Two nuns bustle along the narrow  colonial street, sweeping a rickety  elderly lady along in their wake. But the good folk of Cartagena’s  Old Town who are not attending  Mass are in no such hurry on this Saturday  morning.

From my balcony—sporting dressing  gown, slippers and Panama hat (essential for a  pasty Englishman whose hair has known more  luxuriant days)—it is a pleasure to catch the city off guard.

Beneath the plants cascading off the buildings’ balconies, the city is sprucing itself up for visitors. The shopkeeper opposite shoes out a kitten and sets up a large painting of a salsa-dancing pair of Fernando Botero’s trademark  portly characters.

Colombians, their hips predisposed to salsa, are famed for their love of music and dancing. All is quiet now, but at sunset, local vallenato music floated along the street, inducing a lady in a rocking chair on a neighbouring balcony to  bob up and down in time to the music.

Now, rather than music, the warm breeze gently carries a salty freshness from the  Caribbean. The sea lies twinkling beyond the  ramparts to my left. These Spanish ramparts form a cocoon  around Colombia’s foremost visitor attraction.

Inside, the primarily 18th-century city has been beautifully but not ostentatiously restored. Like in Venice, even the plaster flaking above the  dancing pair in the painting does so romantically. There were no blemishes to the white façade of LM, the seven-bedroom luxury boutique hotel where my wife and I were lucky enough to be staying for our first wedding anniversary.

We had been welcomed on arrival by Amparo Velásquez, the elegant manageress, and ushered  into the surprisingly cool inner courtyard. Given the heat and the building’s long history, the light, modern interiors around the small pool were a relief.

Although the refurbished building is old, it is decked out with all the obvious modern amenities—we never fully conquered the bewildering array of remote controls in our room. This is a hotel that thrives on its commitment to the privacy of its guests; my wife never saw another guest while we were there. Lying in the roof terrace’s pool under the stars, surrounded by tropical plants and candles, was glorious.

Only a neighbouring castle turret overlooked the terrace, the sole sound was the chill-out music in the background. At the end of the road, the cathedral’s cupola was transformed into a bronze-and-gold confection.

It was hard to believe that we were not staying in a unique gem, but the truth is that Cartagena’s old town is blessed with an embarrassment of bijou hotel riches. The happy conjoining of UNESCO-protected colonial architecture and local design brilliance has produced a dazzling choice of luxurious delights.

Among them is the orange-and-ginger scented Tcherassi Hotel and Spa. This fashionista-friendly venue has imported Puerto Rican frogs, who live in the vertical garden and croak pleasingly in the mornings. To really push the boundaries of indulgence, stay in its 120sqm penthouse suite with its own pool and terrace.

Alternatively, there’s Thierry Forté’s La Passion. Thierry brought his theatre-design background into play to develop his popular creation.

A canoe-turned-sofa hangs in its 18th- century courtyard, which forms the focus for the eight bedroom hotel. Breakfast—for those out of bed in time—is taken on the roof terrace, among huge potted plants by the pool.

Cartagena’s disposition to lovers of the small but perfectly formed has flowed from Agua. This hotel set the standard for others to follow. Perhaps because of the personalised service, reading room and eclectic blend of decorations, the seventeenth-century colonial home still feels homely. However, humbly describing itself as a “guesthouse” is not fooling anyone.

In a city of boutique brilliance, the Santa Clara hotel is a behemoth on the sea front. We were there during the windy season, when locals master fluttering kites from the grass next to the hotel.

It’s worth visiting the Santa Clara if only to  enjoy the excellent Cuba Libres in the former cloisters with the friendly tame toucans, Clarita and Mateo. They also offer a superb champagne degustación menu and have their own vaults under the bar.

The former convent was built in 1621, some 88 years after the city was founded. Now, the old city is still small enough to be pleasantly explored on foot, whichever hotel you choose.

As residents of the Andean city of Bogotá, walking did require us to adjust to the heat and humidity. I admired the louche rhythm of a large Afro-Colombian in a red shoulder-less dress, who swung past with a tray of sticky sweets balanced atop her headdress. Cooled by the breeze, we strolled around the city.

Among the beautiful wooden doorways, each square, street and plaza has its own character. In Plaza Bolivar, a dance troupe of Afro-Colombians swirled in traditional red-and-white outfits, waving machetes to pounding drums.
 
In another, students enjoyed the balmy evening weather. Elsewhere, a band sang and played while they sat around a table. We listened while facing Plaza Santo Domingo’s church and the prodigious bronze backside of a reclining Botero nude.

In the centre of the square a portly security guard, with a Botero-physique, leant heavily on an ornate gas lamp, whose ironwork heart was home to a bird’s nest.

While safer than the bad old days of the 1980s, security remains an issue in Colombia. Cartagena’s police are a smart crew decked out like Mounties. Their reputation may not be unimpeachable but they, like everything else here, do look immaculate in their riding boots, broad-brimmed hat and jodhpurs.

With its unparalleled accommodation and sense of occasion, Cartagena does events with a flourish. It has become the natural home to major international literature and classical music festivals. This is a city that likes to put on a show.

Outside San Pedro Claver cathedral, we walked past dozens of children and families resplendent in their first communion finest. The cathedral is home to pairs of parakeets, who nest in the façade. Elsewhere a beautiful bride glided to the church with her entourage parading behind in tow.

“This might be the most romantic city in the world,” said my wife as we strolled on attracted by a buzz of excitement. The Municipal Theatre appeared to be set up for a Hollywood film premier, but the fuss was for a wedding reception.

The omnipresence of music, hustle and colonial architecture gives Cartagena a Havana- like atmosphere. Happily, Colombia’s food is considerably better than Cuba’s ubiquitous rice and beans.
 
Given the glorious heat and the bounty of the Caribbean seafood, traditional costeña (coastal) food is a surprise. Meaty and rich, a slow- cooked beef “orladana” stew, with coconut rice and thick sticky chunks of banana was delicious within the air-conditioned comfort of Aracataca restaurant, but would have been a struggle to eat out in the warmth of the sun. It seems peculiar that this is how the local food evolved. 

More obviously apt is the cool and fragrant costeña cream customarily served with patacones (fried banana strips) before the arrival of the food. Adopted international cuisine, such as ceviche—Peru’s clean-flavoured alchemy of seafood, lime and chilliis perfectly suited to al fresco Cartagena dining.

As Colombia’s cities have become more peaceful, Cartagena de las Indias has cemented its place as a world-class travel destination.
 
Since it won UNESCO World Heritage Site status in 1984, improved safety means it’s no longer only intrepid travellers who can enjoy the city’s glories.

When I asked Amparo what made Cartagena such a special place, she said: “Its people, location, history and enchanting architecture.”

The city has long proved a powerful draw to foreigners. The ramparts were originally built to repel the approaches of swashbuckling Sir Francis Drake, and his fellow buccaneers and  pirates. The lawn bowls enthusiast was paid handsomely to discourage him from sacking the city; he previously showed little respect for the architecture by putting a few warning cannon-balls through the cathedral.

Making the trip into the city by boat, you would never imagine its attraction lies in its colonial grandeur. This is a different world, where sea-front high-rise glass blocks reach into  the blue skies. Bocagrande is the place to join the city’s glitzy, glam young crowd.

Further out to sea lie the Rosario Islands, part of a marine national park. We moored at a restaurant and a canoe paddled over. One powerfully built fellow provided the manpower, while his rotund colleague held up a black umbrella.

The stockbroker’s brolly was an incongruous sight beneath the clear sky. As they drew along side, it became clear this was a floating seafood bar and the brolly bearer was protecting his iced cargo of prawns, langoustines and lobster from the sun. A visit to the islands, ideally for a few days, is not to be missed: the diving and snorkelling is glorious.

Some of the hotels have their own suitably exclusive places from which to enjoy the national park. The islands have lush vegetation, white private beaches and luxury accommodation. Some have upmarket cabañas. From here, we shared the crystalline waters with only the
coral and sea life.

Unlikely as it sounds, there’s more to visiting Cartagena than merely staying in the world’s most romantic city; hard as it is to leave, its well worth the effort to explore the Rosario Islands.

It’s important to take your time when exploring Colombia’s most precious colonial gem, so make sure you drink it all in; sit down in the plaza and breathe in the fragrant air and you can’t help but envisage a time when buccaneers and pirates traded gold and cannonballs for the peace that envelops Cartagena  today.

Marquez inspiration

Colombia’s most famous son, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, has been enchanted by Cartagena since he was a child. Magical realism’s leading light still has a terracotta-coloured  modernist house next to the Santa Clara hotel and former convent.

“Gabo” as he is affectionately known, was present when the tomb of Sierva Maria was opened in one of Santa Clara’s crypts. The 200-year-old child’s body inspired him to
write the tragedy Of Love and Other Demons.
 
The room above the crypt subsequently became the hotel bar—book, bar and crypt are to be recommended. The Nobel Prize winner is no longer a permanent Colombia resident but was here for the 2010 Hay Literary Festival, when he attended a party at the LM hotel.

The city also provided the literary and cinematic backdrop for his epic Love in the Time of Cholera.

While Cartagena goes unnamed, to walk its cobblestone streets is to step into the passionate world Gabo created in the story. The colonial masterpiece is a constant presence throughout the author’s work: “All of my books have loose threads of Cartagena in them,” he explained in a documentary.

“And, with time, when I have to call up memories, I always bring back an incident from Cartagena, a place in Cartagena, a character in Cartagena.”