When Edward and I came back from our Honeymoon in Barbados, we settled into married life, which I quickly learnt that in addition to being called “Mrs. Campbell” by my Mum and Brothers, meant many nights of washing dishes. On one such night whilst putting wet plates into the draining rack, Edward asked me, “Where shall we go to next?”. I thought about it and the usual holiday destinations quickly sprung to mind, skiing in British Colombia, Miami to see my baby brother and then I stopped. Whilst soaping up another plate and absent mindedly reminding myself to buy a pair of rubber gloves, I pondered, “If I could go anywhere in the world, where do I really want to go?”
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| Mrs. Campbell |
All the fervor and excitement of our wedding was still fresh in my mind’s eye and my thoughts returned to those few days. As I turned memories over in my mind, I realized that two very important people were missing from our celebrations, Luzma and Samir. Jointly and individually they are inspirational people and once you see the inside of their world, you never want to go back. Modest, brave, principled, cultured, relaxed and all embracing are some of the over used, often under-appreciated words that I will vainly try to stick as labels on them, whilst trying to encapsulate the strength and tenor of their personalities.
I put down the final washed plate, jump on my husband wrapping my still wet hands around his neck and bellow, “Let’s go to Colombia!!! I want to see Luzma and Samir!!” Being the cool-cat that he is, he smiles his naughty smile and asks, “You’re sure?” knowing full well that I would go into dizzy fits of bouncing around and screaming, “Colombia! Colombia!” Laughing loudly, he jumps my crazy jumps with me and says, “Colombia it is!”.
The period of waiting from the moment we danced and yelled “Colombia!” in unison that night, to the day we actually board the plane is slow and torturous. All my snatched free moments were filled with Trip Advisor reviews and a million and one Google searches, so that when the day actually arrived, it was surreal.
CARTAGENA
We were quite happy to spend two weeks with Luzma and Samir in Cali, but being the avid adventurers that they are, they suggested that we visit another city as well. Knowing that we were still very much in our “honeymoon” period, they gently suggested the romantic old city of Cartagena.
Cartagena's colonial city is walled and has a fortress which is a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Cartagena, the capital city of the Bolivar department, is a city of contrasts. Standing on the wharf close to Plaza de la Paz and looking away from the old city, we are confronted with a skyline of modern urban skyscrapers and high rises. Standing on the wharf, feeling the warmth and charm of the old city behind us, the metropolitan city exudes an aura of imposition, but yet, an apt juxtaposition to the narrow street city. Standing there, I have a sense of having stepped across the bay into a different time zone - the old city, a wonderful romantic past, whilst the contrasting horizon would be a step back into the chaotic present.
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| The urban metropolitan city of Cartagena as seen from the wharf of the historical city |
Desirous of an authentic submergence into a different culture and lifestyle, Edward and I opt to stay in a boutique hotel in the historical city itself, called the Alfiz Hotel Boutique. Almost as a testament to being a quaint hotel tucked away in the heart of the walled city, the cab driver has to circle around the block several times before we finally stop at the walled street-side entrance with the tiny carved iron “Alfiz” on the wall. The massive wooden doors and iron work immediately mesmerize me, and I float out of the cab whilst I am vaguely aware of Edward tipping our cab driver and collecting our bags.
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| Alfiz Hotel Boutique, Calle Cochera de la Gobernador |
The Hotel does not disappoint. It has all of the old world charm – 2 feet thick raw limestone walls, 25 foot high ceilings, wooden support beams at least 2 foot by 2 foot in dimension, curved red brick arch-ways and the most beautiful indoor courtyard and breakfast nook.
We soon realize that this is the style of most of the buildings in the city. From the street, you are confronted by strong veritable walls, but once the massive wooden doors (or in some cases, the mini-door in the massive wooden doors) open up, a wash of sunlight from the private indoor courtyards welcomes you.
Excited and armed with our gps and cameras we eagerly head out on foot to explore the city. Having an acute sense of smell, I am immediately slapped by the smells of the city. It’s not all pretty, but it wasn’t bad enough for me to regret coming there. As a matter of fact, it added to the authenticity of the old city.
We didn’t realize it, but we arrived in Colombia a couple of days before their General Election. So on our first day we were entertained by campaigning at the Plaza y Palacio de la Gobernacion. Their campaigning comprised of local, traditional song and dance performances, as well as some sort of beauty pageant, with contestants modeling various outfits, whilst the prospective candidate waved from the balcony of the Palacio!!
We meandered away from the revelry, sorry, campaigning, and strolled along narrow streets, lined with interconnected, imposing two storied walled houses, until inevitably we end up in a garden square or plaza. Edward patiently waits as I insist on photographing every little thing and only when I have exhausted my own patience, we continue our exploration.
To my delight we find the famous walls to the “walled city” on the very first day!
We spend much of the day walking along the wall, only leaving to find a restaurant called ‘La Galera’ to have some lunch. The restaurant, much like the outer walls of the city and the huge old wooden pirate boats docked in the wharf, speak to the city’s history of having had to protect itself from pirate invasions. Pirates in various postures are the wine holders on the tables and the menu contains a very tastefully done pirate ship insignia on the top of the pages.
We are immediately shocked by the flavor of the meal. Being Trinidadians, we have very flavorful palettes. So the mild seasoning and lack on “pimienton” takes us completely by surprise. The meal was delicious and we soak in the laid back lifestyle of the restaurant’s owner, who strolls out from the back office, to sit on the side walk with his colleagues over cups of coffee.
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| Teatro Heredia |
Another impressive discovery was the Teatro Heredia located next to the Cartagena University. The Teatro boasts the height of a three story building with marble carved statutes on various corners. Having read much about the Teatro on Trip Advisor, especially “buy tickets for anything being shown”, it was a bit of a disappointment when it turned out that there were no performances whilst we were there. Nevertheless, the pale coloured brick walls with its lavish moldings and statues was architectural delight enough for me.
The Cathedral on the other side of the Plaza to Palacio de la Gobernacion, was awe inspiring from the exterior with its impressive stoned walls and incredibly beautiful Bell Tower. Having walked past it for two days in a row and finding the doors always closed, I was very excited whilst walking to dinner to Quebracho one night, to find the gargantuan doors open. I eagerly and respectfully slip in a side door and quietly assume a seat in one of the pews. What confronts me, as I sit there, is truly a mixture of awe, faith and incredulosity. I am amazed by the detail and effort that has gone into the creation of this Cathedral. It is the kind of Church that I imagine the Pope himself would pray in, but this is not what brings me to tears.
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| Inside view of the Cathedral |
As I sit there, listening to the gentle voice singing accompanied by a slow guitar strum, my eyes devour the beauty laid out before me, and eventually I begin noticing the people coming in and out. A woman saunters in with denim jeans so tight, I wonder if she has to roll them off her body. Her top is off both shoulders and her black bra straps are clearly visible. She walks with an upright frame to the aisle, almost irreverent in that outfit, but suddenly her body language is docile and she genuflects so lowly that her knee touches the ground. She quietly settles on her knees in a pew and relinquishes herself in her conversation with God. Shortly after this woman, a man, whose frame and build suggest that he is involved in manual labour, comes across my path carrying a very laden black trade bag across his shoulder. The bag is so long that if he leans either forward or backwards slightly, it would touch the floor. He skillfully lays down his burden in a pew and quietly kneels with his thoughts for God that day. As he kneels, the woman is on her feet and out the door. Many others like this come in and out. The singer keeps singing whilst strumming his guitar. There’s no preaching, no heaven and hell, no waiting. Just people having their conversations with God. That’s it.
I begin to tear up and Edward reminds me of our dinner. We reluctantly take our leave.
Some of the treasures we found in Cartagena are, a quirky little art gallery/restaurant on Calle del Colegio, where the art is great, but the food not so much; Quebracho, an Argentine restaurant serving only the best Colombian meats; Mila Vargas, a French café owned by a Colombian business woman, complete with chickens everywhere and Michael Buble crooning in the background; The Palacio de la Inquisicion; Simon Bolivar Square and the incredible iron door knockers strewn about the city. There were trade people everywhere in the city, both working on and selling their intricate hand crafted creations.
As we neared the end of our time in Cartagena, I was eager to see my friends. I anxiously pack, while wistfully saying good-bye to the rainforest like copper showerhead in our room and I think to myself, “Cartagena it was great, but Cali here we come!”. That feeling was very short-lived. As our plane ascended and I had a bird’s eye view of the city, I was suddenly struck with the realization that I would not wake up to the beautiful city tomorrow! I allow myself to be taken back to our romantic walks through the city, staring at life from the top of the wall, marveling at the architecture and falling in love with the city’s history. At that moment, I recall Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s novel “Living to Tell the Tale” which recounts his life in Cartagena. It is only now that I develop a ful appreciation and true understanding of what his life here must have been like. I am saddened. I am overcome with a wash of joy for having seen and truly experienced such an incredible city and sorrow for having to leave it. I squeeze my husband’s arm and suggest, “Shall we come back in ten years and see how our city has grown?”. Sensing my nostalgia, Edward smiles and nods at me, “Of course babe.”
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| Our city |
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