“You know, you should really keep an eye on your friend over there. She keeps chasing stray dogs.”
I looked up off the trash littered street of the Cartagena market only to see that my new friend, Dave Ponce - Remember Dave guys? And by “guys” I mean Stella - was absolutely correct. Stella was wandering further away from the group calling to every scruffy animal she saw. I believe we were all on our way to the street vendors for foot long hot dogs and the only place that sold beer after every shop and bar had closed. Cartagena was hot. I had to take a cold shower before bed every night, but Hostel Luna was just the place to do it. It was a beautiful building with white walls, clean and at times echoey bathrooms, a small dipping pool in the courtyard, and a dance floor/party bar with a couple of shower heads on the roof. If only I had my photos! The hostel was in the middle of the old part of town filled with shady alleyways, even shadier people in those alleyways, and shop owners that would change the price of Smirnoff Ice every time we purchased it. We were two blocks from the market which always smelled heavily of buttered bread and greasy food with a slight hint of piss since some Colombians would live at their booths for long periods of time. I never felt threatened by the vendors, street people, prostitutes, and drug dealers I met in Colombia until they seated themselves behind the wheel of a car. I felt more endangered by the cars with unheeded speedometers zooming down the streets of Cartagena than I did from anything else on the trip. Despite all the “dangers” of the outside world we had a nice little family going inside of the hostel. A family that enjoyed a sober night, against our will - Stel even tried to hornswoggle (yup, it’s a word) a beer at the Aussie restaurant - playing picture telephone in the courtyard. We sat on the rooftop overlooking the city with perfect views of the gigantic castle and other ancient forts that had been transformed into expensive night clubs. Stella and I enjoyed a day of pleasant architecture, photo taking, and shopping in the old town accompanied by a night out dancing to yet another reggae band. I am still friends on facebook with a guy we met that night. He said we were fun girls, and that he enjoyed the party :-)
Bobby and I also spent a few days couchsurfing on the other side of town, the wealthier side, which looked a bit of how I imagine Miami to look. Our host, Erv, opened her doors to everyone, and we shared the space with a few other surfers. I ended up spending the day at the beach with one, eating fruits, playing in the waves, and sharing the stories of our lives. I can’t even remember the man’s name, but smell of the beach will stay in my mind forever. The new part of town was bright, clean, and equipped with kickball fields, parks, and large grocery stores. The buses were decked out with colorful lights and patterned curtains, and people smiled when you crossed them in the street. The mesmerizing thing about Cartagena, and Colombia in general, was the color. There was color from the sky to the buildings, the bikinis on the beach, the fruit sold on corners, silly rubber watches sold in the market, taxi cabs, pastries in the panaderia, chairs in restaurants. Everything was color. It was a nice change of pace for a few days, livin’ large on the tenth floor of a building secured with a doorman, but Bobby and I missed our traveling unit.
This situation would set the stage for months and now one whole year to follow. The group never wanted to split up (maybe just take a break for a minute), but sometimes you have to go different ways. Looking back on this trip makes me miss places and miss people even more. I will most likely never travel like this again with Stella, Bobby, Matt, and Jon, but I know that there are four other people out there who have felt the same things I have felt, seen the same things I have seen, and can share the same memories we made together.
(Source: CartagenaColombia)
Around the corner from his hotel, Coupon stumbled on a wall covered with intricate drawings by skilled artists. “I don’t usually take pictures of graffiti,” says the photographer, “but these were really exceptional. This guy looks like a guajiro, a country man. He’s wearing the kind of hat you see in the provinces.” (taken with an iphone)
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