Divided Heart

Last Sunday, on the bus to Pance, I turned to my best friend, Sita, who left England 8 years ago and has lived abroad, all over the world, ever since, and I asked her, "Do you ever get over the pain of living in multiple cultures?"

She replied directly, "Naw, mate. Never."

As we spoke, I looked out the bus windows toward the hazy blue mountains in the distance, feeling comfortably at home in the landscape. I'd been mulling over the unstable romantic relationship I'm involved in while at the same time acknowledging the fact that I love it here, when suddenly I realized that the slow, churning, dull stab of pain in my gut was the presence of two loves struggling with one another.

My dear Spanish friend Paloma came for a visit a couple months ago. She lives and works in Brussels, Belgium where the offices of the European Union are located. Her words to describe the situation we're in were equally blunt: "Once you go ex-pat, you're fucked."

I ended up here due to a heart-expanding experience of love. I dropped everything in my life: my job, my yoga classes, my house, and most traumatically, my partner of 10 years, because a romantic Mexican man swept me off my feet and loved me so much that my free sprit was irrepressibly reborn.

Even as I fell in love with Vlady, I didn't fall out of love with any part of my past, and I realized deeply and powerfully how vast and capable and inclusive our hearts can be. Love lifted me out of Santa Cruz and, over the last year and a half, lead me to Joshua Tree, Hawaii, Santa Fe, Panamá, Colombia, and yes, back to Baja Sur, Mexico. Everywhere I go, I freely tie my heart to the place and to the people I'm with.

Now, my heart is strewn across the world, and I feel a bit unhinged by all the distance.

Meanwhile, Cali is a big city. It's dense and urban and full of relentless energy. It's noisy and difficult to settle down enough to really connect with people or with the moment. I've never lived anywhere like this before.

As a backpacker, I always avoided spending too much time in large cities due to the stresses of traffic, concrete, air pollution, noise pollution, and human density. About a month ago, I suddenly realized, not only am I surrounded by a huge city, but also, I'm surrounded almost entirely by city people. These are not the deeply laid back folks you find on beaches, in the mountains, and exploring the jungle when you travel to exotic countries. These are competitive, fashionable, talkative, technological, opinionated people who don't spend much time slowing down. Ever since that slow-to-dawn realization, I've enjoyed a fervent longing for the solace of quiet redwood trees and the sound of ocean waves.

Gratefully, I'm in touch with most of the Santa Cruz people I feel closest to, however there are five things about life in Santa Cruz that consistently plague me with longing.

• Nature - Particularly, the redwood forests and the ocean.
• Having a yoga teacher - I've been on my own here, teaching and practicing alone. It's difficult to maintain discipline and inspiration, but I'm doing it. Just barely.
• Upper body strength - I was a strong rock climber when I left Santa Cruz. Now, I'm constantly faced with the weakness of my arms and hands as I try to pick up heavy things that once would have been effortless for me to lift.
• Salsa by the Sea - Dancing in my home culture, outdoors, next to the beach, at sunset. Ahhh.
• Meeting Mosi - I left before Rachel brought Mosi into the world and have missed the profound transformations that have come with him. Ack. Sob! < clutches heart >

However, ironically, once I'm reunited with all these things, estaré a falta de the special aspects of life in Cali: communicating in Colombian Spanish, taking salsa lessons with Carlos, eating sancocho (Colombia has mastered the art of soup), dancing Cali-style salsa with Orlando, Alejandro, Carlos, Ricardo, Sergio, Javier, Wilber, Jazon... teaching yoga to people from all over the world, the cool, gentle breezes that come down off the mountains in the evenings, running my fingers through Renato's hair (soft, beautiful, black ringlets... swoon), and the sheer quantity of celebratory human energy that's always rippling through this place.

Typically, wherever I am, there's no one around who can truly share in the daydream of these other places. I hold my distant loves alone.

So Cali and Santa Cruz are wrestling with one another over my body, mind, and heart, and it's literally causing me physical pain. Not to mention that another part of my heart is waiting for me in Baja and that my heart vision for the future takes me to Israel, Europe, and beyond... suspira.

I've planned a 2 month trip back to the US with a short week in Baja Sur before I return for another semester of Spanish at the University here in Cali. Having this trip ahead of me triggers many emotions. Sometimes I feel done here. Other times, I can't imagine leaving. All the time, I feel like I'm getting older y que no quiero perder mi tiempo.

So, the last several days, I've been doing a lot of breathing and listening, feeling into the confusion in my body and in my heart, and giving my attention to the conflicts. Ultimately, I trust that love led me here, and that if I keep listening, love will continue to lead me where I need to go.

Recommitting to Cali

I've been away from Cali most of this month. I had mixed emotions about leaving, but now that I am nearing the end of my time away, I feel a renewed dedication to the city I've chosen for my home. After seeing more of Colombia and making a visit to Ecuador, it's clear that Cali is still the only place I want to be right now. I'm missing my friends there, I miss my dance partners, and I will be so happy to greet everyone again when I get back in less than a week.

When I return, I'll be starting fresh. I'm moving into a new house. A month after my return, I'll start a University level Spanish program. I have plans to begin attending the foremost salsa school in Cali, Swing Latino. And most importantly, I am returning with a year long student visa in my passport.

Colombia only allows tourists to visit the country for 180 days per calendar year. Beyond that, one must obtain another type of visa in order to remain in the country legally. My first 4 months in Colombia, I awoke every day not knowing how I was going to do this. I looked into visas based on income, student visas, business visas, work visas, volunteer visas, investment visas, temporary cultural visas... All proved elusive as I encountered hefty lawyer's fees, shrouds of bureaucratic & language barrier complexity, unanswered emails, difficult-to-meet requirements, and unhelpful people.

Finally, I contacted the expensive, private Universidad Santiago de Cali. My emails were replied to promptly. The wonderful Spanish teacher invited me to meet with her. She explained the program to me in perfectly understandable Spanish. The proper papers were provided. I took them with me to Bogotá. I now have a year long visa.

So, I will return to Cali unconcerned about the days ticking away on a steadily expiring visa, I will return to friends and familiar places, and I will return to the life of a student - a life in which I've always thrived. I look forward to it.

El Son de Cali

Sr. Caleño & namer of this blog, José M.

When thinking about starting this blog about living in Cali, Colombia, I asked friends for title ideas. One of my most Caleño of Caleño friends suggested al Son de Cali.

Being new to Cali and having only a semi-decent grasp of the Spanish language at the time, I had to look up the meaning of the word son in this context. As a noun, son refers to sound, specifically to the particular way something sounds, but it can also more generally mean the style or manner of something. It encompasses the sound, flavor, rhythm, and general feel of things, and when it comes to Cali, Colombia, life is full of son.

Salsa Competition, Aug 2012

Different styles of salsa are danced around the world, and Cali has a style all its own. Some styles are elegant and linear, others funky and circular; here in Cali, salsa is fast, and it swings. At the professional level, Salsa Caleña is high energy with fast footwork and acrobatic tricks. Among the people, the basic steps swing side to side with back steps and additional toe taps thrown in on the pauses. In the clubs, dancers sing along with the music whilst whirling around each other on the dance floor. Music and dancing provide the fundamental connection for people in this city, and that foundation influences everything.

The typical Caleño/a (person from Cali) is extroverted, talkative, happy, dances salsa (obvio!), loves Cali, loves being Colombian, likes to travel, and enjoys nature. Caleños flirt freely, laugh easily, tell stories about their lives, are helpful, wear colorful clothing, get excited about food, and kiss on the cheek to say hello and goodbye. Caleños are a party waiting to happen.

All over town, salsa music pours out the windows of passing taxis, homes, and storefronts. Salsa accompanies supermarket shopping experiences, days at the waterpark, and drifts down into our house from the neighbor's balcony on a daily basis. Add to this soundtrack, colorful, creative murals brightening walls and buildings all over town, cars, motorcycles, buses and taxis weaving around one another, their drivers ignoring lane demarcations and traffic signals while cutting one another off in a manner as fluid and certain as river water, and buses packed to the gills with passengers who board and disembark simultaneously at every stop. There is an organic, vibrant, primal hum to it all, but with an easy-going swing in the background that allows life to follow the flow of events rather than the ticking of time.

When I first arrived, I was acutely aware of my own incongruent rhythms of language and culture as I tried to adapt to the son of my new home: to the emotional cadence of the language, the bright energy of the people, the pulse of a big city, and the sultry movements of the dances (mostly salsa, but other latin styles as well). Now, el son de Cali is becoming more and more a part of me. I find myself flirting with whomever I'm talking to, regardless of my feelings for them, simply because the language I'm speaking happens to be Spanish. I get excited about arepas con queso for breakfast before I've even gotten out of bed in the morning. When riding in taxis or on the back of a motorcycle, just inches from the neighboring vehicle, I trust and enjoy the watery flow of traffic, gloriously freed from the inhibiting constraints of lanes.

Aside from the cultural immersion of learning to speak and understand Colombian Spanish, the touchstone of my adaptation to Cali has been studying Salsa Caleña, learning the professional dance from professional teachers. Recently, I've been astonished while dancing in clubs to find my feet flying in complex patterns I've never done before. The movements swirl spontaneously through my hips, matching my partner's lead with quick kicks, toe taps, and cha chas, even though I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing. As I trust my body's ability to move, my ear for the music, and my partner, something authentically Caleña comes through.

Ultimately, salsa me vuelve a bit more Caleña each day as I bring el Son de Cali from the dance floor to everything I do.