While in Taganga I met a Chinese Australian girl called Jess who was really interested in dancing and was making a trip to Cali the salsa capital of the world to pay homage to salsa. She automatically said I should go with her if I liked to dance which of course planted a seed in my head. And once I have an idea I sometimes dangerously so, act on impulse and can't get the idea out of my head. So the day I was heading back to Cartagena I booked a flight to leave the next morning which was the best decision I have made in a very long time.

After doing the same routine in Cartagena for three weeks I was beginning to tire of the basic salsa and the way my teacher was treating me. The day before I travelled to Taganga she snapped during a class and demanded that I study more and asked me rhetorically why I couldn't understand the topic which I felt was incredibly rude and unprofessional thus I was dreaded the next week of lessons spending four hours a day with someone who has no patience with you. I began to tire of my salsa lessons as the choreography was getting repetitive and I wasn't advancing. At first I wanted to dance salsa to get more active as I don't do anything in the way of exercise in London but then I started to take the dance more seriously and become interested in the culture behind salsa.

So while slightly dreading the last week the thought of jetting off with some random girl to a city I knew nothing about was extremely appealing. So after calling the school and telling them about my plan and letting my Colombian parents know, I arrived back after the 7 hour journey from Taganga to Cartagena, repacked my bags again and set off for the airport. I had the itch and I went with it, although I got comfortable in Cartagena once I saw another place in Colombia I wanted to see more.

I arrived wearing beach clothes as Cali is renowned for being hot, sweaty and muggy however with the change in temperatures all over the world, I arrived and Cali was cold and raining! So I caught a bus into the centre and walking around in a sundress and backpack trying to find another bus into the city I looked totally out of place. I asked several people to help me get the bus into the city and they tried to help but didn't really know where I was heading but each person saying take care and there very worried about me because I'm on my own.

I finally found my way to hostel Pelican Larry to be greeted by a few friendly travellers and the German owner Gunther. I sussed out the place and within an hour I had arranged my Spanish lessons with a teacher who comes to the hostel everyday to teach the travellers, private dance classes and group lessons with the world renowned school Swing Latino. I arrived at the dance studio to be blown away by the level of skill of the people practicing. One room 20 couples spinning around the room so fast you cant even see their feet while next door were boys and girls of 8 year olds in sequin costumes twirling each other with the same seriousness of professional dancers in their twenties. I joined the basic group and even that was difficult for me and I've been taking three weeks of basic classes.

I've given up on busses so I'm taking taxis everywhere and have noticed how friendly the taxi drivers are, I think the nicest in the world! After the lessons several other travellers arrived at then hostel who had all been travelling up through Peru and Ecuador so sat on the patio chatting away with some friendly people, an aussie guy, Israeli and Norwegian professional poker player. Jess arrived from Santa Marta in the middle of the night but we were still up drinking beer and chatting. I was itching to go out to a club my school recommended however everyone was too tired from their overnight journeys.

I felt immediately at home in my hostel which wasn't too crowded or crazy or too quiet, just the right mix, possible the nicest experience I've ever had in a hostel which may make sense as its one the best hostel in Colombia award twice with hostelworld. I woke up and had my first lie in I had literally had for a month as everyday in Cartagena I would be woken up by Belen or street sellers. The sun was shining today so I would sit out on the patio and sunbathe before my classes.

I met Leandro my Spanish teacher who was also studying social studies so we spent the whole week talking about interesting topics about Colombia and found myself actually being able to speak for two non stop with him which for me is amazing. I'm not at a level where I can have a conversation with taxi drivers, the ladies in the beauty salons and the people I sit and have lunch with at the busy cafes.

Jess and I would go to the salsa school for a couple hours and watch the other groups practising for the shows, world tours and festivals they perform at. We learnt here salsa is a way of life not just something people do when they get drunk. This school is only one of 200 in Cali that offer 4 year full time degrees in Salsa practising 8 hours per day to become professionals. The children start at age 4 with parents and coaches showing no mercy if the poor kids mess up a couple steps. I've never experienced anything like this.

Our first night we went out to a club our teacher recommended with a group of other gringos from the hostel. The club Siboney reminded me of scenes from Scarface. Reminiscent to the clubs in Miami in the 1980s with security guards everywhere, rich drug lords and a dealer and security guard in the men's toilet while the women's toilet was a parade of gorgeous women adjusting their Versace dresses around their breast and ass implants. The whole atmosphere was way too up market for us and we were surprised we even got let in. However the formalities were ridiculous, to sit at a table we had to buy a bottle of rum or aguardiente and went that bottle finished we had to buy another one which was just not possible of backpacker budgets. Jess and I were dancing together and a security guard pulled us off the floor informing us two women cant dance together so not very lesbian friendly place either and when we didn't buy another bottle of liquor we were kicked off our table.

Cali's nightclub scene is not a tourist friendly city at all. Unless you already have a dance partner it's very hard to meet other people and generally the only people wanting to dance with foreigners are old men. Clubs usually wont let in foreigners especially large groups from the hostel as we all generally look like slobs arriving in Aladdin pants and flip flops when the rest of the girls are manicured head to toe. This is also a city that doesn't take kindly to people who don't know how to dance which is why they often don't admit travellers as most have no idea about the rhythm of salsa. In these ways there is a lot to criticize the pretentious, over zealous clubs however we soon found other more relaxed ones so I guess I would be the equivalent of trying to enter a club in Knightsbridge in flip flops and a sarong.

Wednesday night took us to Anenida Sexta, Cali's famous don't town strip of bars and clubs that range from huge themed US clubs with a fake Mount Roosevelt façade to equally tacky neon lit, strobe lit, gaudy dance floors. Barmen stand outside the empty clubs to lure people in where you will be sat at a table around the dance floor which is the centre of each club and then asked for your order. The barman will then nonchalantly ask for your drink order and how many grams of coke you want to buy.

Every club has security guards however I have no idea for what apart from fights which I have not seen any evidence of malicious behaviour between anyone here. The men just seem to laugh, dance and drink a lot instead of throw punches and kababs like what you would see in England.After sampling the tacky clubs in Avenida Sexta we went to a club in an area called Menga which is home to a strip of salsa clubs that are open 24 hours a day 7 days a week, and they're massive with at least 500 capacity each. I have no idea how they can keep business a float. We joined in a party of drunk young Colombians and danced the night away in a relaxed atmosphere where Jess and could dance together and not fear being kicked out!

By this time we had stayed in the hostel for long enough to see travellers coming and going. Jess and I were there with the intention to dance while the majority of travellers were only passing through on route from Ecuador to get to the Caribbean Coast. Most people saw Cali as nothing more than another South American city with little character and little in the way of sights and activities. However if you dig a little deeper besides being the city to come for salsa, I found the people on the streets (outside the clubs) to be friendlier and happy to see tourists.

Jess and I would go to dinner after our salsa classes every night to an upmarket café called Crepes y Waffles. I would have comida corriente for lunch and as usual in South America, lunch is easy to find however restaurants open for dinner is another story. So we would eat at this wonderful café selling about hundred different styles of savoury crepes with the best salad bar I've ever had and the most delicious ice creams. It would take us at least an hour every night to order because we were spoiled for choice and got to know the waitresses by name as they had to have so much patience with us every time we went there. We had so much fun chatting about ridiculous things knowing no one in the restaurant could understand what we would talk about as no one speaks English.

I would go to the salsa school for group lessons and get to know all of the Colombians who I would see in the classes every night. I was obviously the only foreigner in the school so people were very interested to know why I was here. Coming all the way to Cali to dance when they have this school just in their neighbourhood would be a strange concept for anyone.

The next night we went to a club that was a good mix of salsa club but still a little bit of a dive bar so the atmosphere was a little bit more relaxed. We met a group of gringo expats who live in San Antonia, the little colonial area and go out dancing every night. There was one guy from London making a documentary about the salsa scene in Colombia, another guy from San Francisco, and Italian and a Korean man and then Colombian guys who would rather hang out with western guys than Colombians. It was a nice little group, of course they're all just after the beautiful Colombian women which I don't really have a problem with. I do have a problem with old men coming to Asia to hook up with Asian teenage girls who look like children but here it doesn't seem so sleazy.

Needless to say, we had joined this expat group as they were all really good dancers and good to practice with as you would each make the same mistakes, just as it's easier to understand an English person trying to speak Spanish as you would make the same mistakes in grammar. Dancing feels similar. All these guys have been here for several months living relatively cheaply while practising their Spanish and learning how to dance. I would love to do this for a few months. Cali is a very comfortable city with a temperate climate and a good standard of living; I could easily see how these guys could just keep extending their trip.

Friday was my last week of Spanish lessons. People thought I was crazy to keep taking lessons when I was leaving in a few days but I just want the things I've learned to stick so when I come back to learning Spanish I'll get right back into the swing of things. Leandro was a really good teacher and at only 22 he really had his head screwed on and was a very talented guy. And at £4 an hour Private Spanish lessons who can go wrong? What really broke the budget was when I started to take private lessons with instructors from the dance school who were training for their world tour. These lessons were about £10 but worth every penny.

Jess and I would do classes at the same time and work on the different things we needed to get right, however Jess was more advanced than me, everything comes so natural to her. There has got to a something to be said when Asians can dance, they are amazing. I don't know why this passed year has just been an invasion of Asians in my life and for no real reason connected to an interest in Asian culture. First Yuko and Soran then people recently who I get on with like a house of fire, Tomo and then Jess. Why has my life in the past year been influenced by so many friends from the East?

By now I was wearing my heels every night and fancy dresses. I would never dress up like that in London but as usual I want to blend in so to whichever culture I'm in and here its the tacky, flashy Latin culture of colours and sequins. We went to a salsa caberet show which was a run through of the world tour they are working on. It was the best dancing I've ever seen live and the children moved like pro's. What was ridiculous was that the ticket was £5 to get in, they didn't serve beer or long drinks only 750ml bottles of rum or aguardiente and to sit at a table you would have to buy one. We thought this was crazy because we couldn't drink 750ml of rum between 3 people and stay out dancing all night. However being a status thing, each table needs a bottle to look the part. Yet another stupid formality.

After the show the expat group and I went to a divvy bar called La Fuente where I met a man who played at WOMAD festival last year where I was working. He plays the drums in a salsa band and lives in Camberwell. He probably knows Alba. La Fuente was a student bar sprawling out into the streets and onto the grass with students belonging to all different cliques smoking grass and chilling out. We saw punks, Goths, hippies and skaters all chilling out listening to some form of alternative salsa music. It was a very strange atmosphere.

I woke up and a new guy had move in my room from Israel. I was hungry and he knew somewhere nice for lunch. I am very apprehensive about Isreali's and meeting and travelling with them in South America and India, I've met enough that I can generalise. In my opinion Israeli's are extremely annoying, cheap and arrogant people. One of the first nights I got into a stupid argument with one about how he things he has to pay the least for everything and not get ripped off by a dime because he's rich and he's a tourist because apparently his ancestors worked hard for their money. Hello! Europeans ancestors have got rich off the backs of exploiting people for centuries in countries like Colombia. I've had too many arguments with Israeli's who are trying to argue with street sellers to the last penny for a cup of coffee. And I'm pretty sure they enjoy arguing too. My last straw came when I met one in a bar and he just came out with "you shouldn't dance salsa because it's stupid" I replied with "I never listen to Israelis" although I should have replied with a slap in the face.

So the point of my rant is that this guy from the hostel wasn't actually too bad and the nicest Israeli I've ever met. Although I still haven't changed my opinion completely. I met a Japanese Australia guy who I went with to the start of the festival so walking down the street with 2 Australians of Asian decent completely mind boggled the Colombians who shout out Japon or China whenever they see an Asian person and don't believe Asians can be living in Australia and have Australian accents. So when the group of gringos all got together at a club that night we had China, Japan and Korea all dancing really fantastic salsa together.

The semi-finals of the festival were magical. The open air stadium was set up on a hill and full to the brim of people carrying bells and drums wearing the colours of the salsa school they support. Street vendors selling BBQ meet on sticks weaved through the crowd with their large trays as people got worked up into a frenzied state whenever their school performed. After the show finished everyone stayed drinking, chatting having a chilled out time. We met the expat group and a few friends we made from the school as well as our salsa instructors. Unfortunately the festival was free so attracted all of the riffraff as well, and as the crowd tried to funnel out, my bag got opened somehow and my wallet was stolen. Luckily I wasn't carrying all of my cards with me so I was ok. Just a minor inconvenience of ordering new cards and ID but could have been worse.

It was our last night and although we had a day of salsa lessons, the festival and hassle of both mine and Jess' cards stolen, we still went out to a club called Tin Tin Deo and met all of the people from our hostel, another group from another hostel, the expat crew and the salsa school who were celebrating after the festival. Even though we had only stayed a week, we had got to know all these different groups of people. Jess and I danced with all the usual people and the salsa teachers and tried our best to teach the gringos a little bit which went pretty good for a couple of them. We said our goodbyes to everyone and went on our way home.

We had two hours sleep before the receptionist woke us up at 6am to catch our flight. We left in a daze with aching bodies and swollen feet. We boarded our plane to Bogota and reminisced about the great time we had had together. As she got her bag from baggage reclaim I stayed behind to catch my connecting flight to Cartagena and we said our goodbyes. It was so sad, even though it was just one week we had spent every moment together having a great time and when connections are made like that one the other side of the world you have know idea when and if you may see the other person again.

I met a lovely Colombian man who asked me how my dad felt about me travelling alone in Colombian when I nearly replied "my dad told me not to speak to men with moustaches" I realised this guy had a moustache! I was waiting for the plane when he summoned me over to another tourist to chat to him as the tourist was from London too. Just as one would do in a bar. He was going to Cartagena so I gave him lots of little maps and tips of how to spend his time. I always appreciate the people who have done this for me.

I arrived back to Crespo exhausted from a week of dancing and two hours sleep to find the bottle of arguendiente smashed in the plane in my bag and had to deal with packing a backpack of soaking wet clothes and thousands of shards of glass. I gave up and went to the beach to have my last swim where I met Steaven a Californian guy, soaking wet after just swimming walking in just board shorts with a backpack. Seeing as how I never see tourists in Crespo I asked him bluntly "what the hell are you doing here", and he literally just came off the plane, walked to the beach with his backpack, went for a swim and was now walking the 40min walk along the beach to find a life guard tower to camp in. Now that's roughing it.

My last day I was totally useless, I didn't get my presents, take one photo, walk around the old town, say adios to everyone I'd made friends with. I just slept and lounged around having no energy to deal with my glass filled rucksack. I finally had to and took the flight to Miami. I left Colombia holding back tears because I was so sad. Never before have a left a country and felt like crying. People yes of course but never for a thing or country.

I'm heading home but I am defiantly not done here. I'm going to try to just get used to the idea and get excited about coming home but it's not happening yet. 4 months is good time I feel to travel, enough that leaves you craving more. I'm already thinking of my next trip and I think it could be Mexico to Colombia next summer; however I would love to return to West Africa. This is my last entry so until next time guys, hope you've enjoyed reading and can't wait to start the next round. My feet are itching already and I haven't even touched down in England yet. To Be Continued…..