History lessons in Cartagena

Cartagena's Old city - a typical street corner

At 500 years, Cartagena is as old as it gets in this Hemisphere. We were very impressed, despite the scoffing of our Belgian friend, Glen, who kept reminding us that the church in his hometown had been around for two centuries before the city was even founded. There is an old city right on the water that is surrounded by a big wall you can walk along, and sprawling out from it are various barrios, one of which, Bocagrande, is basically a bunch of nice hotels and sky scrapers sitting on a jut of beach. 

The old city is where all the fun is, crammed with very old cathedrals, cobblestone squares, and neat colonial buildings with balconies hanging over the street. It’s like the big city in a pirate movie. Actually, more than a few pirates had their way with the place because of all the gold and slaves that came through here in the 16^th , 17^th, and 18^th, centuries; hence the walls. In its heyday, it was an extremely rich place, as you can see from the grandiose structures and the huge noble houses with big, cool door knockers. You can see it all quickly and conveniently by hiring a horse and buggy to take you around for $20, which we did.

$15... and worth every penny

Cartagena is also one of the most expensive towns in South America. We were feeling a bit tight, so we went to the neighbourhood where all the workmen and freed slaves used to live (where all the cheap backpacker hostels are now) and found the cheapest hotel in all of Cartagena. It was only about 15 bucks for the room, and it was the dankest and dingiest habitation I’ve ever seen. The bathroom was a thin sliding door leading to a toilet with no seat and a spigot in the wall for a shower. The towel rack was a rusty nail in the wall. The walls were green, but the paint had darkened with moisture and it rubbed off on anything that touched it. It was completely dark save a crack in one of the walls that got some light from the kitchen and a single naked light bulb. The smell of mold pervaded everything. Personally I thought it was fine, especially when we woke up the first morning without a single bedbug bite. Score!

Outside of the walls is an enormous fort called San Felipe de Barajas where we spent a few hours in the middle of the day under the blistering sun (yes Mom, I remembered my hat and sunscreen). It is extremely imposing looking, and the idea of it was to scare the hell out all the bloodthirsty pirates that at the time were regularly waltzing into Cartagena, shovelling the gold into big wheelbarrows and sailing off into the sunset. We took an English audio tour, which was really fun, because it had a man with a cheesy public television voice and the sound effects of trumpets, cannon fire and men dying slowly of yellow fever. In addition to long lectures about escarpments, bastions, turrets, and the physics of 18^th century cannoneering worthy of Tristram Shandy, the tour also had creepy parts where you walked through some underground tunnels and heard the sounds of desperate garrison men leaping out from the shadows to bayonet you. 

 We went around and saw a few museums of note. The palace of the Inquisition had lots of real torture instruments and displays with men in black hoods and axes. They also had a questionnaire to determine if you were a witch hanging next to the rack. The first question, “How long have you been a witch?” really made it clear how things were going to end.

We also visited a church / museum dedicated to San Pedro Claver, who came up with the revolutionary idea that black people had souls. Now he is the patron saint of Colombia, and also the patron saint of African Americans, though you would think they could have found an African American to fill the job. They have his bones in a glass case under the altar in the church. The highlight though, was really our guide, William. He was 82, spoke English very well, and had been conducting tours at the church and museum for 60 years. He showed us the chair especially built for the pope to sit on when he visited, and various school rooms and legends about the saint. He finished every statement by loudly saying “Do you understand that!?” in what sounded like a New York Jew accent. Of course, the few times we answered in the negative, he sort of ignored us and continued the tour. I don’t think his hearing was the best. Also, he had the hugest schnozz I’ve ever laid eyes on. It stuck way out and then drooped down like it was melting in the heat. Maybe he was a New York Jew after all. 

Dan and William - a shared love of history and fashion

If you would like to see more pictures... Lisa made a little slideshow on Flickr that you can click on below. After you have clicked to start the slideshow, you can click the button with the arrows pointing outwards from the centre to make it full screen. Once in full screen mode, click on the "show info" button to see titles and descriptions for the photos.