Y la Cava...

Alright, where were we... FOOD! Ah yes, I was on a mission to keep myself in the good graces of any Colombian reader of mine; let's be honest, I'm sure that number is in the low to mid hundreds of thousands at this point. I had the excellent fortune on Saturday evening to dine at Santissimo in Cartagena. Not only did I make the acquaintance of a charming Venezuelan family there, I had the nearly as exquisite opportunity to sample a local dish called obtalá with a fine Chilean cabernet sauvignon. On the menu, it is described as beef "punta de anca" which is sautéed and then stewed for two hours with vegetables and beef broth (tasted like some red wine in there, too). The trio of flavors of the stew, plátanos en tentación (soft cooked bananas), and arroz con coco (dark fried coconut rice) was amazing, and I savored every bite of the harmonizing flavors. I had ceased note-taking toward meal's end, but I had a delightfully simple yet unctuous vanilla ice cream with a local dark red berry with tough skins and large inedible seeds. The degree of difficulty in the required careful mastication was forgiveable. Mmm! The next day, I stopped by La Vitrola for lunch. I saw octopus carpaccio on the menu for the second time in as many days, so I decided it wasn't some drunken disgruntled German expat chef's idea of countering my boss's liberación de los pulpos, and may be just crazy enough to work (referring to carpaccio, not my chef; he works, right?). Bravo! It was thinly shaven octopus topped with parsley and diced tomatoes. On the side were fresh lime, a cruet of olive oil, pepper mill, and salt shaker... so I utilized them - delicious! So we're in business.

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Thou Shalt Not Covet Mark's Moves

My friend Christina just proposed that life may in fact be a dance floor, and God is the DJ. Now would He play just Christian music? I think country maybe too sad. Definitely no gangsta rap. Does He take requests? "Yo, Holiest of Homies, how dost Thou feel about a little 'Karma Chameleon'"? Love would be easy, if your colors were like my dreams. I think we're getting off track here. Is Jesus pouring the wine at this club? Woo woo! In any case, I believe we are supposed to just dance.

My friend Gemma calls me "Happy Feet", I think due to some lack of formal dance training. Kevin told me once that if I taught him how to ride a motorcycle, he'd teach me how to dance. My niece Alexandra thinks I'm a great dancer. I think only the purest minds can appreciate my interpretive moves (that's right). I mean there are so many types of dance dating back to the beginnings of history. I just may not be appreciated in my own millenium. (This really is going somewhere, I promise.) So, I think to "just dance" is to get out there and DO IT (and do it, and do it). That's what traveling is. That's what life is. Might as well jump.

I was dancing last night in Cartagena. Of course every song had a new dance, and by the time I got the hang of one, I had to learn a new one. No MJ. It was the end of a great day. Like I said before, it's nice to have friends... and friends of friends. My Cartagena tour guide was Diana. She took me to the best hotel - Sofitel - for a refreshing beverage; I had a green mango martini (with lime and salt). Afterwards, we cabbed it to see the sunset from the top of the centuries-old city wall - awesome view, looking out at the ocean! We had reservations for a really nice restaurant, supposedly, but our cocktail waitress took 50 minutes to deliver our check, and we missed our reservation. However, we found a mediocre, yet pleasant meal in a delightful setting of one of the main city's plazas. A man even sat with us and sang while playing guitar! It was a good night, as my host was determined out of national pride (no, I'm serious) to make it so. One impression I have had so far on this trip is that the Colombian people are not only very open and welcoming, but in fact determined to impress their guest with hospitality (cocktail waitress excluded) so as to leave an indelible positive impression. Colombians are eager to have the world know that what you see in the movies is not Colombia. There are many unpleasant realities in many places. What a breath of fresh air to see a people dedicated to rising above. Now that, my friends, is change you can believe in.

Off to the pool...

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Consejo Sin Precio

When my mom stepped out of the hospital room for a few moments, I asked my uncle Sam about Colombia. I thought if I had his blessing, I'd go. He was short on words at that point, but not on fondness for this country... and more specifically, Cartagena. So, I'm here.

First of all, I have been extremely lucky to have several Colombian friends in the United States whom, not only have advised me on this trip, but, have put me in contact with their friends and family down here. So, Jamie, Jorge, Jaime, Manuel, Oscar, Natalia, and Natalie... Muchas Gracias. I have had so much help that I haven't even much looked at my guide book! I'm quite certain there is no section in there devoted to where to spend your birthday with a table full of friends; probably nothing in the index leading you to an international conference on migration with the speach writer for the mayor of Bogota; and definitely no section devoted to cruising the local malls with senior citizens for mamacitas... or perhaps I just borrowed the wrong book from the MLK Library (was the only one!). In any case, for better or for worse, as I wrote several entries back, a world traveler believes and comes to know that are some things not found in books.

So I arrived around dusk yesterday in Cartagena. In contrast to the oftentimes chilly huge capital city of Bogota set inland and high up in a valley surrounded by mountains, and seemingly always nestled among the clouds, Cartagena is situated down along the Carribean coast between Panama and Venezuela. (I don't plan on making jaunts to either to make country #21.) There are palm trees at the airport. I'm going to leave it at that for now, as it is morning and have yet to see this place in the daylight. Buenos Dias a Todos!!!

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