All of the ship’s tours started around 8 this morning, which is a bit unusual, but later in the morning we worked out why.
We had signed up for the ‘Cartagena On Your Own’ tour, but it was anything but. Two bus loads of people set out expecting to be taken in to the city and dropped off to do their own thing. Nope. First we endured an hour and a quarter of driving around and being talked to continuously.
When we finally arrived in town and were walked to the assembly point we were told that we had to be back in 2 hours. Mutiny in the ranks. All the avid shoppers were aghast. Threatened with a revolt, our guide finally allowed us 2 and a quarter hours. When asked how far it was to the old jail cells from the starting point, she replied ‘a long way’. How helpful is that! As it transpired, several of us walked it easily in 20 minutes, so her tips weren’t piling up.
We wandered around seeing lots of catholic churches, squares, statues; and none of it makes interesting reading. So, a quick summary. Being one of the two towns in the country where the Spanish permitted slave trading, we saw the canal where they landed, the gates they were brought through, the square where they were sold, the churches where the slave owners worshiped, statues of the priests who ministered to and consoled the slaves, statues of heroes of the resistance to invading forces, and statues of heroes like Bolivar and others who fought for independence.
The city is having lots of work done to it, and little by little is being modernised and gentrified. Like a number of other similar towns we have also visited around the Mediterranean, in a few short years there will be no locals left within the old city walls, and it will be predominantly hotels, restaurants and Airbnb’s competing for the tourist dollar.
By the time we returned to our assembly point, the city was awash with German speaking tourists being marched around by umbrella wielding tour guides. A back-of-the-serviette calculation suggests that there would be close to 100 of these groups in every street, square and church. Starting early was definitely a good move.
Quiet afternoon back on board before casting off at 4pm to the strains of the ’signature Windstar departure anthem’ complete with flag raising. Some people were in to it, probably those regulars who come back year after year, and others were faintly bemused.
It was our turn for dinner at Cuadro 44, a Spanish influenced small boutique restaurant designed to appeal to those passengers who were up themselves. As an example, we could choose the pork dish from pigs who were fed a sole diet of local almonds. Actually, the food was rather nice, but we did get seated next to one of the loudest passengers who spent the whole night pontificating about American politics. Oh well.
Also found out from our captain, when I asked about the hole in the ship’s schedule after Barbados, that the whole ship had been privately chartered for the week. They probably get a discount, but at standard room rates that is close to half a million US dollars. Sorry, honey, it wasn’t me.
As we headed into open waters, the wind was gusting at 50km/h across the ship, and the captain was predicting a bit of tossing during the night, so we donned our wristbands, and slept like logs.
Main gate of the city
Castillo San Felipe
Cathedral
Mainly women wanted to touch!
Toucan at the dock