First day in the Caribbean ... Mauricio!

Jugo!

The Caribbean . . . A week with sensations in all directions and unfortunately also with the returning of SAD. Day one:... Let' call him 'Mauricio'. When you travel from spring to full summer there are a few words to keep in mind... Sweat, thurst, resulting in more sweat, more thurst. In Colombia they have the supper non alcoholic solution for that: Juices! In all formats, with or without sugar, with water or milk and from fruits you never have heard of in your life and you can only dream of when you 'r outside of the country because solely to obtain in Colombia.
So our journey starts in Cartagena de Indias a city full of history, mixed populations, and a wall to make all walls over the planet jealous. A hotel with a lot of room moves but with friendly staff at the image of the Colombian population in general. My travel agents are very busy being 'Pura Vida' travel agents and I remind them that we are friends in the first place. . . I want them to
enjoy this vacation as much as I do and I feel guilty when they have to plan and plan and plan... I'm here primordialy to enjoy them but it seems they have a lot of fun in their new job so who am I to stop them?
As a first encounter with Cartagena we hire a guide Mauricio who does not appear to have the supposed knowledge of the history of the city and we could only get rid of him after negotiating like the best of Pharisee in front of an altarpiece in one of the most important churches of the city.

Mauricio

Guillotine

We were smelling blood so we decided to visit the inquisition museum that showed us how twisted the human brain can be when it comes to torture other humans who don't think and behave as some think they should. Despite this Ana & Carolina thought it was a good idea to let my head roll under the Guillotine what is a French invention said to reduce the pain for those condemned to dead.

Fortunately the place gave us also a good overview of the history of the country, the people living in the region and their courage to raise against the colonizers from Spain. The day ended cooling down under the trees of a park, the visit to a district Getsemani, full of tourists but were suddenly as an oasis in the dessert of loud traffic and hard music appears a small square with local people sitting and talking about life, children playing football on a imaginary sport field while in the small church a service for a few devotees is going on. Honest believe inside this old fortress of faith. It's dark outside, we take place on a bench and while my two companions have a interesting chat, about the district with a grandmother watching her son playing football, I feel a growing unrest. First unrecognizable signs. I print the scene in my mind to be able reproducing it here written... Like a painting we al want to step into when watching and dreaming.