Cartagena

 Our first stop on the trip was Cartagena, Columbia. I have been intrigued by Columbia for some years, though John has always been a little reluctant to come here. Maybe it was the narcotics gangs. Or maybe it was Juan Valdez. Either way, this is our first visit to this historic South American nation. 

We arrived in port just at sunrise. I had made arrangements for John and I to have a private tour of the city instead of taking the bus trip the cruise ship offered. I usually use Viator to book with some local operators, and I usually find that these are a much better deal. But one of the downsides of it is that independent operators are usually not allowed to enter the port area. We have to go outside the security perimeter to find our guide. And that was the case today. We had a fairly long walk from the ship to the meeting place with Nelson, our guide. And here, alas, was our first mishap of the day. The car was parked in a service station. And I was not looking too carefully as I was walking toward the car and stepped in a open spot in a drainage grate.

 
I immediately knew I had sprained my ankle. It hurt when I pulled it out, and the pain only grew more intense during the day. 

Our first stop was the Castillo San Felipe de Barajas. This massive fortress was built by the Spanish in the early sixteenth century to protect Cartagena from pirate attacks. The city of Cartagena was a major transport spot for gold extracted from the mines of the interior, and that made it an attractive target for pirates and privateers. It is still an impressive structure dominating a hill high above the old city. 

We were greeted as we came to the castle by a trumpeter. 

I was expecting a little more of this kind of costumed guides, but this musician was all that we saw. Accompanied by Nelson, John and I walked up almost all the way to the top. In retrospect this was a mistake. There really was not much to see other than a few cannons, and the steep ascent was not good for John’s orthostatic hypotension. Nor did the ninety degree heat help here. Still, he was a trooper and and did the best he could.

 

From this vantage point, we had both a good view of the top of the fortress, which we did not even attempt to climb

and the new city across an inlet from the old town.

Nelson led us across the street to a small restaurant on second floor of a gift shop. It served arepas, a classic Columbian street food. 

It is a deep-fried corn fritter stuff with spiced beef and egg. It was tasty enough, but I would probably not rush to order it again. 

John was really exhausted by this time, and frankly wanted to go back to the ship. But I convinced him that we could do most of the rest of the tour in the air-conditioned car and he agreed to go ahead with the tour. Like I said, he’s a real trooper. Nelson drove us around the walled city so we could see the fortifications, still largely intact. 

We then drove inside. I asked if we could see the plaza and the cathedral. The plaza was nowhere near as large as I would have expected. It was dominated by an equestrian statue of Simon Bolivar. 

 It was on a balcony just off this square that Bolivar issued his call for the people of South America to seek independence from Spain. The cathedral was closed up tight, so we never did get a chance to see it. John was feeling stronger at this point and we walked about looking at the charming colonial architecture. 

We walked over to a particularly charming square dominated by the Church of Saint Peter Claver. 

Peter Claver, a Jesuit, was a fierce opponent of the African slave trade. In Cartagena, sick blacks who had survived the passage were normally just dumped on the dock and left to die. Claver, supported by a few aristocratic female supporters, took them in, nursed many back to health, and baptized them. 

 His statue stands above the door. From this square, you can also get a glimpse of the Cathedral’s bell tower. 

From here, we drove the Getsemini, an area that the place where blacks lived after the end of slavery. It was a run-down slum for decades, and it is now the hippest neighborhood in Cartagena. We were running short of time so I did not get a chance to walk through these enchanting streets.  

I hope I have a chance to return to Cartagena some day and explore this neighborhood. 

Nelson drove us back to the port and we walked back to the ship. By this time, my foot hurt so much I could barely walk, but I did manage to get back to my room. And with that, we said our goodbye to Columbia.