The prospect of being treated to a bit of sun certainly got Anne and me giddy, especially after all the struggles we had endured over the past few weeks. What struggles are them? Well, if you hadn't already heard, we got a bit sick. I'll stop going on about it now. And I'll cut the sarcasm out. Sorry.

But anyway, we were heading to the sun and felt like we were truly on our holidays. We had it all: the wall of heat that hits you as you step off the aeroplane, the jazzy Latino music in the terminal and the taxi, the vibrant colours that washed over every building en route to our hotel; and the perfecting room waiting for us on our arrival. Oh, and not forgetting the rooftop Jacuzzi too.

Clearly, when you put all those factors together, there was only one thing for it: we were getting pissed.

As was obligatory, we started with a few cervezas in the hot tub and then decided to head out for lunch. After taking in the Getsemani neighbourhood, we settled on a Peruvian place called Tree House for lunch.

Although it sort of felt a bit futile in choosing a different country's cuisine when one of the main reasons we visited Colombia was to try as many dishes as possible, we were actually very glad as the jalea mixta (seafood platter) that Anne ordered was out of this world. My beef and rice concoction was not to be sniffed at either, and it left us thinking if we should have spent a bit more time becoming totally acquainted to the offerings across Peru, and not just in the region around Cusco. Ah well.

After lunch, the heat took its toll and so we headed back for another dip on the roof, then continued with the drinking until dinnertime came around. This time, we were adamant that we were going for Colombian and so asked the reception staff to recommend somewhere a bit fancy. Their suggestion was La Cocina de Socorro, which while being a bit expensive, did offer some great Cazuela de Mariscos (seafood stew).

For some ridiculous reason, I forced Anne into a third splash in the tub for our after dinner festivities. But after submerging ourselves, we then realised it would be a good idea to just go to bed.

Feeling pleasantly fresh the following morning, we tucked into the hotel's free breakfast and then decided to embark on a shopping day to pick up some suitable warm-weather clothes. Needless to say, I went all out and purchased the local straw hat and a couple of Caribbean shirts to accompany it.

Usually, when it comes to shopping, I adopt an SAS 'get-in-get-the-job-done-and-get-out-in-two-minutes' approach and seeing as though we were pretty much at the foot of the Caribbean, I thought the shirts would be freely available.

I was wrong.

We were trudging around in the heat, checking shop after shop until finally, we gave up and headed for a quick rum and pineapple. Then, when walking back to the hotel, we stumbled upon a street seller that sold nothing but these shirts. After some hard negotiation tactics from both sides, we finally agreed on a price and we scuttled off to celebrate my purchase with another rum.

That rum then turned into another rum, which turned into a mojito, which turned into a margarita, which turned into the purchase of a bottle of rum, which was almost entirely consumed back in our room.

Needless to say, we weren't as fresh the following morning.

Nevertheless, we decided to head up to Bocagrande - the happening 'city' strip of Cartagena - for another attempt at the bandeja paisa (see Bogota blog) at a place that had been recommended to us. After a bit of a stroll around and then a faff trying to find the place, we finally arrived at La Fonda Antioquena. Anne opted for an ajiaco instead, but I was committed to conquering my new Everest.

However, while it was just as delicious as the Bogotan counterpart, it wasn't any easier to defeat. Shaun 0-2 Bandeja Paisa.

That night we headed to another recommendation for dinner: La Cocina de Pepina, a very homely, quaint place down a quiet side street. We were treated to some more local delights, including Cabeza e Gato / Cabeza de Gato (literally translates to cat head), which was a sort of mashed plantain affair. Very delicious though, despite its odd name.

We decided that the following day would be 'Street Food Saturday'. We had seen tons of vendors on our shopping day and really wanted to take in what the city had to offer, so we set a rule that the only food or drink that could be consumed had to be purchased from a street stall.

We headed to the old town and began our adventure with an arepa - a sort of plantain/potato cake that was filled with cheese and ham. We followed that up with a freshly squeezed orange juice and then shared a prawn & snail cocktail. Later on that day, we tucked in to a plantain fritter and an empanada, washed down with a coconut water.

We had found that one of the local squares to our hotel comes alive at night, with numerous food and drink traders, lots of people and even a game of football for some of the local kids. So that night, we soaked up the atmosphere with quesadillas, sausages, corn and some kebab-thing; not to mention the odd rum-based cocktails and aguadiente (the local tequila equivalent) before calling it a night with our stomachs truly satiated.

Unfortunately though, 'Street Food Saturday' was followed by 's*** Yourself Sunday'. Not literally, mind, but perhaps it was a reminder that we shouldn't have been as adventurous as we had been.

In seemed that Sunday was still very much holy day here though, and so when we finally mustered up the energy to head into town, we only found empty streets and closed doors. A somewhat sombre end to our time in a place that we had thoroughly enjoyed and definitely planned to return to.

And this wasn't an idle suggestion to fill the conversation on the way to the airport either; Cartagena was truly one of the best places we'd visited. Ever.

The stunning architecture in the old town, coupled with the perfect atmosphere really made it a place that you wanted to explore every nook and cranny. Then the friendly, welcoming people just topped it off perfectly. We wandered the streets at night walking past gangs of lads and didn't get any trouble whatsoever.

In fact, some of them even made the effort to shout 'welcome to Cartagena'; which actually made me realise that despite my obvious Colombian/Caribbean attire, I perhaps wasn't blending in as well as I initially thought.

Finally, the cuisine is truly out of this world. Perhaps you shouldn't consume as much street food as we did in one day, though.

Yes, it's fair to say that Cartagena was the textbook ending to our South America adventures.