Leaving Ourselves Behind

While all of Colombia was impacted by the decades-long armed conflict and Pablo Escobar’s drug empire, Medellin was Ground Zero, earning it the notorious title in the 80’s of being “the most dangerous city in the world.”

You can take Escobar Tours and even buy t-shirts with images of Pablo’s blood-stained face, but most Colombians strongly discourage this type of tourism, as the Escobar years caused them tremendous pain and loss and they want their country’s image to move forward from its sensational past.

They are quite rightly distressed that their major export continues to keep their country mired in corruption and a simmering violence, but as they have succinctly said about the world’s fondness for party drugs, ” You buy cocaine, you hurt a Columbian.” That is a lot to have on your conscience.

Medellin has been plagued by violence for more than 30 years. I read sporadic stories over the years, but the scope of the violence and the horror of the “disappeareds“, the luring of citizens into the paramilitary and the terror in the streets of a far-away country never fully registered.

Escobar’s reign unleashed a wave of violence and fear that subsided briefly after his death in 1993, but then surged again as paramilitary groups like FARC and AUC destabilized the country.

Operation Orion was formed in 2002 with the intention of disbanding urban militaries, but ultimately some members of this group splintered and formed additional criminal gangs.

This photo shows a key member of Operation Orion pointing out houses where suspected “criminals” lived, although later it was discovered than many, many innocent lives were lost.

The excellent and deeply moving Museo Casa de la Memoria opened in 2012 as a remembrance of the victims of the violence and as a testament to the resilience of the Medellin residents. The country has not completely stabilized yet, and the threat of that time is in recent memory. This interactive museum presents in both Spanish and English, with photographs, written material and several audio-visual displays. One of the displays, with English subtitles, profiled several people who had lived through that time, including a mother whose son disappeared, and a young woman who was lured into the paramilitary.

The photographs were wrenching. This one bore witness to the effect on children, as they lived through inexplicably shocking sights in their neighbourhoods.

Medellin is divided into neighbourhoods, or comunas, and the most famous of them all is Comuna 13. Generally speaking, the higher the houses climb up the mountainside, the poorer the residents and Comuna 13 was one of the poorest. Because of the alleyways and easy access to the mountaintop, it was also ideal for the drug trade to funnel product out of the city, and this neighbourhood became the danger epicenter.

Today, although the houses are still modest, and the inhabitants still poor, it is a vibrant and thriving community. Dozens of NGO’s have helped develop social initiatives, but perhaps the greatest change was the implementation of six sets of free escalators. These escalators helped to move people up and down the mountainside in minutes; eliminating the arduous climb of the over 350 concrete steps.

Although it is completely safe to explore Comuna 13 on your own, we took a walking tour since we wanted to hear the local perspective about the history and the graffiti of the area. Our guide, Leandro still lives in Comuna 13 and his personal history impacted on our understanding of the area.

He was kicked out of his house at 17 because of his drug use and unsavoury friends and shortly after that, he joined a paramilitary group and carried a gun. Other than assuring us he never used the gun to kill anyone, he alluded to some frightening experiences that convinced him he was on the wrong path. He wanted us to know that the time and place (20 years ago) were ripe for the exploitation of desperate young people, and how those circumstances have greatly changed. There are scores of organizations who work with street youth as well as residents who are still dealing with their traumatic past.

The murals and graffiti that sprung up in Comuna 13 are a political statement, a beautification project and a huge tourist draw.

Hip hop performers and break dancers are part of the street scene; hopefully the tourist tips are making a difference to them.

A typical corner in Comuna 13.

There – the big elephant is out of the room. I wanted to start with the obvious and move on to the Medellin that has emerged from tragedy, although it is not over yet, as the 2016 treaty with FARC is on shaky grounds, and violence and corruption is still present.

But, so much has happened to transform the city and make it possible for residents to live without fear and for tourists to feel safe enough to visit.

And we do feel quite safe here. We are staying in a delightful leafy residential area, called Laureles, with small grocery stores, fruterias and loads of cafes and restaurants close by.

If you notice the red brick of the buildings in Laureles, they are simply a more polished and pretty version of the rest of the city. Unlike Mexico City’s extravagant architecture (our only other Latin American metropolis comparison), the architecture here is subdued and geometric.

In every neighbourhood in Medellin, the red brick dominates – there are not elaborate flourishes and bold pops of colour.

Another fantastic urban initiative in Medellin is the transit system. Buses are everywhere and the Metro system is fast, clean, safe and efficient.

Taxis are numerous and cheap – a massive flotilla of buzzing yellow cabs will take you most places for under $5. We used Uber a lot, simply because they would sort out our destination ahead of picking us up, which saved us struggling with Medellin’s confusing street numbering system and our limited Spanish.

It was the development of the Metrocable that helped to transform the city. In 2004, the first gondola was installed to climb the steep mountainside and serve the poorest upper neighbourhoods. This opened up greater access for work, education and health opportunities, and by 2018, there were three lines.

We took the Metrocable to get to Arvi Park, an ecological reserve on the top of the mountain, just outside the city. Each car holds 8-10 people, and the wait is seldom more than a couple of minutes.

The views from the cablecar were staggering, and at times, slightly voyeuristic, as we swung right above people’s rooftops at times. Those stairs to the left will give you an idea of the steep climbs residents have to deal with.

Within a half hour we reached the summit, and set out to explore. You used to be able to hike the many trails at Arvi Park, but unfortunately, the rules have changed, possibly because people were getting lost.

At any rate, the forest trails are only accessible with a Spanish-speaking guide, so we set off to walk the main road in search of the Cascada (waterfall). We arrived at our destination and were met with a lovely man who was clearly wanting to manage our expectations. “Pequena (small)“, he said, with thumb and forefinger indicating that what lay ahead was not Niagara.

All good – we got to watch a group of young Colombian bodybuilders in tiny bathing suits flexing and posing in front of the Cascada. Even though we did not have the chance to get lost in the ecological reserve, we had that fabulous gondola ride both ways.

And then, we had a most memorable Metro ride. We had been taking taxis everywhere, so this was a first. As promised, the Metro was clean, fast, safe and well policed. We hopped onto an already crowded car and managed to grab onto a railing. Two stops later (we had five in total), and we were simply crammed in, when an older couple came on, banged into Stephen’s back and twisted him around so they can also grab on to the railing.

When our stop mercifully came, Stephen was wedged in behind the old lady and she would not relinquish her grip on the railing to allow him to leave. In a panic, I grabbed her fingers and pried them off and we escaped, much to the amusement of everyone in our immediate area.

We first saw the works of Fernando Botero in Bogota, but Medellin is his birthplace and he is well represented here – both with his sculptures in Botero Square and in the adjacent Museo de Antioquia.

Here, we have Adam and Eve.

We had been warned that Botero Square was a bit sketchy, being right in the downtown area and that was certainly the case. There is a lot of poverty in Colombia and somehow more obvious in the cities.We saw a lot of sad cases – homeless men asleep on the sidewalk, dull-eyed hookers and this unnerving sight. This mother, with babe in arms and three other young daughters, had set up some music and the young girls gyrated suggestively, hoping to attract tourist dollars. Tourists are asked not to give money to children, as it discourages them from going to school, but it is just as hard to imagine them being hungry. Not hard to imagine what else they might endure.

The Museo de Antioquia is one of Medellin’s premier museums and we spent a couple of hours there, admiring more Botero art, among other things.

The Museum of Modern Art had edgier collections, including the work of Debora Arango, whose work covered social issues such as poverty, violence, hunger, and prostitution. Much of her work dealt with how the disparity in gender relations continues to be a threat to Colombian society.

The town of Guatape is a 2-hour bus trip from Medellin, and it is notable for two things – the fact that part of it was flooded in the 70s to make way for a hydro-electric dam, and in the rebuilding, moldings called zocalos ( squares) were added to the bottoms of the buildings. Inhabitants began to add these zocalos at the beginning of the 20th century. Murals, zocalos, painted doorways – Guatape is an assault on the senses.

Typical street scene.

Selfie heaven.

Archival photo of what Guatape looked like before the addition of the zocalos.

Calle del Recuerdo is a replica of one of the streets of old town before that area was flooded.

A couple of examples of the detail of the zocalos.

Some final Medellin images. This translates into “A little coin and my God paid him!”, which is obviously open to interpretation.

The Cemeterio de San Pedro. The oldest cemetery in the city – built in 1842, with mausoleums of some of the city’s most prominent families. Much of the white marble was shipped here from Italy.

Looking for epiphanies. A sentiment by artist Mariana Parra that could well express the feelings of many Colombians.

And my goodness – that is it for now! So much more to think about, but Medellin has been rewarding, fascinating, upsetting, uplifting and so much more than its outdated reputation might suggest.

Tomorrow we leave for Jardin, right in the heart of coffee country.