The city truly is amazing - all that the guide books say, and more. Truly is Colombia's jewel. The first (non-local) settlers and construction date to the early 1500's. Mostly Spanish.
It's a walled city, with several miles of walls 10-ish feet thick, and up to 20' feet tall, with forts at strategic places; the most gigantic Spanish fortress ever constructed stands at the mouth of the key inlet (pictures below).
To the right and below are some examples of the wall. Cartagena is built on a peninsula, and the wall makes a long narrow u-shape as it runs along both sides/one end of the peninsula, enclosing the old city. The Spanish resorted to the walls/forts/fortress because during their years of looting the country's gold and other treasures (which they amassed and stored in Cartagena prior to shipment to Spain), they kept getting attacked (successfully) by pirates (the most successful and famous was Frances Drake).
After the walls and fortress, the city never fell again. Easy to see why!
If you look closely at these two pictures of the fort, you'll see people walking on the ramparts. Hopefully they convey a sense of the massive scale of this structure. 
Couldn't resist including one with me...
Beneath the fort's surface there's a maze of tunnels that connect the living quarters, mess halls, supply rooms, medical facilities, etc., and also provide shortcuts for fast transitions to/from any part of the structure. The tunnels are cool with a constant breeze - I'm sure they provided welcome relief from the hot temperatures on the all-rock surfaces above.
The architecture here is as beautiful as the books say. Many of the early buildings, churches and fortresses are still intact. Lots of narrow cobblestone streets with lovely old multi-storied Spanish homes complete with ivy/bougainvilla-covered balconies. Think medieval Europe/New Orleans. 
If you look closely at the church door on the left, you'll see one of the utilitarian doors.
Cartagena is actually 3 cities: the lovely old walled city; the new city of skyscrapers and haciendas; boutiques and gourmet restaurants; casinos and other toys for the mega-wealthy; and the "underbelly" where the local and indigenous people live in abject squalor. The city is advertised as safe, and it is - in large part because each and every day (and night) there are 2,000+ armed police patrolling the streets. Outside of the city, it is definitely not safe - even for the police.
Lots of art in the plazas and parques.
Time on the beach requires one constant "no, gracias" to an endless parade of vendors. It truly ruins an otherwise fabulous experience, because you can't ignore them, not even by closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep, because each vendor is armed with some sort of bell/whistle/tinkler to keep you alert. A partial list of stuff I declined, within a half-hour one morning: beach towels, hats, kites, drinks of all kinds, t-shirts, sandals, jewelry of all types, massages, foods/fruits, boat rides, ice-creams, photos, raw oysters, bathing suits/sarongs, sunglasses, beach chairs and cell phone calls. 
The two main beaches within walking distance of the old city are Bocagrande (above - ocean-side) and Castillogrande, (below - bay-side). The day I took the beach pictures it was morning and overcast. When the haze burns off, the water is tropical turquoise.
It takes me a day or two in a new place to find my "level" - it was harder in Caartgena than in most places because it's one of the wealthiest cities in the world, and the shops and restaurants reflect that. But I did find my favorite street vendors, a great book store, an unbelievable restaurant with 5-course dinners for $6, a decent grocery store, and a quiet park. Those finds, combined with my hostel (large room with kitchen privileges) made for a great time. Even so, I was more than ready to leave - 6 days on a budget in this type of place is about 2 too many.
One Cartagena story: one morning in the hostel I met a neat woman from Israel (Anet) – a musician. She'd studied afro-caribbean percussion across Africa and Cuba, and was in Cartagena to find and record some unique musicians she'd heard of, in a nearby village. She invited me to join, and the day was on. A long, local (hot/crowded/dusty) bus ride and a hike – and by asking various villagers (thatched adobe huts – honest) as we went, we found them. We were really lucky – not only did we find them, but it was a fiesta day and they were playing (and drinking) at 11:00 in the morning in a tiny thatched beach hut. We stayed there quite a while, and when we got hungry they suggested a great local eating place “a ways” down the beach (Uncle Zack's). A couple miles later we hadn't found it yet, and it was clear we were not in a good area – crowded, ramshackle huts and garbage piled everywhere. We were debating how much further to go before giving up when two policemen pulled up on a motorcycle, asked what (in the world) we were doing out there, and explained clearly they intended to escort us back. We convinced them to escort us to Uncle Zack's instead – they knew where it was – another mile or so. Glad we did - the environment got worse and worse – from a road to a trail to a path through gutted, abandoned structures - so we invited them to lunch, if they'd then escort us back. They were about to go on break, so agreed. Anet and one policeman rode the cycle back; I walked, and talked, with the other – a wonderful young man (22-ish) named Caesar. My heart went out to him – young/intelligent/motivated/hopeful...he'd become a policeman because he couldn't afford college, and our immigration office had refused his visa to join his older sister in New Jersey. He'd only been on the job 2 months, had never been in this area, and was quite afraid for his life – already one team mate had been killed and another was in the hospital with massive brain damage after taking a knife in the head. He hoped to save enough money during his 2-year stint to go to some small college and then work to help coffee farmers improve crop production and profitability - he'd grown up on a coffee plantation and had experienced how impossible it had been for his father to support the family. His story is one I won't soon forget. 
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