Cartagena, Day 3

If you’re reading this, that means you weren’t too turned off by all of that sweat imagery and maybe you’re even a little intrigued. That’s good, because after about two full days in Cartagena, I do have a lot more to say about this city. 

Along with my two research partners, I'm staying in the Mama Waldy Hostel inside the narrow, winding streets of the colonial Walled City. Spanish invaders began construction on this section in 1533 and today it plays host to a healthy mix of locals and tourists. Walking around, I’ve seen the influence of Spanish architecture — lots of red roofs, courtyards, and plazas. There’s such a feel of Andalusian cities like Cordoba and Grenada, in fact, that you might assume the culture would take on a European vibe as well. In some ways, maybe it does, but the people here are distinctly Colombian. 

My watch still works, but somehow time seems to be aware of the heat here too; it slows down, trying to avoid exhaustion. (I’ve been here since Tuesday night, but that might as well have been last month.) Men and women, old and young can be found lounging on park benches, grassy knolls, and tree trunks during what we might consider the work day. A fellow traveler informed me that a Cartagenero he talked to spoke self-depricatingly about his countrymen: “We’re lazy.” I disagree. For every sedentary citizen, I’ve noticed ten hard at work in restaurants, bars, shops, cleaning trash (this really is an incredibly tidy city), or hawking all manner of wares on street corners and beach fronts. (Of course there is industry and white collar employment here, too; those were just some examples.) 

Nearly all of those industrious Cartageneros I have interacted with do two remarkable things:

1) They address us — three obvious gringos — in Spanish by default. Never have I been to another place where the locals lead with the local language. As a result, my Spanish ability gets tested instead of their English. Ordering agua de panela feels much more authentic this way. 

2) They take the time to build a rapport. From hostel managers to restaurant owners, many people seem to be interested in more than just money. And, those who realize you aren’t going to purchase a freshly caught oyster — after you’ve politely told them no — gracefully take the hint, walk away, and don’t bother you again. 

Of course, it’s not a fairytale. Equally gregarious salesmen will slickly offer you drugs and there are entire sections of the city we dare not go because of their dangerous reputation. Nonetheless, Cartagena is warm in more than one sense of the word. 

Work and play on the beach in Bocagrande, Cartagena.

Still fishing as the sun sets.