Colombia
I just sat down to write, started my stopwatch (I usually try to sit down for a 1 hour consecutive session), and already one and a half minutes have passed in distraction. The sound of my drink fizzing retrieved my attention—and now here I am. I poured a bourbon cranberry ginger ale and added a lime wedge. It's alright. James Brown is now playing from my TV.
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Our hotel was beautiful. It's the first time I had really every stayed somewhere of this caliber. I had packed extraordinarly light, as I always try to do, and as a result had to wear jeans the first half of my first day out there, which did not fare well in the Caribbean weather.
The city, Cartagena, was far more pleasant than expected. Outrageously beautiful, in fact. The touristic infrastructure was impressive. There are sloths, monkeys, iguanas, parrots, and vultures in the trees there.
The first night my girlfriend and I dined at a restaurant in Getsemani, the city's obligatory Bohemian district, and I enjoyed the best chicken I'd ever tasted. I consider myself a man with poor, unrefined tastebuds, who can hardly tell the difference between good and bad food, but this dish really did make me perk up. The restaurant was called Celele and I remember the bill was manageable—a recurring theme throughout the trip and one of our primary motivations to visit in the first place.
Getsemani has exciting nightlife full of plastic chairs and tables and dancing sprawling into the streets. You can enjoy a beer, very much refreshing in the heat, for less than $1 USD.
Upon arrival to the beach behind the new Bocagrande hospital, our car was immediately swarmed before we could exit. They had their hands on the windows and were grabbing at the door handle so we braced for pickpocketing. To our surprise, the young man who followed us for several feet really did only want to help, and did not seek compensation for doing so. He directed us to our boat pickup and I thanked him.
The boat, a real piece of shit if I may say, took us to an island which felt an awful lot like a White Lotus set—down to the female greeter with the resort uniform and nametag. The pool felt like Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, the food was excellent (I had a burger because I was preparing for seafood fatigue in the near future), and I enjoyed watching the local dogs freely roam the place. We swam in the ocean, as one always should anytime they get the chance.
After the return ride we walked Bocagrande before dusk. I enjoyed the neighborhood very much and wished to spend more time there. It reminded me of denser, dirtier Florida and felt like somewhere I could happily live.
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mercado de Bazurto, or Bazurto, reminded me very much of the streets of Rocinha and Vidigal. Not very much was different at all, except the sounds of Spanish instead of the in-my-opinion beautiful sounds of Portuguese, at least to my American eyes.
We walked around, took pictures, danced champeta, listend to records, ate lunch, and bought nothing. Men playing dominoes did not like their picture taken. Lunch was a seafood rice dish. I bought two beers from the lady standing in her shop a few feet from the plastic table we were eating at. Sanitation was very poor. The beers were very refershing.
I like the Club Colombia Dorada beer. Definitely moreso than the Aguilla. There's a third popular one I think but I cannot remember its name.
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The boat ride return was gorgeous. It was sunset, the city skyline gleamed like Miami, and there were lots of sights to see. Industrial harbors, impressive cargo ships, and military and rescue boats with all kinds of equipment. There were woman partying on a helicopter pad when we returned to the harbor.
Blue Apple Beach Club was about what I expected based on what I read about it on Twitter and Reddit - and I would recommend it and visit it again. I had booked a cabana on the "beach", which is oceanfront but not quite the beach, and it was rather nice.
Vendors would talk to you through your gate though, and that was rather annoying. We chatted with one for a while, even after making our intentions clear of purchasing nothing and a cumbersome language barrier. He managed to mention he had a friend somewhere in the USA, and kept saying something about Philadelphia, although this is not where his friend was.
I booked the cabana on Tock, which is a reservation software developed by a guy from Chicago. In fact, this guy from Chicago is responsible for the Aliena Group - the money not the talent.
Moth