Cali... Colombia's most dangerous city...

So it was in a torrential rain storm that I arived in Cali, planning to stay at a hostel called Pelican Larry. There are several problems with trying to stay in a hostel called Pelican Larry in Columbia; firstly noone in Columbia speaks English (as a point of pride mostly) so the words 'Pelican Larry', apart from being bizarre, meant nothing to the taxi driver whatsoever. I also got to play the fun game of taxi lies where the taxi driver tells you he knows where the hostel is but actually has no idea a) what you said, or b) where you want to go. This led to us driving around Cali for a good 30 minutes before I realised from looking at my map that it couldn't possibly be that far to the hostel. At this point I told the taxi driver the address I had in my Lonely Planet book of lies, which he swiftly dispatched me to. Unfortunately the hostel was either no longer there or totally fictional to begin with as I was stood outside of what was an obviously empty building. Opting for a different tack I asked the driver to take me to the nearest hostel he knew in the area figuring that even if I didn't like the look of it I could figure out alternate digs when I had my bearings. This actually turned out to be something of a stroke of luck as the hostel he took me to was owned by a really nice English guy, was spotlessly clean and very tiny so I was only sharing a room with one other person! Perfect! Ironically I hadn't originally chosen this hostel because the Lonely Planet had given it a bad review. From this exprience I learned that the Lonely Planet is well deserved of its reputation for being a book of lies; that my policy of never taking a taxi when there is public transport available is an excellent one not to broken again (only broken this time because of the extremely low prices of taxis in Columbia); and that suddenly Columbians can't understand your Spanish when you're saying 'I'm not paying all that fare because this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't lied to me in the first place'.
Lots of people don't bother with Cali because the ever reliable guide that is the Lonely Planet chose to describe it as 'the most dangerous city in Columbia' (Actually statistically speaking Cali is the third most dangerous city in Columbia after Medellin and Bogota; Bogota being the 5th most dangerous city in the world, just before Rio at 6! Caracas in Venezuala is the most dangerous and one of the many contributing factors as to why I never made it into the country- it is, however, on my 'to do list for the future). I chose to go there because I was told by my friends who have spen a decent amount of time in the country that it was one of the best cities to get a real taste of Columbian life in a short space of time, plus it was on my way to Zona Cafe which I was dying to visit. Cali turned out rain free within the hour, and along with my solo roomate Marina I was off to explore the city having taken advice on where to go from the hostel owner. Marina and I had an entertaining morning firstly navigating the language barrier, as she spoke German and limited English and my German is shocking... we sucessfully comprimised in the end by speaking Spanglish and traded stories about our travels. First order of the day was breakfast, and Columbia has the distinct advantage over the rest of the continent as they have embraced vegetables as a source of sustinence AND sell food other than empanadas. In order to celebrate this fact we treated ourselves to these wonderful balls of rice and spinach with beef in the centre. Absolutely beautiful with LOTS of chilli sauce. We explored the local park which was lovely, a fact only slightly detracted from by the incredibly populous police presence. There are police EVERYWHERE in Columbia, like you've never seen them before; I'm all for this as we found out that there used to be lots of murdering in the park, and we were pro not experiencing that aspect of Columbian culture.
After the murder park we visited the Old Town which was beautiful and exctly like I had always pictured Columbia. We climbed a hill overlooking the city to see the view and found a beautiful little church hosting a wedding. The wedding was quite something to see as Columbian women, in sharp contrast to their Peruvian and Bolivian counterparts, are always dressing in tiny skirts and very high heels (even for church it would seem!) like something out of Sex in the City. Actually more like Liverpool on a Saturday night. On our way back to the hostel we stopped to get some fruit, Marina ordering fresh mango with lime juice and salt (highly recommended) and me going for a fruit salad. I was asked if I would like my fruit prepared the 'Columbian way' and, always game for a laugh, I said yes. I was presented with fruit covered in dulce de leche, condensed milk and cheese. Much better than you would think, but I'll stick to the mango next time.
The afternoon was spent walking the new part of the city, which is basically a giant Columbian take on an American shopping outlet, but it was kind of nice to be back in a country where such things can exist. The evening was spent with some Irish Lads watching Quantum of Solace with popcorn; I personally was delighted by their film choice as it a) gave me an opportunity to stare at Daniel Craig for the first time in months, and b) gave me an endless topic of conversation as the film is set in La Paz but so obviously wasn't filmed there. We spent the rest of the night talking about all the great places to go in Bolivia not visited by James Bond, which turned out to be everywhere in Bolivia as they filmed in Chile.
The next day, post very enjoyable run, I decided to head for Zona Cafe as I knew I wanted to spend at least three days there and 2 in Bogota, and was running out of time before my flight. So it was back to the bus station (with a more knowledgeable, albiet 18 year old, taxi driver this time) and onto Armenia, to catch a connecting bus to the tiny coffee growing town of Salento in the heart of Columbia.