Colombia, aguardiente, and rrrumba

I lifted both of Eliana’s hands up above her head and, holding them there, led her in a slow spin to her left whilst watching in complete awe as she effortlessly grooved to the Caribbean beat, leading with every melting curve of her body; thighs, hips, bum, waist, and boobs all appeared to be moving of their own volition and yet blended together in an alluring orchestration that left me powerless to do anything but worship the goddess dancing before me. As she came around full circle, I suddenly remembered that I was meant to be dancing as well and so I tried to put my lanky frame back into the beat in order to match her movements for a few moments before sending her back turning the other way. As she came back around again I pulled her in close by lifting her hands up and over my head, draping them around my neck while in the same movement dropping my hands down to her waist. We moved in close, our bodies pressed tightly together while she continued to move her hips in ways unimaginable. I could taste the sweat on her neck and feel her fingers dig into my hair as we rocked together down low to the floor before coming back up again for air.
The song ended, and the flushed Colombiana before me indicated that she needed to cool down. I nodded in agreement, as I too desperately needed to cool down – in more ways than one – and so we headed for the door of the dark bar and outside into the cool air.

It was a Saturday night in Cali, the salsa capital of Colombia, of South America and arguably of the world.

Once outside and away from the din, Eliana chatted animatedly to me in her Pastusa accent about her family in Narino while I bought a couple of cigarettes from a crumpled, toothless old lady. After lighting both of them I handed Eliana hers and we moved over to sit on the concrete kerbside along with the rest of the sweaty revelers. I could still hear the live group inside as they started to play a lengthy bulbaceous version of Happy Birthday for someone before switching to a salsa beat. Eliana’s dark eyes giggled as the sound of the fresh canto reached her ears. I started to ask her if she was ready to go back in, but by the time I’d opened my mouth she’d already stubbed out her cigarette, jumped up, and grabbed my hand to pull me to my feet.

Bailamos!