Cartagena de Indias, Cultural Heritage of Humanity, was founded in 1533 and still has a certain sumptuousness from that time: old houses of Spanish architecture with splendid central patios and bewitching balconies full of flowers. The city is all magical realism: it can be, at the same time, pearly, crimson, pink, bluish, brown, orange, purple, or emerald. In its narrow cobbled streets one can breathe legend, melancholy, gallantry, revelry, and natural beauty.
In the late afternoon, around 5:00 p.m. these colors of Cartagena become magical under the light of the tropical sunset, and the entire city becomes a colorful cacophony. The windows, the doors, the facades and walls of vibrant colors, all filled me with joy, enchanted me, and I felt like Florentino Ariza, that character of Gabriel García Márquez who thought he was dying of love. As the Colombian Nobel Prize for Literature would say in his autobiography Vivir para Contarla, “It was enough for me to take a step back inside the wall to see [Cartagena] in all its grandeur, in the light of 6 o’clock in the afternoon, and I could not repress the feeling of having been born again”
