Gunga- Wedding bells and lemonade

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When I last wrote I said we were on our way to find a wedding. Sundown is the opportune time for a wedding ( for obvious reasons) and so we headed about about 6pm to San Pedro Claver church built in the 16th century in homage to Pedro Claver who ministered to the slaves who were brought to Cartagena to be sold. There is a lovely bronze sculture of him and a slave in front of the church. We were in luck! Before we even got to the church we saw a bride in a long flamenco style dress being photographed. We walked on and watched the parade of guests arriving. The women were in short or long cocktail type dresses with lots of jewelry. The men all wore white linen shirts and pants. We waited patiently outside the church for the bride to arrive. Meanwhile, a very disorganized group of guests went in the church then came out again. There were several flower girls and one 4 or 5 year old boy all dressed in white. It all seemed very loose and informal. Finally around 7 ish the bride ( a different one than we had seen before) and perhaps her father, or maybe it was her uncle, or grandfather arrived in an open black coach. It was drawn by a fine looking white horse and decorated with flowers front and back. Lanterns on either side of the seats were lit by candlelight. Even then it was a bit chaotic. Some guests ran out to take pictures. others mobbed around the bride. Finally, the music started and she proceeded down the aisle followed by several tourists in plaid bermuda shorts and t-shirts. We left.

I had no idea what Sunday would be like in Cartagena. I thought it would be busy in the streets with families visiting, etc. But it was eerily silent. When we left the hotel the streets were all but deserted -no fruit sellers, no hawkers, no ladies selling sweets, no man selling blenders, nobody selling jewelry, maracas, hats, shoes, or signs advertising the rate to make a cellular phone call. It was quiet. We surmised that Sunday must be the day they all spend with their families. That's ok but we were on a mission.

We were continuing our quest to find the locations in Marquez's book. I wanted to find the 'Park of the Evangels'. Asking for it by that name got me strange looks since the name only existed in his imagination. He used the 'Plaza Fernandez de Madrid´. It is a small park located not far from the sea and only a block from our hotel. The narrow streets have wildly colored houses: bright pink, pastel orange, deep coral, or brilliant cobalt blue all with balconies that have colorful flowers dangling off of them. Yet, when he wrote, he described a house that still exists on one side of the park. It is plain white with a large parrot door knocker ( just as he told in the book). I sat on the benches ( just as his fictional hero did) under( possibly the same) almond trees, and lived a bit of the novel. The last time I had had such a close literary experience was in Ronda, Spain when we stayed at a hotel where the great writer Rilke used to stay ( there was a lifesize sculpture of him in the garden).

We contined on our journey and found Marquez's house not far from the park. It is surrounded by stucco walls the color of burnt umber. It is quite a modern style house looking out at the sea. It is said that when he is in town he often goes to the Santa Clara Hotel for a drink in the bar. It is just across the street from his house. Well, why not? We found the entrance and a very snooty door man dressed in strange, I guess, colonial garb seemed quite put out when we asked him where the bar was. Apparently we didn't quite measure up to his idea of what a guest of the hotel should look like. The hotel was an old convent ( Santa Clara) and still has the confessionals in tact. The inner patio is lush with tropical plants, sculptures, cockatoos and parrots flying and squawking over head. We found the bar. It was cool, quiet (we were the only ones there), full of large, soft dark brown wicker chairs, orange accented light fixtures, lots of throw pillows, and overhead fans softly whirring. We ordered lemonade, just lemonade. It was the most expensive drink we've had since our arrival in the country. But no matter. We were soaking in the atmosphere and imagining how spectacular it must be for patrons if and when Marquez shows up.

More later.....Carolyn

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Comments

[constance Sharp]

lush with imagery
are you referring to one hundred yrs of solitude? reading this is a pleasure-- exactitude of description. love the cacophony of happenings (to our north american sensibilities) of the wedding. and I loved seeing the word snotty. we don't hear that much any more. this is my first time reading your blog; i am hooked.