shenanigans – Postcards and shenanigans

Or, salsa capital surprise

I have been in Cali, Colombia for 4 days (yes, I know, I still owe you the Cartagena post). Dubbed as the salsa capital of the world, I came here to learn to dance salsa caleña, the style typical to this city. Cali has been fabulous so far, with everyone I met being super friendly and kind.

Dance schools are as frequent here as Starbucks are in North America. After reading review after review and even getting a recommendation from someone I met on a day trip last week, I settled on the closest school to where I’m staying. I signed up for five hours of classes spread over the four days I had originally planned to stay and started doing my best impression of a dancer.

A fun part about going to a studio is becoming part of a community. There are often groups that get together and go practice at salsa clubs. I couldn’t make it to a salsa club on the first night, so when my dance instructor told me about another outing on May 21st (the day before my birthday) I was very keen to sign up. A little side note, I’m struggling a bit to understand the caleño accent so my comprehension is limited here.

We were departing right after the group class at 8 pm. Perfect. After my 1.5 hours of private class, I went home and got ready for group class and going to my very first salsa club. A small group formed at the end of group class: me, two other students, the instructor and his girlfriend. There was some discussion whether we were going to walk there or take an Über. Since we were in a group and navigating in a safe neighbourhood, we decided to walk. Shortly after leaving, Alex, one of my fellow students, pointed out to the top of the mountain visible from everywhere in Cali, called Cerro de las Tres Cruces (hill of the three crosses) and said we were going up there. I thought to myself “oh cool, a club on top of the mountain”!

Who wouldn’t want to go to a salsa club on top of a mountain?

We walked (mostly uphill) for about 40 minutes through the neighbourhood to the base of the mountain, where we stopped at a convenience store to get water and snacks for the rest of the way. At that point I said I wanted to Über up and everyone had a good laugh. I chose to go with it and pretend I had meant it as a joke, although it still wasn’t quite clear to me what was so funny about it.

And then we started to climb. And climb. Over boulders and rocks. Like, actual rock climbing. There were headlamps and flashlights involved. Still mystified about this rather complicated way to get to a salsa club, I started asking questions about our activity. I was met with a “the views of Cali are stunning from up top” response. I started questioning some more and talking to the instructor’s girlfriend (Sophie), who’s an English speaker, and found out the activity was TO CLIMB THE MOUNTAIN. There was no club. I had inadvertently signed up for an 8 kilometre hike uphill, with some sections having a 54% gradient incline.

For context, here is what people have to say about this trek:

I tried to capture the terrain. Yes, the views are lovely, BUT HAVE YOU SEEN THE CLIMB??

Uhhhh… this must be some club to warrant this climb

By the time I realized what was happening, there was only one way for me to go: up, with the rest of the group. Up and up we went, with frequent breaks (for me), lots of complaining (me), expressing I am not a goat (yep, me), and constantly stating that this is crazy (also me). About halfway up I started smelling like a wet mountain goat. There are some jobs that my beloved all-natural deodorant simply isn’t up to.

Alex apparently climbs this monster every Thursday (on purpose) and so he was our resident mountain goat. He helped me through most of the climb and the descent, and I can honestly say I would not have made it without his help.

In a (hilarious to me but not to her) twist of events, Sophie, who had made the request to climb up the mountain and was encouraging me at the beginning when we were climbing over smooth surfaces, lost her steam at the rock climbing part. It turns out she is afraid of heights. The beauty of this adventure was that we were all encouraging and supporting each other, so yes, I was screaming “You got this Sophie!” like a madwoman at particularly tough points – while holding on to Alex for dear life so I wouldn’t lose my balance and careen down the mountain. He was quite gracious throughout the whole thing, even though I almost killed him at least 14 times.

It took us 1.5 hours to get to the top. Did I feel accomplished? In a sense, yes. As we were going up and down we encountered many groups (and even solo climbers). This is a common activity for caleños (I don’t get it, but to each their own), but I saw few foreigners doing the trek, if any. So yes, I am proud that I tried something that locals enjoy and that seems to be a little off the touristy path.

View of Cali from somewhere on the Cerro

There is an open-air gym at the top, and due to the late hour we got there(10:30 pm) there weren’t many people exercising – however, if you get there earlier in the evening, the gym is quite full. I am baffled that some want to lift weights after trekking up the beast.

We started our descent around 10:45 pm, and I asked how long it was going to take, because at midnight it would be May 22nd, the day of my birthday. The group seemed excited by these news, and estimated it would take us an hour to come back down. It took longer than an hour, especially since we came across some slippery muddy patches. There were also areas where the passage was so narrow and so steep that the only way to navigate it was on my butt.

City shoes (I was going to dance salsa, remember?) post climb

We finally made it to a smooth area, where all we had to do is walk downhill. Alex, who had brought a radio, was fiddling with the buttons to find a station that would come in clear on that portion of the trek. U2’s With or Without You started playing and I asked him to leave it on, as it is one of my favourite songs from my favourite band. And then someone said it’s midnight and wished me happy birthday. Just like that, we stopped for birthday wishes and hugs and singing happy birthday, and that is how I rang in a new year.

I don’t regret climbing Cerro de las Tres Cruces and I am grateful for my own misunderstanding; had I known what I was signing up for I likely wouldn’t have done it. It was truly an unforgettable way to start my birthday (I will eventually forget the very sore legs and back). I decided to extend my stay in Cali, because the people, the community, and the dancing are exactly what I need at this time. I am grateful for my best friend, who reminded me when I asked her if it’s crazy to stay here instead of going on to Peru that this is the whole point of my trip, spending more time doing what I love. So that’s what I’ll do (but I won’t climb Cerro again). I’ll keep on learning and practicing salsa caleña, and go out to salsa clubs, no matter how scared I am of looking foolish. My love of dance is bigger than my fear.

View of Cali, Colombia from Cerro de las Tres Cruces (from some point during the climb)

My one month in Costa Rica ended almost a week ago and I am ready to share my overall thoughts and experiences. I am trying to strike a balance between telling you about the place and how I experienced it, and self-reflection. Let me know in the comments what you want to read more about!

The Good

I knew what to expect from Costa Rica, even though I hadn’t been to the Guanacaste province, and I wasn’t disappointed. The beaches, sunsets, volcanoes, fauna, flora, and food were exactly what a thousand other blogs will tell you about. The food is fresh and delicious (albeit relatively expensive), the nature a true sight to behold. The people are absolute gems, offering warmth and hospitality, excited to share their knowledge about the country and the region, and always willing to help. These are a few things that make Costa Rica a worthwhile destination, so if you’re hesitating about going – just do it.

In mid-April I started my second month of not working. I had a tough time answering the “so, how does it feel to be on sabbatical?” question, because I honestly did not know what I felt. For a good while I felt like the time off was short-lived and I would be going back to work the following Monday. Interestingly, that seems to have faded now as I’m settling into another rhythm.

I got into the habit of doing yoga flows, using the travel mat I carried with me. Always looking to optimize my packing, I was afraid carrying the yoga mat would be a PITA and I wouldn’t use it – I was wrong (well, it is a bit of a PITA to carry but mostly worth it).

I read 13 books in April, which feels like such a luxury. I simply had no mental capacity to read when I was working full-time. Or rather, I didn’t (couldn’t?) prioritize reading when I needed to disconnect. I love immersing myself in the written word, and yet I somehow found it too hard, which seems very nonsensical. I was afraid I’d lost my love for books. Luckily it seems that I still have the capacity to immerse myself, devour books, and enjoy the heck out of it. On the flip side, I have not watched a single minute of tv since I left Canada (I don’t even miss it).

One of the books I read in April, What My Bones Know (Stephanie Foo) – highly recommended!

The pictures below capture some of the amazing sights and experiences from Costa Rica.

The Shenanigans

You can read about the laundry shenanigans in this post. There were also cold plunge shenanigans (you can read about my cold plunge experience in this post). My cousin and I dropped by the wellness centre a few days prior to my cold plunge to find the owners refilling one of the tubs with water from various plastic bottles that had been stored in a freezer. We helped out while talking to them (as one does) and it took all my willpower not to have a giggle fit at filling a 65 L tub with 250 ml Fanta bottles… but hey, they had their system (and it worked)!

As expected, sending postcards from Costa Rica was rich in shenanigans. Accompanied by a new friend, I set out to Playas del Coco to look for postcards and stamps. Neither of us knew the exact Costa Rican term for postcards so we got some blank stares when we asked shopkeepers if they had them until a kind soul finally understood and told us the correct term (rinse and repeat with stamps). Armed with postcards, we set out to find stamps. From experience, this is the problematic quest in most countries, Costa Rica being no exception. We were told that the only place you can buy stamps is at a post office (called correo) and there was one about a kilometre away from where we were. We set out on foot in 37+ Celsius weather and somehow made it alive to the blissfully air conditioned post office.

I was able to buy international stamps, which the post office worker additionally manually stamped. Interesting. When I asked where I can drop off mail I found out that I would have to return to said post office or drop them off somewhere at the airport (the second choice seemed a little risky to me, I did not particularly want to leave the country with mail I wouldn’t be able to send from anywhere else).

Days flew by and I realized I wouldn’t have the opportunity to return to the post office so I packed the postcards in my bags and left for San José to fly to Colombia, hoping for the best. Luckily, my wonderful AirBnB host in San José told me there is a post office in a nearby mall. Huzzah!! Finding the post office was an obstacle challenge, peppered with many, many interesting shops (apparently I lost my interest in watching tv but not in shopping). I managed to make it relatively unscathed only because I simply have no room in my packs for anything else. I did however buy a slightly bigger messenger bag to fit that one extra shirt I found and couldn’t say no to…

In the end, I managed to mail the postcards! They were left with the Costa Rican postal office on May 2, 2024. Godspeed, little paper rectangles!

And uh… I obviously stumbled on the mailbox at the San José airport without any effort. Figures.

Mailbox in departures area of San José international airport

The Ugly

The heat. I am not made for it, and I suffer from being in it for long periods of time. By the same token, the blistering sun – with all my efforts to sunscreen diligently and cover up as much as possible, I still got a weird half-a-leg, half-an-arm, full-face sunburn.

Costa Rican road infrastructure. From bizarre 3-way intersections with no traffic lights to clogged up traffic due to choke points. It takes wayyyy longer to get between places than it should.

Public buses, for their lack of air conditioning. At the least the ones I took, which included a 6-hour bus from Playa del Cocos to San José. See first issue re: heat.

Getting caught in a downpour and walking the 15 minutes from the grocery store to my accommodation on the side of the highway in shin-deep side-of-the-highway runoff water, in the dark, with a backpack of groceries and a 6 L water bottle.

Feeling guilty if I don’t do anything “productive” during my day. I think this one will take a while to unlearn. I’m working on it every day, trying to relearn how to simply live my life, find joy, and not feel guilty about it. My sense of worth is so wrapped up in my work that I have to actively focus on defining who I am, not what I do.

What’s next?

I have started exploring Bogotá, Colombia! I am letting everything settle in, taking the experiences, the lessons, and the self-reflections in stride. I will continue to work on myself while enjoying a cooler climate, learning about a new culture, seeing new places and meeting new people.

There is so much more I could share about Costa Rica, let me know in the comments below if you would like to know about anything else!

Tag: shenanigans

Pre-birthday shenanigans