Travelling to Cartagena, Colombia
Far from the turmoil to the south, the Caribbean paradise of Cartagena comes to life when the sun goes down.
It’s midnight when I drag my wonky-wheeled suitcase through the lamplit, labyrinthine streets of old-town Cartagena, after a day-long, three-plane ordeal that’s left my desiccated brain feeling like an empty coconut. Dark-eyed, club-dressed young locals promenade past en route to their favourite palm-fringed bars, but my clammy, crease-striped body is less in the mood for carousing and more in the mood for sleep.
Despite the exhaustion, it’s hard not to feel a flicker of love at first sight. Far from the madding crowds of Bogotá and the guerilla warfare of the southern mountains, northern Colombia’s Caribbean coastline has long lured vacationing locals and curious foreigners. The main attraction? This Havana-esque walled city, with its elaborate domed churches and bright-painted 18th-century townhouses, mostly studded with wooden shutters and flower-framed balconies.
But looks aren’t everything. And after a fitful night’s sleep, dominated by images of fetal-position aircraft seating, I hit the cobbled, sun-baked thoroughfares hungry to explore. Sinking into “Colombia time” – a watch-abandoning concept that proves punctuality is an overrated life skill – I lunch on a cheesy empanada from a smiling street vendor and chase it with some fresh mango chunks sprinkled with salt and lemon.
Noticing my sweat-slicked brow, the gap-toothed fruit seller tells me Cartagena has two seasons: “hot and hotter.” I don’t dare ask which one we’re in now, but I suddenly realize why the streets were packed last night: the coolest part of the day is the only time you can dress up and attract potential partners without dissolving into an unsightly pool of perspiration.
Ignoring my lightly broiling skin, I crank up the heat at the edge-of-town Castillo de San Felipe, a hulking 17th-century rock-and-coral fort. Reputedly the Spanish empire’s greatest citadel and the centrepiece of Cartagena’s UNESCO World Heritage designation, its crenulated grey walls hide dozens of ingenious, attack-thwarting features, including a maze of narrow entry tunnels that double as a perfect cool-off spot.
I follow my visit to the Castillo with a wander around the intriguing Palacio de la Inquisición, a preserved mansion museum recalling the darkest days of Spanish colonialism when Catholic zealots were at their barbarous height. Its lip-curling displays of racks, neck braces and assorted spike-tipped pain prods make my complaints about torturous airline conditions suddenly redundant.
With the descending late-afternoon sun now casting a golden tangerine hue over the streets, I continue my weave to nearby Plaza de los Coches, one of 19 city squares where Cartagenos cool off at outdoor cafés and shaded benches. The highlight is a string of candy stands under a colonnaded old walkway known as Portal de los Dulces.
Run by a gaggle of twinkle-eyed matronly ladies, the stalls display rows of bulbous glass jars of homemade shredded coconut bolas, flavoured and coloured with local guava, papaya or pineapple. After buying a chewy $3 selection that also includes little wheels of soft, sweet fudge, I sit on the curb to scoff the lot as the light finally dissolves over the surrounding terracotta-topped buildings.
I walk off my bolas belly by heading for nearby Parque de Bolívar, a compact, palm-lined square where a hyperkinetic dance troupe is busking with the kind of energy usually reserved for drug-enhanced Olympic athletes. Sipping a small cup of sweet coffee from a beaming young vendor, I lean against a tree and drink in the steamy scene. The evening streets are starting to buzz and I plan to stay up way past midnight this time.
- Tags
Save over 50% off the newsstand price with a subscription to BCBusiness Magazine
