Cartegena Greeting from the sea off top of South America. Today we stopped in Cartegena, the southernmost point of our cruise. I hadn’t expected much pleasure from this stop since Mary Alice had been down with a cold, and I find much of the enjoyment of the ports in being in her company as we explore. To my delight, this morning she was greatly improved, and declared her intention of visiting the city with me. And city it is. Cartegena is the first, and only, actual city on our cruise. The sailing approach shows skyscrapers as well as industrial areas, and a large port. The ship docked, as often happens with cruise ships, at an industrial pier and a shuttle bus took us to the cruise terminal. It was extraordinary, with a flamego garden by the front door, and macaws at the exit. Inside were many of the better tourist items that the city had to offer, at prices from $5 to $2000, or higher or jewelry. We passed through quickly, and with another couple grabbed a $20 cab ride to the old city. It is well to remember that the old cities everywhere are essentially tourist areas, somewhat restored, and often charming, but with little relation to the rest of the city which is just like every city on earth. Aside from the street signs, large portions of Shanghai, Athens, Sydney, and Cartegena are indistinguishable parts of the global culture. Certainly there are some cultural differences, but not as many nor as deep as you might suspect. But we were here to be charmed, and decabbed with pleasure and plunged into the narrow streets with overhanging balconies that make up old town Cartegena. It was hot, no welcome overcast or showers today. Mary Alice had her parasol, and I my high def sun screen but we walked in the shade at every opportunity. Our map, provided by the ship, was difficult to master until I figured out that like old cities everywhere, the streets changed names frequently. Here the street name really told you exactly which block you were in. Sign plaques on the buildings at street corners helped, although the map makers and the sign makers were often not in agreement about spelling. At first we were concerned about knowing our location so we could find our way back through the maze to the point where our cab had dropped us off. The ship was to sail shortly after 4, and late comers could expect to stand on the dock watching it vanish into the sunset. Getting a cab in time would be important. In the event it proved quite easy. Cabs cruised the streets of old town constantly, sometimes even stopping to see if you wanted a ride yet. But another reason for knowing our location arose, unexpectedly. I am studying the molecular basis of cancer and cancer treatments, if you call watching Great Courses lectures on the topic, studying. I had run out of 3x5 cards part way into the trip. What to do. As you could imagine there were no 3x5 cards in the ship sundry store. There were not even any notebooks. I suppose computers have eliminated writing for so many passengers that it is not worth the space to stock paper. Not when you could pile more t-shirts in that same space. Nor were the tourist areas of small towns in Nicaragua and Costa Rica helpful. It was tempting to buy t-shirts and cut them into 3x5 squares, but I couldn’t see any other way to get the cards. I had already torn up all the paper I could find with even one side blank, including messages from the ship’s shops. But now we were on our own, not constrained by tour schedules, so we could hope for more than baskets and t-shirts. Sure enough signs advertised shops that provided a blend of modern and older communications: internet, fax machines, copy machines, and sandwiches. Unbeknownst to us were were approaching a University in old town. English as a second language is not a popular subject in Latin America, evidently. Nowhere in our wide travels have we found less English than south of the border. We are, on the other hand, abysmally ignorant of Spanish beyond perhaps 4 or 5 words. Communication can be difficult. When I fainted in the Farmacia in Buenos Aires some years back, a kind policeman earnestly and incomprehensibly talked to me for about 10 minutes without communicating one idea. It was little better in old town today. I went to the copy shop and wrote “3x5 cards (tarjeta )” and said “blanco.” You can imagine the result. Finally the woman sent us dos somethings down the street, probably to get rid of us. We found a shop that carried lots of paper for writing, notebooks, and such. Its shelves were jammed with the stuff. Now, here’s another problem. “3x5 cards” are a measurement in inches. Almost the entire world is metric, so the name of the product carries no meaning. Miraculously we managed to get the concept across to the store people, and to my absolute astonishment, they agreed to cut larger sheets into 500 cards of approximately 3x5, for a total charge of about $8.00. If we would come back in 90 minutes, at 3 p.m. This could work. Pick the cards up at 3, grab a cab and be back to the ship before 4, so we and it could sail away together. The schedule had promise. We showed up at 3, and the woman looked happy to see us, and started looking on the shelves for the cards the other woman, now gone, had cut. She went through several possibilities with no luck, some more than once. She sent the kids out to watch the counter while she searched. Time moved on. I began to think I’d have to kiss my $8 goodbye and dash off in search of a cab. Then she looked in the most obvious place, a little blue bag near the counter, and there they were. She was happy, and asked something that seemed to indicate a desire to know what my purpose with the cards was. “Estudiante” I said. “Professore?” She asked. Here I indulged in a little white lie because I could tell that explaining that as a74 year old I was making a hobby of molecular biology was not going to be quickly done. “Si” I said. She smiled, I smiled, we went out, grabbed a cab, and 10 or 15 hair raising minutes later were at the cruise terminal looking at flamengos and catching the shuttle. Ask me about Columbian cab drivers sometime. That’s today’s adventure. There was plenty more. The menu that featured the specials for each day of the week. The basket Beth would like. When to pay for gelato? Balconies and street vendors. See the photographs for more. Good night, friends. May the 3x5 cards of your life be custom made when you need them. Sleep well.
Posted on: Sat, 22 Nov 2014 01:52:19 +0000
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