Cartagena de las Indias

Overnight flight to Bogota was, for the most part, sleepless. Arrived pre-dawn to stumble through customs and attempt to find my connecting flight to Cartagena in three more hours, hoping I could catch the earlier one since I was so early. No such luck. Waited around the Bogota airport ina terminal with no ATMs and tried to sleep, but found my stomach eating itself with hunger was keeping me awake. That and the blaring telenovelas from the various tv screens around the terminal. Finally boarded the plane and promptly fell asleep, only to awaken to the beginning of the descent toward the coastal city of Cartagena from the mountains. Needless to say, spectacular landscape from the air, high green mountains, low blue marshes and lakes, and an amazing view through the cockpit windshield (not the same security concerns here I guess, the door was wide open), that revealed on one side turqoise glimmering carribean waters and on the other side a snow capped Andean peak. Damn, not many places where one can see both of those things together.
Getting from airport to city was painless, both hassle-wise and financially, although my first greeting upon stepping out of the cab was a swiftly tilting colombian offering me "cuatro gramas de heroina pura." Ugh, No gracias amigo. Found a decent enough hotel for too much money and set out for breakfast. A fair number of gringos abound, but its actually rather hard to tell the gringos from many of the more european looking locals, except that the gringos are generally the ones wearing shorts and flipflops, and the locals wearing jeans and carrying fancy handbags. Felt completely safe here by the way, and read about Cartagena not having seen political or narco terror violence in at least ten years, to reassure all potential fretters out there.

The old town itself is gorgeous, hands down the prettiest colonial town I{ve seen in the Americas, and believe me I{ve seen my share from mexico to bolivia. Bouganvillea spills out from spanish balconies over wrought iron gaslamps, horse drawn wagons clatter down cobbled streets, sun soaked plazas and brightly colored houses wind down alleys... you know, the standard colonial thing, plus an amazing fortresslike wall surrounding the town, and the breezes of the caribbean wafting through when it suddenly feels too humid to move. Somehow managed to explore much of the old city in the afternoon before I collapsed in a sleep deprived wreck. Wandered the old spanish fort, the largest and thickest walled in the Americas.

Cartagena was a major port for Spanish gold coming out of the south, and their primary port on the Atlantic, hence it was a rather tempting target for pirates and privateers for centuries. Not wanting to see the same fate that repeatedly befell, say, Granada Nicaragua (multiple burnings to the ground) the Spanish erected a massive complex fortifcation complete with underwater walls and chains to keep out invaders. It worked. The fort and walls surrounding the town stand today, and I wandered around for a while in the blazing heat, taking occasional refuge in the old tunnels and dungeons, before realizing I had completely forgotten sunblock. I returned to the hotel, over the little causeway past fishermen throwing nets, and lathered up with sun block at my hotel. Out for more exploring, Cartagena truly lives up to its reputation as the gem of the Americas. I paused to sit and read or sip coffee in one plaza after another, each more beautiful than the previous. Some with shady jungle plantings and tropical birds overhead, others with pigeons cooing and ice cream sellers ringing the bells on their pushcarts. The last was full of umbrellaed cafe tables where I sat for a while and rehydrated myself and watched the people drift by, taking photos in front of the massive Botero sculpture. Men and boys came by offering me cuban cigars and/or grams of cocaine, both priced at less than 3dollars. I declined and made my way back through the market vendors selling shoelaces, a man pretending to sneeze and showing off the fake snot dangling from his nose that was for sale for a quarter, (kind of weird in a country infamous for its other products for the nose), and decided to check out the parque central. MUCH less nice than the various plazas I´d been in all day, the parque was nothing but men sleeping or chatting in low voices and prostitutes galore. Okay, to be fair, they may have been extremely friendly though ragged looking women. Back to hotel for a siesta.

Woke to find that it was well after 9PM and I had slept clear through my alarm, the earplugs likely didnt help on that front, though probably did help when it came to the blasting vallenato music seemingly on the other side of my hotel door. I wandered down to the street in search of dinner and foudn the streets completely transformed by night. The afternoon quiet had given way to thumping music, and it seemed like every place that had its wooden shutters closed by day was open for business at night. Scrounged some grilled chorizo froma street vendor, listened to music in a nearby plaza bustling with skateboarding children and ambling old men, and went back to bed not much later.

More of the same today. So no great adventures thus far. Looking forward to my friend Bill Wilson (no, not that Bill Wilson) arriving tomorrow in Barranquilla, though we'll have to see how the logistics work out for meeting up. Hopefully the morning and afternoon will be spent exploring local islands and my next post will be a bit more interesting.