Medellín

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. – Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad

Mark Twain had it right. This quote definitely holds true for my experience in Medellín. Maybe not so much for dispelling prejudice or bigotry, but definitely for giving me a new perspective on Colombian society.

Colombia, frankly, has an image problem, and with good reason. The new tourism pitch being shown in the US and Europe is ¨Come to Colombia. The only risk is not wanting to leave.¨

As opposed to the old motto ¨Come to Colombia. The only risk is someone else not wanting you to ever leave.¨

He he. Sorry…forgive a guy a little backpacker humor.

In the past, whenever I heard mention of Medellín, only one word would come to mind – cocaine. Okay, cocaine, and possibly the name Pablo Escobar.

Unfortunately, Pablo Escobar, dead since 1994 when he was gunned down, is still Medellín´s most famous citizen. His story is a fascinating one, but also extremely violent. I won´t go into it, but basically he was head of the Medellín cartel for more than a decade, at a time in the 1980´s when cocaine first came to the masses.

At his height he controlled more than 70% of the cocaine trade, and was ranked by Fortune magazine as one of the top 10 richest people in the world during the 1980´s, with a fortune of over $7 billion.

But back to the topic of getting a new perspective on Colombia. Derek and I arrived by bus around 9am on Tuesday morning, and very quickly boarded the Medellín Metrorail, a very modern public metro system running through the center of the city.

We made our way to our hostel (Casa Kiwi…which was to be our glory and downfall), and then headed back out to get a glimpse of the city.

Medellín is Colombia´s second biggest city behind Bogotá. It is home to about 3.5 million people, situated at 1500 meters above sea level, in a valley between two tall mountain ranges.

It is home to universities, museums, art galleries, a botanical garden, fine hotels, colonial architecture, a metrorail system, and all kinds of other cultural ¨stuff¨ that I wouldn’t even begin to know how to appreciate.

Basically, I was really impressed! The city was trendy, modern, and clean. The kids were all dressed in the latest styles. For a moment, I felt like I had wandered back to Spain. It was easily the nicest city I have been to during my travels in Central or South America (including Panama City).

The cool weather was also extremely welcome after a week and a half of sweating it out in the steamy, low-lying region around Cartagena.

The people of Medellín are known in the country as paisas (pronounced pie-zas), a title which they are truly proud to hold. Being a paisa means you are down-to-earth, middle class, and most importantly…not from Bogotá.

I never realized it before coming to Colombia, but the two leading Colombian cities have a fierce rivalry. It can almost be compared to the relationship between Madrid and Barcelona in Spain, or Florence and Rome.

Here in Colombia, Bogotá represents power, the rich oligarchy, and white-Spanish decent. Bogotá, since colonial times, has been the seat of the government.

Medellín, one very tall mountain range away, has always somewhat resented the snobbishness and control of the capital. It is a constant source of conversation when talking with people from Medellín.

¨Medellín has the best people, tastiest food, most comfortable weather, and most beautiful women in the country¨, they will say to you. When I told my cab driver this morning that I was headed to Bogotá he said, ¨Why are you going there?! They´re all a bunch of snobs. And the women all have flat asses!¨

I was in no position to argue with him, so only complemented him on the beauty of the paisa women, and promised to continue on to Bogotá so I could find out for myself.

Derek and I didn´t get into many cultural activities during our four days in Medellín. Unless drinking can be included as a cultural activity…which I think it probably can be.

As previously mentioned, our hostel, Casa Kiwi, was to be our downfall.

The hostel is situated in the hills above the city, in a very rich, trendy neighborhood called El Poblado. The streets were lined with stylish cafes, restaurants, and bars. In addition, the hostel boasted a bar ($1 bottles/$1.50 micro-brew beers), a large 3-tiered TV room, a kitchen, pool table, extensive deck overlooking the street, and rooftop pool and patio.

It was obviously a recipe for disaster.

To be fair, the start of the World Cup also played a part in the resulting debauchery. Starting on Thursday morning, a bunch of hung-over, smelly backpackers would clamber down the stairs, filling the TV room before the 8:30am start.

This may not seem like a very impressive feat, but it is when you know a lot of the crowd didn´t go to sleep until 5am, and has been going at that pace for several days.

Irish-accented streams of curses would fill the air, insulting some French player, followed by all kinds of chatter and shouts in Spanish, Dutch, Swedish, German, and the occasional Isreali ranting in Hebrew…which is worth hearing if you ever get the chance.

Up until a couple of days ago I had underestimated the impact the World Cup was to have on my travels.

We met one American traveler, Jeff, whose sole plan for the next month was to hole up in Medellín so he could watch all of the 64 World Cup games. I have to admit, it didn´t sound like a bad plan, especially considering the $1.50 microbrews.

Ironically, none of the five countries I am traveling through qualified for the World Cup. But I don´t think it matters. Between the motley crew of backpackers and Latin American love for football, it should make for some interesting World Cup viewing.

Unfortunately, this morning I had to say goodbye to Derek, as I had to press on to the airport for a quick flight to Bogotá. Derek has to head back to Costa Rica on Sunday to continue working for Peace Corps, which leaves me traveling alone for awhile.

Now after a quick 50 minute flight, (as opposed to the 10 bus ride through the mountain) I´m installed in another trendy hostel in the Bogotá city center. I´ll be here until Wednesday, before flying on to Quito.

I´m kind of looking forward to a few days traveling alone…going at my own pace. I´d also like to get out more than we did in Medellín to understand the historic sites around Bogotá a little better.

But this hostel is also equipped with a bar area selling cheap beer, a large flat-screen TV, and a bunch of soccer loving backpackers…so we´ll see how long that plan lasts.

I keep intending to write a little background on Colombia´s violent history, which is important to understanding the country today, but I seem to have run out of steam again. (i.e. time for a beer and conversation with fellow travelers.)

Cheers.