It has been the best day.It has been the worst day.

The cruise terminal in Cartagena is beyond beautiful.Lusciously green,as if walking into a well kept garden,pink flamingos cackling happily and bowing graciously to the appreciative audience,outdoing each other in presenting their impeccably groomed finery for the cameras.Parrots perched in the open aviary parroting in harmony.And there is a cat running around trying to attract attention, failing miserably, for the competition is stiff. Wi-fi available to purchase, an immaculate shop full of nicely presented souvenirs.And lovely postcards.And they sell stamps!Taxi,madame?Taxi?The word is not in my vocabulary. Thank you so much, no, I am going to walk.But you can't walk,it is 25 minutes by car!Can't I, I am made of sterner stuff!So off I went.And I walked,and walked,and walked some more and still no Old Town.Have I bitten more than I can chew?I do not dare to look at my watch,the temperature is rising,must be good 34-35,but I have my trusty lemon drink I make up myself in the cabin.Massive puddles in the street,have to cross from one side to the other to avoid being splashed by passing cars,but they are careful,sensible drivers and I need not worry.Finally there is a lake ahead of me,I stop at the traffic lights taking in the scenery and when the green beckons I walk.And my right foot goes into a hole.I simply did not obey the cardinal rule of every pedestrian-watch where you are going. Excruciating pain shook my body.My face must have said it all,One of the drivers rolled down his window and said something in Spanish.I do not understand him and make some kind of gesture.Do you need help? No,thank you so much,it will get better soon.He looked at me in disbelief.I walked towards the lake and wet a small towel I used to wrap the bottle with the lemon water in and placed it on my foot,hopping along merrily towards the bridge that would take me,as I found later,to the Old Town.Slowly the pain went.I passed the most enchanting shop with bags and shoes to die for,but it was closed.I bought a large bottle of ice cold water for a dollar and it tasted better than the fruits of the Gods.I followed surreptitiously groups of tourists and their guides,all English speaking,[there was a Princess ship docked in the port and one other the name of which escapes me]listening and two hours later sat down in an Epoca coffee shop.Dripping with sweat, my 15 year old Pucci shirt and favourite M & S linen white shorts stuck to my body.

Large latte that took for ever to come-are they harvesting the beans I thought-was up there amongst the best of them.It was excellent,I said with a wink to the very charming gay waiter,it can only be Costa Rican. Oh,madam,said he and his hand danced the way only a gay boy's hand can dance,touching my arm endearingly, and burst out laughing.

People say that they never forget a face.I never forget a good coffee shop.

Am coming to Cartagena on my world cruise in January 2019,and will find Epoca with ease.There are also many money kiosks,all giving excellent rate, I got 3.500 pesos to an English pound.I walked some more and then retraced my steps to the boutique,it was still closed.I hailed a taxi and returned to the terminal.The driver asked - Americano? No,Slovakian.Slovakian?, he repeated puzzled,it obviously meant nothing to him. Russian,Moscow,I corrected myself hoping that would do the trick.And it did.Oooh,Russian,Moscow.He took me back via Manga,the most exclusive residential area of Cartagena.Beautiful well kept houses with gardens to match,everything spanking clean as is the whole of this enchanting town.My kind of town.