CALI: A SELF-MADE SALSA STAR

BY PETER NOYCE | PUBLISHED NOVEMBER 15, 2016

来源: http://www.travelmag.com/articles/a-self-made-salsa-star


下载音频

Cali

[1] Swaying hips, swigging drinks, sequin jumpsuits and a sheet of crisp, white A4 paper – Peter Noyce takes on the world’s most seductive movers and shakers in Cali, Colombia.

  • Sway v. n. 摇摆,动摇
  • Swig v. n. 喝一大口酒
  • Seductive adj. 诱惑的,吸引人的
  • Shaker n. 酒吧调酒器

[2] It was cold, uncomfortably cold – the kind of cold that made me think I might never leave the dubious comfort of my saggy single bed. I rolled over and hoiked the curtain open with my big toe. All I could see was a packed ceiling of charcoal clouds and icy drizzle slipping slowly down the window pane. I pulled my foot back into the relative warmth of my blankets, closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

  • Drizzle vi. n. 蒙蒙细雨,在(食物上)淋
    Drizzle the remaining dressing over the salad.

  • Slip v. n. 滑脱,过失,(时间)不知不觉过去,(健康)变差
    He had slipped on an icy pavement.
    Slip into a routine 不知不觉因循守旧, no slips 不容差错,slip one’s mind 忘记

[3] I was in Bogotá, Colombia – a mind boggling mountain metropolis, far from the swaying palms and verdant sugar cane I had hoped to see. I was staying in the Candelaria district, a pretty area of narrow streets and low-rise buildings decorated with terracotta roofs. Green hills sat as statues in the distance, guardians of the insignificant bustle of the city below.

  • Boggle the/ one’s mind; mind boggling 令人惊叹的

[4] I had readied myself for a night out almost as soon as I arrived. I was full of that unrivalled excitement you feel when you reach a new place at night. I started by making my way through a bottle of rum with a couple of travellers at my hostel. Then at about 11pm, I decided to ditch the tourists and go out in search of something a little more ‘authentic’.

  • Unrivalled adj. 无敌的,无双的
  • Rum n. 朗姆酒;adj. 古怪的,难对付的
  • Ditch n. 沟渠 v. 摆脱,逃避,放弃
  • Authentic adj. 真正的,地道的,可靠的

[5] “Take me to somewhere local.” I said to my middle-aged, heavily-mustachioed taxi driver.

[6] “Local? How local?” he said, swinging his head round and giving me a look of consternation.

[7] “Somewhere you might frequent.”

[8] The taxi driver took a moment to consider my request, before shaking his head and giving the miniature yellow car a rapid 180.

[9] Some half an hour later, after defying death at lightning speed, we pulled up outside a bar in an unknown corner of the city. I coughed up an exorbitant sum and head past the suited bouncer into the chaos of the club.

  • Cough up 掏出(钱),勉强说出,认罪
  • Exorbitant adj. 过度的,极高的(房价)
  • Bouncer n. 保镖,门卫,庞然大物

Dancing On Ice

[10] I was shocked when I got inside and gazed across a dance floor the size of the entire bar. There were no seats or tables – there was barely even a ledge to lean against. Everyone, I mean everyone, was dancing – couples of some of the most attractive people I’d ever seen were swaying, slaloming and wiggling to the salacious rhythms of a live band churning out the greatest hits.

  • Slalom n. vi. 弯道滑雪赛,障碍滑雪赛
  • Wiggling v. n. 扭动,摆动
  • Salacious adj. 淫荡的,色情的,猥亵的

  • Churn out 快速大量生产
    Churn up 搅拌 The motor boat churned the water up as it passed.
    Churn rate / attrition rate (顾客)流失率

[11] I kept close to the wall, my eyes glued to the floor, dodging the flailing limbs of rampant boppers, and made straight for the bar.

  • Dodge vt. n. 闪躲,伎俩
    Dodge a speeding car, dodge military service, a tax dodge

  • Flail v. n. 鞭打
    His arms were flailing in all directions.

  • Rampant adj. 猖獗的,蔓延的

  • Bopper n. 早期爵士音乐家

[12] “Give me a shot of the local drink,” I told a surly barman.

[13] He shrugged his shoulders, reached for an unmarked bottle next to a chest of ice and poured a shot the size of a beer. I gulped it down and nearly retched on its sickly explosion of aniseed.

  • Gulp v. n. 狼吞虎咽

[14] “What the hell is that?” I stammered.

[15] “Aguardiente,” he said, taking a giant swig straight from the bottle.

[16] Grimacing, I ordered another. And several more after that. I was nervous; I couldn’t dance! For a moment I considered leaving and finding something more befitting of a two-left-footer such as myself, but the aguardiente was doing a great job at greasing the cogs of expressive movement. It was time to brace the dancefloor.

  • Grimace n. vi. 鬼脸,痛苦表情
  • Grease v. n. 涂油脂,润滑
  • Cogs n. 钝齿,螺丝钉

[17] I picked up my right foot, then my left, then my right, then my left. The music was flowing and the alcohol too. Somehow, it seemed like I was starting to get the hang of it. Yeah, it felt like I was really starting to move my hips, legs and feet like everyone else. Everything was shaking, everything was swaying; yeah, I was really getting in the groove. I started giving a girl dancing on her own my most inviting smile and she duly danced her way over to my side. I almost lost my footing, but I composed myself, concentrated and kept channeling the spirit of Gene Kelly. She was smiling. Perhaps she was impressed.

  • Groove v. n. 刻槽,常规,理想状态,愉快
  • Get in the groove 进入最佳状态
  • Compose oneself v. 定神,镇静

[18] She drew her mouth close to my ear: “You look like an ice-skating horse! Where are you from?”

[19] “I’m British,” I replied.

[20] “Oh … of course. I should have guessed. Well done for trying though!” she said, giggling and going off to fetch me another drink.

  • Giggle n. vi. 傻笑,咯咯笑,情不自禁笑

Hips Don’t Lie

[21] Led in my bed, I struggled to shrug off my night on the dance floor. I wanted to meet that girl again and prove her wrong. Should have guessed?! Are we British really that uncoordinated? Are we really that embarrassing to share the dance floor with?! “Stupid salsa!”, I shouted, turning over in my bed and closing my eyes again.

  • Shrug off 摆脱,抖去,蔑视

[22] I tried to focus on the absence of sound, sight and smell. I tried to find my happy place, but all I could hear was the joyous ring of trumpets and the syncopated punches of timbales – trombones spread through my head like wildfire. Then my feet began to tap the end of the bed. I got up and walked over to the bathroom, where I started singing lust-filled salsa notes in the shower. It wasn’t until I started swaying my hips as I waited in line at the breakfast bar that I realised something strange was going on within me. I felt, somehow, different.

  • Lust n. 肉欲,强烈的欲望 (for, after)

[23] I spent the day taking in Bogotá’s sights – strong, cubic government buildings; the incredible gold museum with its unbelievable array of artefacts and treasures. It was all very impressive, but I couldn’t stop thinking about swirling my way across the dance floor. It hadn’t gone well the night before, but I was determined to set the record straight and prove that Brits really can dance.

  • Swirl v. n. (水、风等)漩涡
    She danced with a swirl of her skirt.
    She smiled, swirling the wine in her glass.
    She was swirled away on the current.

  • Set the record straight 弄清真相,恢复如初

[24] So I decided to go out that night to the same salsa joint, determined to give dancing another shot. The same band were there again and the dance floor was still packed full of energetic couples, both young and old. I went to the bar, this time holding my head high and got myself a beer. I was tempted to order a shot straight away to settle my creeping nerves, but I managed to keep my cool and focused instead on studying the dancers. It can’t be that hard, I thought: left foot forward, right foot back; left foot forward, right foot back; spin, twirl, away, together, left and right. Easy! I finally plucked up the courage and spent the night working my way from one partner to the next, perfecting the basic step. I could do nothing else, but I could move forward and back like a real pro. ‘Look at me!’ I felt like screaming, ‘I’m doing it!’.

  • Creeping v. n. 匍匐,爬行,使惊慌
    Creepy adj. 令人毛骨悚然的

  • Manage to do sth. 设法做成某事

  • Focus on (doing) sth.

  • Spin v. 旋转,扭转,飞驰,杜撰(故事) n. 骤降,短途旅行
    I spun round to see who had spoken. 转身

  • Twirl v. n. 急促旋转,捲起来,扭转
    She twirled her hair around her fingers.

  • Pluck v. n. 拉,摘(花),鼓起(勇气),弹(乐器)
    Pluck up one's courage

[25] It was time for the paper test.

[26] “If you want to be a real salsa dancer, you should be able to dance with a piece of paper between your thighs without creasing it,” a kindly girl in twenty-storey heels told me.

[27] “Barman, fetch me your finest paper!” I exclaimed.

[28] We got through several sheets before I managed a clean run. The smile on my face spread across the bar like butter on hot toast.

[29] “I think you might be ready for Cali,” the girl said to me, vigorously shaking my hand.

  • Vigorous adj. 精力充沛的,剧烈的(体育活动) Vigor n. (语言等)气势,(动植物)强健 President Clinton displayed no lack of vigor when he began to speak.

[30] “Cali?”

[31] “The world salsa capital. It’s about ten hours by coach from here. You should go!”

Time to Shine

[32] Cali was nothing like Bogotá. Set 1,500 vertical metres closer to the sea than the capital, Cali was hot, warm and steamy, like a sweaty hug from your favourite aunt. Caleños strut around in strapless tops and vests, their hips greased by the sensual heartbeat of the city. As soon as I stepped off the bus, it was clear seduction was not in short supply.

  • strut around 趾高气扬阔步走

  • Sensual adj. 感官享受的,肉欲的,淫荡的,世俗的
    He is a very sensual person. 他是个登徒子
    These perfumes have warmth and sensuality. 性感魅惑

[33] “What’s the salsa like here?” I asked the taxi driver on the way to my hostel.

[34] “You know how to dance?” he asked in surprise.

[35] “I’m getting there,” I said, watching the passing collection of tower blocks and colonial homes.

[36] I found a hostel in the salubrious Granada neighbourhood and instantly went for a walk, rehearsing the steps in my head. I even managed to pick up a sequin jumpsuit from one of the many tidbit shops downtown. It was going to be my night, I could just feel it.

  • Salubrious adj. 有益健康的,受尊敬的,得体的 In the salubrious neighborhood

[37] As I arrived back at the hostel, the owner asked if he could tempt me to a free salsa class.

[38] “Thanks, but I think I’m good,” I said with a wry grin.

  • Wry adj. vt. 扭曲的,嘲弄的
  • Grin v. n. 露齿笑,咧嘴笑

[39] I showered, flossed, mouthwashed and slicked my hair back with an amount of gel only permissible in Latin America. The jumpsuit was donned and I was ready.

[40] I got a taxi to the Juanchito district, where I was told I wouldn’t be able to move for dancing. I plucked for Chango – a smallish club with ‘excellent live music’, according to my taxi driver. I made my way quickly to the bathroom, unfolded a sheet of paper and rehearsed my steps: front, back; front, back. After centuries of misery, Britain was about to explode onto the salsa scene; the hopes of an entire nation were on my sparkly shoulders.

[41] I booted open the bathroom door and paced over to the bar, grabbing the hand of the nearest girl sat on her own and flinged her onto the dance floor. I started my moves, confident she’d be impressed. It may have just been forward and back, but I don’t think it could have been any more forward, or any more back. I was on fire and she must have known it, despite the quizzical look on her face.

  • Boot n. 长靴,解雇 vt. 踢,解雇

  • Grab v. n. 抢占,吸引注意力,抓住机会
    Grab a beer, grab the waiter, grab the chance of a job interview, a grab for power

  • Fling (flung) v. n. 猛扔,突然冲向,致力于,风流韵事
    The woman flung a cup at him.
    She flung herself into her career.

[42] “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

[43] “You’re … I’m sorry to be rude, but you’re doing it completely wrong.”

[44] “No, I’m not. Look!” I said pulling out the paper from my pocket.

[45] “No, look at everyone else,” she said pointing to the happy couples dancing side to side, left to right. “We don’t dance the front-back salsa here. This is Cali, it’s completely different!” she said as a sprightly man spun her off to safety and burst into the most enthused, fast-paced salsa dancing the world had ever seen.

  • Sprightly adj. (sprightlier, springliest)(尤指老人)生气勃勃的,活泼的

  • Enthuse v. 热情,热心 about sth.
    Enthusiasm n. 热情,热衷的事物,宗教狂热

[46] My head sank as I looked down at my sequined legs and freshly-polished shoes. I breathed a heavy sigh, before quietly slipping off to the bar and ordering myself a round of aguardiente.

下载PDF版

BY PETER NOYCE | PUBLISHED NOVEMBER 15, 2016

来源: http://www.travelmag.com/articles/a-self-made-salsa-star


下载音频

Cali

[1] Swaying hips, swigging drinks, sequin jumpsuits and a sheet of crisp, white A4 paper – Peter Noyce takes on the world’s most seductive movers and shakers in Cali, Colombia.

[2] It was cold, uncomfortably cold – the kind of cold that made me think I might never leave the dubious comfort of my saggy single bed. I rolled over and hoiked the curtain open with my big toe. All I could see was a packed ceiling of charcoal clouds and icy drizzle slipping slowly down the window pane. I pulled my foot back into the relative warmth of my blankets, closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

[3] I was in Bogotá, Colombia – a mind boggling mountain metropolis, far from the swaying palms and verdant sugar cane I had hoped to see. I was staying in the Candelaria district, a pretty area of narrow streets and low-rise buildings decorated with terracotta roofs. Green hills sat as statues in the distance, guardians of the insignificant bustle of the city below.

[4] I had readied myself for a night out almost as soon as I arrived. I was full of that unrivalled excitement you feel when you reach a new place at night. I started by making my way through a bottle of rum with a couple of travellers at my hostel. Then at about 11pm, I decided to ditch the tourists and go out in search of something a little more ‘authentic’.

[5] “Take me to somewhere local.” I said to my middle-aged, heavily-mustachioed taxi driver.

[6] “Local? How local?” he said, swinging his head round and giving me a look of consternation.

[7] “Somewhere you might frequent.”

[8] The taxi driver took a moment to consider my request, before shaking his head and giving the miniature yellow car a rapid 180.

[9] Some half an hour later, after defying death at lightning speed, we pulled up outside a bar in an unknown corner of the city. I coughed up an exorbitant sum and head past the suited bouncer into the chaos of the club.

Dancing On Ice

[10] I was shocked when I got inside and gazed across a dance floor the size of the entire bar. There were no seats or tables – there was barely even a ledge to lean against. Everyone, I mean everyone, was dancing – couples of some of the most attractive people I’d ever seen were swaying, slaloming and wiggling to the salacious rhythms of a live band churning out the greatest hits.

[11] I kept close to the wall, my eyes glued to the floor, dodging the flailing limbs of rampant boppers, and made straight for the bar.

[12] “Give me a shot of the local drink,” I told a surly barman.

[13] He shrugged his shoulders, reached for an unmarked bottle next to a chest of ice and poured a shot the size of a beer. I gulped it down and nearly retched on its sickly explosion of aniseed.

[14] “What the hell is that?” I stammered.

[15] “Aguardiente,” he said, taking a giant swig straight from the bottle.

[16] Grimacing, I ordered another. And several more after that. I was nervous; I couldn’t dance! For a moment I considered leaving and finding something more befitting of a two-left-footer such as myself, but the aguardiente was doing a great job at greasing the cogs of expressive movement. It was time to brace the dancefloor.

[17] I picked up my right foot, then my left, then my right, then my left. The music was flowing and the alcohol too. Somehow, it seemed like I was starting to get the hang of it. Yeah, it felt like I was really starting to move my hips, legs and feet like everyone else. Everything was shaking, everything was swaying; yeah, I was really getting in the groove. I started giving a girl dancing on her own my most inviting smile and she duly danced her way over to my side. I almost lost my footing, but I composed myself, concentrated and kept channeling the spirit of Gene Kelly. She was smiling. Perhaps she was impressed.

[18] She drew her mouth close to my ear: “You look like an ice-skating horse! Where are you from?”

[19] “I’m British,” I replied.

[20] “Oh … of course. I should have guessed. Well done for trying though!” she said, giggling and going off to fetch me another drink.

Hips Don’t Lie

[21] Led in my bed, I struggled to shrug off my night on the dance floor. I wanted to meet that girl again and prove her wrong. Should have guessed?! Are we British really that uncoordinated? Are we really that embarrassing to share the dance floor with?! “Stupid salsa!”, I shouted, turning over in my bed and closing my eyes again.

[22] I tried to focus on the absence of sound, sight and smell. I tried to find my happy place, but all I could hear was the joyous ring of trumpets and the syncopated punches of timbales – trombones spread through my head like wildfire. Then my feet began to tap the end of the bed. I got up and walked over to the bathroom, where I started singing lust-filled salsa notes in the shower. It wasn’t until I started swaying my hips as I waited in line at the breakfast bar that I realised something strange was going on within me. I felt, somehow, different.

[23] I spent the day taking in Bogotá’s sights – strong, cubic government buildings; the incredible gold museum with its unbelievable array of artefacts and treasures. It was all very impressive, but I couldn’t stop thinking about swirling my way across the dance floor. It hadn’t gone well the night before, but I was determined to set the record straight and prove that Brits really can dance.

[24] So I decided to go out that night to the same salsa joint, determined to give dancing another shot. The same band were there again and the dance floor was still packed full of energetic couples, both young and old. I went to the bar, this time holding my head high and got myself a beer. I was tempted to order a shot straight away to settle my creeping nerves, but I managed to keep my cool and focused instead on studying the dancers. It can’t be that hard, I thought: left foot forward, right foot back; left foot forward, right foot back; spin, twirl, away, together, left and right. Easy! I finally plucked up the courage and spent the night working my way from one partner to the next, perfecting the basic step. I could do nothing else, but I could move forward and back like a real pro. ‘Look at me!’ I felt like screaming, ‘I’m doing it!’.

[25] It was time for the paper test.

[26] “If you want to be a real salsa dancer, you should be able to dance with a piece of paper between your thighs without creasing it,” a kindly girl in twenty-storey heels told me.

[27] “Barman, fetch me your finest paper!” I exclaimed.

[28] We got through several sheets before I managed a clean run. The smile on my face spread across the bar like butter on hot toast.

[29] “I think you might be ready for Cali,” the girl said to me, vigorously shaking my hand.

[30] “Cali?”

[31] “The world salsa capital. It’s about ten hours by coach from here. You should go!”

Time to Shine

[32] Cali was nothing like Bogotá. Set 1,500 vertical metres closer to the sea than the capital, Cali was hot, warm and steamy, like a sweaty hug from your favourite aunt. Caleños strut around in strapless tops and vests, their hips greased by the sensual heartbeat of the city. As soon as I stepped off the bus, it was clear seduction was not in short supply.

[33] “What’s the salsa like here?” I asked the taxi driver on the way to my hostel.

[34] “You know how to dance?” he asked in surprise.

[35] “I’m getting there,” I said, watching the passing collection of tower blocks and colonial homes.

[36] I found a hostel in the salubrious Granada neighbourhood and instantly went for a walk, rehearsing the steps in my head. I even managed to pick up a sequin jumpsuit from one of the many tidbit shops downtown. It was going to be my night, I could just feel it.

[37] As I arrived back at the hostel, the owner asked if he could tempt me to a free salsa class.

[38] “Thanks, but I think I’m good,” I said with a wry grin.

[39] I showered, flossed, mouthwashed and slicked my hair back with an amount of gel only permissible in Latin America. The jumpsuit was donned and I was ready.

[40] I got a taxi to the Juanchito district, where I was told I wouldn’t be able to move for dancing. I plucked for Chango – a smallish club with ‘excellent live music’, according to my taxi driver. I made my way quickly to the bathroom, unfolded a sheet of paper and rehearsed my steps: front, back; front, back. After centuries of misery, Britain was about to explode onto the salsa scene; the hopes of an entire nation were on my sparkly shoulders.

[41] I booted open the bathroom door and paced over to the bar, grabbing the hand of the nearest girl sat on her own and flinged her onto the dance floor. I started my moves, confident she’d be impressed. It may have just been forward and back, but I don’t think it could have been any more forward, or any more back. I was on fire and she must have known it, despite the quizzical look on her face.

[42] “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

[43] “You’re … I’m sorry to be rude, but you’re doing it completely wrong.”

[44] “No, I’m not. Look!” I said pulling out the paper from my pocket.

[45] “No, look at everyone else,” she said pointing to the happy couples dancing side to side, left to right. “We don’t dance the front-back salsa here. This is Cali, it’s completely different!” she said as a sprightly man spun her off to safety and burst into the most enthused, fast-paced salsa dancing the world had ever seen.

[46] My head sank as I looked down at my sequined legs and freshly-polished shoes. I breathed a heavy sigh, before quietly slipping off to the bar and ordering myself a round of aguardiente.

下载PDF版