Sweating it out in Cartagena
Trip Start
Sep 05, 2010
1
135
149
Trip End
Sep 27, 2011
Cartagena, Colombia
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Our journey was about to take us to one of the northern most areas of South America, the vibrant Caribbean coast of Colombia. Our first stop would be the universally praised city of Cartagena, described as the pearl in the crown of colonial architecture in the Americas. It would be a long 13 hour drive from Medellin, but with all the superlatives guidebooks generously bestow on Cartagena, we had high hopes.
A 13 hour ride isn't so bad actually when taken as a night bus. It provides ample opportunity to get some rest, and with a 9:30 departure, we would be arriving at a reasonable hour in the morning (which hadn't always been the case in SA). Unfortunately, the decent night´s sleep assertion was under the assumption of a decent sized seat in the bus. Our particular vehicle, while appearing like your run of the mill South American sleeper bus from the outside, was somehow hosting a few more rows of seats. As a result, while technically allowing the lowering of the seat to a nearly fully reclined position and providing angled foot support, the space allocated would only allow me a comfortable stretch if I were willing to amputate my legs halfway down the shin bones. Having opted to forego said surgery, the night in foetal position was not the most peaceful one (why 'sleeping like a baby' is such a good thing in the English vernacular, I don't know). Also with the aircon set to Ice Age, I slept like a frozen embryo, to be more exact.
As our cryogenic transport rolled into what signs were indicating was Cartagena, we were sure there must be two cities with the same name and we were in the wrong one. The place we saw outside our bus windows can only be described as a dump. Where was the fairytale colonial gem we had been promised? I knew the guidebook gets outdated fairly quickly, but this was ridiculous. It turns out, we were indeed in the correct Cartagena, but the bus station is located an incovenient hour outside of the famous old city center, in a suburb that could have easily been a ghetto somewhere in India or Kenya, a feeling further supported by sweltering heat outside.
To escape this ramshackle place, a dinky old city bus, which mercifully had aircon, was able to take us all the way into town and after about an hour drop us in front of the famed ancient city walls. We had finally arrived at the exotic city of Cartagena.
The hostel we had booked (it was a Friday and in Colombia lodging during the weekend had always proven to be more tricky) was only a few blocks from where we had been dropped off, a distance that was easily walkable. Even though it only took us fifteen minutes, we were drenched in sweat when we finally reached the hostel. Cartagena was hot, boiling hot. After our chilling bus ride, the temperature shock can only be described as brutal.
While our dorm had aircon, it was only working during the night and by now, the room had quite effectively taken on the ambient air temperature. It was time for lunch anyway, and not willing to wander around town, we followed the hostel staff's suggestion and stopped by the little restaurant right next door. It proved to be a fortuitous choice, with a menu that was limited in choice but high in flavor. With some good food in our tummies and surprisingly not feeling like hard boiled zombies, we decided to do a quick cursive exploration of the city. We had paid for two nights at the hostel anyway and so we would still have the whole day the following day to soak up that unique atmosphere of the famous colonial pearl.
Maybe the heat had evaporated that unique atmosphere as well, but we didn't really find it. Cartagena was nice, don't get me wrong, but that was it, nice. Really nothing more. We walked around the old town, first following the book's suggestions of sights to see, then just randomly wandering in what looked like interesting streets. There were little squares, colonial houses, old city walls, but somehow it wasn't coming together. Maybe it was the fact that it felt like walking in an oven. Maybe we had been expecting too much. What was missing was exactly that undefinable thing that you can call charm. It was too quiet, too lifeless. In our minds we had pictured a city buzzing with activity, all to the rhythm of a Caribbean drum (Salvador in Brasil had felt like that, many years ago). Cartagena had the looks, but missed the charm, the drums, the people, the feeling of being transported back in time.
After braving the heat for almost four hours, having crisscrossed the old town, our brains had melted and our bodies were demanding relaxation. We stopped by the hostel to cool down in the fan-filled living room, and then went in search of dinner. With nothing particularly appealing on the culinary front in the old town, we decided to walk over to Getsemani, right on the other side of the old walls and described as the alternate backpacker area. In all fairness, the book also warned that area was a little seedy, and boy, were they right. After 15 minutes, we had seen enough of the dark dirty streets and fled back to old town. This would be a night of home cooking (fortunately the supermarket was just a block from our hostel). After our travel tested dinner of tuna pasta, we spent the rest of the night watching some tv with the other people in the hostel.
Our first day in Cartagena had come to an end and it had been a productive one. A bit too productive actually. We had already paid for one extra night in the hostel, having assumed at least two days were needed to do Cartagena justice. It turned out, one had been enough. With the excessive heat not really conducive to strolling around the city or soaking up the city atmosphere perched on a street bench, we were essentially done. Other travelers seem to occupy themselves with tours to nearby sights such as a beach or a mud volcano, but these options seemed rather expensive for what they actually were and would classify more as filler material for the bored backpacker. So instead, we decided to just chill out for a day and vegetate in our hostel. We had some research to do for our upcoming entry into Venezuela and some blogs to write, so the time was well spent, and ultimately relaxing. We opted for the same lunch and dinner choices as the day before, to keep brain activity to an absolute minimum.
Surprisingly quickly, the day came to an end and it was time to enjoy the airconditioned coolness of our dorm for the night. The following morning, after having prepared a quick breakfast, we caught the dinky old city bus back to the main bus station. Per usual, we found a bus leaving for our next destination, Santa Marta, within a few minutes. While the 20 minute stop in Baranquilla does not scream 'direct bus' to me, we did get to Santa Marta in about 5 hours. The weather was still warm, but no longer suffocatingly so; perfect for spending time near the beach.
Comments
On behalf of my friend Mburu and myself, I lodge a protest, you colonial pig!