As I walk over the bridge which connects Isla Manga, where the two marinas are located, to the old center of Cartagena, I glance over to the right and sitting silently on top of San Lazaro hill is the Castillo de San Felipe, built in 1657, the greatest and strongest fort and the only one to have never been taken. There are 24 forts in all which protected the richest port in the Spanish Main. I recently took a tour of this historical fort that guarded the gold before it was shipped to Europe. Throughout the fort, there is a complex system of tunnels which connect strategic points within the fortress in order to distribute provisions and to facilitate evacuation if necessary. The tunnels were constructed in such a way so that sounds reverberate all the way along them, making it easy for internal communication and the remote possibility of hearing the slightest sound of an approaching enemy.

Following the waterfront along the Calle Arsenal, where many of the discoteques are located, I dodge beer bottles that are left along the sidewalk for pickup. There are always clean up crews every morning, sweeping the debris of the last nights revelry and anything else; like that huge pile of dogdoo, keeping the streets decently clean. I approach the convention center which frequently hosts many events, most recently the oil and gas conference . Crossing the street into the center of the parkway, I power walk pass central park and the the clock tower, making a note of the time, hoping that I am getting in shape hence improving my time that it takes to walk around the entire wall. I’m kind of competitive that way.

The street is busy with people walking to work or to school, delivery trucks unloading their product at the Vivero grocery store, and movable carts selling arepas or empanadas, and oh, the arepas con queso are the best, but I resist the urge. Gotta walk off a few more calories, then I can splurge. These are deep fried corn tortillas filled with egg, meat or cheese or all three. There are many men who tote around a tray of coffee thermos’s and sell a shot of expresso coffee or tinto for 25 cents. It’s a very popular drink and much needed in the mornings and after the usual siesta. Most business close at noon and remain closed until 1pm or some extend it to 2pm. I stroll by the Catalina statue, located inside the traffic circle where she stands tall and proud. She is famous for guiding the early explorers, much like our Pocahontas.

Now, I make my turn and up the ramp I go onto the top of the wall. I love this part, it’s away from the hustling and bustling traffic going on down below and for only a few other walkers, I am alone. The breeze is much better as I make my way towards the ocean. On the left down below are the vaults, called the bovedas.  These vaults used to house prisoners or supplies but now, they have been renovated and trap the new kind of prisoners; tourists buying souvenirs.  On the corner, I greet the baritone player with a Buenos Dias; he is always there every morning practicing his music. I look over towards the center of old town and am amazed of all the history that has been made in this section of Cartagena, which the wall protected for many years. Las Murallas, the walls, thick in construction, were built to protect the city center against pirates, the English, the Dutch and the French. Construction began towards the end of the 16^th century after the attack by Francis Drake in 1586. The project took nearly 100 years to complete due to repeated damage from both storms and pirate attacks. Only in 1796, was it finally finished, just 25 years before the Spaniards were eventually expelled.

The biggest attack in history occurred in 1741 led by Edwin Vernon and his British army.  The successful defense was commanded by Blas de Lezo, a Spanish officer who had already lost an arm, leg and an eye in previous battles.  With only 2500 poorly trained and ill equipped men, he  managed to fend off 25,000 English soldiers and their fleet of 186 ships.  Don Blas during this battle lost his other leg in the fighting and died soon after.  He is now regarded as the saviour of Cartegena.  No that's heroism, wouldn't you say?

 I look out over the ocean and wish I was sailing right now. There are sailing regattas mostly every weekend that begin just off of the anchorage at Club Nautico and continue through the bay and out into the ocean to the turn around point and head back to the finish line. It makes for some exciting watching since we are anchored close to the red buoy that marks a turnaround.

I am approaching the north side of the wall, where the Café de Mar is located. A rather high end restaurant but with a great setting, and a good place to have a few drinks while watching the sunset, and before strolling along the streets in old town.  Down below, I spy the Colombian's version of the drive up window. Straight ahead, the peninsula of Boca Grande is now visible where many tourist hotels are located and a beach that is nice to walk along on a Sunday afternoon. Down off the wall by the ramp, pass the Charleston hotel, one of the nicer hotels in the area, and I am now in the inner city.  The Navy Museum is located here across from the Charleston; and is worth a visit.

There are metal structures of art located along this street, property of the Modern Museum of Art which is across from the San Pedro Claver cathedral. A beautiful church that is open every morning, with stainglass windows and the very high ceilings adorned with paintings. San Pedro helped the slaves escape the Spaniards hands way back when. A very risky business. Before leaving the inner wall, I pass by the Plaza de Aduanas, where the custom house used to be located. This plaza is the biggest and because of that it is frequently the place to go to watch a live concert. We recently saw the African musical group called Baaba Maal play here.

Out thru the clock tower, I check my time, duly noted a better time than yesterday, and I retrace my steps back along the parkway, Calle Arsenal, the street has been cleaned by now, back over the bridge that overlooks Club de Pesca and the bay, and I am now on the homestretch. It has been close to an hour and a half, and the fruit vendors are now yelling out their different kinds of produce for sell.  "Pina, aquacate, melon, mango, banana", they holler out over and over as they push their wooden carts down the streets passing by highrise, luxurious condominiums.  Although Cartegena is a modern city, these fruit vendors are unique in that no where else in our travels have we come across this unusual way of selling.   Back along the waterfront, I look to see Blow Me Away at anchor, bobbing with the waves of the passing boat traffic, as if she is welcoming me back home. Which she is.