To get to Cartagena we had to go via Cali.

I thought this would be me but it turned out it wasn’t. Stoked.

Apparently it’s the sporting centre of Colombia which, as you can imagine, thrilled me to the core.

So I wasn’t excited about a Cali stopover. I thought it might be like Hamilton, a sprawl you try to get through quickly. I was wrong.

We were there for a short time but in that short time we did something very right.

We went dancing.

My Colombian friend can dance. I think he picked up the moves in utero.  I don’t know that I can claim the same for myself. I’m not unco, but I’m a long way from being invited to audition for Dancing with the Stars.

I researched the spot for us. And we lucked in.  Salsa Pura was having a ‘Social’ I was told, that very evening.

A Social seems to mean the gloves are off for a couple of hours and everyone smashes it on the dance floor. Then there is a show. Then more dancing. Social dancing.

My friend taught me the basic moves and surprisingly I picked it up quickly. We joined the pulse of the floor.  It’s sexy as hell. I like it.