“There are many merits to seeing the world. There is much to be enjoyed through tourism. But I wish the industry didn’t create so many petty crime pits in its wake.” – Old Sean
Crime Wearied
For the last half-month, I’ve been living just outside the old town Centro District of Cartagena, a UNESCO World heritage site in Colombia.
I originally chose the location as a quiet place to get a heap of work done. But in the last few weeks, the shine has definitely worn off.
Primarily, I was living in a tiny apartment in the Torices neighborhood but the accommodation had its hiccups. “Firstly, the neighborhood isn’t exactly…safe. The only places I would recommend tourists walk around at night are Bocagrande and Centro. Torices isn’t crime central or anything, but there are plenty of concerning elements zooming around through the night. Additionally, the infrastructure isn’t the best. My air conditioner gave out for three days, I lost electricity two nights on another week and water gave out on a different evening.
On these occasions, it became a little uncomfortable in my room. There were plenty of hot and humid nights I simply couldn’t sleep through. But heading outside in the late evening was out of the question, the neighborhood wasn’t safe enough.
Additionally, the area isn’t especially quiet. On the street, locals blare music from speakers with molar-jarring volume. At one point, while walking to the Centro in broad daylight along a sidewalk, I pulled out my phone to change my wireless headphone’s music. My phone was snatched out of my hand by a motorcyclist on the sidewalk, directly in front of the local police station. (It was my older spare phone and insurance should cover it, but still).
During my last week in town when a sports game was being played loudly on screens throughout the city, a man lunged out with a broken body and swiped me across the ribs. The wound wasn’t deep or anything (although I had to have someone tweezer out a glass shard) and cops arrested the fellow right away. But by then, I was truly weary of Cartagena.
Inverse Acclaim
That’s not to say that Cartagena isn’t beautiful. It has access to some truly stunning island snorkeling and swimming tours, such as Rosario Island. The Centro area is still fantastic, filled with flowers and beautiful colonial structures.
Granted, the rather abrasive street-performance rappers who get in the faces of tourists and the wandering salesmen peddling drugs are pretty annoying, but overall, Centro and Bocagrande are lovely enough.
I spent the majority of my time working at restaurants and cafes. La Mulata was especially nice for fish and the local catch-of-the-day. My favorite place to work and enjoy a coffee was the quaint location Amasa Café Brunch. When I felt like enjoying pastries, I would spend some time at Érase un Café. Ábaco Libros y Café was a very compelling and peaceful library-eatery combination. The public beaches along Bocagrande were my favorite relaxation points for watching sunsets turn the sky into layers of vermillion and orange. And on other evenings, I often took slow, air-conditioned loops through the La Serrezuela Mall.
By my most beloved activity of all was walking along the rough stone battlements.
So while Cartagena wasn’t exactly a good experience overall, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t found joy there. Of course, when it was time to leave, I packed quickly, eager to be off.
Back to Bogotá
My flight out of Cartagena was easy enough. I hoped to visit my friend Lionel in Barbados, so I would be forced to makes a series of jumps to reach the Caribbean. The route turned out a lot more unorthodox than I was expecting. I would be flying out from Bogota initially before island hopping across the Caribbean until I arrived at my desired destination.
So, with everything neatly squared away in my backpack, I closed the chapter of Cartagena and headed to the Colombian supercity of Bogotá.
Blink Bought
Getting to Bogotá was easy enough. However, I’d forgotten how pedantic Colombian airlines can be. I kept trying to snooze in my seat, but I was constantly heckled by aviation staff about utter nonsense. My jacket couldn’t lie over my legs, it had to be put in the overhead compartment. I needed to remove things from the back of the chair in front of me for some reason I still don’t understand. Headphones had to be unplugged from my ears, even if they were already off and were just being used to block out sound. I had to hold up my phone to prove it was in airline mode. God forbid I bring a water bottle out from my jacket pocket. I had to refill documents and my nail file was taken up by airport security agents.
In the end, I got waspish. The next time someone nudged me awake I shoved everything I owned into their hands and had them put it in the overhead bin, if they would just leave me in peace to snooze.
And finally, alas, they did. I was able to sleep on the way to Bogotá.
Lasagna Ghoul
When I got of f the plane, I quickly made my way to my hotel, which was a lovely little place near the airport. I walked outside and breathed a sigh of relief. After a month of cloistering humidity, the mountain air of Bogotá soothed me. I was able to walk around in perfect comfort with a light jacket. The new climate improved my attitude immeasurably.
While I was tempted to go see some of the unique sights around Bogotá, I’ve been here several times before. So instead of expending energy wandering aggressively, I opted to have a cozy night out.
I walked to La Giulietta, a wonderful little Italian restaurant which is part of the Connecta 26 Office Complex. There, I stuffed myself on pizza and tiramisu until I was sleepy, watching entertaining videos recommended to me by an old friend.
Then, when darkness fell, I made my way back home.
Isle Onwards
Sadly, my time in Bogotá wasn’t terribly eventful. But I appreciated the breather and knew I would be doing a lot of rapid running within the next few days.
My next flight takes me out of Colombia, winging towards the small Dutch-colonial island of Curaçao. I have an extended layover there, so I’m curious to see what I see.
So until then,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written July 3rd, 2024
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Ten years ago, I abandoned my military surplus store backpack for a Farpoint 40 Osprey Travel Pack. I’ve never replaced my bag since. The backpack has been with me around the world, through my departing Beijing and onwards through trips across Europe and South America. I have nothing but praise for Osprey Products.
