Day 1
Driving into the walled Old City of Cartagena is like being suddenly transported back into the 16th Century. To use the most over-used word in the Lonely Planet – the place was ‘charm’ personified. Just as we'd imagined; cobbled alleys, buildings with huge balconies covered in bougainvillea, churches and plazas everywhere, the pace of life in the streets that of which only living in the Caribbean could sustain and still be productive. Charming indeed. We checked into Centro Hotel, a mid range place with an attractive courtyard and got ready to head out.
Plaza de Bolivar was our first stop, a pleasant place surrounded with elegant buildings and the imposing Palacio de la Inquisicion. We saw a band playing in the plaza, tribal rhythms, drumming and dancing – it certainly got the adrenaline going... we wandered around the narrow streets a little more, and headed instinctively towards to the ocean. Here, like many others, we hopped on the fort wall and walked around, talking in the marvellous sights and the luscious sunset. We made it as far as Cafe del Mar, on the western ramparts of the Old City – a perfect place for sunsets. We sat down at a small ocean view table and took in the last glimmer of the sun’s rays whilst waiting for our refreshing cervecas – Arguila Lights, a favourite in this part of Colombia especially. Of course, being the Caribbean, it took 20 minutes for our beers to arrive, but we didn’t care – we were happy to slip into the local’s relaxed pace of life.
In the evening we headed to plaza Santa Domingo, and sat down for a beer and a pizza. This place is amazing. Full of life, musicians playing love songs to star-struck couples, barrio kids rapping to the beat of their friend’s oral boombox, men and women drifting around the tables selling everything from panama hats to paintings. It was chaos – and the best place in town for people watching without a doubt.
Our food came after two beers – an hour after we’d ordered, and by the time we’d finished we were slightly inebriated. We decided to carry on into the night, and wandered the narrow, cobbled streets, avoiding the peddlers and the horses and the taxis. We went to Plaza de los Coches, once used as a slave market, where a statue of the cities founder, Pedro de Heredia, stands. The drummers and dancers had moved here now, and were putting on quite a show to the tourist hordes. We had a couple of drinks in bars around, then headed back for a rather early night, heading down the dimly-lit cobbled streets to the sound of idle chatter and the clip-clop of horses hooves, like we were walking in another era. We were tired, and wanted a full day to explore this enchanting place tomorrow.
Day 2
We awoke to the sound of bicycle bells, horses clip-clopping down the narrow streets, the shouts and whistles of street vendors and the general commotion of the Old City coming to life, which meant we had to come to life as well. It was a gloriously sunny day – again. Beautiful clear blue skies above a lovely contrast to the soft pastel colours of the historic buildings below, the neighing of horses and the other sounds around drifting through the city and into each other like wispy smoke rather than cutting through harshly, and it was an altogether magical feel.
We checked out and headed to our new magnificent hotel, Hotel Cartagena de Indias, just a couple of streets away. We checked in, and headed up to the roof terrace to enjoy the incredible views over the Old City, supping margaritas at the infinity pool.
We almost reluctantly headed out again into the romantic streets of the Old City. We walked on Las Murallas – the thick walls surrounding the old city, which afforded great views over the city at one side, the ocean the other. We then wandered to Getsmani, out of the walled Old City, which is a different kettle of fish – old too, but in a poor, dilapidated way, dusty streets, bustling markets, cheap and cheerful eateries and bars, rough around the edges, full of character -and characters. We headed for the most splendid Spanish Fort ever built in a Spanish colony – Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas. The fort, impregnable, was never taken, and has a complex series of narrow low tunnels built underneath it. The views from the top of the fort were over the whole city, Getsmani, the Old City and Bocagrande and the sea, and we stood for a while underneath the huge Colombian flag.
We walked back towards Getsmani, stopping at a little restaurant for a bite to eat and an ice-cold Aguila Light michelada style, which means the beer is served in a glass rimmed with rock salt and a shot of lime juice at the bottom. There is nothing as refreshing in the world as a beer served like this on a hot, dusty day.
For lunch, we headed to the impressive Sofitel Santa Clara hotel, built in 1621, a magnificent building of colonial balconies and republican structures, evoking the splendour of days gone by. Author Gabriel Gracia Marquez has a house next door, apparently. The building has a rustic orange facade, and upon stepping inside, you are treated to a beautiful, leafy courtyard, full of birds. Toucans call this patch of Cartagena home, and one came and sat on the top of a chair, watching us down its ridiculously colourful bright green beak with flashes of orange and red-tipped. Here, in the luxurious surrounds, we dined.
The rest of the day was spent wandering around, drifting lazily from plaza to plaza, stopping for cerveca michelada style here and there to quench our thirsts.
We decided to go and spend some time on the beach at Bocagrande, full of people enjoying themselves, playing football, splashing around in the sea. Vero and I sat down and ordered an Aguila Light michelada style, and a big Caribbean woman dressed like a pineapple came over and gave us a slice of the sweet fruit, slicing it right in front of us. Then she gave us almost a kilo of it. It was delicious. The little stalls selling beer and snacks were pumping out Latin music and Caribbean rhythms, the sun was setting, and a deeper, more beautiful orange sunset we hadn’t seen for a long time. The sun seemed huge as it began to fall into the sky slowly like an orange drop of life falling from the sky, it hung pregnant with fire for a time, then sank for another day.
As night fell, we decided to travel back in style – by horse and carriage. We bargained hard and eventually got an acceptable price. We jumped into the royal carriage, pulled by a lovely dark brown horse, and set off with a gentle clucking sound from the man driving. The initial ride wasn’t too nice, being on the busy road, but as soon as we turned into the walled Old City, we were transported back in time again, into the Love in a Time of Cholera era, and we were about to pay a visit to Fermina Daza and Florentino Ariza to tell them to hurry up and and accept that they’re in love. It was a wonderful feeling, clip-clopping through the narrow, cobbled, dimly-lit streets, which we had been walking through not only in reality but also in our dreams too – the magical power of the place had evidently left a deep impression on us.
We got back to our luxurious little hideaway, changed and headed up to the roof to kick back with a cocktail whilst admiring the views. It was windy tonight, and a little chilly, but it could have been minus 10 and it wouldn’t have taken away any of the warmth we were feeling right then.
In the evening we went to a lovely Italian restaurant and sat at a table draped in white tablecloth on the balcony, supping wine and eating good seafood. From here we had a drink in a couple of bars, before heading to the wilds of Getsmani and to Cafe Havana – a Cuban theme jazz cafe and salsa bar with a live band and a decor that made you feel like you were in 1950s Havana. They served Havana Club Rum which made for great mojitos, and all in attendance were having a good time. We loved it here....a magical mix of music, rum, rhythms, and energy of the people.
Cartagena had cast a spell on us both.
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