Colombia is the eighth country we’ve visited and it feels like we’re not giving it the attention it deserves. We’re certainly not as gung-ho as we were so, so long ago in Ecuador. But also it’s the case that our attention is divided. Part of it’s still focused on exploring and enjoying this country, but the rest is aimed at our return to the U.S. We finally signed an apartment lease that we’ve been negotiating for a month. I set up our electric service and renters’ insurance while Lea had a video interview for a job. From a continent away we’ve rented a car to go get our cat, picked movers to empty our storage unit, and generally started the dirty work of merging ourselves back into the American grind. Some things we’re ready for (hot running water for one) and others we’re not (alarm clocks and commutes).
Lea observed that in my last post I used some form of the phrase “settling down” at least four times, and that my subconscious was probably telling me something. Given that I felt only half-awake when I wrote that article, it’s entirely possible.
Another funny thing about Colombia is that after nine months of hard travel and on-the-fly problem solving, this country feels like a final exam. Bogotá tested our skills at arranging transport, since unlike elsewhere on the continent many of Colombia’s bus companies have no presence on the internet. San José del Guaviare, Salento, and Jardín tested our fortitude for long, tiring treks, as well as our flexibility in knowing when to go it alone or even call it quits. Medellín has echoed the bank problems of Argentina (ATMs that worked elsewhere suddenly don’t here) and the navigation problems of Peru (none of the bus schedules on Moovit or Google Maps are up to date). Medellín does have the advantage of an excellent metro system that includes both cable cars and trains, but not all the stops are listed online.
As a result, my first impression of Medellín after the peaceful simplicity of Jardín was that it was a tangled, confusing mess. The hostel I booked for our first three days was on the south end of town in a district full of high-rise hotels, gigantic malls, mediocre fast food, and spaghetti junctions galore. Where we got off the train, even the overpasses had overpasses. The pedestrian walks snaked between, over, and around them and made wayfinding a little bit difficult.
So our first excursion in Medellín was to get the hell out of town. Had we been as full of pep as we were back in the Galápagos we probably would have taken the bus to Guatapé and climbed this big, stupid hill:
We have learned our lesson regarding climbing mountains, and we did no such thing. Instead we took the bus to El Carmen de Viboral, the capitol of Colombia’s pottery industry – a city where the buildings and sidewalks are tiled with ceramic plates. To my pleasant surprise, the ride to El Carmen was deeply relaxing. The road wasn’t bumpy, the driver wasn’t crazy, the breeze through the windows was refreshing. I’ve learned to dread most forms of transportation, so it was almost intoxicating to arrive in El Carmen in a pleasant, unhurried state of mind. The town itself was vibrant without being overwhelming, and its unique style of decoration made it beautiful in a way we hadn’t seen before.
After three days in a part of Medellín with little personality and too much American chintz, we moved north to the Laureles-Estadio neighborhood and Medellín started to grow on us. This part of town has much more character, and feels trendy and Colombian at the same time. We’re an easy walk from a giant supermarket, but even closer to a heavily trafficked avenue full of street vendors, hot dogs and fried chicken stalls, bicyclers and pedestrians. Colombians, who are very friendly, seem much less reserved than their cousins in Ecuador and Bolivia. Strolling down the street is to pass through waves of conversation, laughter, and horrible sing-a-longs to music in bars. The noise can be too much, but Colombians behave like people who live with gusto.
After moving our belongings, we at last set out to explore the city. We visited the Museo de Antioquia in the heart of downtown, and on the way discovered the true Medellín – full of fruit sellers, family outings, vendors hawking everything you could want under the elevated train tracks, a procession of what I’d swear were Hare Krishnas, and people dancing in the street. The latter we saw twice: elderly couples were dancing in the Parque Berrio to the accompaniment of a four-piece guitar and washboard band, while a mob of young people danced along to loudspeakers in a plaza beneath the metro stop nearest our hostel.
The Museo de Antioquia features art both contemporary and traditional, but its main highlight is a large collection of the work of Fernando Botero, who donated the pieces himself. “Large” is the appropriate adjective, because most of his works are huge, as are the people depicted in them. The top floor of the museum is dedicated to his paintings, and the park just outside features Botero’s jaw-dropping bronze sculptures.
Our second outing was to Medellín’s botanical garden, which is free to enter and one of the best we’ve seen in South America. While unfortunately the orchid house was under renovation, we were still able to enjoy the rest of the park. Most surprising were the giant striped iguanas that roam at will and seem to provide most of the garden’s lawn maintenance.
And finally, we got up early in the morning to join a walking tour of Comuna 13, the district of Medellín made famous to Americans by the TV series Narcos. Even after the era of Escobar, Comuna 13 was still one of the most dangerous places in all of South America, the site of bloody violence between leftist militias and right-wing paramilitary groups.
The Comuna 13 of today is a lively, flourishing neighborhood. The government has invested much into turning the area around, building schools and funding infrastructure projects. It’s still a maze of alleys, twisting streets, and steep climbs, but there are now pedestrian escalators connecting the upper reaches of the district to the rest of the city below, as well as funneling tourists and their pesos to the community’s artists, restaurants, and coffee sellers. The street art in the district acknowledges the area’s dark past, but with a bright and hopeful look toward the future.
One week in Medellín has hardly been enough time to know the city, especially as distracted as we’ve been by other concerns. Nevertheless, part of this journey has been to find places outside the United States where we would seriously consider living someday. While we don’t think we’d retire to Medellín, it’s a lively, thriving place where we could easily imagine spending a lot more time, should the opportunity present itself.
After all, they’re dancing in the street.