Spend an afternoon wandering the streets of Cartagena, Colombia, and it won’t take long before the city’s walls start speaking to you. Not in the way of graffiti or slogans—though those exist too—but through color. Whole blocks dressed in sun-drenched ochre, bougainvillea-bright pinks, moody indigos, and faded colonial blues. Every turn feels like a curated palette, but there’s nothing accidental about it. This isn't just "Instagrammable" architecture. The wall paint of Cartagena is a living language.
And like all languages, if you listen closely enough, you’ll hear it tell a deeper story.
Color here doesn’t just beautify—it remembers. It honors. It resists. The hues splashed across Cartagena’s old city walls, outer neighborhoods, and restored homes quietly trace the lines of class division, colonial history, local pride, and Black and Indigenous identity. In a city shaped by conquest and creole cultures, by slavery and resistance, even a bucket of paint can carry centuries of meaning.
The Colorful Illusion of Cartagena: A Surface With Depth
Cartagena is stunning. With its flower-draped balconies, 17th-century doors, and baroque churches softened by salty air and tropical light, it’s a city that begs to be photographed.
But if you’ve ever felt that quiet pull while walking through the streets of Getsemaní or along the walls of the Centro Histórico, that sense that this beauty is more than just aesthetic—you’re right.
Here’s the real secret: the paint colors that light up Cartagena’s walls aren’t just pretty. They’re politically and culturally charged.
Cartagena was one of the principal ports of the Spanish Empire during the slave trade. For nearly 200 years, it was a gateway where more than 1 million enslaved Africans were brought to the Americas. The descendants of these communities live here still—and color plays a role in how their legacy is remembered or erased.
1. Colonial Color Codes: A Legacy Still Tinting the City
During the Spanish colonial era, color wasn’t a matter of taste—it was a matter of control. Enslaved and Indigenous people were not allowed to live within Cartagena’s fortified walls. Homes in the inner city (what is now the Centro Histórico) were primarily occupied by the Spanish elite, and the colors of the buildings were intentionally muted, symbolizing power, Catholic conservatism, and "European taste."
Pale ochres, whites, creams, and stone grays dominated. These shades were deemed "proper" and associated with civility, governance, and church authority.
Fast forward to today, and you’ll still notice that much of the paint in the Centro stays within a muted, colonial palette—particularly on large, well-preserved structures or government buildings. That’s not by accident. Cartagena has a UNESCO World Heritage designation, and as part of that preservation, property owners in the historical center must follow a strict code that includes paint color approval. The aim is to “protect” the city’s aesthetic, but it also limits self-expression—particularly for residents with ancestral ties to the neighborhoods but without the same resources or influence.
This paints a subtle, visual divide: the “respectable” colonial city versus the more expressive neighborhoods outside its walls.
2. Getsemaní and the Rise of Expressive Walls
Now walk south, just outside the city walls, and you’ll find Getsemaní, a neighborhood once home to freed Black and mixed-race artisans, laborers, and dockworkers. In contrast to the old center, Getsemaní’s colors bloom with defiance—bright teals, mango yellows, jungle greens, and saturated magentas.
There’s no color code here. And that’s exactly the point.
While Getsemaní was historically marginalized, it's also been a center of resistance. During the Colombian War of Independence in the early 1800s, this was the neighborhood that rose up first. Murals, flags, and vibrant facades speak to that history. Paint isn’t just decor—it’s a public archive.
You’ll often see depictions of Pedro Romero, a Black revolutionary hero from the neighborhood, and other images celebrating Afro-Colombian identity. Some of these are painted directly on stucco walls, others displayed through flags and house accents. Even the bold contrast of wall color against white trim becomes a stylistic signature—a visual form of joy, survival, and nonconformity.
In many Caribbean cultures—including Colombia’s Caribbean coast—bright colors in homes are associated with dignity, optimism, and celebration, particularly in Afro-descendant communities. This is rooted not in trend, but in centuries of cultural practice.
3. Class, Tourism, and the Battle Over Aesthetic Ownership
As tourism surged in Cartagena—particularly after the early 2000s—neighborhoods like Getsemaní started changing. What was once seen as “too poor” or “too edgy” became “bohemian” and “authentic.” Artists moved in. So did hostels. Then boutique hotels. And with that came real estate development—and a different kind of paintbrush.
New owners began to repaint buildings in curated colors, often referencing European design trends or aiming to create a certain “aesthetic” for Instagram. Tropical tones were toned down, walls were smoothed out, and the architectural funkiness of the area was softened for wider appeal.
For long-time residents, this repainting wasn’t just visual—it was cultural displacement. As homes were bought and flipped, the color story shifted again—from expressions of identity to branding choices.
In this context, paint becomes more than color. It’s a sign of ownership, control, and, sometimes, erasure.
4. Walls That Speak Back: Murals, Protest, and Cultural Reclamation
But not everyone is quietly handing over their color palette.
In recent years, Cartagena’s walls have become sites of active resistance and creative assertion. Community-led murals in neighborhoods like San Diego, La María, and Bazurto show local faces, regional flora, and quotes from Afro-Colombian poets and historians.
One powerful example: in Getsemaní, a mural of a young Black girl wearing her natural hair and holding a sign that reads, “Mi barrio no se vende” (My neighborhood is not for sale). It's both an aesthetic piece and a rallying cry against gentrification.
There’s also the annual Hay Festival Cartagena, which often includes mural projects, public art walks, and spoken-word events that tap into these layered histories.
Cartagena is over 35% Afro-Colombian, and many of these communities are pushing for stronger protections of cultural heritage—not just for food and music, but architecture and color as well.
By embracing bold paint choices and celebrating Afro-Indigenous iconography, these walls are reasserting the right to visible identity in a city where beauty has often been repackaged for outside eyes.
5. Pride in Paint: Maintenance, Family Legacy, and Everyday Art
Not all color is political—at least not directly.
In many of Cartagena’s neighborhoods, painting your home in a vibrant hue is a form of pride. It’s a way of saying, “We take care of this.” Families will repaint their façades every year before holidays or family gatherings, often mixing the paint by hand to get a just-right shade.
In Torices, La Boquilla, and San Francisco, homes might be modest in size, but the colors sing. One house might be turquoise with coral trim; next door, a faded mustard gives way to seafoam green. These choices aren’t dictated by trends—they’re rooted in family stories, mood, sometimes just what was on sale. But they create streetscapes full of warmth and individuality.
In many Caribbean cities, painting your house in a bright color is also a form of informal neighborhood coding—visually signaling alignment with community values, religious practices (like Santería or Catholic traditions), or simply good upkeep.
There’s quiet power in that. In a city where identity has often been shaped by outsiders, the act of choosing and maintaining color becomes its own form of authorship.
The City That Paints Its Truth
Color in Cartagena is not just a backdrop for your vacation photos—it’s a language of survival, storytelling, and cultural inheritance. To see it only as beautiful is to miss what makes it profound.
The next time you turn a corner and see a burst of tangerine against a colonial archway, or a teal wall marked with hand-painted resistance art, take a moment. Consider whose story it tells, what power it claims, and who might have once been told not to paint at all.
Because in Cartagena, even a can of paint can say: We are still here.
And we are still beautiful.
Lead Travel Editor
Jordana holds an M.A. in Global Studies from the University of Sydney and has spent the past 5 years writing and researching the intersection of culture and travel. Before joining World Buzz Travel, she worked with NGOs in Southeast Asia, helped design experiential learning trips for university programs.
