Connections in Medellin

We arrived into Medellin around 7 pm on New Year’s eve, tired and hungry from a long day of travel, yet excited to explore a new destination.   We dropped the bags in our apartment and immediately set out in search of a restaurant that could offer simple food in a warm atmosphere.  Bars everywhere were raging with pre-heating revelers, yet most restaurants were just starting to open their doors, a clear indication that this town had it’s game face on. 

 Block after block, our search yielded nothing, everyone’s patience and spirits rapidly waining.  It seemed like we were all players in video game called “Where’s Your Dinner”, where locked doors, crowded sidewalks, and erring motorcycles all tried to sideline our mission.  Finally, with seconds left before a tragic end to the game,  an oasis of fluorescent light and colored balloons appeared around a corner in the form of a fast food grill called, ironically, Mario Bros. 

The kids insisted.  We surrendered.  Our 2017 ended on a culinary life raft of savory grilled meats, bowls of corn with cheese, and refreshing frozen sweet drinks.  Is this a sign for hope in 2018 that Owen and I will finally find common ground on his love for gaming? 

Renewed with sleep and food, we set out on a sparkling New Years Day to explore the city of Medellin and meet up with our dear friend Isabel. The picturesque city of two and a half million people is a model for urban development.  A 20 minute ride along the cleanest metro we’ve ever experienced brought us to one of the city’s two new metro-cables, built within the last 15 years.  The metro cables represent Medellin’s “urban regeneration initiative” and serve to connect the poorer barrios that blanket the Medellin valley with the main city.  Literally and figuratively, they have brought the people of Medellin together like never before.  

The 9 minute ride up to the hillside offers a uniquely fascinating perspective of the neighborhoods.  New Year’s festivities that commenced the night before were just reaching 5th gear by the time we rode overhead at 1pm.  We watched dancing bodies take over small patios like ants on dropped food, the caucaphony of merengue and salsa rhythms blending in the air around us.   We could see the rising steam from massive pots of sancocho, a traditional Colombian stew, on almost every street corner.   These barrios were undoubetly the poorest in the city, yet the sounds and smells of celebration created a virtual palace for those who reside there.  In that moment, I could have sworn I heard Anthony Bourdain’s deep baritone voice narrating Parts Unknown from over my shoulder .

                   

One of the fundamental truths of traveling is that any experience is richer when there are personal connections.   That was certainly true for us here in Medellin.  Throughout this week,  everyone we met embraced us like family.  The boys have been hugged and kissed by dozens of friends and family, some who we’ve known, many who we just met.   We might call them strangers, but they see us as family.

Fortunately for us, the boys’ Uncle Eamon and Aunt Margaret decided to join us from New York for the Colombian leg of our adventure.  Tip:  If your brother in law marries a spicy Colombian gal, don’t dare to step foot in her native country without her.   Margaret’s Colombian family seemed to grow by the minute.  We learned that here, if you invite someone to dinner, that invitation customarily includes whomever your invited guest would also like to bring, whether it be mother, brother, friend, or neighbor.   Not a bad practice in my opinion.

 

Uncle E was a welcome sight for three boys who are a bit tired of looking at their parents

   

The boys learned that kids are kids, no matter where they are from or what language they speak.   On a morning of touring the city with Isabel and her friend Oscar, we passed through another lower income barrio where we stopped to play at a small sport court tucked among a dark cluster of  buildings.   Soccer ball in hand, we kicked up a game of 3 on 3 amongst ourselves.  We saw virtually no one, but they saw us.  Kids of all ages poked their heads from doorways and alleys, their intrigue slowly drawing them to the openings of the chain link fencing around us.  We invited.  They stepped in.   The boys exchanged a few me llamo’s with some nervous Spanish and head nods.   One ball translated for all.  Within 20 minutes we had a full roster of players, high fives and international trash talk in full force.  

We also toured Medellin’s Comuna 13, one of the city’s most densely populated neighborhoods and, until just recently, one of the most violent.   This area of Medellin lies on the western edge of the city, and is the gateway to the San Juan valley a critical zone for the exportation of anything illegal.  In the past, those who controlled this area had immense power over the flow of goods in and out of Medellin and greater Colombia.

On October 16, 2002 the military carried out the controversial  Operation Orion, an effort to rid this area of corruption and left wing urban militias.  What ensued was two days of excruciating violence, with many residents of this neighborhood left as victims in the crossfire.   The corruption and instability continued for many more years until the stories, the true stories, of the people began to emerge both in narrative and in art.   Today powerfully symbolic imagery fills virtually every vertical wall in this area,  redefining the experience of art.

      

 It’s now Sunday evening Jan. 6th, the tail end of the holiday/festival period.  We are in a small apartment above a cafe by the main square of Marsella, in the heart of the Colombian coffee region, which we will tour over the next three days.  Thumping music and singing revelers from the streets below show no signs of ceasing.  The music actually seems to intensify with each song.  Its 3am.  The kids are thankfully asleep.  I am not.   Glad you are here with me…