Monthly Archives: September 2010

Playing Tejo in Cali

Posted on September 29, 2010 by Sasha Cagen — 4 Comments ↓

Tejo is the national sport of Colombia, and finally, after two months of running around this country, I got to play. Think shuffleboard or petanque, but with explosives and alcohol. A group of friends divides into teams. The object is to toss a metallic disk underhand into a clay bed and to land your metallic disk in the center of the target or to hit a “mecha” (a little piece of dynamite) so that the mecha explodes. Hitting a mecha means points! I was a little nervous about the whole dynamite thing. But it turns out the explosion is rather mild. Another important rule is that team members drink with each toss. The national liquor in Colombia is augardiente, an alcohol made from sugarcane that has the unique and wonderful property of not giving me hangovers (unlike beer and wine and virtually every other drink). The Colombians drink aguardiente collectively–they order a whole bottle and then pour tiny shots into little plastic cups to share. Like the Brazilians share a long-neck bottle of beer. I love these cultures where people order a drink collectively and share. . .

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Tagged with: cali, colombia, tejo
Posted in Colombia, Travels

Cali’s Seductive Dance Culture

Posted on September 24, 2010 by Sasha Cagen — 1 Comment ↓

A viejoteca plays old salsa classics, and may or may not attract an older crowd.

Traveling is not necessarily that relaxing. Being on the move all the time, unpacking and repacking every two or three days, getting up for early buses, meeting new people every day. The rest comes when you find a place where you want to stay for a while.

I have always been fascinated by travelers who unpredictably wound up staying in a place. One Swiss woman told me her story of going to Honduras’ Bay Islands for cheap diving. She fell in love with a German diver and became a dive master herself, working for the diving school. She wound up staying for two months and loved both things—the diving and the guy. I wanted to fall in love unpredictably (with a place). Cali and Caleno-style salsa and tango have been those unpredicted loves for me. Call has lulled me into a dream world of constant dancing.

Cali is not a very pretty city. In the end, a beautiful environment doesn’t matter so much as a beautiful activity. I never realized how much I absolutely love dancing. I don’t call myself a dancer because that sounds like professional dancer; but being in Cali and consistently studying salsa and tango has made me realize that I am capable of dancing faster and learning much more technique than I believed possible. It just takes sustained practice. And I never felt such dancing highs before as I have felt here. I wouldn’t say every night has been that way, there have also been real downers. But there have been some truly magical spells, spins on the dance floor when I thought, wow, I didn’t know dancing could be so much fun.

Dancing at La Matraca, a favorite nostalgic mostly tango (with some salsa) club. Pre-lessons. I would never look at the floor now! (Right.)

Cali is a party city but it’s a party city based around an artful activity. I’ve visited party towns like Praia de Pipa in Brazil where it seemed all that people did was stay up all night, drink, do drugs, and start dancing to electronic music at 3 am and it all seemed pointless to me. Boring. Cali has this huge nightlife but it’s built around a real passion. Going out is a lot more interesting when there’s something do beyond just getting a beer and talking.

I’ve gotten a little obsessed with figuring out how long I have been in Cali. The fact that I didn’t even know how long I have been in Cali disturbs me. I have the sensation that I have lost control of my life. In the end I will have spent about six weeks here if I can execute on my plan of actually leaving. Funny how dramatic that sounds but when you are traveling and get comfortable in a place it takes a lot of emotional energy to catapult yourself into the traveling mode again.

The words unbeautifully seductive run through my mind when I think about Cali. I only planned to spend a few days here. That was five weeks ago. I always say, just one more week. That’s a common story in Cali: it’s not just me.

Mauricio, a national Tango Champion, and one of our tango teachers, performing with partner at La Matraca

Cali is a city driven by a singular passion: to dance salsa (and bolero, cha-cha, bachata, doble paso, fox, and tango). On more than a few occasions, we go out and someone points out a Salsa World Champion on the dance floor. Or a Tango World Champion. (Sometimes you start to wonder how could there be so many?) The recent salsa festival showcased the talent of Cali’s kids and adults, and my, can they dance. People tell you stories of learning to dance from their parents and grandparents and I feel jealous that the U.S. doesn’t have this strong tradition of partner dance. We have lindy hop, swing, Charleston, but I can’t think of any parents who taught their kids these dances.

Cali calls itself the worldwide salsa capital. For a long time, I didn’t really believe it.

Caleno style salsa isn’t widely recognized in the way that Cuban salsa or Linea (LA-style) salsa are. If the rest of the world doesn’t know what Caleno salsa is, how could it be the capital? The recent Mundial (Worldwide) Salsa Festival in Cali featured almost exclusively couples and gropus from Colombia, if not Cali. I discussed this with a guy who runs a salsa video show from London, and he said it’s because the Calenos absolutely live salsa in a way that no other city does, and they incorporate styles and music from all over the world. The audience for salsa is greater here than in any other city because the passion is so pervasive. I walked into a grocery store the other day practicing some salsa steps and a man in his mid-50s or so smiled at me and said, Yo bailo tambien–I dance too. And he showed me his steps.

Caleno style is so diverse and varied that the dance, when danced well, is never boring, and finely attuned to the music. Almost every cab or grocery store is playing salsa music, and it’s about the music just as much as it’s about the dance. I rarely hear Top 40. Once in a chi-chi club in the chic neighborhood Granada, but I had the feeling, how boring and soulless.

A gentleman celebrating his birthday at La Matraca, and his dance partner of the moment

There are dozens of dance schools to choose from and more salsatecas than I will visit. Some of the clubs are reminiscent of Saturday Night Fever, with florescent lights lining the floor and the ceiling, others are nostalgic and like a club in Havana or Buenos Aires. I am a fan of the viejotecas that play older music and attract a more mature crowd. I love watching people in ther 50s, 60s, and 70s rule the dance floor.

Sometimes it seems like dancing is too important in Cali. My favorite dancing nights have been at Tin Tin Deo where there are a mix of Colombians and foreigners, great dancers with a variety of styles and no pressure. Sometimes at other places a dance can feel stiff as if the men are humorless and seem ego-driven. They really want to teach you and look good, and if you mess up, you can’t laugh about it. For me, messing up is often the best part. It’s a chance to laugh together.

Dancing plays a central role in dating. A Colombian friend Angelique tells me Caleno women will go out with guys they don’t like that much because they are good dancers.

During the daytime I sometimes wonder what I am doing here. Rio was a city where I loved the luxury of taking a cab–the city was beautiful if sometimes overly stimulating to watch go by. In Cali, taking a cab is much cheaper but the view is boring. The streets all kind of look the same, blocky, cinderyblocky new buildings. And unless I am in a dance class, or enjoying the friendships I have made here, I get confused, What am I doing here?

But at night (or in almost any dance class) the appeal of Cali becomes more clear. The wheatpasted posters for Viejotecas (salsatecas playing old salsa classics) and other salsa nights give hint to the pulse of the city, and to why so many people stay here much longer than they expect to when they come to visit for a few days. Cali is one of Latin America’s cities with the greatest African influence (other big ones are Havana, Salvador, Rio). The African influence shows up in the city’s obsession with dance.

Now that I am actually getting more skilled and confident in my salsa I am enjoying dancing more and more. It’s getting to be a true high. Before coming to Cali I always felt kind of bipolar with salsa: sometimes I loved it, sometimes I hated it. It all depended on the night and my dance partners. If I had partners that I loved, being spun around and connecting with someone could be a total joy. But if I got asked to dance by men who were rude or threw me around like a doll, I felt manhandled, and wondered why I had put myself in that situation on a Saturday night.

But I never actually took classes. I never trained the way I am training now, practicing steps over and over again, as an individual and in partner work.

Now that I am taking so many classes, practicing the steps so much, I have developed a much stronger sense of rhythm. You can always keep your rhythym is what people have told me here, and now, in week three, I’m happy to say that’s actually true. I don’t quite feel quite as much at the effect of every partner.

My Belgian friend Wooter who is a bit of a fact boy (one of those guys who always has a study to cite) tells me that dancing all the time makes you happy. I still want to see the study and understand the science, but it’s not hard to believe.

Tagged with: cali, colombia, dance, partner dance, passion, salsa, tango
Posted in Colombia, Travels

Salsa Cuties

Posted on September 23, 2010 by Sasha Cagen — 1 Comment ↓

After last week’s Salsa Festival in Cali, I’ve gotten the distinct feeling that a child who does not how to dance would be a social outcast in this dance-obsessed city. My friends and I just about died watching Cali’s uber-talented kids compete in the “infantil” division of Cali’s Mundial Salsa Festival. Please watch the above video from Estilo y Sabor. You will understand what I mean. We are talking about five and six year olds (as well as teenagers) who dance like professionals. The cute factor is just about through the roof. The wow factor is pretty high too, making the four hours we spent watching near the front row one opportunity to gasp after the next. Adult couples and groups can’t compete with the charisma of the kids.

There were 52 groups competing that day, ranging in size from 5 to 25. Most of the groups were from Cali. How is it possible that there are over 500 kids who dance so professionally, preciselyl?

Cutie pie

We got lucky with fantastic seats in the front center (it’s probably the power of blond hair, the Calenos are very eager to show off their culture to foreigners), and we sat behind the group that wound up winning! Their group is called Estilo y Sabor. The kid-dancers in Cali are so assertive and polite. They’re like mini-adults in many ways, in their confidence in approaching strangers as well as their stage presence, make-up and costume. Two of the eleven-year-old girls held our hands and danced with us while the crowd danced in anticipation of the results. They were all teary-eyed and my friend Griet asked me why they looked sad. They had so much invested. Who knows how many hours of practice?

When I watched Estilo y Sabor, I saw kids who could be on the verge of stardom if they were promoted sufficiently, with the right PR. I had the feeling that I could get them an appearance on NBC’s the Today Show. This whole dance culture in Cali–and the Caleno-style salsa–feels undiscovered to me, a bit off the radar compared to how incredible these people dance. (More videos to come of the adult competitions.)

Tagged with: cali, salsa, world festival
Posted in Uncategorized

A Battle of the Sexes on the Salsa Dance Floor

Posted on September 15, 2010 by Sasha Cagen — 3 Comments ↓

Can't we just all get along in a salsa class?

This past week I went to a free dance class offered by the Cali’s Mundial (Worldwide) Salsa Festival. The class was actually bugaloo and it was a lot of fast-stepping fun. At a certain moment the teacher told us we would not do “pareja” (couples) work. A stocky, red-haired Irish-looking guy and I drifted toward each other. The first thing he says to me is “Relax.” I said in response, “I’m already relaxed. Are you relaxed?” He says, “Maybe you want to dance with someone else.” Then he went off to find a new partner. Why did he need to tell me to relax before saying hello? We were about to practice a dance combination, not compete on Dancing With the Stars.

Salsa dancing in Cali, Colombia, the worldwide salsa capital, has been a magical experience. I’ve gone out dancing to about a dozen clubs and there are still dozens more to explore. I’ve taken classes at a phenomenal school Swing Latino and with fantastic teachers. But immersing myself in the salsa culture of Cali, Colombia, has also immersed me in the machismo of Colombian culture.

It’s been a full-on battle of the sexes with both Colombian men and other travelers that I haven’t felt since college.

I am ordinarily quick to avoid conflict but I have morphed into the lady with a short fuse. Give me some attitude and I give it right back.

You could argue that salsa is inherently machista because men lead and women follow. But it is a spontaneous social dance, and someone has to lead and someone has to follow. Why is it the man? Tradition. Latin culture is machisto itself.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a problem with following. Leading is harder. The leader (who could be a man or a woman) has to think about what comes next. I like the sense of abandon and living the moment with the music, not having to consciously plan. But these are roles that a man or woman could play. A woman can lead, a man can follow, and the best dancers know how to do both.

But the idea that men are the leaders permeates the classes in a way that really pumps up feelings of “natural superiority” for men.

Too many men get the idea that they are our “salsa daddies”—that they know more than they already do. The paternalistic attitude trickles down in our classes. The “salsa daddies” tell us we don’t need to look at the teacher, we only need to follow their lead. They criticize their female partner when actually they don’t have any clue what they are doing themselves. Like the cliche of men who won’t stop a car to ask for directions, they don’t want to ask the teacher for a demonstration when they are not getting the steps themselves. Of course not all men behave this way. The coolest men resist the machismo pull to think they know better than their female partners, and those are the ones I enjoy learning with because learning feels more like a team effort.

It’s psychologically intense to be paired with a stranger in a relatively close embrace and to have to work together. If I sound as if I am sensitive to the male psychology of salsa dancing, I can be. But if anything, the last week made me pissed off.

Here’s a very typical example: I was at Manicerro, a Caleno-style dance school, doing partner work. My partner and I were learning a combination. He wasn’t getting it and it was impossible to do the turn. He called over the female director of the school because according to him, I needed help. She danced the man’s part, and the combination went off smoothly. She smiled and said, “I think she knows it. I couldn’t resist saying, “Now maybe we can focus on you and your problems.” The female director gave me a knowing smile.

Sometimes I feel like men feel responsible to correct their female partners on everything once they step into a salsa class, including how to speak or tie their shoes. The day before, I took a semi-private class with five other foreigners at Swing Latino. My partner was also American. I said “Listo” as we were about to begin. “Listo” means two things in Colombian Spanish: “ready” or “OK.” I was using it to say, “OK, let’s go.” My partner responds, “Lista. It’s lista,” assuming I was saying “ready.” Was this southern Californian guy really correcting my Spanish? I tell him, “listo” doesn’t follow the gender of the speaker if I am saying “OK.” But I did feel “lista” to kick his butt.

This past week I was at Cali’s phenomenal Mundial (worldwide) Salsa Festival. In addition to performances, competitions, and concerts by Yuri Buenaventura and other big names in salsa music, there are 20 free dance workshops open to the public. The workshops are on everything from Salsa Calena to Fusion of Salsa and Tango to Salsa en Linea (otherwise known as LA Style). The classes are large and there is only one teacher per class.

During the free workshops at salsa festival I really started to really feel the imbalance of male teachers leading the class with microphones and silent female partners by their side.

I attended six workshops out of twenty, and all of them had men teachers. I’ve had plenty of male and female dance teachers, and it’s always been just fine to learn from a man. But consistently seeing men speak and women silent as their partners started to get on my nerves. What about the female point of view in a partner dance? My friend Griet showed me the way she dances at times and says she naturally drifts toward the male style of the basic step in salsa, with more vigorous footwork and armwork, because the only examples we see demonstrated are from male teachers with the occasional female partner.

One teacher of Caleno-style salsa, “El Mulato” Luis Eduardo Hernandez, told us that men hold all the responsibility for the dance. He joked that his partner needed to dance on her toes–the Caleno style–so that she could be “manejado” (driven) by any man. A titter of outraged laughter went through the crowd.

Most insane: the workshops “Estilo para Mujeres” (Style for Women) was taught by a guy who couldn’t have been older than 20. He began the class by telling us that he has nothing against gay people, but he isn’t gay. What can I say, but WTF?

I saw a young woman dancing beautifully. I asked her why she didn’t go upfront so we would have a female example. She smiled and said that a man or woman could demonstrate. That may be true. But I also wanted to hear about Style for Women from a woman.

I talked with a female organizer from the Secretary of Culture who is organizing Cali’s salsa festival. She says she and her female colleagues have discussed the issue themselves and wish there were more female teachers leading workshops. Why they don’t invite women teachers then? When I expressed my pissed-off-ness a female Colombian friend looked at me like I was a little crazy, overzealous.

The imbalance in teachers is not such hard problem to solve. I vented to my uber-sweet Colombian friend William who takes salsa and dance classes himself. He told me he learns from women all all the time. His teachers are both women, and he pulled a card out of his wallet to show me his salsa teachers–they are a couple and the woman and man teach equally. The ideal situation, according to him, is a group class with a man and a woman teacher. That wouldn’t be so hard for the Salsa Festival to pull off. Just give a microphone to the woman demonstrating so both people have a voice.

New salsa fashion: mustaches on the dance floor

It’s hard to change the behavior of arrogant boys who think they already know everything. How do you teach humility? But as a woman, sometimes you really have to stop and insist, let’s see what the teacher has to say. Or if he criticizes you in an unhelpful way, just say, can you stretch your feet a little more because right now I think you walk like a duck. Or paint a mustache on your face to tell an overly helpful dance partner to step off.

Thanks to David Reina for wardrobe assistance, Wouter De Maeseneire for serving as impromptu photographer, and Griet Van Herck for the styling genius, modeling, and being my fellow Reina (queen) on the dance floor. More of our salsa photos to be posted soon as soon as I figure out the WordPress galleries feature.

Tagged with: cali, colombia, dance, feminism, machismo, partner dance, salsa, sexism
Posted in Uncategorized

But Is It Fun? The Search for the Perfect Salsa Class in Cali

Posted on September 12, 2010 by Sasha Cagen — 7 Comments ↓

After two weeks in Cali, my Belgian friend Griet and I, wandering our somewhat bohemian neighborhood San Antonio, found a gym an astonishing two blocks away. The gym offered a dance workout—rumba aerobics—Saturday mornings at 10. What a find! Although Cali is a very late-night party city, we decided to call it a relatively early Friday night at 1 at La Matraca, a gorgeously nostalgic tango club, so we could get up early to work out! Yes, we were committed to our health!

The gym’s rumba class combined a series of dance moves: salsa, bachata, and African dance moves. Bachata is a slow sensual hip-rotating rhythym gaining in popularity worldwide that I first encountered here in Cali. The teacher and the class were high-energy. I even got to work on my Caleno-style salsa footwork.

I felt such a high from the class that I couldn’t help but think of the Saturday morning, 10 am class that I took for two years in San Francisco. It was a combination of world dances that had all the potential in the world to be great, but after a month the teacher really started to wear on my nerves. He wasn’t a comedian, but he seemed to think he was one. He used the class as his stage. I persisted in going for over a year even though I gritted my teeth through his jokes.

Why did I keep going to a class I didn’t love for two years? You could argue that I could have adapted to like him more. I think I’ve always had this idea that the more spiritual approach in life is to be zen and learn to be neutral–not actively disliking–things I don’t like. As if I should accept everything and enjoy all the ups and downs of life. But why? He got on my sister’s nerves too. Why continue to do anything that I don’t love, if it is in my power to change it and find something better? With regard to that particular dance class, I could have easily driven or biked bussed to half a dozen other classes and found an experience that I truly loved. The class was convenient. It was a three minute walk from my apartment.

Oh wait, I felt a travel-inspired revelation come on. I vowed to not stick with anything anymore that’s just OK or that I actively don’t like! The world doesn’t necessarily hand you the perfect dance class the first time, or the perfect man, shoes, dress, etc. You might have to put in some effort and find it! You can’t just stick with whatever is convenient and easy if you don’t enjoy it. An apartment, a job, a shampoo, whatever.

I was feeling extremely enlightened and clear about how to operate in the future. Then I really laughed when I realized that I was actually doing the same thing in Cali—going to a salsa caleno dance class that I didn’t really like. When I first arrived in Cali, I switched hostels, much in keeping with this philosophy of not accepting a place that I don’t like. The first hostel Jovita’s had zero privacy with no private rooms, and whenever I have no privacy I get exhausted. I found Café Tostaky, where I have my own room and the owner is so sweet, he creates a community that brings together an interesting mix of Colombians, expatriates, and travelers.

Everyone who stays at or hangs out at Café Tostaky goes to Manicero, a popular, cheap dance studio that offers salsa Caleno style classes. The first time I went I was stunned by the energy in the class. There were at least 100 Colombians practicing exceptionally fast, highly stylized fast footwork steps. I thought, Wow. It was fun to go with a group from the hostel. In many ways this whole Tostaky-Manicero situation is what I was looking for in Rio: a community of people pursuing dance classes together.

But after a couple of classes I realized that Manicero was not for me. It is cheap but it lacks soul. The footwork is fast, but there’s no joy. With the exception of the woman owner, the teachers are all men and the men never smile. They call out moves like drill sergeants. I started to feel like I was training for a salsa military. My dance partners were distracted, seemingly full of anxiety. And I asked myself, how could I be looking at the clock during a dance class?

That very Saturday that Griet and I discovered the gym class we passed another dance studio. I went inside to inquire. The salsa classes seemed worth checking out. I felt a little self-conscious like that person who endlessly collects flyers, a perfectionist who neer stops searching. As in, why don’t I just give it a rest and enjoy what I have? Why keep searching for the perfect ________fill in the blank? Will I never be satisfied? But I am in Cali to learn to dance, and that’s the most important thing: finding good teachers

On Monday I tried out a class. It was pretty much a random shot. No one had recommended it to me. And guess what? The class was fantastic. The teacher was everything I love in a dance teacher. He smiled, for one! He made the class fun. The teacher focused on all the footwork we practiced ad nauseum at Manicerro’s but with real spirit, and he integrated the footwork with partner work, which made the class much better preparation for “rumba”–dancing out in the real world. I expected to leave by 8 but found myself staying on for the third hour, not even looking at the clock. The other students were sweet and all Colombian, and I sensed that I could learn the male steps as well as the female, which is part of what I have really been seeking in my current dance education—a more egalitarian salsa.

I have been to three classes at my new studio so far, and every time it’s been great (albeit exhausting!) I’ve done three private lessons with the teacher. The private lesson was at the preschool that his girlfriend runs. I am learning technique in my private lessons that is making me a salsa dancer with the flourishes and confidence and posture that I always admired at salsa clubs in San Francisco, and never knew how to acquire.

Since then a few of the people from my hostel and I have stumbled upon a fantastic situation at Swing Latino, one of the most famous salsa schools in Cali. Swing Latino regularly graduates world champion salsa dancers. The four of us are taking a class for 8 hours with one of their teachers and are learning Caleno and linea style salsa. It’s kind of incredible to actually feel myself improving. I never really knew how to get from point a to point b with salsa or any dance. The others recognize and agree that this a real class as opposed to the instruction at Manicero (though they like it more than I do, and keep going).

What’s the moral of the story here? I was right to not settle? Perhaps that is completely obvious, but for me, maybe it wasn’t. I think in a lot of ways my life before I decided to travel was full of things that I was just accepting–a living situation where I didn’t feel entirely comfortable, a job that wasn’t really in line with my passions, and in that unpassionate vibe I forgot how to pursue things that I love. Traveling has really helped me come alive and deepen my previous passions of languages, informal cultural anthropology (!), music, and dance.

In some ways I wish that I was more relaxed and go-with-the-flow, that I could have accepted Manicero. But now the other people who have come to Swing Latino realize that Manicero is lacking, and I’m glad that unlike them I didn’t spend a month there.

At the same time, it’s not easy being a perfectionist: always looking for the best . . . Looking for the perfect salsa school can have overtones of looking for the perfect shoes or mate. It can be kind of exhausting. I have a hunch that it has something to do with just allowing things to happen, and not telling yourself you are on the search, or at least not allowing the search to feel like effort, more like curiosity, a game. If you decide to come to Cali, I could tell you how to find the best salsa teachers. The best mate, I am still not sure. But I have a hunch that it must have to do with following your passions, and at least I’m on that path now.

Tagged with: salsa cali colombia travel joy
Posted in Uncategorized

Why I Always Celebrate My Birthday–And You Should Too (Yours, I Mean)

Posted on September 8, 2010 by Sasha Cagen — 5 Comments ↓

One of my stylish dance partners at the tango club, La Matraca, on my birthday eve

I just celebrated my birthday in Cali, Colombia with more than 24 hours of celebration.

Many people around my age prefer to de-emphasize or ignore their birthdays rather than call attention to getting older. It is easy to be filled with anxiety about a new chronological age. I won’t even get into the reasons why: We all know them.

As Bette Davis famously said, getting older is not for sissies. As I get older, I feel like it’s even more important to make a big deal out of the day that I was born to counteract all the negativity around age. I’m a believer in the extended birthday celebration. Why only one day? My friends Sonya and Liz, twins, and I share the same birthday. One year, when they turned 30, we celebrated for a whole week with four separate celebrations, including a piano concert at 7:30 am at a Turkish cafe on our actual birthday before work.

As I get older, I am more and more committed to being happy on my birthday and creating a great experience. I remember turning 29 in Hawaii. I was on a weeklong vacation with my dear friend Ali, who is six years younger than me. I moped about turning 29, how I hadn’t published a book yet, found the love of my life, whatever. Ali was very annoyed with me. I can’t believe that I wasted that birthday in Hawaii whining about nothingness when I could have been appreciating the moment, or created an experience that I would have loved. In this respect, I am starting to believe that people really do get happier as they get older. You learn how to live.

I’m really committed to never lying about my age, and instead being proud of all my experience. I think of my friend Ira in Rio for inspiration here. We celebrated her 40th birthday together with her toting around childlike candles for 4-0 the whole weekend, and she kept saying how happy she was to have made it to age 40. She was so joyful in her gratitude. She didn’t always believe she would survive (and we’re not talking about someone with a fatal disease) til age 40. I never heard an American woman talk about being grateful for making it to 40.

A Colombian friend Yeimmi gave me a great idea for how to answer the frequent question, How old are you? Her aunt Olga (her role model in life, who runs a cleaning business in Florida and sounds like a very feisty, smart woman) taught her how to joke and answer with a smile, “20 with x years of experience.” That way you get to be forever young with layers of sexy wisdom and maturity.

For the last five years I have been celebrating with Liz and Sonya. Part of me would have loved to have been in San Francisco to celebrate with them. But I also wanted this birthday to reflect the spirit of this year’s adventure. Even if it absolutely sucked and I was totally alone in some random shitty hotel, I wanted the chance to see what would happen. I wanted that sense of risk. The feeling of being suspended in air for my birthday in keeping with the rest of 2010. Life is more memorable when you change things up.

So I decided to stay in Cali, though, which has become home over the last three weeks anyway. This hostel is the coziest places where I have stayed and I have become close with several people here. I am having one of the times of my life losing (and finding) myself in Cali’s dance culture, learning Caleno-style salsa and tango. (More to come on these in future blog posts.)

My birthday eve was Sunday night at La Matraca, a magically nostalgic tango (and salsa) club in a dodgy neighborhood that my Belgian friend Griet and I discovered three weeks ago. We have become regulars, fancying ourself “Las Reinas de La Matraca” (The Queens of La Matraca). There are many other Reinas — graceful tango dancers in their 40s, 50s, and 60s who are an absorbing joy to watch.

My birthday eve at La Matraca included four fantastic things:

An out-of-this-world performance by a 74-year-old woman who might be a lunatic but is also a singing and dancing genius. Watch this:

Dancing in a circle with a group of women and men in their 60s and 70s. In my opinion, exuberant dancing in a circle holding hands is one version of heaven.

My first tango in public. Doing tango in public had the barrier-breaking quality of hanggliding or bungee jumping. Survival! I just stared at my tango dancer’s upper left chest the whole time, which is where the woman is supposed to look.

Thanks to my Colombian friend William, I got to live my dream of a birthday dance. In my travels in Brazil, I noticed this tradition at a capoeira class and at a weekly afternoon “baile” dance at the Carioca Cultura Center. A circle forms and the focus is totally on the birthday girl or boy for her or his spin on the dance floor with one partner after another. It’s a euphoric thing to watch, the happiness of the person moving from one partner to the next. I always thought that was a great fusion of birthdays and the dance culture in South America, and I was thrilled to live that moment myself. I really have no idea what this dance is. It’s not paso doble or fox or . . . ? But I played along. Here’s my birthday dance. Unfortunately YouTube doesn’t have a rotate feature so it’s sideways: rotate your head.

Oscar and Griet leaping into an icy cold natural pool below a waterfall on the birthday hike

On my actual birthday, a new friend and ecology student Oscar led me and my Belgian friends Wouter and Griet on a slippery hike along a river to a spectacular and icy cold waterfall with a natural pool below it. Back at the hostel, Griet and two others at he hostel cooked a tall stack of crepes for a communal birthday dinner. I felt so touched that people whom I met just three weeks ago took the time to create a birthday dinner. And finally in the 24-hour birthday marathon, we went salsa dancing at Las Brisas, where we danced with our salsa teacher and saw salsa world champions from the school Swing Latino perform their superhumanly fast footwork.

Not bad for 28 hours in a country where I knew no one before arriving six weeks ago. This was really a magical birthday and I’m grateful that I took the risk of celebrating while traveling. Now I am resting. Whew! I really have no idea what the next year will bring. But after all, I’m only 20 (with 17 years of experience). I’m not supposed to know yet.

Tagged with: age, birthday, birthdays, celebration, getting older
Posted in Colombia, Traveling Alone