We arrived in Cartagena this morning, Colombia’s colonial Caribbean city of gold and pirates, on a 1960’s twin-mast sailboat and feeling like extras in a James Bond movie. Disregarding, of course, the slight feeling of seasickness, which accompanies most non-natural sailors on even the shortest trips.
Less hot than Cayenne, but even more humid, we’re up for a lazy day after meeting Leroy’s whole extended family (and their pets) yesterday. The first thing I did after landing was text my friend Camila to see if she wanted to head over and maybe show us around. While we’re waiting for a reply, we’re wandering through the old town in the footsteps of Gabo (that’s novelist Gabriel García Márquez to you). Fruit sellers in brilliant clothes, balconies overflowing with purple bougainvillea and kids playing soccer in the streets.
We bought melting tamarind and hibiscus flower paletas, and ate them, dripping down our arms, as we walked around the top of the city walls. The city is so ridiculously pretty, I don’t mind feeling like a tourist for once, practicing my Spanish and attempting to calculate the prices on the blackboard menus in Australian dollars. At 2363 pesos to the dollar, it’s trickier than it seems.