Yesterday I had been working all morning listening to some goat bleating across the street. I looked out the window and saw the most long legged goat I've ever seen. Trotting around searching for a scrap to eat which reminded me that I had absolutely nothing in the fridge.

So off to the supermarket which is only 5 minutes away and I am almost happy to go there on my new secondhand bike. Only almost because the traffic is a rather crazy and no driver with self esteem respects a bicycle. I just hope it increases my survival chances in the Cartagenean traffic having watched the Green Messengers in Copenhagen who have their own set of anarchistic traffic rules.

Of course there are alternatives. A lot of buses - not quite as fancy looking as in Guatemala but considerably newer - passes right in front of the house but only a few them go to the town center where the supermarkets are. But then there is always a taxi. They are yellow and a normal taxi costs COP 7.000 (EUR 2,20) which is expensive just to go shopping. But some of the taxis are collectivos. You stick two fingers in the air to get their attention which means that you are willing to pay 2.000 and you get the ride along with as many other people you can cramp into the taxi. It can be a lot of fun! This works fine during the day but at night only the 'real' taxis run which has to be taken into consideration the price being almost of the value of two beers.

Well, I ended up on my bike but chose a different supermarket than usual. It looked a little shib-shabby but both God and most of you lot know that I'm not squeamish. From Guatemala I am used to cockroaches and the odd mouse in the kitchen. But this wasn't what put me off. In the butchers department all the fresh meat was laid out neatly in an open cooler. I was just about to buy a big piece of beef already imagining a good tender rare cooked steak mmmmm when another customer came over and started to inspect the meat. She literally turn over every piece of meat in that cooler - with her bare hands! Startled I looked at the butcher but his tranquil looks confirmed to me that this was quite normal. And then I lost the feel for a good steak so eggs and beans for dinner - again….!

By the time I was back in the flat it had gotten late. I don't have a watch but you can almost tell the time by listening to the drivers with their beautiful horse carriages. They pass here early in the morning on their way to the centre of town and spend the day driving around with tourists. At night at 7 pm.m they return to their homes again passing our house on the way. They are a common sight around here and the sound of hooves is a very welcome contrast to the ordinary noise of traffic. They give you a sense of the time of the old Cartagena - the one described by Gabriel Garcia Marquz in 'Love in the time of Cholera' and in Danish 'Kærlighed i kolereans tid'.

The long-legged goat was still bleating. I looked out the window and did I get scared? It was trotting along, and got very near to the curb. The cars were still passing at high speed and it looked as if the goat intended to cross the street. No, no, stop! I almost yelled. But of course it had been tied up - otherwise it would have been dead meat by now. But who knows? It might have been better than the meat in the supermarket?