Founded 1533, and built around a large natural harbor, the city today is divided between the modern high-rises of the New City, and the charming nostalgia of the Old City. My introduction to Cartegena begins in the Old City, "El Centro," on a sultry Monday afternoon. I wander for hours through narrow streets lined with ancient homes and bustling with a constant traffic of people. Horse-drawn carriages, bright red, clatter along cobblestones. Vendors push rickety carts, shouting their wares in rhythmic repetition: ice cream! bread! onions, avacados, papayas! Italian ice! Small-time entrepreneurs simply carry a box with their merchandise-- cigarettes, Cuban cigars, or tee-shirts-- what they lack in selection they more than compensate for with persistence. From plaza to park to ramshackle markets I roam at random, letting Categena reveal herself.

PAST REPORTS
GR #11	Sept 15	The Horror
GR #10	August 25	The Silent World
GR #9	Aug 3	On The Rocks
GR #8	July 14	Sharing the Dream
GR #7	June 24	Smooth Sailing
GR #6	June 14	Dodging Hurricanes
GR #5	June 1	Alone
GR #4	May 16	Maiden Voyage
GR #3	May 7	Learning the Ropes
GR #2	April 30	So You Want to Buy A Boat...
GR #1	April 23	A New Beginning

In the Plaza Bolivar, on wrought-iron benches, couples whisper in each other's ears while old men square off in chess matches and groups of younger men gather around the latest newspaper editions to read and debate. Around the corner, the main plaza is a riot of circus acts. A mind reader, blindfolded, surmises the name and number on identification cards chosen at random by their partner from the dumbfounded crowd. A mime struts across the square, mimicking unsuspecting tourists with exaggerated gestures. A comedian holds forth to no one in particular, and anther man rants at the top of his lungs.

The nexus of nightlife is the Plaza Santo Domingo. The centerpiece of the small square is cathedral Santo Domingo (built in 1570, it is the oldest church in the city), and, outside the front door, a reclining nude by celebrated local sculptor Fernando Bojero. A number of cafes line the opposite side of the plaza, and candle-lit tables fill much of the outdoor space. When you arrive, you are accosted by polite yet persistent maitre des, coaxing you to their cluster of tables. On the wings, circling like vultures, are the guitar players, flower sellers, photographers and would-be artists who wait until you are seated before filing past, one after the other, doggedly trying to win you over.

Beyond the tables, a constant sideshow of misfit entertainers vie for attention-the little girl in the ruffled dress who perches on a stick balanced on her father's chin, a barking man with the tiny dog that walks on its hind legs, fire eaters who toss juggled torches back and forth amidst the crowd and, under the mango tree, hippies hawking hand-made jewelry. I've been here for weeks now and almost every day I try a new restaurant. Prices are unbelievably low. They serve a lunch at most establishments called "corriente," which loosely means "on the run," and for $1.50 you get a bowl of soup, salad, rice, beans, fried plantains, and a choice of beef, chicken or fish. A cold beer will set you back another 40 cents. Skilled labor, a mechanic or electrician, charge about $20 a day.

A taxi will take you anywhere in the city for under $2, though it takes some practice to learn the system. The battered yellow cars are ubiquitous, but they don't have meters. When a cab stops, you tell the driver where you are going, and ask how much it will cost. They invariably quote a high price, even to Colombians who know exactly the going rate. When you counter with the lower price, the driver always agrees. But when you reach your destination, chances are he won't have change, so it is your obligation to hunt down money at nearby tiendas (which often, also, don't have change). It can be frustrating for a New Yorker, but the Cartegenians accept it as the way things are.

It's hard to believe a month has elapsed since I motored past the Virgin Mary statue in the middle of Cartegena Harbor and first tied Gypsy to the docks of Club Nautico. I spent considerable time working on the boat (I had to pull my generator and rebuild the port-side lazarette), but I also made friends, read constantly, and let myself be won over by the charms of the city. To be honest, I could stay longer. There is a magical charm to Cartegena that beckons towards a simpler way of life. It is a place I could see settling down, starting a business, raising a family.

But I am anxious, too, for the open water. Gypsy is refitted and ready to go-everything in working order for the first time since I bought her. We are two days from the San Blas Islands, off the coast of Panama, and several veteran sailors tell me it's the best cruising destination in the world, bar none. I will spend a month sailing slowly through the isolated archipelago, snorkeling, fishing, and meeting indigenous Kuna Indians. Cartegena has been a gracious host, and some day I hope to return, but for now, the journey must continue.