Colombia – Cartagena & El Totumo

2020 FEBRUARY 17 —

Carlos had arranged for a private car to take us to the airport in Medellin.  Had we taken a cheap bus, we would have had to go 2 hours back into the city, only to catch another bus to come halfway back toward Guatape, and the airport. The driver drove the speed limit and did not pass on hairpin curves. It was a pleasant ride.

Once in Cartagena we caught a taxi to our guesthouse. It was a 100 year old mansion situated a half block away from the Nautical Club and the marina filled with big yachts. (Airbnb: Beautiful Mansion in Cartagena Close to Old City)

Our hosts, George and Marcella, greeted us at the gate.  There was a tiled walkway leading up to the house, which was flanked by a lawn on either side.  There were 4 pillars supporting the roof of the patio that ran the full width of the house and about 8 feet deep. There were wicker armchairs and hammocks strung on the patio. The entry hall was like a hotel lobby. There were couches and armchairs to relax in, as well as a huge dining room table complete with a bouquet of flowers. 

There were three bedrooms on the right and two on the left of the foyer. Past the foyer was the open air courtyard. It was very hot, about 30°C at 9:30 pm, and the breeze in the courtyard was refreshing. Our room was on the right side of the courtyard. An arched opening leading to the side yard separated our room from another bedroom. The host’s room and kitchen were perpendicular to us. Judging from the space for both rooms, the host’s private area was huge. There were five tables with chairs in the centre of the courtyard. Two huge trees were off to the left side, one was a mango and the other was a nispero, with fruit hanging down. Potted plants were positioned all around. The house and courtyard sat in the middle of a larger plot of land that was encircled with a high white adobe fence. On one side, kind of behind the main house (through the arched opening) was another building where (I’m guessing) the maintenance man lived. 

Our room was spacious with a queen size bed, two night stands, a small refrigerator, and private bathroom and shower.  There was an alcove with some shelves and a clothes rod. It was late, we were tired, so we went to bed

18 February – Tuesday 

We wanted to head straight to the old walled city early, before the Cruise ships emptied their throngs of tourists. Over 200 cruise ships stop in the Port. It was a short 15-20 minute walk. We found a cute little restaurant to have breakfast in Getsemani, an old neighbourhood just south of the city walls. Up until about 10 years ago travelers rarely visited Colombia at all. Wary of the country’s widely reported violent drug trade, vacationers heading south spent their holidays surfing in Costa Rica or partying in Buenos Aires instead. Getsemani was a district characterized by criminal activity and crumbling architecture. A new generation decided to invigorate the barrio (neighbourhood), reclaiming public plazas and renovating the 200-year-old buildings into privately-owned boutique hotels and killer nightclubs.  It is now one of Cartagena’s coolest quarters. 

We spent some time wandering through its narrow streets, many with flags or umbrellas strung across them. Every street had flowering trees and vines arching over the street, around doorways and windows, and draped over old colonial balconies. Some looked like Juliet had just stepped back inside after being serenaded by Romeo. 

It was easy to get lost admiring the mural covered buildings. We even happened upon some street artists in the process of a new mural.  We went down the same street a few days later to see the finished project. 

Parishioners wanted a church outside of the city walls. Iglesia de la Trinidad, that was built in 1600, in Getsemani. It is showing its age and every time we went by it was closed with a barricade around the courtyard out front.  Apparently, this was once a popular drug dealer hangout. Maybe that explains the barricades. 

Onward to the old city…. Cartagena was founded by the Spanish on June 1, 1533. They were the late comers to the party, the indigenous people were there since 4000 BC. The short version of Cartagena is this: It was a key port for trade between Spain and its overseas empire, for the export of Peruvian silver to Spain and for the import of enslaved Africans under the asiento system. Spain was the only European country that did not have direct access to slaves in Africa. The asiento contract granted exclusive rights to Britain to sell African slaves in the Spanish West Indies. Everyone benefited, except the slaves. South America was a sweet location for pillaging. Everyone wanted in on the action. Gold, silver, cacao, tobacco and chili were all up for grabs. France attacked. Britain attacked. Bolivar was fighting for independence. Defensive walls were needed to protect the city from continual pirate attacks. Construction began in 1586.  The historic center is surrounded by 11 kilometers of defensive wall. Cartagena’s colonial walled city and fortress were designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site In 1984.

We crossed through Plaza de Independencia. Straight ahead was the impressive Torre de Reloj (Clock Tower). It is painted school bus yellow. We passed through its arches and entered the walled city. The Plaza de Los Coches (Square of the Cars) with a statue of Pedro de Heredia, the founder of Cartagena.  In olden days slaves were sold in this square. Today, there is a Juan Valdez coffee shop.

We found a tour, already in progress, and joined in. Sometimes, a tour guide can give a brief rundown of the highlights, then we can go back and check out the interesting places in detail. This tour was exactly that.

The Convento de Santo Domingo is the oldest church in Cartagena. The very first church, circa 1531, was a mud and straw affair which burned down in 1552. Because of the encomienda system (Spanish conquerors were rewarded with the labour of particular groups of subject people – a fancy way to say “slaves”) work on a new church did not proceed very fast. Funds were trickling in terribly slow, despite the friars’ guilt-trip Lent sermons. The King finally coughed up some money. 150 years later, while new construction was still taking place, renovations had to be started on the existing work that was already crumbling due to the warm and humid climate. The friars were not impressed with the final exterior of the building – even into the 18^th century. However, the interior is lovely. The crowning glory of the church is the cloisters, with its beautiful courtyard shaded with tall almond trees.

In 1610, the Holy Office of the Inquisition was established in Cartagena. The Palace of Inquisition was completed in 1770. Nearly 800 people were convicted of alleged crimes of heresy, blasphemy, bigamy and witchcraft. Included in this number were Portuguese Jews pretending to be Christian. Fines ranged from fines, wearing a Sanbenito (a penitential garment colour coded to state your crime), life imprisonment, or even death for five unlucky souls. One way of figuring out if someone was a witch was to weigh them. If they weighed less than 36 kilos (more or less), that meant they were light enough to fly; and therefore, a witch. Sentences were pronounced in the main city plaza, today’s Plaza de Bolivar. The Inquisition was abolished with independence in 1811. Today it is a museum showcasing historical artifacts. We did not go in. I am personally disgusted with what the church did in the name of God, when in reality it was usually just a way of getting rid of the competition and seizing their assets.

Iglesia de San Pedro Claver was built between 1580-1654. It was renamed for Saint Peter Claver who died in 1654 in Cartagena, after devoting his life to evangelizing and redeeming the black slaves of New Granada (modern day Colombia, Panama, and Venezuela). Pity he didn’t devote his life fighting slavery. There is a statue of him with a black slave in front of the church. His remains lie in the altar.

We then stopped to have a peek in the Hotel Charleston Santa Teresa. And I do mean peek. It is a swanky hotel where rooms cost about $500/ night US. Our shabby little group were privileged to be allowed to step into the ritzy lobby.

Further along we came to Cathedral of Cartagena (Catedral de Santa Catalina de Alejandría). It is one of the oldest episcopal sees in the Americas. The first church was built of straw and reeds and burnt down in the 1552 fire. It was replaced with a wood and thatch construction in 1563. due to a lack of funds, it was poorly built and collapsing. The governor of the city wanted to spruce up the city and it didn’t hurt that the new bishop was disgusted by the shoddiness of the sacristan and shamed the King of Spain into sending money to build a new church, which began in 1577. He said that it’s dilapidation was giving Spain a bad name. In 1586 the English privateer (government sanctioned pirate) Francis Drake attacked the city and caused severe damage. The people of the city paid a handsome ransom for Drake to stop destroying the city. After 6 weeks of pillaging, Drake left. The repair work and completion of the temple commenced slowly due to the lack of money that was paid to the British. The work was finished in 1612.

I write about old churches because they are the best surviving example of old architecture. Every country that has been dominated by a Christian ruler always had some sort of Friar, Jesuit, or Priest show up on the heels of the conquistadors or explorers who occupied the foreign land. They are typically beautifully decorated and are always a peaceful respite from the heat and noise on the street.

The tour ended beside the old city walls. We walked along them for a while, but as it was very hot, we descended so we could walk in the shade of the walls.

We came to Plaza de la Merced with Teatro Adolfo Mejia gracing one side of it. It looked very familiar. We had just watched Gemini Man, starring Will Smith before we left Canada. We knew a chase scene was filmed in Cartagena. Was this the spot? I went over to the Teatro and asked a young man if he knew where that segment was filmed. He said “Right here.” I was somewhat surprised and asked if he saw it being filmed. He quite proudly said “Yes!” Now I need to watch it again to get a better sense of it!

We continued wandering through the confusing streets. Although we had a map, every block has a different name. We had to find the street and the avenue to know where we were. We thought we were heading in one direction, only to find we went in the opposite. We didn’t mine. The buildings and streets were absolutely beautiful. The buildings were mostly painted in subtle tones, some were brighter. Nearly every building had a lovely balcony draped with flowers. Yes, it was a cruise ship town and they catered to the tourists, but it was so lovely to wander and enjoy the scenery. The vendors were not in your face to buy, either.

There were lots of fruit vendors, 3000 pecos per cup of fruit (a bit over $1). The fruit was so juicy, sweet, and very refreshing on a hot day. I had watermelon to my heart’s content. They appreciated a donation for taking a picture of them.

The palenqueras (black women in colourful dresses expertly balancing bowls of tropical fruit on their heads) insisted on payment. I took a picture of them lounging along a building, and they were not happy that I didn’t pay them. But then again, it was not their most shining moment. On the street of our guesthouse, there were also fruit vendors. They would go up and down the street, yelling in their unique voices, announcing what they had in their cart that day. We would buy from them to take fruit back to our room for the night.

There were many small plazas surrounded by shops and restaurants. The centre of the plazas were filled with tables and chairs under huge umbrellas where we often stopped for a coffee or a beer. Most of the plazas had a statue or sculpture of some kind. There was the quintessential Simon Bolivar, but there were lots of whimsical modern sculptures – a dog pulling a little boy’s trousers or an old fashioned barber chair with the barber sharpening his razor.

Plaza Santo Domingo had a Botero sculpture of Gertrudis. She is a robust naked woman laying on her side on a platform. It is considered good luck to touch her buttocks. A father and son approached with the father telling the boy to touch her butt. The boy was shy and only poked it with the tip of his finger.

Some plazas had statues of founding fathers. Plaza de la Aduana has a statue of Christopher Columbus. Plaza de Los Coches has a statue of Pedro de Heredia, Spanish conquistador and founder of the city of Cartagena de Indias. Plaza Fernandez de Madrid had Jose Fernandez, a Neogranadine statesman, physician, scientist and writer, and President of New Granada in 1814 and 1816.

In the course of our getting lost, we stumbled upon Tabaco y Ron Bar. What caught our eye was a picture, on the outside of the building, of Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry pointing a gun. It was an interesting twist on a famous picture. As I was taking a picture of the picture, Ed saw that the entire bar was filled with more paintings. Well, it was time for a break anyway; so we went inside and ordered a beer. (US priced beer – $7 each!) But the manager said I could take as many pictures as I wanted, so I guess it was a deal, after all. Every picture had the subject smoking a cigar. The most striking was a picture of Joaquin Phoenix as The Joker. It was so good, we kept looking to see if it was a photograph. It was definitely a painting. Ed loved it and inquired as to the price. $1000. Over the course of the next few days, we revisited the bar many times, just to have another look at it. We did not come home with it.

That evening we pigged out on sushi and beer at one of the nearby restaurants to our guesthouse. It cost $37.

19 February – Wednesday

We wanted to see Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas (San Filepe Castle). It was named in honor of Spain’s King Philip IV. It was hard to miss this massive, stealth ship looking fortress overlooking the city and sea. It was strategically built on San Lázaro hill (41 metres high) in 1536, then expanded in 1657. As said earlier, over 300 years Cartagena was attacked many times by the English, French, and Dutch. As a result, the city needed to protect itself. Fortifications were built at the narrow mouth of the harbour. If anyone were to slip past those fortifications and the floating chains, this impenetrable fortress was to defend the walled city. It was actually 3 forts connected to create one gargantuan complex. You might be able to take one fort, but three? Impossible.

We had a horrible guide. And he was expensive – $15 each. He was an old man who walked terribly slow and always needed to sit down. There were very few interpretive displays, which we found out was on purpose to employ more guides. He would point things out, then tell us we could wander around for 5 minutes while he took a rest. He finally brought us to a video room, which gave an excellent history of the Castle. The video was 20 minutes long. At about the 10 minute point, he came in and motioned for us to leave. I firmly said, NO! The video is not finished! I don’t know what his sudden hurry was as we had pre-paid for his services. When we finally did exit the video, he took us to a lookout point nearby and said the tour was over. Then he sat down, and remained there. We saw him still sitting in the same spot as we were leaving the fortress a half hour later.

The video explained why of the Fortress was built, but also the ingenious details of its design. The walls are very wide at the base, but slope inward toward the top – like the slope of a stealth ship. The idea was that cannon balls would deflect off, causing less damage. In addition, the walls were built sturdy on the outside, but the inner layer of it was filled with pottery-like material. If a cannon ball did make a direct hit, the spongy inner layer of the wall would cushion it from shattering. It could defend itself from every direction with the help of its 63 cannons.

If an enemy did breach the gate, it seemed they could simply run up the rampart and take the fort. BUT, the main rampart ended in a dead end. The enemy’s easy taking of the fort just landed them in a box to be picked off by the soldiers.

The most ingenious part was the tunnels. This was the life blood of the three forts in one. They were all connected via the tunnels. There were tunnels that could take soldiers from one level to the next quickly. But that also meant that an enemy could move from one level to the next. Wrong again! Standing at the top of the tunnel, with our height, we could see down the steps and anyone approaching. Standing at the bottom of the tunnel, our height was to our disadvantage and we could only see to about the 5^th step from the top. A soldier standing at the top could easily pick off an enemy before he knew what was happening. The soldiers would also use a system of clapping to communicate, with the tunnel acting as an echo chamber. Enemy feet would also echo their approach.

The tunnels extended under the fort and outward. There were seemingly miles of tunnels. It was a maze. Many tunnels ended abruptly. There were tiny niches where soldiers could hide and surprise attack anyone sneaking along them. The tunnels were even outfitted with gunpowder. Should the enemy approach too close for comfort, the powder could be lit to explode under their unknowing feet. We wandered what small lengths were open to the public. They were narrow, in places steep, dark, and had low ceilings. It was kind of creepy, but did it ever give a good sense of life within the Fortress!

There was also a cistern that held enough water to satisfy the needs of the 500 resident soldiers for months.

The Fortress was put to the test in 1741. In an attempt to grasp trading opportunities in the Caribbean, the British used an 8 year old incident as their means to stir up outrage against Spain and attack. The incident happened when the Spanish coast guard boarded Robert Jenkins’ British vessel and somehow managed to slice off the poor chap’s ear. At the time, it was brushed off as an unfortunate incident, but it proved to be a good excuse to attack Spanish Cartagena and spark the War of Jenkins’ Ear (no joke, that is the war you can Google).

On March 13, 1741 Vice-Admiral Edward Vernon showed up on Cartagena’s doorstep with 186 ships, 2620 pieces of artillery, and 23,000 men. What an imposing sight that must have been to those watching them approach! Cartagena had only 3000 soldiers, 600 militia, 6 ships and a group of native Indian archers. The British managed to defeat Cartagena’s outer defenses. Vernon was so confident in his victory he sent word to Britain and they actually made victory medals in anticipation. However, this was all part of peg leg, peg arm, one-eyed Spanish Admiral Blas de Lezo plan. If he could keep the Brits busy until the end of April, and the rainy season, he knew that Mother Nature, in the form of typhus, malaria ad yellow fever, would be his allie. Sure enough, tight living quarters hastened the spread of diseases, and soon the water was littered with the dead bodies of the British.

In a final attempt to take the city, Vernon ordered an all-out attack on the Fortress. It was to be a night attack, hoping to be protected by darkness. However, the attack was delayed and began shortly before dawn. They found that the Spanish had dug deep trenches around the fort. The ladders they brought to breach the walls were too short. With the morning light and stuck in the trenches with their heavy artillery, musket fire rained down on them from the fort’s defenders. They retreated to their disease infested ships, which were dangerously low on supplies. Vernon finally decided to cut his losses and sailed away, tail between legs, back to Britain. 6000 British died, and only 1000 Spanish. Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas stood victorious against Goliath.

Although massive, other than the tunnels, there was really not that much to see or do at the Castle. We covered it all in a couple of hours. We had an afternoon to kill.

El Totumo Mud Volcano appeared in a pop-up ad on the Airbnb site. I booked a trip for that afternoon. Nelson picked us up at our guesthouse, then we picked up some other young fellows before heading 2 hours down the road to the municipality of Santa Catalina. El Totumo is the name of a local tree that grows gourd-like fruit. The gourd is hollowed out, dried, filled with rocks and used as maracas. Before we arrived, Nelson had suggested that we give him 15,000 COP ($5) each so he could pay the workers on our behalf. I think it worked out fine, because only one cheeky kid asked me for a propina (tip) and he was barely whispering when he asked.

The volcano is the smallest in the country. It is only 15 metres (49 ft) high and looks like a giant ant hill when you drive up.

We all stripped down to our bathing suits and climbed the rickety stairs to the mouth of the crater. It was really small and can hold about a dozen people. There were local men already in the creamy mud to help us down the slippery ladder into the crater itself. We were told to lay back and relax. Knowing that there was 18 metres (60 ft) of mud below you, it was hard to not think about slipping away into a muddy abyss. But the mud is dense and ultimately we could not sink past our chest, no matter how hard we tried.

The men gently guided us horizontally onto our backs then proceeded to massage us with the mud. Oh, what an experience! When you go to a masseuse, they massage your back, have you flip over, then they massage your stomach. Here, they could do front and back at the same time. The mud was smooth, silky, and never ending; much nicer than any massage oil that has to be continually reapplied. The mud is also very warm, like a silky, smooth, warm blanket. When the massaging was done, we were allowed to wallow an extra 20 minutes to allow the mud to do its magic healing work. Every now and then a huge mud bubble would break the surface and we would all laugh because it looked like a giant fart.

After our wallow time was complete, we were told to exit via a different ladder, because new people were arriving on the other ladder. As I was pulling myself up onto the very slippery ladder, my bikini bottom, that was weighted with mud, slipped down to my knees. Ed yelled, “Don’t worry. You can’t see anything. You are hidden in mud.” But the poor fellow helping up the ladder quickly looked away while I slipped back into the mud and pulled my bottoms up. Then I still had to crawl up the slippery ladder using one hand. In any other situation, I would have been mortified. But I knew I was covered in a thick layer of mud and all I could do was laugh. Once out of the crater, another fellow uses both hands to remove the excess mud from your body. It had to be a quarter inch thick! Then down another set of rickety stairs to be ushered to the lake.

The lake is heated by the volcano and was as warm as bath water. I know you hear that all the time about tropical waters, but this really was as warm as the bathwater I bathe in at home. There, a group of ladies used small bowls dipped into the warm water to wash us off. Because it took me longer to exit the volcano, everyone was finished by the time I got there. Which was fine with me, because those ladies were not shy about scrubbing my boobs under my bathing suit top. They pulled it right up and got right in there like they were digging for gold. One of them pulled my bottoms away from me and started splashing water down there, too. Whoa, now! Then she motioned for me to wash down there. More like, scrub down there, by her aggressive demonstration. Ed said he got a little skittish, as well, when they pulled his bathing suit away. They even had some guys take their suits right off. So I guess I was lucky the boys were all done.

After washing off, we went back to the van, got dressed and enjoyed a refreshing drink. Some had beer, most had fresh coconut hacked open in front of our eyes. Then back to Cartagena. I have to admit that my skin was soft and smooth the next day. For a couple of days after, we kept finding mud in and behind our ears.

20 February – Thursday 

We had nothing planned, so we went back to the old city once again. We took a different route and came to a small plaza where an old man was trying to sell fridge magnets and other souvenirs. He was a pleasant old fellow who gave us a sob story of how he was originally from Colombia but moved to Venezuela. With the unrest in Venezuela, he decided to come back home, but he had to sell everything (at a loss) in Venezuela. He wanted to be a tour guide but he didn’t have the funds for the compulsory schooling to get his license. He was a lovely old man, and very kind. I gave him the price of his trinket; and told him to keep the toy and the money. He was so happy, he chatted with us for a while, giving us ideas of things to see before we carried on, specifically, Parque Del Centenario. Just up the street from the old man, we came to some very interesting and beautifully decorated lanes.

Further along we finally came to Parque Del Centenario. There was a tall monument in the centre of the wooded park, with a black vulture on top. The old man had told us that there were animals in the park. I thought he meant a zoo. Nope! There were animals just wandering around. There were two giant iguanas that looked like they were going to spar off one another – one backed down. There was a black vulture hopping along. There were red squirrels and monkeys. And, what I had hoped to see, a sloth!

Not just any sloth. This was a three toed, Mona Lisa faced, Bradypus – with a baby! And she was out of the canopy, slowly (does a sloth ever move fast?) creeping along in the lower branches. There was a small crowd gathered watching her and taking pictures. There was a groundskeeper that kept a close eye on her and the crowd, to protect her. Anyone who knows me knows I love sloths. I think they are the most fascinating creatures alive. I took dozens of pictures and videos of her and her precious little baby. Every time I would say, “OK we can go now” I would be right back admiring her more. Finally, Ed had to pull me by the arm to tear me away. I had been watching her for about 45 minutes and my neck was getting sore from looking up. But I could have stayed a lot longer…. We returned to the park on two occasions, and she never did come down again.

What else happened that day? I don’t remember and I don’t care. I got to watch a Bradypus up close; and with a baby!

We took a side trip to Barranquilla. You can read about it here: https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/anoldladywithabackpack.travel.blog/1189

23 February – Sunday

Back in Cartagena, Ed was tired and feeling a bit under the weather. Considering COVID-19 (Coronavirus) was ramping up into a panic around the world, Ed was afraid someone might think he had the disease when we went to the airport the next day. He decided to stay at the guesthouse and rest the remainder of the day. I think my theory was correct – he was suffering from a combination of sun stroke, dehydration and too much air conditioning – because he was fine after a good rest.

I was feeling just fine and decided to take in two last sights before our eminent departure. I walked to Los Zapatos Viejos – the Old Shoes Monument. One can always buy new shoes, but some old shoes can never be forgotten. They have taken us on adventures and been with us through important events in our lives. (I still keep my beat up old sandals and hiking boots that have taken me across 5 continents) Poet Luis Carlos López mentions old shoes as a symbol of love for the walled city and sculptor Héctor “Tito” Lombana turned that love into a monument. It was in a park on the backside of Castillo de San Felipe. There were three bicycle policemen taking a break and I asked one of them if he could take a picture of me with the shoes. It turned out he spoke very good English and we ended up having a little chat about how cold it can get in Canada. I opened my weather app on my phone to show him the current weather. Minus 19C. They all shook their heads in disbelief. Then they offered to take a picture with me.

I then caught a taxi to take me up to La Popa Monastery, which was built in 1606. It was only 2 km away, but it sits at the top of a very steep, 150 metre high hill, and can be seen from nearly everywhere in the city. The taxi driver said it would cost 30,000 COP and he would wait for me for one hour while I looked around. (Maybe not ALL taxi drivers are crooks, after all). Its name translates, literally, into “Convent of the Stern” which is believed to mean the hill’s similarity to a ship’s back end. But after seeing a cat-o-nine-tails on display, used as discipline ropes for Lent, I’m not so sure of the “Stern” part. Anyway, there is a viewing area where you can see for miles and miles across the city and into the ocean. The massive Castillo de San Filepe was swallowed up by the modern city, and even the old city lost its grandeur next to office and apartment buildings.

There was a small chapel with the Virgin of Candelaria (the black Madonna) in the altar. I confirmed with a tour guide that she, indeed, protects against pirates and plagues, as well as against droughts and volcanic eruptions. Passing through the side entrance of the chapel I entered the cloisters.

I stood in the shaded perimeter and simply could not move, the sight before me was beautiful. Several stone and brick archways seemed to invite me into the sun bathed courtyard. Huge bougainvilleas and ferns hugged the edge of the courtyard and provided a layer of privacy. There was a small well in the centre of the tiled courtyard. Across the way, I could see a bit of the arched balcony that ran the entire circumference. It was an inviting area to sit, walk, or admire.

To the right of the chapel was a small museum of religious artifacts, where the discipline ropes were on display. It was rather small and quick to look around. There was a map on the wall that showed the topography of Colombia. I found it interesting to see just how mountainous it is.

To the right of the museum was a stairway leading up to the monks private quarters. I went up one flight and was stopped by the large wooden gate blocking further access. However, there were some really nice rocking chairs and paintings on the first landing.

Another right angle turn had me in the gift shop. I had to pass through that to exit through the chapel and back outside to my waiting taxi.

While in the cloisters, I saw a couple of men trying to take a picture of themselves, so I offered to take it for them. They then took pictures of me. They were from Naniamo, BC. They asked how I got up the hill. I told them by taxi, and that he was waiting for me. They asked if they could share the taxi back down. I said sure. At the taxi, the driver refused. They offered to pay him, but he refused. They asked if he could come back to get them and they were quoted 50,000 COP. Maybe all taxi drivers are crooks, after all.

I took my taxi back down the hill, got him to drop me off at Castillo San Filepe and walked the rest of the way back to the guesthouse. Alas, it was our last day. I now had to pack.

24 February – Monday 

In the courtyard of our guesthouse were trees. One was a mango and the other was a nispero. I told Marcella that I was not familiar with nispero (loquat in English). She went out and bought me a popsicle made from nispero fruit, just so I could taste it. How many hosts have you had who would do something like that! She and Jorge were wonderful hosts and I felt like I was leaving a sister.

Jorge arranged for a taxi to take us to the airport. We had to fly back to Bogota. I didn’t plan this trip very well; I should have booked a flight from Cartagena, since I knew this was where we would end up. In Bogota, we had a 5 hour wait for our flight to Toronto. We found a huge food court next to the airport and had a nice meal. In Toronto, we had another long layover. We kept hearing announcements for volunteers to delay their flight; and they were offered up to $2000! When our ticket agent got to her counter, I jumped up and offered to get bumped. She said our flight was not full, so thank you, but not possible. Damn it!! She did go on to say she couldn’t understand why people did not volunteer, with the prices they were offered to go a few hours later.

We arrived in Edmonton mid-afternoon and were home by dinner time. Thankfully, the weather was hovering near zero so we did not have the huge temperature change to deal with.