Immediately, you know which part of the city wins that race for things. The "have's" live in lofty condominuims and the "nots" live in squalor. This city is clearly divided into three distinct areas: the old city, "little Miami", and the slums. As I look out over the city from a monestary in the midday sun, scant attention seems to have been given to sanitation, cleanliness, and basic infrastructure. Simple creature comforts are absent except, from my experience, a TV in every home! So much of the wealth of this potentially beautiful city is concentrated in the hands of the elite that the rest have difficulty wrestling any of a share. I haven't looked at the statistics of any of these things in Cartegena, Colombia, but through the casual eye of my brief visit, the extreme wealth disparities of this part of Latin America persists. 
The old city has the makings and the architecture to rival Dubruvnik in Croatia, Venice and Amsterdam in its latent beauty and its context in history. I realize that this is a big statement, though I think Colombia could do amazing things with this spot if only they could shed its white powdery image, and shake off the pesky "Big Stick" from the guys to their North. If only it was that easy. They got a strong man right now, but he needs to be willing to help the country stand on its own and then build alliances with its neighbors.
For the momentary visitor, some of the old streets are cleaned up nicely. The police keep out the riff-raff (Colombians not invited to the game of have's) to make for some lovely strolling while bathed in the evening ocean breeze. The gorgeous, big hotels that I venture in were unfortunately not Colombian owned, but stunning in their inner courtyard architecture. 
Then there is the thin stretch of barrier penninsula that is saturated with Miami style, white-washed highrise condos for the few with some cash to zip up an elevator and lavish themselves in pesos. The streets below are not clean and the beaches are vast but leave much to be desired. There is a telling area photo that shows the extent of pollution reaching into the Carribean Sea all the way to the country's crown jewel. Those same beaches get some of the afterthoughts from the Magdelena River, the main artery through the country.
In a city with a population well into 7 digits, the rest live spralled in dusty cement cubes with electric wires running in all directions. At sea level and about 10 degrees north of the equator, it is scorching hot all day, and the cement has the lovely quality of absorbing the heat and radiating it throughout the night making it seem somewhat hotter. This hazy and oppressive visual, reoccurring throughout much of Latin America, depresses the most ardent and hopeful traveler. I hate the fleeting thoughts that venture in my head as sweat is pouring down my chin. I generally side with the oppressed having spent much time reading and studying on the subject, but in that moment my "gut" says that they are expendable.
After Cartegena, we hop on a super air-conditioned night bus to Bucaramonga, then on to the small town of Barichara. We endure a horrific death match movie where inmates have cool cars loaded with ammunition and kill eachother all on live reality television. English subtitles are not necessary. I assumed, or maybe hoped, that this was a one-of-a-kind cinema event, but on the return trip am graced with a nearly identical movie save the inmates are on an island with ammunition caches and wired with cameras for the dedicated television viewers. Apparently, female inmates are all exceptionally beautiful. I didn't realize. There is a good chance that implants are offered within the prisons.
Then there is the thin stretch of barrier penninsula that is saturated with Miami style, white-washed highrise condos for the few with some cash to zip up an elevator and lavish themselves in pesos. The streets below are not clean and the beaches are vast but leave much to be desired. There is a telling area photo that shows the extent of pollution reaching into the Carribean Sea all the way to the country's crown jewel. Those same beaches get some of the afterthoughts from the Magdelena River, the main artery through the country.In a city with a population well into 7 digits, the rest live spralled in dusty cement cubes with electric wires running in all directions. At sea level and about 10 degrees north of the equator, it is scorching hot all day, and the cement has the lovely quality of absorbing the heat and radiating it throughout the night making it seem somewhat hotter. This hazy and oppressive visual, reoccurring throughout much of Latin America, depresses the most ardent and hopeful traveler. I hate the fleeting thoughts that venture in my head as sweat is pouring down my chin. I generally side with the oppressed having spent much time reading and studying on the subject, but in that moment my "gut" says that they are expendable.After Cartegena, we hop on a super air-conditioned night bus to Bucaramonga, then on to the small town of Barichara. We endure a horrific death match movie where inmates have cool cars loaded with ammunition and kill eachother all on live reality television. English subtitles are not necessary. I assumed, or maybe hoped, that this was a one-of-a-kind cinema event, but on the return trip am graced with a nearly identical movie save the inmates are on an island with ammunition caches and wired with cameras for the dedicated television viewers. Apparently, female inmates are all exceptionally beautiful. I didn't realize. There is a good chance that implants are offered within the prisons.Once in the mountains, the northeast fork of the lengthy Andes mountain range, the landscape plateaus at a seemingly idealic climate with fertile farmlands abound. This small cobbled town has identity, a sense of history, that felt pristine to a visitor's eye. Their industry is tourism and managed within the community and scale of their environment. The townspeople take care of their town. Yes, they do not have to deal with an overwhelming population problem and they were designated a national heritage site. Things change, soils lose fertility, trends in tourism fluxuate. This towns seems at a scale to adapt.
Colombia is stunning, large, ecologically and geographically diverse. As a outdoor enthusiast, I find wonderful places to explore. I get a sample of something that works and something that marks unchecked corruption and a horrible allocation of resources.
We head back to our big neighborhood in the vast metropolis of New York City, where main streets are being reinvented, community reinvigorated, and economies of scale are being reintroduced.
