More Cartagena and a little ranting

 John wanted to end our walk with a stretch through Centennial Park and here we could see the police presence that Cartagena is providing in order to become a tourist destination.  Every entrance had several armed guards and they were also walking through the park.  We were able to see several statues and fountains, but even diehards like us know when it’s time to leave a place, like when the armed guard tells you that the bathrooms that you can clearly see

 are locked for safety.  Moving along to the rendezvous point with the other couple, we decided to get there early and have something in the little restaurant we were meeting in front of.  John ordered two great beers from Columbia and we got the tres leches cake.  Our taxi driver came in and found us and said that he would be around, his car was right out front.  I told John that all we really need was Tony and the taxi, but time was ticking and at 2pm, Tony

 said that they weren’t coming and we should just leave, but we made him wait because we couldn’t imagine being left when you knew that you had set up transportation and at 2:15 and then some, there they were.  We got back to the ship at the same time and most of the excursions, so felt like we had had another successful on our own excursion.  We were able to see howler monkeys, parrots, and flamingos at the docking point for our ship and the only 

  low point of the day was walking through the market and seeing a huge roach scurrying up a wall.  I HATE ROACHES and all I could think was that I would have to start watching where I walked and what was on the walls and ceilings around me.  You’d never think that I was born and raised in Texas where the huge things fly around at night.  Which leads me to a rant: How did someone born and raised in Texas get so lily white that she can’t comprehend 

  how people live in these places?  Even when I visited John at Baylor when I had only been away from the state for 6 years, I couldn’t believe that I had lived there because Waco was hotter than the sun.  Here I am in the tropics at Christmas, allergic to the sun.  Even with all the sunscreen in the world, my neck is still getting bumpy and a red rash from my being in the sun.  What the hell was I thinking?  I need a freaking turtleneck to walk around down here.  I told John on

 the way here that he could slap me if I once complained of being too hot because I was so glad to be escaping the cold and even though there has been sweat dripping down my back, popping out on my forearms (I didn’t know that forearms could sweat), I have not once complained of the heat, but Jesus, the sun is blistering me.  I have to say that I’m happy that we booked an excursion in Panama, because I need the shade that a bus provides from this sun even if it doesn’t have air conditioning… I guess that Michigan really is the place that I’m supposed to be with this pale skin and thick blood, that I think is making me puff up in this area to the point that my rings don’t fit…I would say that it is eating on the cruise ship that is doing this, but it goes away when I spend time in a cool place without my face being the color of lobster.