Cartagena

The sun is blazing in a crystal blue sky as I walk through the streets of Cartagena, weaving around hundreds of brown, black and tan pedestrians. These people are gorgeous, with perfect skin in shades out of a chocolate box -- caramel, nougat and rich dark cocoa. Figures are svelte, for the most part, apparently chiseled from so much walking and made smooth by the city's blast-furnace humidity.

Staring can be dangerous in this resort town on Colombia's northeast coast, although not for the reasons the U.S. Department of State warns about: trigger-happy cocaine dealers from the cartels and murderous guerillas who've audaciously kidnapped victims by the church and airplane full. Here in the tranquil Old City, I am more worried about stepping off the narrow sidewalks and getting clipped by a speeding, bug-shaped yellow cab. Drivers here don't stop for pedestrians

It's easy to get distracted. Vendors shout "Aguacate!" and I turn to see avocados half the size of my head. Others shout "Mango," proffering slices of sweet fruit colored like a Florida sunset.

My Colombian girlfriend, Karla, who is walking beside me, warned me that I would fall in love with Cartagena. It is a place where tropical heat drenches you but is eased by a constant breeze that blows through your hair, up your sleeves, down your shorts, like God's oscillating fan.

On the phone before our journey, Karla put it this way, with her strong Spanish accent: "Baby, your eyes are going to pop out of your head."

Colombia, lying at the bottom of an umbilical-cord-like stretch of land that connects North, Central and South America, has a warm coastal climate and a landscape of jungle and beaches as inviting as any in Venezuela or Brazil. But drug dealers and revolutionary guerillas have given the country a decidedly nasty reputation. Colombia is the world's largest producer of cocaine. Kidnappings of foreigners are common -- outlaws set traps along the highways between cities. An American working for a multinational corporation such as an oil company is worth a lot of money to the guerillas.

President Alvaro Uribe Velez has vowed to restore Colombia's good name. He has his work cut out for him. The country is widely considered to be one of the most violent in the world. Last February, guerillas kidnapped politician Ingrid Betancourt, adding to their collection of abducted dignitaries. A bomb detonated in Bogota during Uribe's inauguration in August, killing a dozen people.

Unfortunately, these acts overshadow Colombia's worth as a tourist destination. Cartagena is a favorite vacation spot for hip young Colombians from Bogota, Cali and Medellin.

Canadians and Europeans, especially Germans, also flock to Cartagena. They are more adventurous than Americans, traveling through a country with a dense jungle, deep emerald mines and hundreds of miles of warm-water beaches. The government protects Cartagena, its main tourist destination, with patrolling soldiers, military outposts and a naval base.

Cartagena de Indias was founded by Spain in 1533 and served as a major port for the trade of slaves, gold and shipping cargo. As an African American, I want to know more about the city's history as a first stop for hundreds of thousands of slaves entering Latin America. I want to see first-hand what the slaves built here, to learn how they were treated by the Spanish during the Inquisition, and how they became an integral part of Colombian society. I want to see the Inquisition Museum, with its exhibits on the history of torture, including the instruments that carried it out. Then there is the Hotel Santa Clara, formerly a monastery, that served as the seat of the Inquisition Tribunal for Spain when it was built around 1770. Decisions on how to convert African slaves to Catholicism, sometimes under the threat of torment, were made there.

After I arrive in the city, my head is on a swivel, looking for the dangers I'd read about. But what I find are smiling faces on men who are hustling for money. Like many other Caribbean residents, most Cartageneros are dirt-poor.

My temporary home, an apartment in El Centro (the Old City), is a palace to them. The building centers on an open courtyard with trees and plants growing past the fourth floor. I pay $16 a day (and $4 extra for maid service) for two bedrooms, two baths and a large modern kitchen. On the roof is a swimming pool and a perfect view of downtown.

Outside my front door are restaurants, street vendors and cabs plowing through the streets. A short walk away is the city square, with its cheap fine dining, museums, grocery store and a Citibank branch with an ATM. A lone guard with a sidearm checks my camera bag at the door. He is backed up by an intimidating military force in and around the city: some 2,000 soldiers, sailors and police officers armed to the teeth with machine guns and, maybe it's my imagination, but are those grenades?

Early Saturday morning, Karla and I join her cousins, Lucena and Rene, on a trip to El Mercado de Bazurto, a local fish market run by black fishermen. Lucena wonders why Americans are so afraid of Cartagena. "It is beautiful and safe," she says. She's not so sure about the mountainous regions in other parts of the country, where Uribe has vowed to fight a civil war if needed, to oust the guerrillas.

It takes about $20 to stuff about 12 pounds of fish and veggies in our push cart. Within an hour, Karla and I are enjoying boiled perch, coconut rice, salad and passion fruit juice prepared by Rene and Lucena's maid. Right now, terrorists couldn't be further from my mind.

In the days that follow, Karla and I wander Cartagena's narrow streets, sampling restaurants and discos and shops, falling asleep early, worn out from the sun. One day we take a charter boat out to sea. A black storm is approaching and the boat rocks above waves twice the size of sea cows. As raindrops sting my face, the theme song from "Gilligan's Island" plays in my head.

We are on our way to Islas del Rosario, a chaotic stretch of rocks that are to Cartagena what the Florida Keys are to Miami. About two hours later, we are docking at the Hotel San Pedro de Majagua, the cheaper, less pretentious sister hotel of the Santa Clara, where we are greeted with smiles and fruit juice. Off-white huts with spacious rooms, king-size beds and stand-up showers are set against a jungle backdrop. Palm fronds billow in the breeze like living room curtains swaying in an open window.

The next morning, we walk a few yards to the white sand beach. Along the way, a vendor offers two giant lobsters he's caught for 45,000 pesos, about $18. When I say no, he retreats, then returns in his boat with another hustle. Would we like to go snorkeling?

Within minutes, Karla and I are about a mile out to sea, breathing through spouts. The vendor is our guide. Out of nowhere the ocean floor drops to a depth of about 40 feet. Colorful fish speed past me in enormous schools. My eyes are popping now.

When we return to the beach, another vendor offers us two giant crabs for about 30,000 pesos, a price that we split with another couple, bringing the cost to about $6.50 each. The vendor cooks the crabs in lime juice and we eat greedily, banging parts of the huge crustaceans against rocks to get the meat.

As we eat, the rain returns, so we head back across the open sea to Cartagena. I want to visit the San Felipe de Barajas castle, one of the oldest buildings in Colombia, with panoramic views of the city.

Standing on the castle walls, I look left toward the sea. On the right is Boca Grande, a miles-long stretch of beach lined with condos that, in spots, looks like Miami Beach. In the center of it all is the Old City, surrounded by a great stone wall that was built in the early 1600s to keep out a string of invaders.

Slaves built this castle. It was the scene of the largest-ever naval invasion before D-Day, when British Admiral Sir Edward Vernon and George Washington's brother tried to take Cartagena for Britain. Vernon and Washington were smacked down by a one-eyed, one-handed, peg-legged castle defender named Don Blas de Lezo. Unfortunately, de Lezo was mortally wounded in the fighting in 1741 and was buried in a place no one has managed to find for more than two centuries. He is honored with a statue in front of the castle, holding a sword and standing on his one good leg.

Cartagena was saved, but the slaves weren't freed until decades later. They mixed with indigenous Indians and Spaniards, following a trend that played out along the coasts of Honduras, Guatemala and Cuba.

It is my last full day in Cartagena, and I think my curiosity is going to get me kidnapped. Rene and Lucena are taking us on another outing, this time to Playa Dorada, the Golden Beach, well beyond the city limits. I swallow hard as we pass a major military checkpoint, dust flying behind us on a lonely road.

"Tranquilo," Rene says, with a glance at my concerned face. Stay calm. He pulls his Renault compact under a carport with a roof made of dried palm leaves. The beach is no more than 10 steps away. A waiter brings a selection of fish, asks which one we want, fries it. We frolic and relax on the warm beach for hours. At the end of the day, the waiter washes the sand from our bare feet before we swivel them into the car.

Back in Cartagena, Karla and I return to our favorite restaurant, Cafe del Santisimo, in a neighborhood filled with shops and discos. As we walk, a stranger approaches us, wanting to chat.

"Where are you from?" he asks in Spanish. He pulls out a Florida driver's license. "I lived in Miami," he says,

Details: Cartagena, Colombia

The U.S. State Department issued an alert this summer warning Americans about travel in Colombia, citing ongoing violence throughout the region, in cities and rural areas. It does not name Cartagena, but the agency recommends that Americans refrain from visiting Colombia.

GETTING THERE: American Airlines flies from Washington to Miami, where you can pick up a direct connection to Cartagena on Colombian Aces Airlines. American also offers flights from Miami to Bogota, where you can connect to Cartagena on Avianca or Aces. Round-trip flights start at about $700.

GETTING AROUND: Most points of interest in Cartagena's Old City are within walking distance. If you can't get to your destination on foot, the area is swarming with cheap yellow cabs. But be warned: Drivers often try to inflate the fare. Watch them carefully.

WHERE TO STAY: We stayed in a friend's two-bedroom apartment for the ridiculously low price of $16 a day (plus $4 a day for maid service). Rooms at the luxurious Sofitel Santa Clara (Calle del Torno, 800-SOFITEL, www.hotelsantaclara.com), with marble bathrooms, staircases that spiral up to romantic lofts and incredible views of the sea, start at about $220 a night. Rooms at the Cartagena Hilton Hotel (Avenida Almirante Brion, 800-774-1500, www.hilton.com) run $76 to $180 a night.

WHERE TO EAT: Treat yourself to dinner at Cafe del Santisimo on 8-19 Santisimo. The food presentation is fantastic, and I recommend the house special: any entree on the menu, plus appetizer, dessert and all the wine you can drink, for about $13. Try Enoteca Pizzeria on Calle Centro for gourmet Italian.

Cartagena: Safe Haven?

In a region torn by violence, the Colombian resort town offers a measure of peace.