Well.
I´m not even sure I have the words to express what happened on my first night out in Cartagena....but I´ll do my best.
For better or worse, I decided to do the aforementioned ´Chivas Party Bus´ on Saturday night, thinking it would be a good way to 1) learn about Cartagena´s history, 2) meet people and 3) drink.
I still feel like the Colombian guy at the hostel reception was playing some kind of trick on me when he actually allowed me to pay for this, KNOWING what I was getting myself in for. But anyway, I digress....
I turned up at the tour operator offices at 8pm (solo) where sure enough the ´party bus´ complete with mariarchi band (oh yes) was waiting for me. However no-one else got on the bus, so for now it was just a party of ONE. I obviously felt very cool at this point.
We then set off (mariarchi band in full swing, me sitting awkwardly pretending I loved this kind of thing) and did a bit of a recce around all of the local hotels where we did actually pick up more people. At every stop this one guy would shake his maracas (not a euphemism) at all the new people boarding the bus and try to force them to buy a pair. At 20,000 pesos for 2 maracas (about USD $10) there was obviously no way in hell I was going to buy some. Most other people did though, and I´m pretty sure this guy thought I was the biggest killjoy for stubbornly saying NO gracias every time he shook these things in my face.
Now, back to the people on the bus. This was not, as I´d mistakenly assumed, a gringo party bus. I seemed to have been put on the ´middle aged Latino´s and their extended families party bus´. I was the only white person on the bus, but more importantly, I was the only non-spanish speaker.....and you guessed it, the tour was in espanol. I don´t think I have ever felt so out of place - it was definitely a case of "one of these things just doesn´t belong here". Oh and at this point there was still no sign of the promised free booze, which was sorely needed! I sat wondering how I had got myself into this situation, while people shook maracas incessantly and sung along to the mariarchi band (clearly they were playing a few "anthems"). I was determined to stick it out though and just see where on earth this experience would take me. These 4 old chilean women took pity on me and pretty much adopted me as their pet gringo for the night, translating some of the tour for me, and making sure that once the alcohol DID finally come out, my glass was constantly topped up with incredibly strong cuba libre.
Thankfully after a few hours we got dropped off at a club in the old town along with a few other ´party buses´ and I met an aussie/irish couple who had been through a similar experience and were so grateful to find another english speaker that they practically hugged me! The club was good fun, although it was slightly humiliating when an argentinian guy approached me and started trying to dance with me....latin style. He ignored my insistence that I was a terrible dancer, claiming that he was a good teacher. He then proceeded to attempt to move me with grace around the dance floor - it was an embarrassing (and long) 10 minutes for both of us I think. I liken it to the movie Dirty Dancing - not the bit at the end where Baby is really good, and you kind of want to be her - but the bit at the start, where she´s so awkward and can´t even move her hips without looking special "I carried a watermelon"....that kind of vibe.
I finally called it a night at 2am, blaming jetlag and the fact that I could still hear those bloody maracas ringing in my ears.....an eventful first night to say the least!
