And so after a sad farewell to Argentina and Chile – countries I’ve become incredibly fond of having now spent so many months enveloped in their majestic landscapes – I set foot off the plane into the hot and humid Caribbean coastal region of Colombia. It’s 9.30pm and still about 27C. First things first – they don’t provide trolleys in the airport, so somehow I have to figure out how to manhandle my bike box and heavy luggage bag out to the taxis. Luckily one of the just two airport porters (with his own trolley which he seemingly owns) sees me floundering, deserts another couple, and helps me out for a small fee. He is friendly and chatty and completely bemused as to why I have a bicycle with me.
Next task – find a taxi big enough to fit the bike box in. That takes a little longer. Eventually, bike, bags and me are all stuffed into a car and on the way to my hotel in Cartagena. Result! I’m checked in within an hour of landing. I guzzle some water, jump in the shower, lather myself in mozzie repellant, whack up the aircon and collapse into bed.
With a number of inlets and ports, Cartagena is a very strategically located city. Many battles have been fought over this city, giving it a ripe and tumultuous history.