We had moved from the 13th
floor apartment next to Sears to a tiny two room and a kitchen
apartment in Juanambú, just a few blocks away from Colombo. It was a
house owned by a German couple and they had rebuilt the house so it
had a rentable apartment with its own entrance. The neighboring house
was owned by the same family, a daughter, I think and they had done
the same thing so we were a bunch of young foreigners living up the
hill there. It was a steep climb and very lovely up there; in the
evenings the camias and palosantos would spread their almost
intoxicating tropical fragrance all over the barrios: Granada,
Juanambú, Centenario.
That was before those lovely, old-fashioned barrios were sacrificed to the progress of the city of Cali and the Republican-style homes became offices, boutiques, restaurants and bars, the gardens with camias and jasmins became the thoroughware between the north and the south of the city and the charmful villas were removed to build the bridges next to Intercontinental Hotel.
That was before those lovely, old-fashioned barrios were sacrificed to the progress of the city of Cali and the Republican-style homes became offices, boutiques, restaurants and bars, the gardens with camias and jasmins became the thoroughware between the north and the south of the city and the charmful villas were removed to build the bridges next to Intercontinental Hotel.
There was a discotheque
called Saint Tropez, not far from the Cafe de los Turcos, that we
used to go to, very popular with the foreigners. We never hang out
with my brother, except on a few occasions when we went hiking up
the Three Crosses hill, or followed the Pance River up the hillside
to a swimming hole with icy, crystal water.
We went to Juanchaco and
Ladrilleros beaches on the Pacific coast on one Easter week holiday,
together with Arties new girlfriend, Adela and her two sisters that
she had to bring along to be allowed to go on a trip with the gringo.
(They rented a cabin for three in Juanchaco and my brother had to
sleep on the beach;( ) We took a bus to Buenaventura and Fabian
bought a bottle of aguardiente at the docks, he later claimed that
the aguardiente was bad, but it was probably just his own natural
intolerance to alcohol which made him a useless, miserable drunk the
first day of the vacation. The trip from Buenaventura to Juanchaco
took almost an hour in a tugboat and there was no peer, we had to
walk on some planks to get ashore and got really wet. We rented a
cottage, which was...very rustic to say the least. It was made of
grey, unpainted boards, the floor was made of planks with a
centimeter or two-wide cracks between each board and the furniture
consisted of two beds, That's it. No electricity, no bathroom,
nothing but walls, roof, floor with cracks and two beds. And a drunk
boyfriend who was in a black, horrible mood.
The tropical night fell on
the beach, grey, wide, shallow water and clean shoreline; there were
a lot of people mostly from Cali, university students, couples,
groups, young people and it was party on the beach, bonfires,
aguardiente, guitars and singing. We fought, made up, fought and made
up again and finally Fabian fell asleep drunk and exhausted.
The next day was a little
better; we swam in the ocean, walked on the beach and dealt with a
lot of issues, most of them stemming from our different cultural
background and upbringing. He had a horrible hangover and was very
remorseful: he said he resented the fact that he was not the first
man in my life and that was very much in love with me but felt that
he could not trust me entirely because of the different values we
had. We sorted out a lot of personal stuff that day, never to take
them up again. We ate lunch and dinner at the local eateries: rice,
fried plantains and canned tuna: the fishermen had not brought
anything back in their boats. We drank cocacola and postobon direct
from the bottles and probably got amoebas anyway.
The third day we hiked
with a bunch of other young people through a neck of woods on a
narrow path to another, smaller but whiter beach, Ladrilleros, a
perfect half-moon of a beach, clean and pristine. On the way back we
followed the shoreline and stopped at some frehwater falls to bath in
the warm, sweet shower plunging down over a cliff formation. My
sandals broke apart there and I got to walk rest of the time
barefeet. I also got one of my most horrible, painful sunburns I have
ever had; with resulting fever, blisters, peeling and unbearable itch
all over my arms, face, legs, back and neckline.


this is lovely and inspiring - a snapshot of your lives in Cali in more innocent times. it's also nice to read the bits about my father's life before i was born.
ReplyDeleteOMG, Juanchaco and Ladrilleros! The memories, I just want to cry with joy. I spent so much time over there, the natives called me a native also. Thanks for those wonderful pictures.
ReplyDeleteI think when you refer to fresh water you are talking to " La Maestra" a huge waterfall inside one of the caves. Our house was not far from there. I loved it when the tide was hight and the waves hit the rocks creating foam and lowd notices like thunder!
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry I seem to have misplaced all my original photos of the place, but yes, I'm sure that's the waterfall. I remember taking a short walk from Juanchaco thru the jungle to Ladrilleros, which was totally undeveloped at the time. On the way back, we walked the shoreline and came to this amazing waterfall.
DeleteThe beauty of that was that you could only go there when the tide was low. We had to be so careful not to let us forget the tide was coming in.
DeleteMichelle, thanks for you support and lovely comments. Your father will be featured in at least one of the future episodes and a supporting actor in several others. He was very much part of my life during the first two years when we shared an apartment in Cali.
ReplyDelete