Cartagena
The highlight of the five hour bus and taxi journey from Santa Marta to Cartagena (besides the great test of my dexterity in the pinball toilet), was the sight of masses of local hombres all sprinting urgently to the site of an overturned truck on the other side of the highway. It wasn't to provide assistance to the driver, it was to take advantage of a situation we all dream about - it was a beer truck. Unfortunately the police had already arrived by the time the taxi I was sharing with three Germans went past, so we decided against joining the affray.
Again it was nightfall arriving in a new place, except this approach was very different from Tayrona park. Cartagena is Columbia's top tourist destination, and the old city, where I was staying, is a World Heritage Site. The ramparts, surrounding the old city, and the various churches and monuments, are bathed in golden light after dark. I was already enthralled.
After dropping the friendly Germans off at their hostel, I directed the driver towards mine. I had no reservation, only a recommendation from some English travellers at my previous location. The hostel they recommended was closed, so I ended up at one on the next street, El Viajero, described as "Falls in the younger, party hostel category" in my guidebook. The guidebook was right - I was one of the oldest guests, certainly the oldest in my dorm. Whatever, it was time to try and be young(er) again.
A couple of craft beers (yes Columbia has craft beer) at the hostel bar gave me enough Dutch courage to join the free salsa class. I was paired with a much younger than me Aussie girl from Melbourne, who was shy and had never danced anything like this before, so we were well matched. I was lucky. The Aussie bloke next to me was paired with a Brazilian girl who had all the samba moves. Aussie blokes don't have samba moves.
At the end of the hour long class, each pair in turn was "encouraged" (forced) to do "freestyle" together in the middle of a group circle. The Brazilian girls set the bar high with some nifty moves. When it came to my turn, in panic the only answer I had was Irish dancing. It's great being Irish - jumping up and down like an eejit without moving your upper body can get a big cheer from a bunch of people who don't know better.
The next day I started the sightseeing proper. Cartagena is a lovely city to stroll around, with a couple of decent museums to peruse also. It was fascinating to learn about the early days of the Colombian state, and how the current culture of the country is actually a diverse mix of three: indigenous, Spanish, and African.
The African component comes from the use of slaves from that area before independence, and the picture above is of the Plaza de los Coches, which now has tour groups during the day and prostitutes by night, but at one point in the past was the slave market.
On the north side of the plaza is The Clock Pub, my base for the second leg of Ireland v Denmark. There was a gang of Kerrymen watching, and we were soon joined by a cross-border Irish couple: Robin from Kinsale and Stephanie from Armagh. The game turned out to be a massive downer, with Ireland getting thrashed. Robin, Stephanie and myself decided to drown our sorrows with a few post-game drinks.
During our wanders for the rest of the day we came across a woman from Dublin who had set up her own ice cream shop, Mr Cool Gelato. There are a plethora of ice cream places in Cartagena, but we decided to buy Irish and offer our support. She cools the ice cream using liquid nitrogen, so it's really fresh - a big pile of post-alcohol sugar being an effective way to cast off the last of our sorrows from the game.
The following day, my final full day in Cartagena, was meant to be spent drinking good coffee in the cozy Casa Alberto cafe (above), whilst planning the next segments of my trip. Overhearing some Dutch conversation taking place at a nearby table, I was able to decipher using my limited Dutch that one of them was on a big trip travelling alone. I decided to introduce myself, and thus the rest of the day was spent exploring the fort and having a few beers with Bert-Jan from Groningen. This is one of the unique pleasures of travelling alone - your day can change in a heartbeat, and you constantly get to meet new, interesting people. Bert-Jan and I had a lot in common. It was good to finally meet a fellow solo traveller close to my age, and he introduced me to the joys of a sunset cigar on the city wall. Hanging out with him made me realise that I needed to slow things down a little, a lesson I intended to heed in Medellin, my next destination.
So, what to make of Cartagena? Backpackers visit here, but it's not a backpacker destination. It's a place to go on your honeymoon. It's a place my parents could visit and enjoy. It's easy to navigate, has lovely restaurants, some nice hotels, and looks great. It's a far cry from the rustic northern jungles I had been traversing beforehand. In many ways, it felt like a break from backpacking, which I didn't really need only a week in. I boarded the flight to Medellin hoping it would provide a little bit more spice. I wanted to see a real modern Colombian city, something a bit rougher.
More Cartagena pictures
Again it was nightfall arriving in a new place, except this approach was very different from Tayrona park. Cartagena is Columbia's top tourist destination, and the old city, where I was staying, is a World Heritage Site. The ramparts, surrounding the old city, and the various churches and monuments, are bathed in golden light after dark. I was already enthralled.
After dropping the friendly Germans off at their hostel, I directed the driver towards mine. I had no reservation, only a recommendation from some English travellers at my previous location. The hostel they recommended was closed, so I ended up at one on the next street, El Viajero, described as "Falls in the younger, party hostel category" in my guidebook. The guidebook was right - I was one of the oldest guests, certainly the oldest in my dorm. Whatever, it was time to try and be young(er) again.
A couple of craft beers (yes Columbia has craft beer) at the hostel bar gave me enough Dutch courage to join the free salsa class. I was paired with a much younger than me Aussie girl from Melbourne, who was shy and had never danced anything like this before, so we were well matched. I was lucky. The Aussie bloke next to me was paired with a Brazilian girl who had all the samba moves. Aussie blokes don't have samba moves.
At the end of the hour long class, each pair in turn was "encouraged" (forced) to do "freestyle" together in the middle of a group circle. The Brazilian girls set the bar high with some nifty moves. When it came to my turn, in panic the only answer I had was Irish dancing. It's great being Irish - jumping up and down like an eejit without moving your upper body can get a big cheer from a bunch of people who don't know better.
The next day I started the sightseeing proper. Cartagena is a lovely city to stroll around, with a couple of decent museums to peruse also. It was fascinating to learn about the early days of the Colombian state, and how the current culture of the country is actually a diverse mix of three: indigenous, Spanish, and African.
The African component comes from the use of slaves from that area before independence, and the picture above is of the Plaza de los Coches, which now has tour groups during the day and prostitutes by night, but at one point in the past was the slave market.
On the north side of the plaza is The Clock Pub, my base for the second leg of Ireland v Denmark. There was a gang of Kerrymen watching, and we were soon joined by a cross-border Irish couple: Robin from Kinsale and Stephanie from Armagh. The game turned out to be a massive downer, with Ireland getting thrashed. Robin, Stephanie and myself decided to drown our sorrows with a few post-game drinks.
During our wanders for the rest of the day we came across a woman from Dublin who had set up her own ice cream shop, Mr Cool Gelato. There are a plethora of ice cream places in Cartagena, but we decided to buy Irish and offer our support. She cools the ice cream using liquid nitrogen, so it's really fresh - a big pile of post-alcohol sugar being an effective way to cast off the last of our sorrows from the game.
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| Yes, Colombia has good coffee |
The following day, my final full day in Cartagena, was meant to be spent drinking good coffee in the cozy Casa Alberto cafe (above), whilst planning the next segments of my trip. Overhearing some Dutch conversation taking place at a nearby table, I was able to decipher using my limited Dutch that one of them was on a big trip travelling alone. I decided to introduce myself, and thus the rest of the day was spent exploring the fort and having a few beers with Bert-Jan from Groningen. This is one of the unique pleasures of travelling alone - your day can change in a heartbeat, and you constantly get to meet new, interesting people. Bert-Jan and I had a lot in common. It was good to finally meet a fellow solo traveller close to my age, and he introduced me to the joys of a sunset cigar on the city wall. Hanging out with him made me realise that I needed to slow things down a little, a lesson I intended to heed in Medellin, my next destination.
So, what to make of Cartagena? Backpackers visit here, but it's not a backpacker destination. It's a place to go on your honeymoon. It's a place my parents could visit and enjoy. It's easy to navigate, has lovely restaurants, some nice hotels, and looks great. It's a far cry from the rustic northern jungles I had been traversing beforehand. In many ways, it felt like a break from backpacking, which I didn't really need only a week in. I boarded the flight to Medellin hoping it would provide a little bit more spice. I wanted to see a real modern Colombian city, something a bit rougher.
More Cartagena pictures
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