After reaching the colonial centre of breezy Cartagena at sunset, we began the search for the next hostel. We had our budget in our heads and we were ready to go. Jon was approached by a dodgy, gypsy-like woman in Calle Media Luna, who mentioned her hostel, The Pirate. That sounded like just what we needed and came in under budget. We knew that the walk would be a backtrack across town, but we didn’t expect such a trek. We followed the woman up to the first floor who seemed a little embarrassed by the tools on the dust-covered steps. We thought the stairs were bad? The room was in a pretty bad state; the floor was covered in black patches of dirt, the floor of the bathroom/shower was covered in a layer of some unidentifiable fluid that we wouldn’t step barefoot in for fear of a foot fungi, and the slats that were supposed to support the matress on one of the beds were virtually non-existent. We aren’t normally snobby when it comes to rooms and we stayed in much, much worse during our first trip to Asia. Do you remember the rock-bottom, mosquito ridden trap where we stayed in Bangladesh that was only £2 per night? But since we are staying in Cartagena for a few nights, we wanted to get somewhere a little better, but for the same price. Simon suggested that we returned to the other side of the square where he saw the Hotel Familiar, which had a stunning façade, but the room revealed itself to be just as bad and with no bathroom. We stopped for one night all the same and Jon went out in search of a better place for the rest of the week, on his way back from getting some money changed. He stumbled upon the Hostel Londres, which was even cheaper than Hotel familiar (and about the same as The Pirate), but a million times better and cleaner than the two of them. This is where we’ll be staying now and at this very moment we’re being cooled by powerful, whirling fan above our heads.
Exploring Cartagena has been fun and it’s quite lively, considering it’s a Sunday. We have dipped in and out of churches, each one very beautiful and different. Simon even explored the Sanctuary of San Pedro Claver; an art and archaeological museum situated in an old nunnery next to the church.
Bautizo de San Pedro Claver: Juan Mallol Pibernat, 2009
Exploring markets and wandering the walls of the fortress, peering out besides cannons towards the sea, made for a wonderful day, but tomorrow we have things to organise when trading for most begins again.
After watching the burning, fluorescent orange sun submerge itself beneath the horizon we prowled for some typical food.
We did not find this instantly however, but we became sidetracked by rolling bongo beats, singing, high-pitched shouting and complex dancing. The music was more African to be honest, which has rubbed off from the slave descendents that reside here. The dancers moved just as fast as the speedy bongo claps sounded; their hands and feet becoming a blur, and the women’s traditional dresses transforming into a hazy whirlwind of colour. We lost ourselves in time, hypnotised by the sheer talent and it may have been the best dancing performance we’ve seen travelling.
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