Cartagena - Jewel of the Caribbean

A jewel in the Caribbean crown steeped in history dating back nearly five centuries, remnant of the once vast Spanish colonial empire. Cartagena is alive today as much as it was in its heyday as a thriving port city and center of trade in the New World. For Alex and I, it was the perfect place to commence our adventures in Latin America. 

Cartagena contrasts between old and new: Bocagrande with its high rises and seaside hotels is reminiscent of Miami beach while the quaint streets of Gestramani are lined with tiny, colorful houses and daring graffiti art. We quickly discovered that the action was in the historic district - the fortified city. These walls were taller, wider, and far longer than Galle Fort in Sri Lanka (previous trip). It evoked all the images and romance of Pirates of the Caribbean, not surprising since it is a favorite hangout of tourists and locals alike. People walk endlessly around the ramparts looking down at the narrow, cobblestone streets lined with buildings painted in vibrant colors. 

The fading light of the afternoon brings everyone out to sit and watch the sun descend below the warm Caribbean waves. And in Cartagena, one place rises above all others: Cafe del Mar. Located on the western wall in what appears to be perfect alignment with the sun, Cafe del Mar is famous for drinks, music, and its huge Colombian flag flapping in the wind. We sat down for a drink as the music came on, a house mix that slowly increased its beat with such a rhythm that the hairs on the back of my neck were standing straight up, goosebumps incapsulated my arms and legs. I put my camera down and absorbed it all - the warm sunlight on my face, my hair blowing in the steady wind, the whispering of waves crashing beneath the layers of music. In that very moment, all life's worries, hardships, and stresses melted away. I  was no where else but in the present, one with my surroundings - in particular, a hot guy and an ice-cold caipirinha. 

Cafe del Mar

When in Cartagena, do as the Cartagenans do: eat seafood. We plopped down at a quiet street side table at La Cevicheria, a mainstay of fresh seafood shrouded in mysterious intrigue - known to locals simply as… "La Cevicheria." Surprisingly we discovered that my hero, Señor Bourdain featured the restaurant in an episode of No Reservations. Not surprisingly: we stumbled into this place. (STOP: scratch that, reverse it.) Needless to say, our clay pot seafood platter selection drew gasps and awes (seriously) from onlookers (at other tables). Mixed in were fish, scallops, squids, shrimp, hell, you get the point. "The Goops" may have licked their knives but we were licking the plate! 

Earlier that day we wandered the vibrant streets of the historic city, guided by intricately hand painted tile street signs fixated to the buildings. We  starred intensely at colorful houses adorned beautiful flowers, either growing up the walls or hanging over balconies. Boutique luxury hotels were plentiful, so much in fact it seemed we passed one every hundred feet. I won't complain though - boutique hotels bring with them a high standard in appearance for developing the surrounding areas. It would appear the locals have upped their game whilst protecting the historical allure. 

No wonder the Secret Service
agents were bored

The city was quite empty of people making it a bit difficult to 'see' the popular places. We managed to find Hard Rock Cafe sans Secret Service Agents (later we also found their infamous hotel) and next to it the main cathedral in Cartagena complete with a monastery turned museum. The cathedral had many attributes that tweaked my interest, for instance the courtyard garden between the monastery and church that could easily be mistaken for a botanical conservatory. If that wasn't enough for these men of God, the ornate hand carved patterns on their chairs were the quintessential definition of humbleness. 

Ikea anyone?

The most intriguing thing at the church was something that despite years of Catholic education and numerous churches/cathedrals visited across the world had a peculiar flare I have never before seen. Now, all catholics know that the alter contains a saintly relic inside, usually something very small. This cathedral, however, had the saint's whole body inside - displayed in a glass coffin for all to see! Talk about morose. When no one was looking I snapped a quick photo. Look closely and your can see the decaying skeleton.

Must be very popular for weddings.

Having had my fill of organized religion my future outlook had something much sweeter in mind: gelato. A tiny shop adjacent Plaza Santo Domingo offered cheap, flavorful ways to beat the heat. The Church of Santo Domingo was being renovated, but that didn't stop scores of people from catching a glimpse of Fernando Botero's artistic contribution to Cartagena: a big ass statue of a naked woman. Literally, her ass was huge, undoubtedly stirring fury for the Catholic Church fifteen feet away. 

Look at those Glutes!!

With a bit of time on our side before the sunset, we walked over to the wall section dotted with alcoves/openings that are all the rage with young couples. Think of it as "Cartagenese 'Parking'"- couples hunched together making out in their own quasi-private abodes, atrocities the Spaniards slaves that constructed it wouldn't have imagined in their wildest dreams. Later in the evening we passed by the same place again, each alcove occupied. It occurred to me that PDA takes on a whole different definition here. 

Day 2 was set aside for diving albeit it became my worst dive trip to date. Over the past few years, diving has become a huge passion for both of us - sometimes we travel to places JUST for the diving. This time was different. I knew I was going to be in trouble from the hotel's lackluster breakfast combined with warm waters - so warm that they didn't advise wearing wet suits. Essentially lukewarm bath water  combined with 4-5 foot swells and you have a perfect recipe for my head hanging overboard. 

Dive 1

Both dives were enjoyable - wreck dives, which are harder to come by when we travel. Finishing up the first dive I decided to throw up before getting back on the boat, then 4 more times before the next dive. There was simply no escape: hot as hell on the boat, warm ocean water, large swells, and no wind. If there was ever a time to say FML and mean it, now was it. 

Dive 2 - Wreck penetration

Fifteen minutes into the second dive I had to abort because I was going to be sick. I made haste for the surface for nought. 55 feet below the surface, I ripped out my regulator and started vomiting everywhere. It isn't easy: Step 1, rip out regulator (breathing mechanism); step 2, puke; step 3, replace regulator and take a deep breath; repeat steps 1-3 until finished. It felt like an eternity before I broke through the surface. Alas, I threw up 3-4 more times before heading back to land. I can safely assume that my father was laughing his ass off. 

A much needed nap was in order to restore my energy levels - vomiting that much takes its toll. Sunbathing on the beach proved a great alternative to rocking in the boat. The beaches in Cartagena are strikingly similar to the ones I saw in Bali: dark sand and filled with trash. Evidently the off-shore Baru and Rosario islands are idyllic white sand beaches far better suited for relaxation. Of course this was out of the question since there was no way I was getting back on a boat here. 

Castillo San Felipe

Our third and final day started at the towering Castillo San Felipe just northeast of the walled city. It was massive. Built as a hill top defense, there was no way anyone would overtake it. Long, claustrophobic corridors zigzagged through its core, illuminated just enough for us tourists to see, but pitch black for those before us. It felt more like a prison than a fortress. Still, the panoramic views of Cartagena from the top were splendid. 

Walking back from
Gestramani

Back inside the walled city, we traversed the less touristy Gestramani neighborhood until finally grabbing a late lunch. Having seen all we wanted in the walled city and beyond, we casually walked 45 minutes along the beach back to Bocagrande and spent another few hours sitting on the beach. I went in the water only briefly since it was warmer in the water than out. As much as the cool Pacific in Malibu picked at my nerves, I would have gladly taken it now. 

Overall, Cartagena was everything we had hoped for: beautiful, untouched, and exotic. Despite the troubles of Colombia's turbulent past, Cartagena has proven itself a true gem left unscathed.