Colombia 2020 - Part 2

Read part 1 here.

As I arrived in Medellin, I made my first mistake: I asked Google for a good coffee place and followed the recommendation. I went to a coffee shop which had great coffee, delicious toasts with avocado and a nice design. Very pleasant, like a lot of places in Medellin. But as I ordered and then sat, I realised something horrible. On my left there was a long table with a row of North American I-got-my-own-remote-business guys with their laptops being an extension of their body. These guys are a bit strange: they can spend six months in Colombia, go back home with everyone thinking they are adventurous while they actually never moved from the same coffee shop in the same safe part of the city and never learnt any more Spanish than hola, gracias, chicas bonitas and no espanol, ingles por favor. On my right a group of girls were having a loud conversation with a strong American accent or maybe Canadian or whatever.

“And I was like, oh my god, really? I mean, like, wow awesome. This is really amazing, I mean like, wow!”

I thought straight away, “Non, non, non, putain, fait chier, merde, barrez vous les Amerloques,” which I would translate in polite English by “Give me my Colombia back. I never said I wanted to go to North America. If in addition I hear Ed Sheeran, Beyonce or Someone like you from Adele, I am burning this place to the ground.”

On the way back to my hotel, I passed by a bar: nothing makes me feel more out of place than a bar with beautiful local employees having to stand there and hold conversation with some fat middle-aged flip-flop-bermuda-UFC-T-shirt-baseball-cap-wearing beer-drinking dudes. Every now and then they would glance at the TV screen, checking if anything happened in the never-ending intermittent soporific NFL game.

Alright alright, I concede this was my grumpy French minute cliché complaining about people from other countries. I’ll stop right now, sorry. It just feels good from time to time. I know it’s the pot calling the kettle black, as I am aware we are famous for being arrogant and unwelcoming. I couldn’t blame a foreigner doing a tour Paris-Nice-Bordeaux coming to that conclusion. We’re also famous for not taking many showers. After having spent a few of my student years in promiscuity with other French students, I am afraid there is some truth in this.

Of course I met North American people during my trip and yes of course they were actually pretty cool. Yeah yeah we should not generalise. Everyone is different, blah blah blah, amen. When I texted my mum, “Just arrived in Medellin, a bit disappointed, it is full of American dudes”, she wisely replied, “Americans can be lovely too you know.” And obviously, my mum, who always told me I was the most good-looking boy on Earth even with acne, is always right.

This particular coffee shop and bar were next to Parque Lleras, the main touristic area in Medellin, in the El Poblado district. This Parque Lleras is where the sex tourism blatantly takes place especially after dark. My personal definition of sex tourism: guys frustrated not to get any romance with beautiful women in their country travel to have sexual encounters with hot young local girls for a “reasonable price” as said a tourist I talked to a few minutes before escaping. With the exception of one date – as you will read later, I would never come back to Parque Lleras during my trip. Bye bye USA.

That was my first impression of Medellin. It could only get better from there. Not long after that I would discover the rest of the city, make Colombian friends and would end up liking it a lot.

In the evening of the first day, I was looking for a supermarket near my hotel to buy a bottle of water. I asked a cute girl. When I say cute I mean that she was charming. I liked her face but she was not as amazing as many girls you can meet in Medellin. I went with an indirect opener.

“Where is the nearest supermarket? I am dehydrated I need water.”

I was really looking for it, it was not a cheesy excuse. She was from the Coast and had a beautiful “coffee with milk” skin. We walked together to the supermarket, I bought a bottle of water and I invited her for an instant date. We had a beer nearby, chatted and flirted an hour. We agreed to meet two days later.

After various reschedules which is perfectly normal when you organise a date with a Colombian girl and South-American girls in general, we met a few days later. She quickly asked many questions which sounded like frame tests.

“How many Colombian girlfriends have you got?”

“Why did you come here on your own?”

“Aren’t you married with kids?”

I replied very simply with classical non-reactive answers inspired by the evil pick up artists I was following. I think the first one is from Tom Torero

“I have seven Colombian girlfriends, one for each day, I give you the Thursday.”

“I came here to learn Spanish, salsa, and there is a good chance I will hit on girls too.”

As she asked more questions, I also told her she seemed a bit complicated, to which she replied, “of course I am Colombian.”

Thirty minutes later we were making out in the bar. We left soon after and went for a walk. We sat in Parque Lleras, in front of the statue of Virgin Mary and went on making out in front of her. There was a problem though: I liked how passionate she was with kisses but my lips started to hurt from too many bites. I just could not go on like this. So, I suggested to go eat something. We had sushi and I called it a night. She suggested to cook for me next time on the coming Sunday. That was cute but I was not sure I was up to see her again.

The next day my lips had bruises. I did not follow up.

Very soon I made a habit of avoiding the tourist area of Medellin. I don’t mean I was a fearless adventurer walking through dodgy neighbourhoods. Far from that. I was just walking a few kilometres away from this Parque Lleras so as to be surrounded only by Colombians. And when you are surrounded only by Colombians – and a few Venezuelans, something strikes you, especially in Medellin. Although this is just my view, everyone I met made the same obvious comment, Colombians included: the ratio of beautiful feminine women is impressive. I had my fair amount of travelling before, including Rio, and I have never seen that in my life. Not being a fan of the Russian type, I don’t think Moscow would even compete for my taste though I know guys who think Moscow is the best place on Earth for women, just before South America and Middle-Eastern countries such as Lebanon or Iran. In Medellin I saw and met but not necessarily dated – I wish – a surprisingly high number of women who have everything beautiful to my taste: legs, waist to hips ratio, boobs, face, hair, skin and fashion. They are also sweet. I rarely had harsh blowouts. They get the fact a man can come to talk to a woman and say in a simple and respectful way, “I saw you, I thought you were beautiful, and I wanted to come and say hi.” Rarely women are arrogant about their beauty because that is common here. One day, I was doing a tour of the city centre with a friend. The tour was in English so there were people from the USA, Canada, Netherlands and Germany. As we sat with the group and had to listen to the guide, it was really hard to focus as locals were passing by. The contrast between the beautiful Paisas– this is how people from the region of Medellin are called – and the girls of our English-speaking group was remarkable. It made us realise that, to our taste, it would be hard to come back to London after spending time in Medellin. There were maybe ten girls in the tourist group and I don’t think I found any of them attractive. The next day, we did a tour of the Comuna 13 where the guide spoke Spanish this time. We were with Colombian tourists from Cali, Bogota or Baranquilla. What a difference with the English-speaking group of the day before! Out of ten, six or seven were either hot or quite cute. For example I remember three girls from Cali who were with their boyfriends, too bad. All three of them were attractive. I realise it may not sound too nice to girls from English-speaking countries or Northern Europe so let’s put a politically correct disclaimer: that applies only to my taste… and to the taste of my friend… and to the taste of pretty much all European guys I know who went to Colombia.

During one of my afternoon promenades in Medellin, while crossing the street, I walked past a girl who, unsurprisingly given the above paragraph, was beautiful and feminine. I ran back to the other side of the road to talk to her. At that point I was starting to feel more and more comfortable with flirting in Spanish. She hooked very quickly. She was from Venezuela and taller than average. The conversation flew and I invited her on an instant date, ignoring that she had told me she was on her way to join friends. After the date, I let her go meet them. To say goodbye, she took me warmly in her arms. I smelt her nice perfume and we looked at each other in the eyes. We both knew what would happen: I leant in and we started making out. I have never spent so much time making out with a girl in the middle of the street. I think we were at it for probably ten to fifteen minutes, with my hands stroking her hair, neck, back and butt, as if we were in the middle of a nightclub. This was actually a busy street at this time, with people leaving work. It was magical. I love daygame for that.

The next day, we had agreed to go and see theatre shows given for free somewhere she knew and would take me too. But she did not give any news. Fair enough, I did not chase.

One day later she texted me in the morning to ask what I was doing. I was starting to get used to Latinas and knew she was in the moment: no need to organise time and place too much in advance, when she is available time to go for it. I suggested meeting in the afternoon before she starts working. We went to eat something. While waiting for our food at the table we kept making out which must have been really annoying for the guy sitting next to us. I have been in this position a few times: I know it is annoying, even if I don’t blame the couples doing it. After that I asked if she wanted to come see the view from my 24th floor Airbnb apartment. She said we could do it another time. Here is the deal: I am quite romantic and I like spending time with a girl walking, making out, having fun. I don’t care that much if I don’t have her in my bed for a great sexy time, if ever. Of course I wanted to have sex but I was still having fun, so no need to insist. Call it a lack of ambition, call me a chode with “not many lays under his belt”, fine, I will take it.

I took in a street where the river passes by and jumped the barriers to get close to the river. Nobody would be there and we could romantically make out like teenagers during the afternoon break. I jumped the small barrier.

“Don’t do that, we will get caught by the police”, she said.

“Ah come on. If we don’t break the rules, life is boring. [Note from Matt: that line sounds even more cheesy when spoken with a French accent] Come on nothing will happen. If the police catches us, so what? We will not go to jail for such a thing.”

Let’s be honest, doing that was not making me be a badass so ballsy that he does illegal things in Colombia. There was nothing incredible here, just a little very tiny touch of impertinence girls love.

“Ok ok I am coming,” she replied.

We went down to get close to the river and realised it was full of garbage. There was nothing romantic there. People going there were not cheeky lovers but homeless guys spending the night. We quickly went back to the street. I took her on the bridge over the river, and gave her a line I concede I used a lot for my dates in Colombia.

“Alright, imagine this bridge is in Paris, it is called Pont des Arts, you can see the Cathédrale Notre Dame. I can see the Eiffel Tower, on your left is the Musée du Louvre. Below us a boat full of tourists is passing by, they are waving at us. We wave at them back and now comes the moment to kiss…”

How cheesy does that sound? Well, it works all the time honestly. And here we were, making out passionately on the bridge for a long moment. We heard a few honks celebrating us, some guys screaming something in Spanish which I guess was a local equivalent of get a room. I love daygame for these situations.

After that she had to go to work and she suggested I walked with her. She even introduced me to colleagues. I felt great.

We texted the next days and I suggested to cook for her. Well, not exactly, I gave her two options: go to the theatre shows or cook for her at my place. She replied that she’d love me to cook for her. I would pick her up at a place next to her work and would take her to my place.

The next day I went to the meeting point and guess what: she was not there. I sent her one text after I waited ten minutes. She did not reply so I did the obvious thing: go treat myself with a good burger. No need to chase her, blame her, no need to do anything useless with a frustrated spirit which would not change anything to the fact she would not come anyway.

I sat in the burger place. I was surrounded by couples, groups of people having fun, and there was a man playing the guitar and a girl singing cheesy love songs, not the kind that would cheer me up. I knew straight away what was happening: I was at the bottom of the pan. The good old down moment you have when you have decided you will be a single bachelor pathetically trying to do his best to seduce young beautiful women, travelling alone, having most of his meal times alone.

After the burger I knew it was not a good idea to come back to my place directly, I was feeling too miserable. I went on purpose to have a glass of wine in a restaurant nearby where I knew the employees, to enjoy a bit of warmth. They were cool but I still felt the loneliness hitting me. It was not linked to this girl, it was more the situation: I had been travelling on my own for a while and I knew this moment was about to happen. I even listened to Wonderful life by Black, and the lyrics really resonated with me at this moment.

“And I need a friend, oh, I need a friend, to make me happy, not stand there on my own, look at me standing here on my own again”.

I let this miserable moment last the time it needed, maybe thirty minutes. It is fine to acknowledge it; we are not made of stone. Then I was back to the optimism I inherited from my mum. She didn’t have the easiest childhood but she is the person I know with the best mental strength. That is fine, that is part of the life you have chosen, there will be no up without the downs, you know it. Tomorrow let’s wake up to enjoy the salsa class and try to meet a beautiful and cool girl to have a nice romance with.

The next day on the way to salsa class I number-closed a sexy Colombian girl with a bonus point: she had curly hair, which I love. I would have a date with her later -that will follow below.

Meanwhile on my list of Whatsapp exchanges I could see the Venezuelan girl had blocked me as her profile picture had disappeared.Take this again in the chin, never nice, but whatever.

A few days later, a good friend came to visit. I was happy to finally have someone coming to share the Colombian adventure with me. I took him to my favourite coffee shop. This one was mostly visited by Colombians and a few gringos as well, which is fine. I am a gringo too after all. And guess who turned up: the Venezuelan girl. She looked surprised, hugged me and we did small talk for a minute. I did not call out what happened -or should I say did nothappen. No need to be bitter. It’s always better to be non-reactive. I had other leads to think of at that moment. After one minute of chit-chat, I did what the British does the best.

“Alright, it was nice to meet you, have a nice afternoon, bye bye.”

She got the point.

My friend, who was aware of the background story, smiled and said, “I was waiting for you to close the conversation. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Hell yeah it felt good.”

I could not see her from where I was sitting but my friend told me she was on a date with a gringo, and was looking at me non-stop. I guess she was a bit embarrassed by the situation. I was not. And well done to the gringo she had a date with: maybe she let me down as she met him at the same time and preferred him. Maybe she was already with him when she met me or maybe something else. It doesn’t matter: well done to him. He wins; I lose. That is part of the game. No hard feeling.

One month later, I recognised her as she was walking in my direction. I crossed the street intentionally before passing next to her. All the best, kind regards.

On the day after my failed date with the Venezuelan girl, I had met this typical (except she had curly hair) sexy Colombian girl as I was going to my salsa class. I realise “Sexy Colombian” could be considered redundant to some extent. That had been a very quick number-close and I was pretty sure it would fail. That was the first girl I met who actually lived in another country and spoke another language: she was just coming back from a year in United States as an au-pair. I sent my usual short text on Whatsapp and she quickly replied. We agreed on a date. This is where it gets complicated, which again is normal in Latin America: she obviously cancelled last minute but suggested to meet days later on Saturday. On that day, she texted me one hour before the date:

“Can we change place? I am having a meeting until 6pm in Laureles. We could meet there instead and go for dinner.”

I agreed. Actually, I was happy to move away from the usual El Poblado. Remember? The expat compound colonized by the United States.

I took a cab and went to Laureles. Five minutes before the date, she texted me:

“I am at Starbucks with my friend. She is hungry. Can she join?”

I replied, “Ok if you promise we will get a drink just you and me afterwards.”

As I had gone through a mix of dates and flakes since I arrived in Colombia, I realised, especially after talking with one of my salsa male teachers, that safety is a big thing to be considered when planning a date. In London I don’t think a lot of girls I dated really worried about meeting me in Oxford Circus and about taking the tube back home afterwards. At worst they may wonder if I will be boring, or too forward, or anything else which may make them flake. But I don’t think safety is a big issue. In Colombia however, I realised I needed to adapt. Not to increase my chances of seducing a girl, but because I consider making a girl feel safe is a priority. There is no way around it.

• When number-closing a girl I would quickly say that we would go for a relaxed drink in a public place and that I would make sure she takes a safe taxi back home after that.

• At the end of a date I would call a taxi from my app rather than letting her get a random one in the street and I would ask her to let me know when home. In London I always thought that telling a girl “text me when you are safe home” was a bit too much. Not in Colombia. I have a story about a dodgy taxi driver scaring a girl I dated – the story will follow later below.

• I am ok with the idea of having a chaperone at the start of the date if it can make a girl feel better. In London I would think it is weird as we are grown-ups.

I met her and her girlfriend at Starbucks and called her out playfully, by telling the friend:

“She is a bit complicated, isn’t she? Change of day, change of place, change of plans. Normally I am the one making the decisions. Is she always that complicated to deal with?”

At the same time, I also called out the fact I understood it is important for her to feel comfortable and I was happy to meet the friend. They took me to a fast food Colombian place. She offered me the meal. The two were very sweet and I had a good time. One detail which helped me: when we arrived in the fast food, there were no clear room and seats for the three of us. I had to talk to people, make them move with a bit of soft dominance, re-organise the seats to make room for us. This is not asking for an incredible charisma or leadership, but that gives points. That just shows a little bit of initiative instead of standing there with a weak mindset oh too bad there is no room what should we do? Wait or go somewhere else?

Let’s be honest: the food was awful. This place was making the whole park smell like fried oil. This is again why I love daygame: the random situations. I had talked to this girl five minutes in the street a few days earlier and here I was, with her and her chaperone friend, in a new part of the city, in a fast food joint, holding a plate full of typical Colombian junk food she kindly treated me with.

Forty-five minutes later, her friend received a call. I took the opportunity to tell my curly haired girl I would like to go for a drink alone with her. I told her I would go wash my hands and she could take the opportunity to discuss it with her friend without me pressurising. Hit or miss, will the friend validate me or not? Bingo: when I went back from the toilet, her friend said goodbye and wished us a nice evening.

We moved to a bar nearby, sat next to people catching up and other dates. I ran a bit of comfort. As we were getting closer and more touchy-feely, I tried to kiss her…and failed. She seemed comfortable with me but it was too early. She kept telling me, “I am not this kind of girl, sorry if that is what you are looking for.”

I had to take a step back. At the same time, there were good signs. For example, I asked on purpose if she wanted another drink: I knew that if the answer was no, it was the end. But she agreed and the date went on. We finished the second drink and I did another test: I went to the toilet. That is the moment when, if a girl wanted to go, with me going for a minute, with the drinks empty, she would take her phone, catch up with the last messages she received, and called it a night when I would be back from the toilet. But instead she went to the toilet after me, then sat down next to me, and the date went on. A few minutes later, we started making out, and this time it was on: we almost never stopped making out heavily for the next hour. That must have been really annoying for the people around us. Reallyannoying. The whole bar was probably thinking, “can’t they just leave?” She was so passionate and sensual, kissing her was great. Again, I have sometimes been more excited by making out with some hot Latinas than by having sex with some cute but not so sensual girls in London. I can’t really explain it.

Now let’s be lucid: that all came too quickly and even if we were having great time making out, I was increasing minute after minute the chance of buyers’ remorse the next day. Mystery explains that very well and when I read this bit of his book The Mystery methoda few weeks later (I should have read it earlier, thanks Nick Krauser for pointing to the importance of it in one of his videos), I recognized myself. That is one of my obvious sticking points. I am quite good at getting a girl attracted enough to let it go and make out with hands wandering around in public places for most of the date, but guess what: the next days, with the euphoria of the moment disappearing, she would feel it was too quick. She would realise she did not know me so well and that I would expect more on the next date, which removes from her the plausible deniability. In a country where fast sex with foreigners seems to be associated with what prostitutes do but not a “good girl”, it is clear she would flake. I fell in the trap Mystery describes well: I ran too much attraction and not enough comfort. That is fine at the time she is sitting there next to me and attracted but as soon as we split, buyers’ remorse makes its effect. I am fully responsible for it.

Another thing I did not do, apart from the beginning, which Mystery insists on, is some push. For example: stop kissing, say it is too fast and that I need more trust, tell her she likes me only for my body, tell her she is adorable, too bad she is not my type, etc. It is always playful, never insulting things that makes us look more challenging than the random dude whose sexual interest is one hundred percent guaranteed to her.

We left the bar - what a relief for the employees and other clients - and we stopped in a relatively quiet part of the street to go on snogging, until we got disturbed by the car valet guys.

I ordered her a cab. Before it arrived she asked when I would be back from the quick trip I was doing to Guatape, a nice place with beautiful landscapes two hours from Medellin. She suggested meeting when back. She texted me she arrived home safely. I sent her a photo we took together with her friend at the start of the date, she replied we would take more next time. Nice to read, she did want to see me again at this time, but I knew she was likely to change her mind. I have been there many times before, always making the same mistake Mystery describes very well.

I texted her the next day and surprise surprise, she did not reply. I sent a quick ping three days later, she did reply but with minimal investment. She did not seem really willing to see me again. Fair enough.

I flew to Cartagena soon after. On my first day there, I felt a bit down. The friend who visited me a week had just left. I was back to travelling alone. It was hot and humid and there was no running water in the bathroom of the Airbnb apartment. I spent the first hours in Cartagena dealing with it. The owner of the Airbnb was a really cool dude, these things can happen especially in the old city of Cartagena, plumbing is terrible. No need to make a big deal of it. At least I would confirm the French cliché mentioned earlier: I would spend the day sweating and not taking any shower. Water finally went back and I could make myself presentable.

The owner of the Airbnb recommended to go and see the sunset at Café del Mar. I went there, sat on one of the few seats left. Do you know the bar Kudeta in Bali? Same sort here: a bit of a pretentious place full of tourists with house music covering the sound of the ocean (I love the sound of the ocean, why spoil it?). Behind me I could hear again a loud American accent, “Oh my god, I was like, really blah blah blah.” Could it be the same girls I sat next to in the coffee shop in Medellin? Anyway, I could not be bothered, five minutes later I left this place. I went to a local place nearby which was playing rock music instead. I am such a frustrated anti-social old git, I realise that. As I saw groups of joyful people passing by to get to Café del Mar, the loneliness hit again. Yikes, second time during the trip, need of action, urgently. I finished my glass of wine and went to approach a stunning girl waiting for her brother to go to Café del Mar (that is all I got to know given it was a quick interaction). She did not seem interested at all and gave me a gentle blowout (Colombian girls are never harsh- it is not London). I walked along the sea, surrounded by groups of people taking pictures, having fun, couples doing a romantic walk…and felt lonely again. Hop hop hop, don’t give up, no victim mindset please. Next beautiful girl, you approach. Remember Lisa Bonnet when she was young in the Cosby Show? Her Colombian version walked past me. I approached her and what a fresh air she gave me: beautiful Afro-Latina mixed race girl who spoke a bit of French just because she liked it and decided to learn it, on her way to see a conference on economy. She also had studied in Brazil. It was very refreshing because it was the first time since I arrived in Colombia that I met a girl who was interested in what happens abroad, was curious, spontaneous, had intellectual interests and good banter. I am not a highly intellectual and cultivated guy and it does not take a lot for a girl to match me in this area. Still that was the first girl that I found really interesting since I arrived. The previous girls were beautiful and bubbly with a great feminine vibe but, from what I could experience at least, I can’t really say they had more.

She took me to a cool bar and we had a drink before she had to go to the conference.

To be continued in part 3