Chasing Untamed Waterfowl

It wasn't that I really needed anything, particularly cigars, and it wasn't as if I had been sedentary all day.  I hadn't.  Many kilometers of Cali had passed beneath my feet this day.  So what I suppose I needed was a challange:  find a cigar store in Cali.  This might sound like a fairly low-grade sort of challenge, but just you give it a go one time and see.

There were rumours that another branch of my faithful La Casa Habano existed in Cali.  Vague blog entries on some of the cigar websites mentioned the possibility that La Casa Habano Cali appeared every other full moon, first on one corner of the city and then on another.  Roman, my pal at the Iguana Hostel desk, was happy to participate in the hunt, probably because it was hot and he was bored.  He found an address and I, in turn, found the location of the address, which was near the Dann Carlton Hotel.  Of course, when in doubt, look near the Euro-hotels.  

Setting aside my lounging time in the hostel garden, I set out once more for El Centro.  Retraacing my steps of this morning, I ended up down by the river and the Euro-hotels.  With the the help of one of the local constables I got myself within a block of the mysterious address.  And there it was.  The address that is.  There was no sign of the cigar store.  I had the right address, double-checked it, and still no store.  I doubled back around the block, just to be sure, then I threw myself on the mercy of the concierge  at the Dann Carlton.  Yes, there had been a cigar store there, or maybe there would be again, but not now.  The taxi captain pitched in and asked what I wanted.  Habanos?  No Problema.  He snapped his fingers and My Guy zipped up ready to assist.  In for a penny, in for a peso.  I hopped in the cab and off we went.

Heading back towards the hostel and past my favorite Cali fountain.

Regardless of what the final bill was, the meter was on (always a good sign) and we were headed back towards the hostel in a general sort of way.  Worst case I would just be paying for a ride home.  We swung to a stop at Calle 12N and piled out.  My Guy was on the hunt just as much as I was.  I spied a window with hookas and other smoking stuff and, voila', puros in a case.  And a chain around the door.  Cerrado.  So close, but so far.  Back into the cab and My Guy wheeled us North, pulling over at 14N in front of a fancy liquour store.  "Habanos Aqui?" sez I.  He made the appropriate maybe-yes, maybe no face complete with hand gesture, so I paid him off including a solid tip, he gave me his card and we parted amigos.

Inside JR Licores, I was treated with great deference.  They whipped out the humidor and indeed it was full of cigars.  Lovely fake Cohibas.  I asked how much they were and My New Guy smiled proudly and said "Dias Mil".  10,000 pesos.  About $5 US.  These cigars were as false as Dick Cheney's smile, but a decent cigar, even a fake cuban, is better than no cigar, or so my logic went.  So I bought five of them to amuse myself and to call the mission a success.  By the way, I smoked one today in the square in Popayan this evening.  It was pretty bad.  

I ambled back the few blocks to the hostel and enjoyed a quiet evening in the company of a few fellow traveler's.  I do love the garden at the Iguana, one of the finest yet.  Tomorrow will bring what it brings, includig new digs in a new town, but too much time travel in the blog just confuses everyone.  As far as you readers know, I am still in Cali.