worry leaving me as we were approaching the top, letting our eyes melt into the sparkling sea of street lights that covered the city of Cali. Like two night skies filled with stars, facing each other. 

Most of our days in Cali were spent at what I would like to call base camp, or home - Milton’s fathers gorgeous little tropical open cave. A huge white stone house, with openings in the ceiling to let sunlight wash in on the plants that covered the indoor fountain. Two living rooms which one was by the entrance of the little garden I found myself spending hours in, every day. Above our room was a balcony with an outdoor gym, where I got to practice my yoga in the shade of a gigantic lush mango tree that provided us fresh breakfast every morning. The garden was the home of two parrots - lovers, who’s been together for years, and never let a moment go past with out looking after each other. If you spot them on different parts of the garden, you would hear the male, Rebecco, yell out ‘Ya voy!// I’m coming’ to his love, Rebecca. 

Another resident was the teenage amazon monkey, Henry, of the highly endangered breed(due to deforestation), Saimiri Sciureus or Colombian Squirrel Monkey as we say in English. Now this is one character. The family kept excusing his behaviour, explaining that he used to be more loving, that he would gently climb into your arms, and make him self a bed in your elbow. During my stay he had no need for my elbows, he only had eyes for my food. But after a couple strawberries and a little snuggle on the cheek, he would eventually find safety in exploring my hair, and even crawl into my lap. Then again, sometimes he appeared to be rather protective of Milton’s siblings, which might be due to him acknowledging them as his actual brother and sister since they all grew up together. I was explained that his behaviour had also to do with the fact that Henry is a teenager now, he’s old enough to breed, and wish to establish a relationship with a female squirrel monkey, aka get laid. And therefore he is frustrated every day. It was discussed that Henry was to be given away, but instead the entire garden will be made into a playhouse for monkeys where Henry and his girlfriend will live. Oh if only I could receive a baby monkey in the mail..  

 I did not get to see too much of the streets of Cali by foot, due to the rules. Everywhere we wanted to go, we were driven too. One absolute highlight was visiting the mountain top of Christo Rey, or Christ, the King. On this mountain top there’s a huge statue of Christ, just like the statue in Rio, where he’s folding his arms out towards the city. Here you could see everything from the luxurious hotels and apartments in the bottom of the mountains of northern Cali, to the slums in the south, which eventually faded in this green shaded jungle, in the foot of the mountains of the other side of the valley. What really impressed me though, was the sunset. Just after 6pm the sky went from a light baby blue with golden sun rays slicing through the clouds, which gradually included touches of violet which then transformed into this intense mango raspberry sorbet. Every night, the skies would play like this.

See more photos from Cali HERE

Having a whole month in Colombia, we were craving to get around, and as soon as we understood that money would indeed not be a problem ($1 US = 2,996,80 Colombian Pesos, you could get a decent meal for 5000 pesos what) our month would mean traveling as much as possible. We originally planned to visit Peru and Brazil as well, but we ran out of time. Thankfully both those destinations aren’t going anywhere, and I can feel another trip to further explore South America already itching under my skin. 

One Thursday night, Sebas and Alejandra told us to be packed and ready by the end of the following dawn. By 2pm they finally showed up and we were on our way. My face was glued to the window to observe the dreamy green Colombian open grass fields surrounded by mountains. I kept thinking how it reminded of driving across North Queensland, Australia, cause here too you would see enormous clouds rising from the land from the sugar cane burning.
I kept passing out since I actually got up a dawn, and when I was fully awake, we had arrived in Armenia. A city which 10 years earlier had been destroyed by an earth quake, but rebuild by the government to look surprisingly modern, and very colourful. Nice.

We only had a brief stop, in which we collected huge avocados and arepas for Milton and I, bacon and butter for Sebas and Alejandra, and litres upon litres of beer for all. As we proceeded driving into the darker wet hours, the mountains got taller, the air got cooler, and the jungle got thicker. We had arrived in Salento.  

Now this place is actually carved out of my dreams. I think I day dream about thick rainforest on a daily basis every since I left Australia. How all my senses are being stimulated by life itself, how I have no control. I love it so much. There’s something overwhelmingly magic about arriving in a completely unknown place, while it’s entirely covered by darkness, to wake up the following morning. We had booked a house at the hostel and camping site Monte Roca which is a combined camping location which also holds tropical little tree house villas in the jungle. The owner proudly told us how he had spent the last 20 years getting high while building this place, and I can’t do much other than applaud him. His very own home was at the corner of the site, next to a huge river, running under his house. He said he has always been so fascinated by biology, while he bent down to look at an aquarium with two neon blue and orange fishes he had standing on a stone table, two meters from the edge of the river surrounded by tropical plants. He had about 11 different wood houses with different themes. Our home was the Rasta House. As you enter the site and walk towards the tree houses, you pass these huge metallic or wooden installation representations of animals and bugs which blend in with the thick jungle that surrounds the paths. There are little wooden bridges that cross the river, and you walk up 4 different steep natural stone stairs which are all surrounded by tropical flowers. As you climb up the hill along the ledges there are little holes in the thick jungle wall which allow you to see the other houses. At the top of the hill, by pushing large leaves away, the roof of our house points out above the trees and eventually you see a large fabric image of Bob Marley. The outside include a beautiful outdoor shower, a bbq, tables and a camp fire. The house have little glass windows, and as you enter the house, you can’t help but feeling excited about relaxing. Everything is in warm rasta colours, images of Bob, weed, maps and images of South America and Africa, beads hanging from the ceiling, and this huge tree carved into the shape of stairs which takes you to the top floor, is the first thing you see. The gorgeous little kitchen has everything you need, and its cutlery and utilities are colourful, matching the rest of the house to the point. There are three king sized beds, one that is levitated, as well as one upstairs. We all walked around with our mouths open in awe, not believing this place was real, and regretting we hadn’t booked the place for 6 months. 

Salento isn’t just all magical jungle. It’s a village on a mountain top which has maintained its traditional colourful colonial architecture. It offers a quiet, beautiful and relaxed lifestyle and is near by the Cocora Valley which is the home of the largest palm trees in the world. Here too, the music never stops. The village survives on tourism, coffee and dairy. During daytime the whole village is a market full of boosting colours, handmade creations, smells of fresh Arepa’s con queso and delicious feasts with ingredients sourced from the jungle that surrounds it. During night, the whole village becomes a party. By the church, in the very centre, they set up a huge festival tent and have DJ’s blasting salsa infused techno where the base is loud enough to levitate you a little as you walk by. People will travel from all over Salento to dance every night. The tent is surrounded by Colombian traditional street food and liquor booths, which sell you any kind of strong liquor by 500 ml for less then $5, accompanied by shot glasses so you can get real into it on the spot.

When you need a break, you can stroll down the little colourful streets where restaurants will have their own live troubadour who’ll sing romantic Colombian ballads with all their heart, or even travelling bands and circus’, who’ll have a little jam in the middle of the street. You’ll find all kinds of people, creatures and freaks, with all kinds of talents, skills and potential, they wanna tell you all kinds of stories, real or make believe.