Bloorp.

When Johanna and Anthony surprised all their guests with a nighttime sail aboard the Phantom, a cheer erupted from the group. It was apparently the ship used in Pirates of the Caribbean, and we all eagerly boarded the ship, greeted by costumed pirates and copious amounts of Colombian rum.

We had the entire ship to ourselves and after a hearty dinner of local eats, I’d heard that one of my buddies had actually steered the ship. I immediately marched up to the towering, denim-clad captain and asked politely if I could take control of the vessel.

He graciously stepped aside and I found myself behind the wheel of this massive ship, the sea breeze ruffling through my hair as I guided my traveling companions across the open sea.

It was much more challenging than it looked; the captain was constantly instructing me to turn the wheel clockwise once, counterclockwise a few times, keep turning until he gave the nod that I didn’t have to turn anymore…

“It’s not you,” he said, “It’s this wind.”

So I started asking him how long he’s been sailing ships, thinking it was just a side gig. Oh, no. He chuckled. “I’ve been doing this for more than 20 years.”

Turns out he’s from Norway (which explained his out-of-place accent) and he used to sail icebreakers in sub-zero temperatures, among other ship-related occupations through his life. Now, he’s sailing recreation pirate ships in Cartagena and soaking up the tropical breeze.

After letting me indulge in a childhood-like dream, he took back the wheel because the wind was too much for a pretend sailor to handle.

It looks like I can cross “Sail a pirate ship across the Caribbean Sea” off my nonexistent list of Things I Never Thought I’d Do In Life.

Mmm, Colombian ceviche… *insert drool here*

A typical lunch in Cartagena. This was our midday meal on Baru Island, where I encountered Gerard the crab.

The fish doesn’t get fresher than this—grilled on an open flame to flaky perfection, served with a little coleslaw, mouth-watering coconut rice and ubiquitous fried plantains. This Colombia trip saw me consuming more plantains in a week than in the last five years.

But I could happily eat a meal like this every day. And for the week we spent in Cartagena, I eagerly ate such a meal just about every day, savouring every bite knowing that it would probably be a long time before fish this fresh would once again delight my taste buds.

If I had not just read Clive Thompson’s recent Wired feature on how success killed Duke Nukem, I probably wouldn’t have laughed as hard as I did. Ah, context. (Thanks, bobpease!)

Thompson’s feature also takes me back to j-school, when we examined how writers turned out great stories without access to the main players. Frank Sinatra Has a Cold, anyone?

I don’t know how to swim, so on a day trip to Baru Island, I stood peacefully by the aquamarine water’s edge of the Playa Blanca, letting my toes sink into the tide-washed ivory sand.

Suddenly I heard someone call, “Em, watch out!” and then something scuttled lightly across my feet.

I jumped and my eyes searched the ground until I found the culprit: a little crab scurrying away.

One of the locals scooped him up and told us in Spanish he was his pet Gerard. Johanna, of course, translated for us and it turns out he was just kidding and had literally just named him on the spot to amuse us fascinated travelers.

But I still like the fact that he had a (short-lived) name. Hello, Gerard the Colombian crab. I won’t forget you.

Snapped on the walk back to our Bocagrande hotel from the Castillo San Filipe.

I was half-hoping to find a Forever 21 nearby after spotting this shuttered store, but alas, no such luck.

Snapped on a stroll down the Bocagrande. I couldn’t resist.

As one person pointed out to me earlier, “At least it doesn’t say CLOTHING’S.”

Snapped in the old walled city in Cartagena.

Do not disturb the ones who are busy enjoying their authentic American Broasted Chicken in Colombia. Or, as my friend n0wak would say, “ROASTED BY BROS.”