Cartagena & Isla Grande

We actually planned to travel for 3 months, eating rice, beans, and chicken. We also anticipated spending the entire month of December, possibly even November & December, indulging in unlimited feasting. As a nice side effect of the trip, we calculated a significant weight loss. And now we are heading to Cartagena. There, you can find sushi restaurants, pizza stands, burger joints, hippi, vegan, and healthy brunch spots. You can have everything from Italian, Colombian, Caribbean, Mediterranean to European cuisines. Even the arepas, which we used to know as dry and bland cornflour patties, are now available with various fillings and sauces, and their popularity has skyrocketed. And it's not just about cooking. There are many beautiful, colorful houses, modern, air-conditioned shops, etc. And when the sun sets, the party begins. The bottle shops open, the boombox comes out, and street food carts roll out, delighting the crowd with their singing and breakdance performances. There are also many nightclubs, but we find plenty of entertainment in Plaza de la Trinidad. We are big fans of the Getsemani vibe, despite a little scare with a small knife incident. Our friends with the happy hour signs quickly brought peace and chased away troublemakers. After 4 days of hustle and bustle, despite our dislike for boats, we hopped on a speedboat (after a 2-hour wait at the chaotic port, surrounded by confused tourists searching for their boats, but that's part of the normal madness there) and promised ourselves a little taste of the Caribbean away from the tourist crowd. After an hour of enduring the smell of gasoline, we arrived - and indeed, it dropped us off in front of our eco-hostel, on a picturesque wooden pier. We booked a tent on the beach for some adventure. However, that option was only available on our last night, before that, they upgraded us to a nice little cabin with occasional running water. Luckily, the last night was also the only night without wind, so we spent a few hours roasting inside the tent, debating whether to opt for an AC or a fan in the future. We expected paradise, and we got it, at least when it comes to the beach and the sea. After a few hours, we already started getting the first sunburn, so we went in search of the center, expecting to find a few touristy bars. Instead, El Pueblo turned out to be a local village with a few dilapidated sheet metal-roofed huts, children playing football, stray dogs, and even stray cats, chickens, goats - even pigs. Everything just freely roams around. It's like first come, first serve. Initially a little skeptical, we left after a short beer in a dusty courtyard (you can find cold beer everywhere). On the second day, there was a big party. We couldn't resist and joined the locals, who were enjoying the lively salsa music and even a traditional cockfight, without batting an eyelid they were betting on the outcome while the poor roosters pecked at each other until the bitter end. It was incredibly gruesome to watch, but the locals were very enthusiastic about it. Feeling a bit disturbed, we left the scene - and decided not to repeat it. Nevertheless, we wanted to interact with these people (our Spanish was enough for small conversations and to negotiate the price of rum or to lock the door of the new and only swimsuit from the Reich) and not miss out on the glimpse of their original, simple way of life. We also obediently ate Arroz de Coco with either Pescado or Pollo exclusively for the whole four days. The only pasta night was ruined due to an error in the kitchen. With great anticipation for civilization and the diverse cuisine in Cartagena, we boarded the boat again. After an hour of discussion, swaying under the midday sun (apparently the number of people was miscommunicated, unfortunately not everyone could get a seat), we set off. Unexpectedly, because the ride was very comfortable, we spent an hour bouncing over waves higher than a meter, with every other wave lifting the boat (and us from the bench) and a lot of water in our faces and a lot of screaming - some more, some less - until we finally reached Cartagena. With disheveled, salty hair and a red face, we went to the nearest bar to calm our nerves. It seems that our love for boating on the sea will not continue in the future.