Fiestas en Armenia

tortugaTractor service

We are waiting at an office in Armenia right now for the truck that will take us to la costa Caribe to swing by. We left the finca on a tractor, sitting in the windows and hanging out the sides.

In Cali, I didn’t get the chance to make it to a salsateca, but the night before we had a night on the town in Armenia. It began with some aguardiente drinking at the finca. Aguardiente pretty much just tastes like anise, so if you don’t like that flavor, you wouldn’t like it straight, but otherwise it’s quite smooth and strong.

We then picked up a guy called German who worked in a coffee vending shop, and who had already been drinking some aguardiente himself. He offered me a shot and I obliged. We then drove out to a club in the outskirts of town called “Mint,” with German pontificating loudly about coffee speculation, which of course I didn’t understand any of anyways.

Simply because it was the 1st of December it is a time to party in Colombia, apparently, and on the way there was traffic stopped in places because people on motos were swinging flour (I think that’s what it was) at each other in the streets. Once we arrived at the club, we promptly began swigging another bottle of aguardiente. In Colombia, when you order liquor in a bar, it’s generally by the bottle rather than by the glass. They know how to party.

We danced a little to some salsa and merengue, when suddenly the music when into hardcore techno crap mode. Even the Colombians who brought us to the club realized that it was a bad music night, and we took off. My cousin has a penchant for driving over curbs and islands on the street, and promptly began doing so in earnest. We ended up in front of a bar after one of these displays of car-damaging machismo and we heard live music, so we went on in. It was an old-school bar, with two guys playing traditional Andino music on two guitars. We had a round of beers and while the rest of the group had fun taking pictures and making fun of German—who was passing out in-between rubbing my head and telling me something about “todo el mundo”—I had a great time listening to the music, which was especially refreshing after the stuff in the club.

On the way back to the finca, hordes—literally hordes—of people on motos were crowded everywhere on the streets, faces white with flour. Sometimes 3 adults were packed onto one moto (these are Chinese motorcycles: tiny, cheap, and dangerous).

The next day we drove down to Cali, and I’ll fill you in on the details later (such as a visit to the Zoologíca), because right now I’ve got to go hop on that truck to the costa Caribe. ¡Hasta luego!


Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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