A hectic bus ride west from Santa Marta across a flat expanse of endless tidal marshlands. Tiny poverty stricken fishing villages dotting the horizon, all made of black plastic and wood, knee deep in mud and rubbish. After a tyre blowout and bus change we eventually arrived in Cartagena. Possibly should have done our homework better, the average yearly temperature is 30oC. It was swealtering. Our hostel, El Viajero, one of the few large scale chains we've stayed in, was seriously lacking in the pool department. But the air con kept us alive.
Cartagena's old town is beautiful. Streets of brightly painted houses, boganvillea clad balconies, horse drawn carriages, lush green squares that once hosted the slave markets. We braved the heat and climbed to the old fortress, hunched over in a labyrinth of tunnels and enjoying the breeze on the ramparts. After losing ourselves several times in the winding streets, we found the Palacio de la Inquisicion. A very haunting building that from the 15th century held the trials of heretics, for the crimes of magic, witchcraft and blasphemy. Truely terrifying implements of torture on display.
We ate well, fabulous seabass ceviche and an old school 80's style prawn cocktail, grilled local lobsters, and mangoes cut up on the side of the street to order.
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