Isa’s House, Cartagena - Monday, January 20th

Getting off the bus at Cartagena felt like entering a different county. Like Bogota and medellin, Cartagena revealed that Colombia is a place enriched with variety. The heat was searing. After being on an air conditioned coach for 12 hours the contrast is even more stark. At fist you struggle for breath and only after a few minutes can you start to gather your lungs or your thoughts.

The journey into town is an hour from the main bus terminal. Quite why it was so far away is something I’ll sadly never know. You could either take the local bus or a taxi at 10 times the price. Foolishly I chose the bus.

The extent to which the north was different became apparent from the moment the bus started moving. For one, the people were a varied mix Afro-Caribbean and Hispanic. The bus itself contained people dotted across the entire spectrum. A beautiful carribean woman sat on front of me with her baby on her lap. I sat mesmirized as she diligently pruned and furled her daughter’s hair. The deftness of the activity was touching. It looked like she could have done it blindfolded.

The bus stopped almost every minuteand was soon so rammed that I had to sit with my rucksack on my lap. The music playing was distinctly Caribbean. The interior was adorned with coloured drapes and trinkets. It was as far from the Medellin Metro as you could get. It’s probably the first time I’ll ever miss a public transport system. I seethed a little in jealousy at the driver’s mini fan, pointed at his head. It really was the only source of ventilation on the bus.

Finally we pulled into the centre and I set out to find Isa’s house. The heat was so extreme that I panicked and got a taxi. Thankfully it was far away from the bus stop to have justified the trip. Just.

Her place was a beautiful half timbered home with white walls and a clean, simple interior. In the courtyard there was an old tree with a hammock underneath.  As you swung under it you were graced with the boisterous chatter of parakeets. Inside I met Lucy who was a Colombian starting her psychology PHD in Cartegena. It turns out she had lived in San Francisco so her English was flawless. Isa spoke French and German so between us we were able to quite comfortably converse over lunch. It turns out that all of us were suffering from various party related ailments so we decided to have a post lunch siesta.

Later we took a taxi to the beach. It was a long stretch of dark sand presided over by a multitude of white towers screaming towards the sky. It felt like Miami beach with the tempo turned up. Different beach tents pumped Techno, Caribbean Salsa, Rumba and Reggaeton. Their echoes jumbled into a kaleidescope of frenetic sound that reverberated with the energy of the place. Everywhere people rushed around to different parasols selling any beach, or non beach related treat you could imagine. I broke almost immediately as getting a cup ceviche’d prawns on the beach was too good to pass up. Took a pass on the candy floss.

We swam and reclined on the sand as the sun set. The waves were ferocious with dark sand that made it look deceptively like the north sea. Although getting in you realise that you’ve probably had baths that were warmer.

After the sun had set we started walking back home. On the way we stopped at the Carib Hotel. Marlon Brando had once famously been a resident. One of the parties he held was so large that the municipal authorities could only stop it by cutting off the power to the entire hotel. Even then, apparently, it took 12 hours for the stragglers to leave.

We walked through the grounds. You’d never have had a clue about the intensity of the beach from here. The only sound was the pool trickling. For some completely unknown reason, a family of deer lived there. We were lucky enough to spot the new born bambi teetering around the tropical plants. It was so tame that it would eat bread of a stranger’s hand. The sad result of meeting it is that I’ll probably never think a new born puppy will ever cut the cuteness mustard in comparison to this. 

On the beach a billboard flashed the weather in London. A picture of a giant rain cloud with 7 next to it. Suddenly being too hot was no longer much of an issue.

After dinner I went out for a drink with Gary, who was the other houseguest. He was 41 and a fireman from Montana. With a jaw about four inches wider than his head, it felt impossible that he could have chosen another profession, save the military. Before that he had been a logger and an aid worker in Sri Lanka. All of which made most humans like myself feel like their jobs are a little pointless.

He had been quite interested in meeting a Colombian girl on his travels. We sat and flicked through the hit list on the Colombian website he’d been using. One of them had stopped talking to him once she realised he didn’t have a hotel room. I felt that this wouldn’t be the first time he’d encounter this issue. I suggested he download Tinder. Once the premise was explained he looked like a man who had just found out that women are easier to sleep with when you get them drunk.

The next day I shuffled into town. The humidity and the heat were exasperating but there was no point letting it get in the way as I had little time here.  The old town is the most beautifully preserved urban area in South America. Inside it’s a grid of wooden terraces and vibrant Caribbean colours. I rented a bike for an hour as it proved a less energetic way of seeing the place. Thankfully, the fact that the whole town is surrounded by a fortress wall prevented me from getting completely lost.

I grabbed lunch in cafe Oh La La. It had delightful Old World feel to it. The walls were lined with Deco posters and rang with Cuban rumba. For £5 I was able to get a three course meal with one of the tastiest pieces of fish I’d ever eaten. The air conditioning added serious dividend to the overall experience.

Afterwards I headed to the port to book a boat to Playa Blanca in the morning. From what I’ve heard its a great place for a day out. More appealing is the fact that you can rent a hammock on the beach there for £7 a night. There’s also no power on the island which means no internet and perfect, starry nights. Although it’s a little disconcerting when you realise that the internet has to be forcibly removed from you in order to avoid using it. A part of me hoped there was WiFi.

As the museums were closed I took a stroll along the walls of the old town. In 1586 Sir Francis Drake had besieged the city and got 10 million pesos for his efforts. The local authorities had clearly taken this to heart and built 11km of walls surrounding the city. In 1741 Edward Vernon thought he’d do the same with a much larger fleet of 186 ships and 25,000 men. No such luck. Since Sir Francis, no one had managed to capture the city. It was no surprise to learn that this was the first place to declare independence from Spain.

The people here don’t stress their essential difference like they do in Medellin but it’s clear that there is a palpable sturdiness to the city and the people here. It’s strength, conversely to Medellin, is drives from it’s openness to others. Jews, Italians, French, Turks and Syrians have all settled here over time. It’s not a forgiving place, only the truly determined prosper here. I’ve been hawked more in an hour here than in the last 10 days. At least the English are no longer holding the place for randsom. Given how expensive it is here compared to the rest of Colombia I feel like we’re being quietly revenged.

I stopped by the Santo Domingo for evening mass. I’ve been to many more gigs that was less packed. It was hard to hear much under the drone of the industrial fans lining the interior. Although I gave myself a gentle pat on the back for sussing the Lord’s prayer. When the clapping and singing started it was time to move on. I found myself reminded of what it’s like to go be in a salsateca when everyone around you knows the moves, and you just don’t.

I fled to another sanctuary in the form of the Cafe Del Mar and had my own holy water on the fortress walls watching the sun set. I thanked God that I wasn’t walking around the city again all day. Time for some palm trees, cocktails with umbrellas and beach masseuses. I hope.