Taganga - Welcome to the Mothership

Colombia is in a state of anxious frenzy in these final moment before Carnaval. Gaggles of shirtless youths swarm the streets on bicycles by the hundreds, whooping and whistling, slapping taxi windows. A full samba band plays at top volume in the middle of a supermarket, heralding the advent of a cutting-edge condiment that will revolutionize the way you experience a sandwich. Women dance in the street with baskets of fruit on their heads. The bus driver lets you ride for free, provided you dance in the aisles with everyone else.

Approximate Heaven on Earth

Taganga is a bitchin little fishing village gone hippy Mecca on the Caribean. The village creeps up the sides of a costal valley covered in dried-up trees and cacti. The weather is arid and windy, resonating an acute nostalgia within me for home in eastern San Diego. I´ve been hanging out with some fellow travelers whom I´d met at Holiday hostel in Cartagena - Brad from Canada, Sophie from the bloody UK, and Ruby from Australia.

We went out last night to a hilltop hangout, something of a strawhut perched on the side of a mountain. You have to climb up a good stretch of crumbling Stone steps and you feel like you are approaching the site of an ancient Olmec ruins. When you get there, you find about twelve people hanging out, sitting on the floor with a beer, David Bowie pulsing from the stereo. A sign hangs on the balcony, where the village glows far below, reading: ¨No more than 6 people on the balcony at a time, please.¨ And something about the authentic construction of the place compels you to obey.

After some time we descended from the funky hut and danced to hits from the ´80s at a disco in town. I spun around with a few bright-eyed Colombian girls and, in a moment of precedence of epic proportions, even managed to effectivly salsa dance with a girl from Holland.

All fun and games, sure sure, but the real adventure kicks off on Monday.

Stay tuned.

PS - Blog name update. Sure I sold the bike, but really, it´s all a cycle. Dilate the sphincter of your mind, Jim.

PSS - Happy Valentines Day - go squeeze someone for me.