Letters from Cartagena

"Cartagena is an old city on the Caribbean coast, sheltered by a magnificent old stone wall, into which is set frightfully grand and cosmopolitan old restaurants and bars. The food is a mix of greasy fried and cheese-filled deliciousness and fancy ceviche sit-down establishments for the rich folk, and during the day the streets are filled with vendors pushing cut tropical fruit and coconut water, sipped straight from the husk. I have greedily sampled just about everything between walks, museum visits, and dips in both our house pool and the warm Caribbean. I never want to leave."

"The problems that command my attention stateside and the culture of "I" to which I so often subscribe is so shamefully undermined when one is far, far away. You said I talked so often of running away - here in Cartagena where it is impossible not to confront muddy, sweaty, sun-beaten life as you wander the streets, I almost feel like a return to the states where everything is so manicured and comfortable is a running away, of sorts."

 

"Every morning i've taken to practicing my bikram poses naked on the roof in full witness of this beautiful city, simply because it feels good. I sip my rich black coffee with my ankles dangling in the pool and a book in hand and grin at the sheer thrill of doing absolutely nothing at all."

"Casual Observations in Colombia:
1. Nivea lotion is the smell of summer
2. Ham and canteloupe must be the most glorious breakfast known to man
3. I could survive luxuriously with less than half of my current possessions
4. Coconut should never be ignored
5. Must be naked as much as possible"

"The house is part dream, part palace,  part movie set: all bright yellows and blues, enormously dripping candles, melancholy creepers hovering over balconies, multicolored marble and vast candelabras. I feel like I'm in the South American version of some great vampire castle."

"She simultaneously craves and fears the chaos of life - its brutal grittiness, its ethereal beauty and ebbs and flows of euphoria and despair. When she embraces this chaos she is...happy, yes...but like a baby giraffe on shaky twigs of legs she fears the tremble, the fall and the break."

"I'm grateful for the time to read, write and think, and amble aimlessly through the cobbled streets. Needless to say, i find myself lost in the old city on a regular basis, yet it's always a comforting kind of lost, since i have no commitments that demand that I find myself in a hurry."

"In the early evening I stroll through the Plaza de Los Dolces, so called because of the thousands of vendors touting their sugared wares in ancient glass jars. Most of the candies involve coconut or some other sort of dried fruit, and are puckeringly yet reassuringly sweet. I refuse to spend $5 at the supermarket on some American sugar fix."

"I wish we had had the opportunity to have this type of travel adventure together, full of magic and daydreams and arresting beauty and sadness. Perhaps some day when we are old and have families of our own we shall travel and bask as rich artistic people do."