I am racing off
the plane when we arrive in Cali, and Edward is chuckling at me. We have a
fairly clear run until the baggage claim.The baggage claim is right in front of
the wall of glass and glass doors leading to the people waiting for the
arrivals – so close but yet so far away!!! It’s torturous! I squint my eyes
while searching the crowd for my “Nail” while absent mindedly turning toward
the luggage carousel. Four waving arms pop up and my heart soars! I exclaim,“They’re here Babe!” as I wave
frantically back. After finally lugging our bags off the carousel, I am
re-united with my Nail. As I hug her, I can’t believe we managed to stay apart
for five long years.
 |
| Luzma & I |
Maybe an
explanation for my “Nail” analogy is necessary. Whilst studying in London, I
moved around quite a bit. In my final year, I was sharing an apartment with
friends in Ealing. It is here, that I met my new family. As I mentioned before,
Luzma and Samir, are incredible human beings. I found in them motivation,
inspiration and freedom. We created a life in London, a world within a world,
that I have missed every single day since I left. Luzma and I had become very
close, running off and having adventures and doing every little thing together.
One evening, after a particuarly harrowing adventure, Samir arrived home to find
us both curled up under a blanket on the couch, nursing our teas and
particularly wide-eyed. As he walked in the door, he faced a frontal verbal
explosion of us re-counting the day’s events to him. He relived every moment
with us, then shook his head smiling to himself and said, “You two are like Nail and Dirt, nothing comes between you!”
We are tightly
packed in their Renault Twingo with my, as always, ridiculously overpacked
suticase, but I am as happy as I can be. I want to soak up their every feature,
their every move, their separately distinct accents and I am just happy to be
back in our own little world!
When we arrive
at their home, I close my eyes and smile inside. It is everything I could
imagine it would be of them both – practical, modest, warm, artsy, detailed,
light and very much Luzma and Samir. We chatter and chatter devouring up every
detail from each other and I have to keep reminding myself that Samir has to
teach a class in the morning. We hug and kiss goodnight, and I am as excited as
a kid for tomorrow morning when we can chatter and chatter again.
Andina Bailar
in La Loma de la Cruz.
La Loma de la Cruz is an active
street that ascends one of the many hilltops in Cali. The street is lined with
artisans, musicians and a neatly tucked away art gallery owned and run by the
lovely Mireya. As we walk into Mireya’s very intimate gallery, Edward and I are
greeted with big warm hugs and lots of very quick Spanish that goes completely
over my head. In any event, even if I could understand what they were saying, I
would not have heard them. I was too taken with the art hanging on the walls
and on the floor propped up against the walls to really try to wrap my head
around the fast flying Spanish.
I shake off my initial awe and
in my broken, improper verb and tense usage, enquire about two pieces which
have snagged my curiosity. Luzma has to act as interpreter for Mireya’s
explanations about the artist Guayasamin. As Mireya speaks her gentle Spanish
and Luzma translates to me, I see the struggle which he depicts playing itself
out in the art and at the end of her very lucid and vivid explanation, I know
we have found our piece.
After some delicious empanadas
and local Colombian beer, we finally end up at the Andina Bailar. When Luzma
said to me, “We go to dance here at least
once a week”, I had a vision of a little courtyard with a music set-up and
individual couples dancing to the traditional local music. What it actually
was…. was incredible!
We walked up the street from
Mireya’s gallery and we could hear the very upbeat traditional music before we
came to a dead end. At the very end of the street, there was a large recessed
circular plaza under the blessing of a lovely carved stone cross. As I stood on
the upper verge of the plaza, I was met with a crowd of at least 100 people of
every age, color and description, in a joyous flash mob dance of extraordinary
intricacy! Everyone in that circle was awash with smiles and laughter. I felt
their happy energy and you couldn’t help but bob to the tempo of the infectious
music.
I was quickly tugged into the
dancing whirlwind by Julianna, Luzma’s beautiful niece who does this type of
dance professionally. Intimated does not even begin to cover it! However, I
surrender myself to the energy and joy of the crowd and pretty soon I am Andina
Bailar-ing! In a moment of laughter and movement, I threw my head back and lifted
my eyes to the sky, and there it is…. the beautiful open night sky, the stars,
the concrete cross under the street lights of the circular plaza and all these
happy dancing people. There is no word to aptly describe that moment other
than, euphoric.
 |
| Andina Bailar in La Loma de la Cruz |
Driving to the Unicentro.
Edward and I wanted to get some souvenirs
for our family, and Luzma and Samir directed us to the Unicentro, which is a
very nice shopping mall in Cali. As they were both working, Luzma lent us her
car, gave us the address and off we went! If you thought Trinidadian drivers
were bad…. Think again! Our trip to the mall was rife with being accosted by a
man in a gorilla suit at the traffic lights, almost being driven over, across
and into by several mopeds, motorbikes, motorized “tri-pods” and more of a
roller coaster ride than a drive! Never the less, my Captain got us there and
back, safe and sound.
Luzma, I am sorry about the nail
marks on your passenger seat!
El Cerro de la Tres Cruzs.
Throughout our stay in the city
of Cali there were three visible constants:
1 The
beautiful and powerful mountain range;
2 The
massive open armed Jesus looking down on the 2 million plus inhabitants of
Cali; and
3 The
three Crosses at the top one of the hills that lit up the night sky.
We were unable to visit Jesus,
as he resided on top of a hill that was inhabited, by what my friends termed
“dangerous people”. Given Cali’s notorious history I asked no further questions
and figured they needed him more than we did anyway. We did however, venture to
the three crosses at “El Cerro de la Tres Cruzs” (the Hill of the Three
Crosses). When dressing for the occasion, Samir tells me, “it’s an hour long walk, so wear sunblock and bring a hat.” I
stress here the words “hour” and “walk”. Maybe that would
be an accurate description if we were all mountain goats!
 |
| Our view of the City from the mid-way point |
Despite climbing cliff face and
stopping every few hundred times to stuff my lungs back down my throat, it was
truly an incredible experience. As we got further and further up the “hill”,
the air got cooler. The view of Cali’s city from the mid way point was truly
spectacular. The make-up of the city was such that from the foothills of the
mountains, the city spread out like pooling water and then stopped in a very
clear line. Looking up at the mountains however, the houses ascended like
little ants and did not stop at any one particular point. You heard what seemed
like every sound from the city, but yet you felt remote and removed, truly an
observer.
Surprisingly the view at the top
is less spectacular than from the mid way point, as there are a lot of trees
and power lines that block the view. However, whilst at the top, we learn the
fable of the hill. The old city of Cali was much smaller than its present two
million population, and was situated initially at the very foothills of the
mountain. The fable goes that demon spirits from the neighboring valley would
descend on the Calais and torment them. The three crosses were erected at the
top of the hill to prevent the demons from crossing into their valley and to
protect the city.
The top of the “cerro” is
complete with concrete pews and a tent for the faithful. For the mountain
goats, there are some sturdy concrete dumbbells and barbells complete with a
workout bench!
La Iglesia de la Merced
We venture to downtown to a
Church that Samir is convinced that we would really appreciate. It is a very
beautiful Church and to my surprise it has a very similar history to a lot of
the temples in Trinidad. This La Iglesia de la Merced (the Church of Mercy) is
made of mud! Much like the temples of old in Trinidad which were made of mud,
the walls were smoothed over with cow manure and then painted.
The church is well preserved and
well used. As we make our way into the hallowed hall, I am not captured by the impressive
intricate and golden gilded alter, nor the incredibly high roof. I am in fact
immediately drawn to an alcove in a side wall where a bound and beaten Jesus
quietly resides. The craftsmanship on the figure is impeccable. I have trouble
figuring out my aperture and shutter speed settings in the dim lighting and
spend several minutes positioning myself and reviewing my pictures in the LCD
screen. I almost drop the camera in
shock (I hope my husband is not reading this part) when I quickly scan my
screen and found the image staring back at me to be too lifelike. Frustrated
that I feel my photography skills cannot do this justice to this creation, I
sit close by and try to embed the image into my memory. It is then that I notice
His toes.
He has been carved out of wood,
and the only reason I can tell is that the faithful touch his feet. His feet
have been touched so many times that the finishing and paint on His toes have
been worn away. However, even the exposed raw wood which is revealed is smooth,
signaling that even the raw wood has been sanded down by the frequency with
which His feet are touched.
The Big Adventure: San Cipriano
Six am is never a good idea in
my mind. So when we pack our sleepy heads into the car for the four hour drive,
I quickly assume a sleep position and ready myself to at least catch a cat-nap.
Our gracious hosts begrudge us nothing and bribe us with the promise of a
lovely breakfast along the way.
I couldn’t sleep even if I
wanted to. The ever increasing view of the extensive mountain range as we moved
away from the city enthralls me. I have never seen vegetation so thick and
massive and I shoot question after question at Luzma and Samir. As we get
higher up the mountain, the cold air nips at my bare legs and through my
chiffon throw-over. As we stop for breakfast, I am a real sight! Bed-hair,
‘don’t talk to me’ shades, shorts, sneakers and wrapped in a massive wooly
shawl covering the top half of my body. Ever freezing, even in my office in
Trini, Edward shakes his head at the sight of me and jokingly tugs at my shawl
which earns him a snarl of “Don’t you
dare!” Expecting the snarl he laughs and throws his arms around me and
shuffles me indoors.
The breakfast stop was as
enchanting as my friends had promised. The wooden log cabin in the mountains, on
the edge of a gently sloping hill was a delight, with its bird feeders bringing
in humming birds and other tiny winged- creatures, and the tame macaw and
parrots in the well groomed sloping compound. After a very hearty breakfast of
arepas, eggs, local cheese, hot chocolates, teas and coffees, we set off, this
time with a much more pleasant and sociable Shalini!
The might of the mountains keep
me entertained for the rest of our drive whilst Luzma and Samir sing along to
the collection of favorite songs. Throughout our journey there were patches of
extensive road works and retention work on the mountain slopes. The machinery,
which I know to be some of the biggest in existence, paled in comparison to the
mountain slopes.
Some time much later, we arrive
at the turnoff to the San Cipriano village. As we turn into the street leading
to the village, the compact Twingo is suddenly mobbed by at least 10 very large
men, all trying to hustle us for a tour. I am immediately shaken out of my
lazy, relaxed mood and become wary that they could easily topple our little
car. As I am panicingly saying to Samir, “What
is this?” the concern suddenly vanishes from his face, he smiles, points
and says “there she is!” I kid you
not when I say, it was a scene out of a movie!
Blazing up the hill on a dirt
bike, was a strongly built woman with dark chocolate brown skin and finely
braided shoulder length hair. She drove her dirt bike straight toward the men
mobbing us at the car, and then at the last minute, spun her back tire toward
them and turned the bike around. The men scatter. She signals to Samir to
follow her, and she takes us into the village. My husband disbelieving the
scene that has just unfolded, is in hysterics of laughter and bellowing, “I like her!” The excitement takes it
root and we are all laughing as we tumble out of the car.
Our friends had given us a very
brief description of what today’s adventure entailed, but left it very sketchy
as they wanted us to have no expectations of what was about the transpire. Even
if they had told me in every bit of detail, I still would not have expected
what I saw next.
There is a train track that runs through the village of San Cipriano. The locals have made quite a tourist attraction by building a sort of jerry-rigged taxi from the main village to the bathing pools of the San Cipriano River. Motor bikes have been strapped onto wooden crates with benches. This contraption is then lined up on the train tracks. The motor bike’s back wheel acts as the propulsion, and the wooden crate has metal concave wheels which fit onto the other side of the track. This contraptions were called "Brujitas" which translates to 'Little Witch"!
No seat belts, no harnesses and an awful “CRA-TAC CRA-TAC!!” every time we pass over one of the joins in the train track! I am gripping onto the wooden bench with one hand and digging into Edward’s chest with the other as I sit behind him. I’m not sure if I’m making sure he doesn't fall off, or making sure I don’t fall off, but even logic at this stage couldn't loosen my grip. Luzma and Samir are naughtily giggling at my fearful stupor and I would have laughed at myself, save for the lump in my throat as we hurtled along the track!
Oh! Did
I mention that the train track is still used by the train!!? Apparently we
would have to scamper off the tracks if the train was spotted! Luckily, the
only time we were forced off the tracks was when another motor bike taxi came
from the opposite direction. There would then be a stand-off as to who should
get off the tracks. We quickly learnt that if the taxi was carrying fuel, he
had right of way. Other than that, the taxi that had the most passengers was
given priority. This was determined by an animated exchange between the motor
bike operators, and the older boys tried flexing seniority on the young
operators.
When we
arrive at the bathing pools and I regain my composure, we walk through the
little village, which is made up of homes and people selling a variety of local
foods. The smells are delicious!
Thinking
that our main harrows were over, we walk for a while enjoying the flora and
fauna and decide on the third pool for a little swimming. The boys wander off
to practice their diving and spot fishes, while Luzma and I catch up on some
girl talk. There is light rain which feels refreshing in the cool hills and we
pay it no mind.
Our
dreamy little bubble is suddenly popped when a man in a bright orange t-shirt
pops out of the heavy greenery and yells at us in fast Spanish. I don’t
understand a word, but Samir scampers to us and says that the river is raising
rapidly and we need to cross back to the shore quickly. However, as we pick our
way back across the stony bank, the crossing point has already risen quite a
bit and the currents are very strong.
Edward
manages to swim across with our bags, but as Luzma, Samir and I hold hands and
try to maneuver the roaring currents, it becomes very clear as we are swept
away each time that we can’t cross. The once cool rain is now cold, and the
river level is quickly rising, so much so that every few minutes we have to step
back on the river bank. The same man in the bright orange t-shirt reappears,
and on seeing us trapped with a few other people, he slaps his leg and exclaims
in Spanish again. Samir translates “I thought
I told you to cross over?!” Samir shouts an explanation that we couldn’t maneuver
the currents. He mutters crossly and disappears into the foliage again.
There
we are, cold wet and trapped. Edward is sitting on the other side of the river
with a few others who made it over in time. No sound to be heard but the
roaring river between us.
The
orange man re-appears, this time with several other orange-ies. What happens
next is clearly a well practiced and organized exercise. A very muscular
chocolate colored man plunges into the roaring river and swims strongly over to
us with a very large ring inflatable. He makes it look like it’s a walk in the
park for him. The only give away as to his effort , is his heavily flaring nostrils
as he walks up to us on the bank. He puts Luzma to sit in the ring and he
threads one arm through the ring. With the same gusto, he plunges back into the
roaring river and swims across to a line of men and women holding hands on the
other side of the bank to form a line that comes a quarter of the way into the
river. The last link of the line grabs Luzma in the ring and she squeals with
laughter as she is over to safety!!
Another
very muscular chocolate colored man, a mini-me version of the first rescuer, as
he is slightly smaller, then plunges in with another inflatable and makes his
way over to us. He is giving me instructions when he arrives and I
absent-mindedly think, “Damn! I hope mini-me
is as strong as the first!” After threading his arm through my ring, he
plunges in, I am close to him and hear the effort in his breathing and he puts
strong determined strokes in the roaring currents. He has to swing me in the
inflatable across from one arm to the other as the current keeps changing
directions and the inflatable pushes against his efforts. With slightly less
grace than the first rescuer, Mini-me gets me safely across to the link of arms
on the bank. I thank him with every ounce of appreciation in my body.
The
exercise is repeated for Samir and the few others trapped. Everyone is brought
safely over. Edward has also caught it all on video. Once we are all safe on
the bank, there is euphoria in the group and all of the rescuers eagerly give
Edward their email addresses as they would like a copy of their truly heroic efforts. We are truly grateful for the efforts of the San Cipriano Rescue Team.
On our
way back we mount our Brujitas. This time, I embrace my Brujita and I am fits of laughs
and giggles. As we hurtle through the greenery, Luzma, Samir, Edward and I, our
souls lit up with adrenaline and adventure, are all arms up in the air, howling at the
fading blue sky our signature doggy howl “OWH-HOW
HOWWWW!”
 |
| Our Colombian Family |
I had once said that running for me, is the most honest test of my body’s
endurance, strength and most of all, my willpower. It’s just you, the demanding
road under the soles of your beat-out trainers and your mind. You can never be
more alone than in that moment when you call on your aching body to perform
what your mind wills it to do. There
was always something about a run that brought a little tightness to my chest
and took my legs a couple seconds to find a comfortable stride without
butterflies fluttering in my inner thighs.
