The friendliness extends to dance floor (which, at times in Cali, feels like any bit of solid ground with the slightest hint of music in the air) and actually becomes a fun annoyance when trying to head home. There is always one more person that will ask for a dance. On one of my last nights out in Cali, after saying my final 'goodbyes' I was walking out the door and I feel someone grab my hand. I was really tired and wanted to head home but turning a girl down not only makes you look like a giant wanker but I cannot imagine is makes the girl feel great either. So I turn around and all reluctance is immediately pushed from my head. . . Along with all of my newfound salsa confidence and skills. In front of me was who I thought was the best salsa-er, in moves and looks, in the club (I knew because I had watched her a few times. . . totally un-creepily of course). At first I can't seem to feel the music. The distress I was experiencing must have been written all over my face because she leans in to my ear and whispers, "tranquilo." Somehow, that one word brings all my musicality back.
Walking over to check our papers? No, they just wanted to see the bikes!
Bjorn (motorcyclist that has been travelling around the world for two-and-a-half years), checking out a chunk of old road that dropped a few meters.
Lago Calima, north of Cali.
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