Somehow, the week of idling on the beach that we'd envisaged, between visits to Brazil and Uruguay, ended up getting curtailed by weather or logistics. And even here in Cartagena, this colonial gemstone on the Caribbean, the beaches aren't quite what we were expecting. The rooftop pool atop Hotel Cartagena de las Indias helps tide us over in the dense urban heat of midday. Maybe it's the wanderlust, but sooner rather than later the impulse is to flee.
Our final escape is the Islas de Rosario. Somehow, our good luck restored, we're the only ones on the transit boat captained by Gustavo Gonzalez, tearing across the water at full throttle to the Island of Baru. Jas and Iris shriek with delight. It's a busy port, the busiest in Columbia it seems, and colourful. The massive waterside cranes negotiate stacks of containers like lego, a reminder of the world of commerce that, abstracted into numbers on a screen, awaits me on return to my desk. But before long, we're banking at speed around islands of mangroves, watching pelicans diving for their dinners.
45mins at 60knots is quite a long way, and it certainly feels a long way from Cartagena's fortifications and luxury condo highrises. Pina Colada and mint lemonade on arrival, then the obligatory grilled fish, but so delicious, with the coconut rice and grilled plantains a great local touch. Meanwhile, ever since we stopped by El Boliche in Getsemani, Cartagena, I've really been cultivating a taste for ceviche, lemon&lime-juice-marinated fish.
After lunch we skip across the bay to the local "public beach". It makes me chuckle, we're a long way from the beach badges that gave us access as kids to the sandy dunes of Long Beach Island, NJ. This is maybe close to what you'd find in Jamaica, Creole sounds, lobster claws and limes in the sand. If in Cartagena you might catch the occasional glimpse of the old world - hints of Lisbon, Siracusa - here we are in the deep Caribbean.
As the sun sets, the wind really picks up. We catch the first star of the evening. Then the second. High above the lilac, orange, baby blue and deep purple of the horizon.
This moment is so reminiscent to me of Grenada, our first "honeymoon" with Flo, well before we got married, mixing amateur mojitos on New Year's, and declarations of intent for family and future. And here we are, ten years later (or is it eleven?), on the shores of the Caribbean again, with the two kids we wished for ourselves, the Girls playing little gauchos on the wicker rocking horse, improvising costumes with Papa's shirts and bathrobe belts.
We've been tremendously lucky this entire trip. With the weather, the logistics, our health and our safety. And I can't help myself thinking that my greatest good fortune was to marry a girl with a sense of adventure, and to find ourselves with these joyful two as fellow travellers in life.
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