Medellin, Colombia – June 11th – 18th, 2017

Though uneventful, the 8-hours bus-ride on a windy mountain road was, as usual, not our favorite. Fair to say, our tolerance for buses, even quality buses, has dwindled over the past year. In good news, our homestay turned out to be walking distance from the bus station (BONUS – taxi evaded!) and the airport! How lucky for us, that’ll be an easy commute for our flight next week… WRONG! SO WRONG! As it turned out, the airport was only for regional prop planes, the real airport was an hour and a half away by bus (great… just great), and said prop planes woke up and ran up their engines right outside our bedroom window at 6 am every morning. Even better, was that once all the planes took off we were serenaded by the music of a jackhammer hard at work destroying the sidewalk outside the homestay to replace it with slippery tile (which, for the record, looks better, but is a serious slip hazard!).

Once settled in, our host walked us to a nearby restaurant for some long overdue grub. We avoided the food at the quality road-side bus-stop establishment, thinking we’d have a better chance of quality food and avoiding chorro (the Spanish word for the Hershey squirts) in Medellin. Unfortunately, the only “vegetarian” option that the local restaurant could accommodate was beans (made with animal lard), rice (my favorite), and a salad (the most dangerous food available). I hope you’re picking up on the sarcasm here. Also as an added source of protein, they threw in a live earthworm free of charge! No shit, there was a worm in my salad! - which, by the way, I only discovered after eating half of the salad. Knowing complaining would get me nowhere, I chose to be done eating and surrendered to praying that it was indeed an earthworm and not a parasite on steroids - especially since only half of the worm remained… you do the math.

So, although I’ve started out by outlining all of the terrible things about our homestay, it was actually really great. The family was incredibly warm, helpful, and patient with our limited Spanish. We also had free reign of the washing machine and kitchen, allowing us to do our own laundry and cook for ourselves – what a luxury!!! Granted, the homestay was about a 30-minute walk from the main tourist area, but with readily available Ubers for about $1, the location turned out to be no big deal (minus the relentless airport and jackhammer noise).

Our homestay family, the live worm in my salad, and a local bakery selling balls of fried bready cheesy goodness.

We spent our week in Medellin exploring the city in the morning and taking Spanish lessons in the afternoon. Unlike our teacher in Salento, Carlos, our Medellin teacher, was awesome! Not only did we progress a lot in one week, but we had a good time doing it! Like us, Carlos is a soccer fan, and since the Medellin team, Atletico Nacional, had just earned themselves a spot in the Colombian finals, we had plenty to talk about. With our conversations being only in Spanish though, the content was quite basic. “They play not good,” was about all I could muster to describe the result of the first game.   

For one of our morning city excursions, we did a Pablo Escobar tour. Although it quickly became obvious that the locals wanted no part in remembering Pablo and the pain inflicted by the drug war, the tour was phenomenal! The tour was run by a new hostel which is owned and operated by a few local young people who went to school with Escobar’s son. Their mission is to share not only the truth about the decades of drug warfare, but also the revival of Medellin in the recent years of peace, with the hope of changing the Hollywood stereotype that many foreigners have about Colombia and the drug trade (they all hate the Netflix series Narcos by the way). Although the girls running the tour had a healthy appreciation for remembering and learning from the past, the majority of Colombians do not take the same stance (at least not yet… the wounds are still very fresh). In fact, all of the Escobar related buildings that we visited, have either been abandoned or turned into something else. For example, the prison that Escobar built for himself is now an old folks home (which, side note, is a free service to all elderly Colombian citizens), while his mansion in the city is abandoned with policeman stationed to shoo people away. Even the house where he was eventually killed has been turned into a language school. If not for the tour, a lay person would walk right past any of these buildings thinking nothing of them. After learning about the brutal history, the tour took us to Comuna 13, a portion of the city that was notorious for drug violence. In 2010, Comuna 13 was still the most violent neighborhood in Medellin, with a staggering 243 of the city’s 2,019 murders (although this number went down significantly from the 6,349 homicides that occurred in Medellin in 1991). The resurgence of the area is nothing short of astounding. From the colorful street art to the uplifting enthusiasm and optimism of the locals, Comuna 13 encompasses the true essence of Colombia.

Pablo Escabar's house (now abandoned), "prison" (now an old folks home), and place of death (now a language school). At the "prison" overlooking Medellin, there are some reconstructions of the original building and guard towers including a sign that says, "Quien no conoce su historia esta condenado a repetirla (Whoever does not know their history is doomed to repeat it)." 

In Comuna 13, escalators were installed to facilitate the assimilation of the violent hillside neighborhood to the rest of Medellin.

Having heard rave reviews, we also decided to do a city tour while in Medellin. As with the Escobar tour, the knowledge and eagerness of the guide blew us away. He truly wanted to share his country’s tumultuous past and hopeful present with visiting tourists – again with the hope of altering the negative stereotypes. When speaking about Pablo Escobar or the drug trade in general, the guide was conscientious to keep his voice down, even going so far as to referring to Escobar as Colombia’s “He who shall not be named.” The one notable exception that we saw to Colombian’s aversion to the past, was a sculpture in Plaza de San Antonio, where a bomb killed 23 people attending a public concert in 1995 (coincidently, our host family had left the concert only minutes before the bomb went off). When the local authorities attempted to remove the shrapnel-torn sculpture, the famous artist, Botero, insisted that it should stay as a memorial, and even provided an identical intact statue as symbolism for the rebirth of Colombia. In addition to learning about Colombian history, current events, and the buildings, churches, plazas, and parks of downtown Medellin, we also learned about some interesting cultural quirks. For example, “love providers” and porn can be found for sale around the churches in the city. The rationale is that by having your priest close by for confession, your sins can be forgiven, and you can get back out there to sin again in a timely manner, all without the fear of going to hell.   

City tour around Medellin.

For our final excursion in Medellin, we made our way via the metro and metro-cable (aka public gondola!) to Parque Arvi, a park on the plateau above the city. I have to admit, it was an odd experience to get on a gondola without skis, but for a city which is overflowing the valley, a gondola is a perfect solution for public transportation. As an added bonus, the views were incredible! Unfortunately, the park was less of a city overlook and more of a “wilderness” area with hiking trails. We did about an hour hike before heading back to the homestay for our afternoon mind-mushing Spanish class.   

Parque Arvi and the views from the metro cable car.

Although we wanted to visit Guatape, a picturesque village a few hours from Medellin, we ended up bailing in order to get caught up on computer errands. After a full day of organizing information for the rental turnover at our house in Seattle, trip planning, buying flights, calling airlines (after credit card and website problems), and resisting the urge to chuck the laptop out the window, Andy spent most of the night (not an exaggeration) applying for a job and perfecting his cover letter. Although we were bummed to hear from the fellow tourist at our homestay that Guatape was incredible, we were glad to be caught up and ready for my mom’s trip a few days later.