We have flown north to the city of Cartagena, founded by the Spanish in 15 something to collect together & send home their gold & emeralds. Drake is a dirty word around here. Arrived late due to heavy rain in the mountains but in time to enjoy a really buzzing scene in the Old Town. You can smell the heat & the energy in the streets & squares as salsa beats outout from doors & windows, fed by screeching busker saxes & guitar rythmns. Bars squeeze their clientelle in from the streets or around precarious metal tables. Young & old sit around on church steps or stone walls, cafe chairs or crosslegged on flagstones absorbing the atmosphere in the steamy, humid, heat of the night.