A Taste of Columbia

Waking up in the inner harbor of Cartagena is like waking up at Miami Beach. You are surrounded by high priced ($1 to 2 million +) condos and high rise buildings.  We have gone from high winds and towering waves to a (somewhat) tranquil harbor and towering condos.

View of the inner harbor at Cartagena. The Club Nautico docks are in the foreground.

Flying Cloud at anchor near Club Nautico.

We are anchored in a highly protected inner harbor surrounded by other cruising and backpacker boats (these transport backpackers from Panama to Cartagena for $500 a head, one way).  Following our somewhat traumatic nighttime adventures off Santa Marta, we had just enough energy to mellow out for awhile.

Once we regained some energy, we dingied over to a beautiful low-slung catamaran named (Good Golly) Miss Molly where we met Phil and Monica whom we had first met in the British Virgin Islands. They were part of the British contingent on the Magellan (Radio) Net,  a large group of British, Aussie, and Kiwi boats that met in the Med and crossed the Atlantic together in 2012. They were kind enough to show us the dingy dock at Club Nautico Yacht Club, which used to be a very run down but has recently been upgraded with very nice facilities.

It was wonderful to have such a good supermarket just a block away from the dingy docks.

We paid our $27 for a week of dingy landings, showers, and laundry room, then walked a short block down to the Carulla supermarket, which with its crisp air conditioning, was like an oasis for us. We were pleasantly surprised by the nice displays of fresh fruit and large selection of grocery items, all labeled in Spanish. (The first Spanish food word I learned was el laro, which is ice cream. I, in turn, taught my friend how to say popsicle in English.)

Columbia is an anachronism: A country once dominated by Pablo Escobar and FARC, a place so dangerous American executives would travel only with an entourage of security men in Toyota Land Cruisers.  A coast so treacherous between drug traffickers and high winds that only the brave fear to tread. With the help of a courageous President things began to slowly change about ten years ago. The Cartagena Police Force was totally replaced by young people doing their national service. The drug money fueled a building boom of high rises and restoration of the old town. Slowly the tourists began to come back, at first only the most adventurous but now huge cruise ships disgorge the hoards every other day. It was now our turn.

A very popular sculpture by the famous Columbia artist Boltero.

How ironic Boltero choose to depict his Columbia subjects as overly rotund. Maybe he just wanted all the beautiful women to himself?

 One of the things we’d heard was that the Columbians are incredibly friendly and helpful, but very few speak passable English. On our first outing to the Carulla store I had to get a new SIM for my iPhone. Naturally the phone kiosk lady didn’t speak any English, so I searched out a store employee who did. We met a handsome young guy named Antonio who dropped everything and came over and got my phone problems straighten out. The other weird thing about Cartagena is there is virtually no WiFi accessible from the harbor. Usually you can find one or two WiFi’s that are unprotected, but not here. That meant going to Carulla’s cafeteria, buying some Diet Cokes and an empanada, and logging in every 20 minutes to the free WiFi, but hey, it worked and the food was good.

We did some grocery shopping and had fun trying to figure out the Spanish labels. Yeast, butter, and sour cream were the toughies. Once again I had to search out Antonio for help. I now know a few more Spanish words.

We arrived in Cartagena without a working alternator. After a through cleaning it was determined there was a loose wire in the regulator connection. Labor in Columbia is very reasonable and the vendors were quick to respond to problems.

The next day we dingied to Club Nautico and hired an agent, David Arroyo, to handle our check-in procedures. Columbia is one of very few countries that requires you to use an agent; it also has some of the most complicated and arduous immigration, customs, and health rules of any country we’ve traveled to.  Bureaucracy is well and alive here. David seems totally connected to everyone and high five’s many of the workers who congregate just outside of Club Nautico. Within an hour he had all our paperwork started and brought the Immigration, Customs, and Health officials down to the dock so we could sign the papers. Then within the next hour he brought an electrician and welder to the dock. I took them out to the boat and the electrician started diagnosing our alternator problem (a loose wire to the regulator) and I took the welder up to the bow where we’re going to reinforce the pulpit to handle the force of the new Code Zero sail (the upward pull was starting to split the stainless tubing). While Meryl headed up to Carulla to use the Internet to order Christmas presents for the grandkids, I hung out at the dock waiting for my welder to come back with a quote for the job.

I mentioned that Columbian women are strikingly beautiful. Here I am conversing with the typical Columbian housewife on her way to the supermarket.

This couple looks like they should be shooting a cover for a fashion magazine.

A set of floor tiles portrays all the Miss Columbia winners, and Miss Columbia won the Miss Universe contest just recently.

One thing that strikes you immediately upon walking around Cartagena is how incredibly good looking the women are (and men according to Meryl). I used to hear the term “a California 10.”  Well here that would be a “Cartagena 5.”  If you have ever seen the TV show Modern Family you’ll know what I mean. They all look like that down here, and they enjoy being looked at. Doesn’t seem that feminism has gotten much of a foothold in the Latin American countries. A famous sailing magazine editor mentioned she had to “tart herself up” just to walk the streets. I believe it.

Our busy day ended with sundowners on Miss Molly’s spacious aft deck surround by the sunset glinting off a million high rise windows. We all reflected on how very lucky we are to be in such an incredible city.

Antonio from Carulla's Supermarket was nice enough to show us around town.

My very own street!

Just inside the town walls is a portico, under which are stall after stall of vendors selling every type of sweet imaginable.

On Dec. 16th we walked up to Carulla’s to ask our friend Antonio how to catch a cab into Centro (The Old City), when he said “I’m off work in 5 minutes, why don’t I just walk down there with you and show you around?”  We had a wonderful twenty minute walk along the Mango waterfront, past some Spanish forts from1560, through the hip Getsemanie area and into the old walled city of Cartagena.  Antonio was a font of information about both historical events and the modern life of a Cartagenian.

For most Americans, Columbia is still associated with narco terrorism, FARC kidnappings, and rampant crime. It’s not a travel destination on the tip of the average Lonely Planet aficionado’s tongue. Even our boat insurance severely limits where we can go down here.  In reality, according to Antonio, the new President severely cracked down on crime and began to limit both the narcos and FARC to the remote mountain areas. You do notice an incredible police presence in Cartagena, with at least two to three police officers on every street corner and a parade of lime-colored 125 cc Kawasaki motorcycles with two police astride patrolling the streets. It’s pretty much impossible to look any direction and not see several police. The President revamped the police department and now it’s part of the National Service for young Columbians. Along with increased safety, Cartagena has some of the most strikingly beautiful female police officers in the world. Must make being arrested somewhat of a pleasurable experience. So the bottom line, it’s probably safer than most large American cities and certainly safer than places we’ve been like St. Lucia, St. Vincent, and Trinidad.

Cartagena is a centuries old town full of vibrant, energetic young people.

It is hot in Cartagena, especially when you get out of the sea breeze, so we stopped at one of the many hip and trendy coffee shops for some banana bread and one of the sweetest tropical fruit drinks I’ve ever had. There’s little “diet” anything here and the locals like their drinks and other foods on the sweet side. Antonio then took us over to the Museum de Oro for a tour of the small museum dedicated to gold ornaments from early Columbians.

We posed in front of this house and photographed the beautiful balconies as seen above. Several days later we couldn't get close to it with all the bodyguards around. Turns out it's owned by one of Columbia's wealthiest men (who owns the equivalent of NBC Television).

The craftsmanship and artistry of the Columbians is amazing. I wanted to buy all these, but alas, no room on the boat.

Meryl couldn't resist buying a couple of these wonderful hats.

After a random walk through the intimate streets of the Old Town, with Spanish influenced houses with second story balconies over flowing with colorful bougainvillea, we craved something cold and sweet. We’d seen a number of people walking by holding popsicle sticks with big smiles on their faces. We knew we were getting closer when we saw people with half eaten ice cream bars, then around the corner and eureka, the motherlode!

The only reason we got this close to La Paletteria is because it wasn't open yet.

Wish I had a wide angle lens because this freezer case goes four feet further on both sides. Yum!

I have to admit, if I were a millionaire I’d send my jet down to Cartagena to get some ice cream bars from La Paletteria. Normally you have to fight the crowds to get through the door to the rather smallish interior, shoulder to shoulder with Columbians. In a freezer case with a glass front lays the treasure, over thirty different flavors of ice cream bars, including passion fruit, strawberry (with slices of fresh frozen strawberries), coco, and my favorite, vanilla. Laugh you may but the vanilla was in incredible blend of fresh vanilla extract, cream, sugar and something else I can’t identify. We thought we had died and gone to heaven. As you might image, La Paletteria became a daily visit (although we never figured out how to find it very well in the maze of small streets).

As the sun begins to go down and it cools off a bit, the Old Town comes alive with people.

It was now getting dark and the city was coming alive with street musicians, tourists, locals, vendors and young people flooding to the many trendy bars and clubs. We were fairly wiped out by then, and sauntered into a nice looking restaurant called La Diva where I had one of the better pizzas I’d ever had, a spinach, bacon, sun-dried tomatoes, and gorgonzola cheese. Amazing.