So I want to talk a little bit about where we’re staying, the town itself, and what it’s really like once you step outside the door.
Our hotel room isn’t technically a hotel. It’s more like an Airbnb, but not in the traditional sense where it’s one house or one apartment. This building has three floors, and each floor has about five small apartments. When you come in, you go up a set of stairs and use a key card to get through a gate. Each room has its own scanner. You scan the card, the gate opens, you close it behind you, and then climb about fifteen more steps.
At the top of those stairs is one of my favorite parts of this whole stay — the view. You can see the ocean and the boat docks, and boats coming and going all day long. This morning we even watched a cruise ship come in, which felt surreal knowing that’s where we’ll be boarding our ship on Sunday. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that view.
Our room is the first door on the left. The entrance is small — and with a big, broad-shouldered husband, Chris has to duck his head on the stairs and turn sideways a little coming through the door. Once inside, there’s a key slot where you insert your card to keep the electricity running. The air conditioner, the lights, everything depends on that card being in place.
The room itself is actually very nice. There’s a large bay window that’s tinted, so people outside can’t see in, and there’s also a screen you can lower for privacy. We can see everything outside while still feeling tucked away inside. The bed is queen-size and, honestly, feels like we’ve been sleeping on a rock for the last few days, but the room is decorated beautifully. The bathroom has a large open glass shower, and there’s a refrigerator, shelving, and space to hang clothes. All in all, this is probably one of the nicer places we’ve stayed, whether you want to call it a hotel or an Airbnb.
Now… what’s happening outside the window is a completely different story.
Outside is the street, and across from that are the boat docks. Because of that, you hear everything. Cars going by, trash trucks, recycling trucks, people talking, horns blowing — all of it. There’s really no quiet time. The city is always moving.
And then there’s the traffic.
The traffic here is unbelievable. I don’t even know if speed limits exist because people fly around corners, cut each other off, and use their horns constantly — sometimes for no reason at all. Pedestrians cross the street without hesitation, and the cars just have to stop or figure it out. If you stand there waiting for traffic to clear so you can cross, you’ll be waiting forever because the cars never actually stop coming.
There are police everywhere trying to direct traffic, especially during busy times, but it still feels chaotic. There aren’t always clear lane lines, and drivers seem to create their own paths around each other. The first time you think it’s safe to cross, another car appears out of nowhere. Traffic seems to slow down around 8:30 or 9 at night, but during the day it’s constant. Walking isn’t easy either. The sidewalks can be difficult, with broken cement, holes, potholes, and construction everywhere. Access covers are deteriorating, and sometimes you’re watching every step just to avoid twisting an ankle. Getting around takes effort, and it’s not something I would personally choose to do again this way.
Another thing we noticed while walking around town is that people are trying to clean up the neighborhoods. You’ll see workers sweeping and picking things up, but then you’ll watch someone finish a drink and throw the cup right on the ground. So it feels dirty at times, but you can also see the effort being made to keep it clean. I’m not sure how that balance works long term.
There’s also a lot of homelessness. I know every place has it — Florida certainly does — but because of where we’re walking, it feels more visible here. There were moments where I felt like I should take off my shoes and give them to someone sleeping on the sidewalk with nothing but shorts, a garbage bag for rain, and bare feet. It’s sad in many ways.
There are many dogs around the city. Most look well cared for, but we did see a few clearly exhausted from the heat, sleeping on sidewalks without food or water nearby. It’s hard not to notice those things.
The best way I can describe it is culture shock.
We saw dirtiness in Italy too, but it felt different there — more like carelessness. Here, it feels more complicated. There are people trying to improve things while also dealing with challenges that are bigger than just picking up trash. Cartagena is beautiful, vibrant, and full of history, but it’s also a place of very real contrasts. You can see both sides at the same time.
And that’s been the biggest takeaway from today — beauty and reality existing side by side.
Cartagena is beautiful, complicated, and very real. It’s a city known for its history, colonial architecture, and vibrant culture, and it draws visitors from all over the world because of that charm and energy. At the same time, it’s also a place where tourism, daily life, and economic realities exist side by side. Like many destinations, there are contrasts — beauty and struggle, effort and imperfection — all happening at once. Sometimes travel isn’t about seeing only what photographs well, but about understanding a place as it truly is. And for us, that’s been the biggest takeaway from Cartagena: seeing the full picture, not just the parts that fit inside a postcard.
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