We are sitting on the roof of the guesthouse watching vultures circling us and considering popping to the shop next door for some frozen meat for them. They are much smaller than I thought and look a lot like chickens. There isn’t much else to do here - we arrived in Cartagena and it’s packed full of pot bellied Americans in shorts from cruise ships. Hundreds of touts running down the roads after you with the usual crap too which I don’t remember from last time. There are lots of lovely Christmas lights here over the windey streets and balconies plus a communal dentist where about ten chairs are lined up ready for action.

Our room is literally in the bar and is like a prison cell. No windows and lift music all the time are driving me to murderous thoughts. I am much safer on the roof with the vultures. There is a toucan stalking us, hopping around after us everywhere which is very cute especially as he’s been hiding in a tree for 3 days. He likes nibbling iPads, toes and thumbs. We start our flights back tonight so I have done an Ode to the Toucan:

There once was a toucan called Tony
Who’s beak was all long and bony
He liked nibbling toes-es
And picking at noses
But said my feet smell like roses.