Mangos had been recommended to me as follows: "Hot Colombian Woman are literally falling out of the sky, from poles. "I had already been to a club the night before with drinks all inclusive, serving blow your head off rums all night (and if you ask for coke they look at you like you're a pussy).
The bar was a circle in the middle of the club, with dancers on a platform in the center of it. There were so many glow sticks about that when the lights went out the other side of the bar looked like a massive light saber fight. So if Mangos was better than that, well....
Oh, and the other thing I had heard: "And there are dwarves, dwarf wrestling, dwarf salsa." Dwarves, you say? Well say no more!
I rolled 15 strong with the hostel posse, Israelis (so many Israelis in Latin America it's not even funnu), ozzies, Brits, and some Dutchies ('the girlsh here are shuper shexy').
The place is half saloon, half Latin cantina... wood and faded posters, mirrors, wagon wheels, cow heads... As we walked in there were Salsa partners on the stage, one of which is a dwarf couple.
Wandering around randomly are people in fancy dress; cowboys and cowgirls, all with crazy silicon: Medellin is full of cosmetic surgery, apparently wives are bought boob jobs for wedding presents, some girls even as a 16th birthday coming of age thing.
Besides the cowboys, there was a man with only one arm, in a hospital gown dragging his drip with him; and gypsy women with piercings and cigars; half doctors / half S and M gimps... it was all quite surreal.
The blokes toilet had sinks that were like a water trough, and the taps were actually replica horses heads, with the water flowing from the mouth, so as you walk in it looks like several horses are drinking from the trough.
The next stage show was even more crazy: first to slide down the pole was a Tarzan guy, miming his Tarzan call as it was played on the speakers, followed by a Jane character, then a guy dressed as a lion, then a zebra man, his skin painted in white and black stripes, with a headpiece of white fur from his crown to the bottom of his back.Finally, a dwarf in a monkey suit shoots down the pole, and starts cartwheeling and rolling around the stage. I can almost hear Hunter S in my mind at this point.Strobes again, as the strange jungle tecno with a Tarzan call as the main sample is syncronished to the lights and the dancing of this Tarzan and Jane family.
And whenever a dwarf walks by you have an irresistible urge to grab it, put it in a bag, take it to the hostel and make it dance for you.
Shows like this continue throughout the night, with sweaty, toned, and surgically enhanced Colombians dancing in various themed getups in strobe lighting, from break dancers to salsa to meringue to reggaeton grinding.
Outside in the street there's of course the obligatory guy with a tray of mints, sweets and cigarettes for sale, one at a time if you like, and a woman with a stall selling spicy sausage blobs you eat with a tooothpick and try to balance ketchup on without dropping it on yourself.
I left about 4AM, tried my best drunk conversational Spanglish with the taxi driver, and at the hostel found myself instantly taking over for someone in a Poker game, and winning 4000 pesos, about a quid.
That victory rounded of my night nicely, and I went to bed, my head spinning.
