On Saturday, I explored Bocagrande, which is a stretch of beachy peninsula filled with hotels and businesses. The office where Amalia works is in Bocagrande, and that's about all I knew about it before I ventured over there, other than it would be a pretty place to walk around.
It took me about an hour to walk there, but the view (and the weather) was wonderful, as expected:
Around 4:00 or so, I required refreshment, so I stopped at a bar with outdoor seating and ordered a caipirihna. There was only one other person there, so I asked if I could join him. He seemed to be in his 70s, and he didn't speak any English so our conversation was a bit strained, but somehow it was still very pleasant. I learned that he had had his heart broken by his ex-wife, and that he drank more ever since then -- about ten beers a day or so. His ex wife and his son both lived in Medellin. He told me he was an artist, and that he painted watercolors of Cartagena. He had several of them with him to sell, so we flipped through them together. They were pretty good, but I told him I really just didn't have any spare room in my backpack. As we talked more, I started wondering whether I could just mail one of them home before my next flight.... that would work, right? So I asked him "how much for a painting?" He was only asking $13 for one of them, and I really love supporting local artists, so I went ahead and bought one. (Finding a post office to mail it has been an adventure all its own, but I still have one more day to figure it out.)
I ordered another caipirihna, because the sign said they were 2 for 1, but then it turned out they were in fact 2 for 2, so.... best to clarify these things before ordering the first drink, I suppose. Or maybe I was unclear about the happy hour hours... it really doesn't matter. It's just hard to care when you're paying less than $10 for two cocktails, ya know?
I saw this sign at the restaurant next to the bar and it made me giggle. It says "No to drugs, yes to arepa".
Arepas are very popular here -- I have had one nearly every day in Cartagena (and so far no drugs!)
I walked home from Bocagrande and connected with Amalia about our plans for the night. First, we would meet up with her friend Claudia at The Clock Pub in the walled city for some music and drinks, and then we might go dancing. I looked out the window of our taxi on the way to the pub and saw how much the city was coming alive for Saturday night -- people were everywhere and the old city was transforming from this quaint historical center to a club hub with disco lights shining from balconies all over.
Here we are (Claudia, Amalia, and me) at The Clock Pub, listening to a band that played covers of a range of Colombian music. Some of it was definitely reggaton and reggae, but there was also another style that Amalia explained to me (I don't remember what it's called), which at first was only played and enjoyed by lower-class Colombians and the upper-class people wouldn't listen to it, but now everybody loves it.
After the music ended, we walked to Getsemani, to a club called Mister Babilla. I really liked the design of the place inside -- it was colorful, and there were several different rooms for people to dance, and rooms with tables and chairs for people to snack or just set down their drinks. Unfortunately, the air conditioning was broken and it was packed wall to wall, so it was sweaty as balls in there. Claudia got swept up by a white guy almost immediately after we got inside, and Amalia and I headed to the bar for a couple Aguilas (Aguila is a beer). We pushed our way to a space to dance, but it was on some stairs, so we could only really dance when we weren't moving to the side to let people pass by. Claudia and her new friend came back and he introduced us to HIS friend -- they were both in town from New York City. Guy #1, the one dancing with Claudia, was originally from Hungary, and Guy #2 was originally from India. People come here from all over. I forgot to mention, on the Volcan de Totumo day trip, there were people from Peru, a solo male traveler from South Africa, and several from the United States (NYC, Ohio, DC, and Seattle!)
Anyway, as we were dancing, a Colombian man came up to me and asked me to dance. I only lasted one song before I was just too hot and needed to go get some fresh air. I told Amalia I would be outside, and she joined us with Guy #2. The guy I had been dancing with, Elkin, was nice, but I wasn't feelin' much of a spark or anything. At one point he playfully touched my chin and I made a "blahlablablab" sound (which i guess is the sound I make when I'm uncomfortable with someone touching my face but I don't know how to communicate that). He seemed taken aback (completely understandable), and asked what I had said, and then I had to explain that I didn't actually use words -- I had just made a nonsense noise.
I think we were outside for about 20-30 minutes before Amalia and I looked at each other and decided we were ready to go. I was just sleepy (it was about 12:30 or 1:00 I think), but Amalia wanted to go because her leg was hurting (also, she has an Irish boyfriend who lives in London so she wasn't interested in Guy #2 anyhow). She was in a cycling accident when she was vacationing in Portugal with her boyfriend in May, and had just recently stopped using her crutches. So I got to use her injury as an excuse to leave early without admitting how sleepy I was. (Yay!) Claudia decided to stay and keep hanging out with the guy from Hungary, so Amalia made sure she had taxi money to get home before we got in our own taxi.
On Sunday, I slept in (longer than usual, I mean) and had a very mellow day: read some Life of Pi, did some Duolingo, uploaded photos, had another delicious breakfast that Amalia's mother prepared. When I got hungry again, I ventured back to the old city/walled city/historical center to El Balcon. The guy with the sister who learned English in Olympia wasn't there (I guess he is only there when they are closed to get other work done, like restocking and maintenance work, maybe?) but I stayed anyway and had their special house ceviche, the "sexviche" (a woman has needs, you know).
On the walk to and from the old city, there were kites EVERYWHERE. I don't know whether this is just what happens every weekend or if this weekend was some kind of special kite festival, but whatever the occasion, it was really quite spectacular. The photo below doesn't do it any justice at all, unfortunately.
I leave for Medellin on Thursday. Although Medellin is known for its perennial springtime and I am sure it will be lovely, I am going to miss the Caribbean weather. Although my feet and fingernails are forever dirty here, I am almost used to the constant layer of sweat on my upper lip, and I have learned to embrace the thunderstorms and downpours. Even when I am walking through the rain, I don't feel very wet -- the heat seems to wick the water off within a few minutes. It is refreshing to feel rain coming down and not have to worry about catching a cold, because here, being wet doesn't mean being cold. Not even a little bit.