Out of Popayan Peace & into Cali's Cauldron

I started out feeling relaxed and in a mellow travel groove. The smell if thermal sulfur still lingered in my clothes reminding me what complete tranquility felt like and I made it to the bus station with barely a 10 minute wait before we were off toward Cali.

The scenery was lush green as it had been for pretty much the whole trip so far, but as we got closer to Cali the landscape turned more tropical as the temperature began to rise. As we pulled into the city, again the vibe completely changed. This time it was giving me a feeling that I might need to step up the caution sensitivity and start paying closer attention to my back side. It could just be that I couldn't get the fact out of head that not only was Cali supposed to be the salsa dancing capital of the world and hosts Colombia's most beautiful women, but it has earned the title of homicide capital as well.

The sticky air mixed with diesel exhaust started to make my eyes burn as I looked out the window to try and lock onto the general street vibe. First impressions were that this place has a ghetto Caribbean feel mixed among run-down modern architecture between pockets of obvious wealth.

I knew better than to pull out the guide book to try and guess which direction to start walking, so I just forged on out of the huge terminal as if I knew exactly where I was going.

There was a guard working the back bus entrance so I asked him if he knew where the Iguana hostel address was located. He didn't know exactly but he called someone to help. I tried to explain that I wasn't actually going to that particular hostel but wanted to simply know which way to start walking to get near there.

A friendly Colombian man who might have been the boss came over and welcomed me to Cali in English. He was very willing to help but suggested I just get a taxi. He wanted to call one for me but I explained that I'd eaten too many delicious Colombian empanadas and preferred the walking exercise.

After yet a third person was called to try and sort out the best route to avoid heavy danger, I was beginning to get a little nervous as I wondered if maybe I should get that taxi and be done with it.

The instructions were agreed upon and the boss explained very clearly that I should pass through this tunnel that would get me close to the avenue of the Americas. I would walk 4 streets, then turn left on 21N and continue for about 20 streets. It was pretty humid but I felt good and was ready to start burning off some of the fried empanadas.

As I got closer and closer to where the Iguana was supposed to be, there was a very heavy police presence, no one else on the street and then almost no one at all until the area quickly changed into sort of a Caribbean skid row. The bar flies wandered the streets mixed with junkies and very low end porno houses. There were piles of garbage and other assorted used junk scattered in the street that may have been for sale.

When became quite clear that I was either lost or had been mislead, I could also feel many eyes on me as panic started to creep in. I found a couple of men going over some details about something or other and they looked fairly clear headed compared to the rest of the folks sort of meandering about and noticing I was definitely out of place.

They both seemed very surprised when I approached them to ask directions as they strongly tried to inform me that I was in a very dangerous place and that I really shouldn't go any further South. They made the sign of dragging a knife across the throat and said "They'll cut your throat and take your bags. You must leave this place immediately. Can we call you a cab?"

I told them that I was fine and didn't have any trouble getting this far, but I needed to know where to go. They checked out the address and told me it was near the terminal where I'd just hiked 24 blocks from. They could tell this news did not exactly delight me, but after they called over another fellow with white hair to confirm where the address was, he asked if I wanted him to walk with me a bit, at least out of the dangerous area. He said he was going that way anyway and would be happy to walk along if I wanted.

He seemed ok so I said I'd love the company. Something didn't seem right, but he wasn't asking me for anything and he looked fairly harmless. I guess it was that he looked so normal with average clean cloths, healthy, clean cut hair, etc. that made me wonder why he was in the area at all. He said he sold some electrical components for refrigerators and was just looking in the area for cheap shoes. Still didn't feel right but I tried to just write it off to paranoia.

I can't recall his name as it was very odd and didn't sound Spanish. He didn't want to walk down the street I'd just traversed because he said it was too dangerous so he walked us down a few blocks that looked even worse to me until we got to a wider boulevard with more people. Still felt very dangerous but at least there were more general witnesses. As we continued, he told me the Obreron barrio we'd just passed through was very dangerous at all times of day but there were others as bad if not worse. And, that even though the Granada barrio where the Iguana is located is much nicer, it too is very dangerous after around 10pm.

He told me that if someone comes up to me speaking English and wanted to sell cocaine, that if I buy it he will likely pull out his cell and call the police who will extort as much money from me as possible and cut the dealer in on a percentage. I told him that was good to know, but that I wasn't there to shop for cocaine. He said that was better.

As we passed through less populated pockets that had filthy street folks lurking about, I was beginning to become overcome by the hot stench of human excrement. Some of it was likely from dogs, but much of it was obviously not and I began to wonder why I paid to come to this place as well as wondered where all these beautiful salsa-dancing women were.

By the time we finally made it to the Iguana, he was starting to look nervous for some reason. I wondered why he walked with me the entire way, but wanted to believe he was just being kind helping out a foreign stranger. For all I know, that's all it was. However, the woman who checked me into the hostel looked at him with distrust and after he'd had a glass of water he asked me if I wanted his phone number in case I needed something. I told him sure.

After he left, the hostel woman wanted to know why I gave that man my number and asked who he was. I told her he gave me his number and that he was just helping me out. She didn't believe it and said he was up to something and warned that I shouldn't call him for anything. She continued by saying, "You are one lucky man. That area you just walked through is very dangerous. They will cut you and take you bags." I asked, "In broad daylight? Won't they at least give me the chance to just give them what they want?" She said sometimes if they're just hungry they will, but it depends on how high they are. Most often it's just easier to stab you and not risk you fighting back.

So much for my relaxed state I'd finally achieved in Popayan! Now I was in full defense mode and wondering how I was going to get any images at all in this place if I couldn't feel comfortable walking around even in the daylight or pull out my camera without being jumped.

After I'd met of few backpackers who had been there a few days, I started letting down my guard a little. There was a cool Swiss guy who was leaving the next day and wanted to know if I wanted to go for a walk, grab a beer and watch some salsa dancing. A young Australian fellow joined us and we were off and wandering a bit. A couple beers helped me unwind a bit while we all compared travel stories and notice a few absolutely stunning women sitting nearby with their boyfriends.

Although they were magnificent creatures, they also looked very false somehow, as if they weren't naturally that beautiful but possessed a fine art skill in the craft of illusion. There were a few of the beautiful women that I wasn't entirely sure they were even woman. I think real beautiful women need to have some flaw to be truly beautiful, but these were so polished I wondered if they were actually very refined drag queens who had gone so far with the illusion that it was no longer believable.

That was pretty much the last of the gorgeous women I saw during the 4 days I was there. Most were just your average run of the mill pleasant women that you find most anywhere. And although I began to let down my guard a bit, I never felt completely comfortable doing my usual aimless wandering looking for interesting images. Most of the time I spent hiding my camera and making sure I didn't wander over one street too many into danger pockets. Even when I visited this ancient church, the sister there kept warning me to be very careful and keep my camera concealed at all times because they're very hungry and high on drugs.

There was a sweet Italian girl in the small dorm I was staying in, but it looked like she'd already found her cliche to hang out with. The young German boy in the dorm also seemed cool and mostly kept to himself so I asked him what he was up to for the say. He said he wanted to walk around checking out the architecture, visit the modern art museum there, and then he seemed embarrassed as he said that he wanted to visit the zoo because the Cali zoo is supposed to be good and that he also just liked zoos. I laughed and said that I too had heard the zoo was good and liked architecture as well as art museums. I suggested we walk together because it might be easier to wander around if we could watch each other's backs.

Off we went and quickly found ourselves smack dab in yet another really bad area with street folks approaching us immediately accompanied by very strong human fecal odor. After we found our way back to the river that continued toward the museum and zoo, it was better, but we were both still very much on guard.

The museum was closed for some holiday and he worried that the zoo would be too. I told him that at home in the states, many places like zoos get their biggest crowds on holidays so maybe we'd have luck. When we rounded the last bend in the river, I saw a tour bus and a crowd. We were in luck and he seemed really happy about it. He then looked over and asked if I wanted to smoke some marijuana. I stopped for a second and said, "Normally I would say no thank you, especially since I feel like I need to keep my wits about me and pay extra close attention, but since we're just going to be wondering around a zoo, that sounds absurdly appropriate for some reason. Both amusing and I'd really like to not be afraid for a little while. So, yes... spark it up!"

By the river there was a large rock and around were a few street people washing their clothes in the river. He seemed a little nervous that this might not be a good spot out in the open, but I told him if we go in the trees it's going to look more suspicious. I told him to just be real quick about it and we'd keep moving before anyone could tell where it was coming from.

Next thing I knew, I was gleefully wandering around making images of toucans, monkeys and ant eaters while eating a delicious parfait ice cream delight. I know a visit to the zoo doesn't normally qualify as "adventure" but going from extreme paranoia and expecting to be jumped and stabbed at any moment, but complete carefree strolling about a delightful zoo... a bit stoned and eating ice cream seemed to make perfect sense at the time. To be honest, that afternoon's extreme contrast in moods was quite exhilarating the next couple of days I felt confident that I could spot when I was out of the safe areas and could easily correct my course while getting better and concealing my camera while also keeping it ready to get images quickly.

Still, it was beginning to drain me a bit and I was starting to not be so interested in seeing any more salsa dancing folks or any more site-seeng. Most of the people I met in the hostel were all very cool, but unfortunately our little dorm was overtaken by some Israeli backpackers who were very obnoxious. I've encountered this type of backpacker many times before. They spend 3 years of compulsory military service and then go travel for a year. The problem is that they are still all pumped up with military arrogance and haven't learned how to fit back into a mostly courteous society yet. I can understand how they can be like this, but it doesn't make loud obnoxious talking and flipping on the light at 3 or 4AM without regard to those who are sleeping any more tolerable. Luckily, I only had to endure one marginally loud night and one very loud night before making my way toward the terminal and leaving Cali for the serene mountainous region known as La Zona Cafetera and a tranquil town called Salento where hopefully I could sleep and breath easy once again.

Hasta,

Skip

Comments

[Lisa Avery]

You got to be kiddin' Skip! :-o

[Kaleidoscope of Color]

All true! If anything... I left some stuff out. :)