CARTAGENA 2 August 25, 2022

The contributions of the Jesuits to life in the new world were celebrated in the Church of San Pedro. The photograph below is of the place where they met and worshipped.

Meanwhile back in the Palace of the Inquisition life was not quite so simple. Here they rooted out bad thoughts, witchcraft, Judaism, wicked sexual practices, protestantism and anything which was not in the Catholic playbook… the place, like the prison we visited in Belize City, was historic and elegant with echoes of misery. There was a “special window” where you could anonymously submit your suspicions about anyone as well as instruments of torture like the heretic’s collar which had a small knife on

a strap around the neck which goes into the bottom of the jaw if you talk. The place was built like a palace with extra high ceilings and steep staircases. I couldn’t work out why but Marney thought it might be so that you didn’t have to listen to the cries of those being tortured. To heighten the tourist experience there were enlarged prints of Goya’s Los Caprichos on the walls and a touching anime video telling the story of a slave woman who was hired by a rich lady to cast a spell on her husband so he would stop having affairs. Unfortunately, when the spell failed to work she turned her in to the Inquisition by putting a complaint in the “special window”.  The punishment was 200 lashes. Outside in a walled area a guillotine and gibbet with noose rounded off the experience.

The task of the inquisitors was impossible. Cartagena was the honey pot of the Caribbean, swarming with people and traders from all over the known world. The English, French, Dutch and every pirate worth his sea salt were there looking for opportunities to steal and make a fortune. It was a city where the gold, silver and precious stones collected from the whole of the Caribbean and its hinterland were amassed and put onto massive Spanish galleons and transported in convoy back to Spain. Most of our notions of pirates, skull and crossbones and buried treasure come from this period of history.

Cartagena is a beautiful coastal city. The old and the new wrestle with each other. Renovations and new buildings are proceeding apace. In the distance glistening white skyscrapers rise up seemingly out of nowhere.

Our hotel is a little oasis of calm and order. Beaches stretch for miles. In the streets there’s noise and hustle and bustle. Old buildings are being renovated. Outside the hotel are shops selling building supplies and small carts line up outside waiting for an order to take whatever is required to a building site. Each cart has a special name or is painted with the colors of the national flag. A sort of do-it-yourself Home Depot delivery. Not sure what the drivers earned but it was a job.

On Sunday we walked across the park, saw a beautiful red squirrel, lots of heads of past presidents on tall plinths and little book and art stalls on the way to the clock tower which is over the original entrance to the walled city and was built in 1631.

We passed a statue celebrating Cervantes, the man who wrote the first novel, sitting appropriately at his desk, focused and smartly dressed, scribbling away. That’s what writers do!

Inside the city walls, Colombians were celebrating the inauguration of Petro, the new President, and a crowd of about two hundred people were watching it on a large screen. There was some appropriate clapping and the police ladies kept their eyes open for troublemakers.  All rather genteel but some had their hands on their guns to remind us who was in charge.

We took our time to enjoy more churches, more museums, good restaurants, and relaxed. Unfortunately before we knew it we were on the way back to the airport in bright sunshine and then up and away out of the tropics back to Medellin. Pablo, our illegal Uber driver, met us and drove us back to our nest in the clouds at Swiss Suites.

 

It was actually a pleasant feeling coming “home” but we decided almost on the spur of the moment to use up our remaining time in Columbia by going to Argentina for a winter holiday and to visit the famous wine country of Mendoza. In a flash Pablo was at the door and we were back on a plane winging our way to Argentina via Panama City.

The airport at Panama City was indistinguishable from any other major airport in the US or Europe. It serves North and South America, so it’s big. M had a wheelchair waiting when she got off the plane and was welcomed by a well built attendant who wheeled both her and another lady simultaneously. Currency problems in Argentina mean exchange rates fluctuate enormously and we knew that getting US$ was important so we stopped at an ATM and I managed to rob it of $250.

The flight to Mendoza was effortless. We sailed through customs and were met at the airport by a private taxi and sat in the back congratulating ourselves on how smoothly everything had gone. We drove through a stark winterland of factories along car less streets to the centre of Mendoza and our hotel – Hotel Zumec.

Oh dear. The best laid plans of mice and men..! At the front of at the hotel we are faced with two gates with electronically controlled locks and it’s one o’clock in the morning. A nice girl lets us in the second door and gave us the key to our room. Hum? 1950’s? brown walls, a view of the street on two sides, traffic lights blinking, a bathroom you could barely turn round in, awkward plumbing and a squeaky bed. Both of us went silent. Well, not much choice… needed some sleep…all part of the great adventure. “No socks” has to mean “no socks” –  don’t complain when the going gets rough.

               Marney here…

What socks?  I was BAREFOOT after seeing the hotel room.

At my request, Alan omitted the part about me sitting on the edge of the mattress (actually bouncing) and having a meltdown as I listened to the traffic and music in the middle of the night.  I thought I had escaped that when we left Medellin and my neighbors played drums at midnight.

So, mid-meltdown, at two in the morning I wrote to Booking.com about our room.  At 9 in the morning the manager, Nicolas, was at the door and ready to do anything he could to save our reservation for two weeks.  A very nice and customer service type person, he gave us a bigger room and brought in desks/chairs for each of us to work at.  And the bed was fine.

Next day:  while it didn’t have windows on each corner and  one large one with a lovely view …there was a bar beneath it with people partying almost all night Friday and Saturday so…once again I met with Nicolas and he moved us across the hall to a room which is on the interior of the hotel and pretty much sound proof from the streets and ongoing parties. (He even moved our bed to this room along with the desks, etc.) We’ve been here since, done some shopping (yes we got beautiful sweaters and leather coats – nice and needed) and found a great restaurant.   I still felt like the room was a hole in the wall and was highly motivated to move us to a hacienda in the vineyards.  More on that next.

P.S.  I also bought some woolen leather slippers so ready for my next No Socks adventure…