Canada to Patagonia at a Worrying Age

So I ring England just to make sure it’s still there and all that, having caught a local bus to Bocagrande to sort out my business. The local buses, by the way, picture to follow, are an absolute treat. God knows how old they are, but they are certainly well painted and the owners have worked out that bus conductors are the way to keep the traffic moving. They also pick up anywhere and drop off anywhere, you know, like the old Routemasters. We’re clearly going to mourn their loss like we did the trams. Of course, a working suspension is not necessarily top priority, when you’ve got paint and a Salsa sound system to organise, as I and the rest of the bus found out when we hit a major pot hole.

I’d planned time to stroll through the surf before hitting the phone and was suddenly well able for the watch/cigar/shellfish salesman. A couple of hours later I was on my way home, but stopped in at Donde Fidel for a cold one. 20 minutes later I’m chatting away to Josef, a really cool local guy who says he’s spent time in Texas. Don’t know if he had, but I took him to one of my bars where I was greeted well. Good chat about stuff (he doesn’t want me to go to the ‘dangerous’ bits of Colombia) before bidding him farewell at my local square, Plazuela Santa Diego, about an hour and half later.

As usual got a bottle of Club Colombia from the local offie, but instead of the usual grunt, got asked where I was from. The owner nearly smiled. Sat on the square for a bit and headed the 50m home. But there was drumming on the walls close by. Went to investigate to see some extremely able (and rather exhausting) ‘African’ dancing taking place. Bargained a rip off merchant down for a beer. He got some Americans 5 seconds later, so his sense of feigned outrage didn’t last long.

Someone then tried to impress with rubbish dog tricks and petrol lights. Time for home again, but then diverted by 5-a-side footie in the middle of the road – with nets (two foot by three). Play was halted when a car had the temerity to pass by. On way home again and a different set of shenanigans were taking place on the walls. Decided needed home as I’d left the hotel 7 hours previously and I’ve got a Spanish exam tomorrow, even though I could possibly have gone on all night…

So the point is I appear to be relaxing into this city. I’ve a terrible feeling I may have crossed some sort of line today. The exact one I decided I need to cross for this journey. Instead of rushing from place to place ticking off sights (some of which I still plan to do), I need to remember that staying places gets you into them in a different way. If anyone out there was worried by one or two recent posts, don’t be. It’s fecking great here.

Tags: Cartagena, Colombia, Travel

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