A life in Colombia
Salsa
Hips, feet and a Latin beat: In defence of blonde girls
The pub was crowded because it’s always crowded – a dark, careworn, beer-drenched Bogotá public house that was thronged with people grinding and twirling, bumping and salsa-ing. That’s right. Dancing. And you thought that never happened in pubs. The place was impenetrable until a large Colombian man pushed his way through the dance floor, felling […]
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Roll up, roll up: Cali’s salsa circus
Salsa dancing – as any foreigner knows – is a difficult business. First, the men have to learn how to lead and, particularly difficult for independent women, the girls have to be prepared to follow. Then there are the turns – the signals for when to start and when to stop – the fast bits, […]
MoreAn indecent proposal
When I met Mauricio three months ago, I filed him away as a tall, smiley lawyer with a skinny dog in tow. We swapped numbers then, but only spoke for the first time last Tuesday, when he called me during lunch. I was stuffing my face and struggling with Spanish. “Hey Vicki, how are you?” […]
MoreGet on your dancing shoes
I might dance like a blind giraffe. But I am determined to master the art of salsa. That’s the only reason I have spent the past five months agreeing to dance with every Latino who grins my way. Now I live in Bogota I have no excuse for not taking some organised classes. Last night […]
MorePosing at the Playboy mansion
Amazingly, the zip wire incident managed to unlock my dislike of all things adrenaline and I LOVED careering down a river in an inner tube. That may sound harsh on our white water raft, but that is exactly what it was – eight inner tubes tied together, flying through the spray and rocks. We wandered […]
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