We landed in the morning and walked down the plane’s stairs into the blazing sunlight. It had been a long flight. Just 24 hours previously, we were washing the sheets and cleaning the house of our last house-sit in Colorado. As we drove to the airport that afternoon we saw snow on the ground. Now we were in a place with an average temperature in the 80s (Fahrenheit) and a relative humidity of 84% year-round.
Inside the Rafael Núñez International Airport in Cartagena, Colombia, we followed the sign for extranjeros and joined the line to pass through customs as the majority of the other passengers were doing. We had just come from Panama and I wondered where everyone was from. I surreptitiously started looking at the passports people in line had in hand, ready for the customs officer. I saw Bolivia, Brazil, Argentina, and The United States. I wondered why people from countries south of Colombia would travel through Panama to get here.
Customs was a breeze. We figured out where to pick up our backpacks, strapped them on, and made our way wearily outside the airport where we promptly found a place to sit.
There was a sign about taxis, so I went to see what it said. Before I could finish reading, someone asked whether we needed one. “Cuanto cuesta (How much)?” I asked. “Fifteen dolares,” was the response. Greg and I rifled through the US money we brought with us. We had some 20s, a ten, and two ones. “Tiene cambio (Do you have change)?” I asked our driver. He didn’t. He spoke to some of his fellow drivers. But apparently, they didn’t have change either. “Tengo doce, es suficiente (I have 12, is it enough)?” He said yes, but then said something to his fellow taxi drivers in Spanish again which I didn’t understand.
We gave him the address and got in the cab. As we left the airport, he asked us why we were in Cartagena, and we told him that we had come to Colombia to learn Spanish. The rest of the way he spoke to us in slow and clear Spanish. We could understand almost everything he said. He told us the city was celebrating its 491st anniversary that night and pointed out all the tourist sites. He asked us how long we would be in Cartagena. Greg told him a week and asked, “Es suficiente (Is that enough)?” Our driver said, “Sí.”
Right before we got to our lodgings, our driver pulled over and informed us that there was a money-changing booth on the other side of the street and that they would break our $20. So $12 wasn’t suficiente after all.
It was early when we got to the hostel. It was still early in the morning but we couldn’t check in until 2pm. We left our bags locked up at the hostel and hit the streets.
We were staying in the lovely and artsy Getsemaní neighborhood. There were murals everywhere, and colorful steamers crossed the streets from the top of one building to another. A small alley lined with businesses had umbrellas hanging overhead. There was a big yellow church, Iglesia de la Trinidad, fronted by a big plaza, Plaza de Trinidad, just half a block from our hostel. We wandered to a pizza restaurant for an early lunch and had our first Colombian beer, Club Colombia. After lunch, we walked towards the edge of the neighborhood to Parque del Centenario hoping to see some birds. We did! And bonus! We also saw a monkey and some sloths!
When we had just an hour left to kill, we returned to the hostel and asked if we could rest in their common area. We settled into some comfy padded chairs and pointed a fan to blow on us. We had been awake for 30 hours. I had just entered a state of not really being awake or asleep when someone came and told us our room was ready.
We opened the door to our room and felt an arctic blast. The air-conditioning was amazing. We stripped off our sweat-soaked clothes and collapsed on the bed.
After resting for about 4 hours, we got up, dressed, and returned to the street to find dinner. The plaza in front of Iglesia de la Trinidad was teeming with people. Festivities for the city’s 491st anniversary were on. There were performances in the plaza and performers on the streets. Getsemaní was aglow and buzzing. We had a dinner of arepas, a Colombian dish made with a thick corn tortilla, either stuffed or covered with toppings. After dinner, we explored the streets and alleyways before returning to our room and collapsing again.
Wandering around in the morning, cooling off in the afternoon with our Arctic air conditioner, and going back out at night for a stroll and dinner became our regular pattern for the 7 days we were in Cartagena.
Day 2
Now that we were rested, we spent some more time strolling through the neighborhood. We found a street lined with paintings and cruised Parque del Centenario again looking for more wildlife. We had dinner at a Colombian Carribean restaurant with a view of the plaza and enjoyed watching a dance demonstration.
Day 3
We left Getsemaní to visit the Walled City. Of course, what I didn’t realize at the time was that we were already in it. The Walls, known as the Murallas de Cartagena, and the part of the city they surround are a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We didn’t see much of the wall in Getsemaní but the Old Town and San Diego sections of the city appeared to be mostly still surrounded. Built in 1586 by slave labor, the wall served to protect the city from pirates and other threats. We enjoyed walking on top of a portion of the nearly 7 miles of the fortress and then down below through the old city.
Day 4
We returned to the Old Town to wander around some more and visit a few museums, the Museo del Oro Zenú and The Museo Naval del Caribe. At the Museo del Oro Zenú (Gold Museum) we saw gold, silver & ceramic pre-Columbian relics. The Museo Naval del Caribe (Naval Museum of the Caribbean) included exhibits on the Colombian Navy and the history and culture of the region.
Day 5
We took a free walking tour. We met our guide in Old Town and followed him around as he told us about the history of the city, including the slave trade, the socioeconomic system of the city, architecture, and art. At one point he held up a piece of paper with drawings of people of different races with plus signs combining them and equal signs to indicate what the people of those mixed races were called. As Americans, this was all quite odd. Especially the use of the word “mulatto” which is so outdated I wonder if young people understand its meaning. He asked to guess which mixed race he was and promised that he wouldn’t be offended. One person did guess, but the correct answer ended up being that he didn’t really know.
One of my favorite parts of this tour was learning about the door knockers which I had previously noticed and had already started taking photos of. They represent one’s status. Lions are for the military, iguanas for royalty, sea creatures for the navy, and hands for the church. In all our walking around I never saw a pair of hands.
Day 6
We visited the Castillo San Felipe de Barajas (Fort San Felipe). This took us out of the walled city and over a bridge across the Laguna de San Larazo. It was a tad bit of a sketchy walk as we had been warned it would be outside of the wall, but we just kept moving and all was fine (we took a friendlier-looking route on our way back to Getsemaní). The fort was built on a hill overlooking the city in 1536. We enjoyed the fort, especially its extensive system of tunnels. We ran into some tourists who were told that people were murdered with knives in the tunnels because they couldn’t be heard. But the internet says they were created for troops to be able to move around the fort without being seen.
Day 7
We went to Playa Marbella (the beach) to look for birds and Museo De San Pedro Claver. As we walked down the shoreline, we did see a few birds. Skyscrapers loomed over a beach lined with colorful umbrellas shading plastic chairs. People beckoned us to the seats, but we kept moving looking for birds, assuming the well-maintained seating areas had a price.
From the beach, we walked back to El Centro to visit Museo De San Pedro Claver. San Pedro Claver was a Spanish Jesuit priest who came to Cartagena in the early 1600s and became a minister to the African slaves and worked to relieve their suffering. According to Wikipedia he nicknamed himself the “black slave.” Claver would meet ships at the dock which had traveled 40 to 50 days with 300 to 400 captured men, women, and children in the bilge, He would bring food for the starved slaves and take anyone in danger of death to a hospital. San Pedro Claver’s remains can be found in the church dedicated to him next to the museum.
Nighttime
By the time we wandered out of our room at the hostel in the evening, the temperature had cooled off. Every night I searched for a new place to eat. I was disappointed that there were no vegan or vegetarian restaurants in the city, but luckily many restaurants had some options. The atmosphere was always lively in the neighborhood. Investigating the edges of Getsemaní one night, we discovered a big outdoor seating area overlooking the harbor. There were food trucks surrounding a round bar. We watched the sunset. We tried Aguardiente one night at dinner, a Colombian liquor with a sweet taste of anise. Not sure if I’d recommend it, but you have to appreciate a country that has its own special liquor.
The plaza was always hopping, with music, entertainers, and people watching. There was a small convenience store at one corner of the plaza. Greg visited a few times for a beer or two to go, realizing after his third visit when the price lowered that he had been charged tourist prices the first few times. We enjoyed being part of the community.
Day 8
We left. Our taxi driver was right. Cartagena was beautiful, interesting, and fun but 7 days was suficiente. Maybe we are just getting too old, but the heat and humidity were getting us down. It was time to get serious about why we came to Colombia and move on to Medellín to start Spanish classes.
Thanks so much for the wonderful pictures and commentary. They are so much fun and eye-opening to another culture. Take care of yourselves!
Hey Denise! Always good to hear from you! So glad you are enjoying my stories!
Hi Duwan and Greg,
I’m glad you enjoyed what Cartagena had to offer. Yes, it’s always crazy hot and humid there. I don’t know how we survived five weeks, especially under the wrong circumstances. Hurray for AC is all I can say now.
I remember walking Maya around that fort when we had our first week’s stay not too far away from that and Getsemani and the Old Town. It felt sketchy, especially at the back side. The next day, we moved away to cheaper areas in the city for the rest of our “wait.”
It’s surprising to me that the taxi driver wouldn’t have taken the $12. That seems like a decent price for the airport ride. I forgot what we paid, though. We had Maya with us and took money out of the cash machine by the airport.
PS: I can’t “like” your blog anymore, the last month or so.
I’m so bad at replying to comments. I get distracted and forget!
I don’t know how you survived 5 weeks either!
We were warned that it could be a bit sketchy outside the Walled City. And honestly, we didn’t feel unsafe, but we wouldn’t walk around in that area at night.
I was super surprised that the driver stopped for me to make change. I would have thought $12 was a good price, but I guess he figured if he could get $3 more, he would. He was nice and because of that I made sure he took us to our front door – even though he got a little turned around with the one way streets in the neighborhood.
I will check into the “like” thing. Thanks.