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| Explora Love |
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| Explora Museum. Love. |
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| In Medellin, even park benches are stylish! |
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| Downtown in Botero Park |
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| Street Art (everywhere!) |
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| High above Medellin |
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| Cable car ride |
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| Outside Botero Museum |
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| Botero Museum |
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| Medellin's famous father |
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| Indigenas at First Communion |
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| Guatape Street |
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| Guatape Street |
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| Guatape |
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| Guatape |
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| I climbed 700 steps up this mountain |
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| View from the top of ^ that mountain |
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| Outside Medellin |
Colombia!
It’s that feeling when you first meet a new lover… and it seems
so right. You hold your breath, conserve your movements, and speak in hushed
tones so as not to disturb the precious moment for fear it might vanish or
somehow change irreparably. That was Medellin for me.
I had been dreaming of traveling to Colombia for years,
since I was in graduate school in 2009 and wanted to do my fieldwork there. The
country’s very brief wartime calm was broken just before I was to finalize my
thesis choice, and I was advised it might be too dangerous with Aiden in tow. I
chose instead to head to Cambodia where the immediate violence had ended three
decades earlier. But my heart never quite forgave me, and Colombia spoke to me,
reminding me of its call, ever since.
I nearly skipped it this time around as well. Too many
months and some disappointments, coupled with naysayers reminding me of the
expense and unknown nature of it all, almost had me spooked. Luckily, I
persevered, and in a world filled with decisions that might be considered not
well thought out or foolhardy, this was one of my best.
Colombia is Extraordinary. It is young and exciting,
exceptionally beautiful and varied. It has every ecosystem and a… vitality, for
lack of a better word, that I haven’t felt anywhere else. I am head over heels
in love.
We landed in Medellin after a flight from Quito and a night
layover in Panama. (One glance at a map should show you how seriously difficult
it is to get anywhere to or from Ecuador to anywhere else in the world,
including a hop upland to Colombia. It’s the main reason I will Never live in
Ecuador - along with a few other items, noted in an earlier blog). We took a
taxi directly to the Poblado district, where the majority of tourists
congregate. It is stylish and relatively pricey, trendy and oh-so-cool. It’s
where expats go to party, and the streets are safe enough to walk late into the
night. High-end fashion stores dot the streets, alongside street cafes and
overflowing bars.
What stole my heart in Medellin – a large and crowded city
situated in a valley surrounded by high mountains – were the trees. Trees are
everywhere, along small paths and dotting large highways, alongside streets
with highrise hotels and surrounding towering apartment buildings, and throughout
quaint neighborhoods. I tend toward small towns generally, but in Medellin
there were parks and a river flowing through, and a sense that this town was
organized and intelligent. The transport system – a metro and cable system -- is
the cleanest and most efficient I’ve seen, bar none. Riding over the dense
metropolis was a positively lovely experience. Speakers not only noted the
metro stop, but told you some of the attractions you might find at this given
location. Then it told you which stop was coming up next. Any intimidation I
might have felt evaporated. I could ride the metro all day. The cable system
isn’t for tourists, per say. It was designed for the poorer neighborhoods which
are built up the mountainsides, and which previously had little easy access
into the city. It was a quality of life issue and Medellin, at least in this
instance, did not leave out the poorer areas. But tourists do ride the sky cables,
and get an incredible view over neighborhoods they so far have been advised not
to venture into.
And the people. Colombians are warm and helpful, beautiful
and very, very proud. Many are excited that visitors are coming, though little
do they know just how many are on their way! They want to know how I like their
country. “What do you think of Colombia?” I’m asked time and again. “Amazing,”
I say. And I mean it. When I tell them where I’m from, they say, “Breaking
Bad?” One street vendor – I kid you not – said, “Roswell! Aliens!” Yes, yes
indeed.
With a seed now firmly planted that I could change my life
and move to Medellin, I needed to convince Aiden; so we spent time visiting some
kid-friendly sites, of which there are many. Aside from lovely parks, there’s a
top-notch Explora museum, with more high tech gadgetry and displays than I’d
seen anywhere in New Mexico. Dozens of young tour guides were available to
explain each exhibit, whether it be on neuroplasticity or how light travels. Five
hours in and the museum closed on us, leaving no time for the nearby
planetarium or Botanical garden. Barefoot Park was also a hit, including a
silent walking tour among towering bamboo trees (barefoot, of course, though
it’s not a requirement), then in sand and among blocks through which one is to
navigate, eyes closed and hands behind one’s back, using only soft touch of the
foot. The tour ended with a jacuzzi-like pool to refresh your feet and awaken
your senses. So civilized. Nearby is a Museum of Water, again far superior and
interactive than any I’ve seen. I was and am immensely impressed. Sadly, Aiden
remains unconvinced. “But there are no 10-year-old kids here! We see only
babies and teenagers, there’s no one my age.” He is correct in his assessment
only in that we have not spent enough time. It was only as we were leaving that
I began getting a flood of responses to a post I left on a FB page for expat families. Want a playdate? But it was too late. With
only a month for this country we had already moved on.
We left Medellin far too soon, as far as I was concerned,
but a week was all we had planned before heading further north toward the coast
and the ever-popular backpacker destination, Casa Elemento, placed high on a
mountain edge.
The hostel is located 40 minutes up a rugged dirt road,
which intensifies after the season’s daily rainstorms. Hoards of backpackers
wearing strappy shirts and sandals, now covered in mud and shivering from the
chill and rain, convene at the reception squealing about their ride up the
treacherous hill on the back of a moto. “I fell off three times! How many times
did you fall!?” and the requisite (mostly from Brits) “Fock-n-A!!” repeated in
a kind of loop.
We found out about this place through some backpackers in
Banos, Ecuador. I mentioned our upcoming stay in Santa Marta and they conveyed
a story of armed bandits storming random hostels and robbing all guests, which
may or may not have been true. But in Aiden’s mind, Santa Marta became the
definition of a firey Hades, crawling with thugs out to get you. He was
literally traumatized. This same couple told us about Casa Elemento, high in
the mountains above the town of Minca, about two hours from Santa Marta. So we
changed our plans.
Despite its lack of hot water or even cabana doors, it
turned out to be the most expensive place we’ve stayed during our 8 months
traveling! We could have chosen the hammock deck and paid half the price, but
with a reputation for partying backpackers and a bountiful drug supply, I
decided a private cabana would be worth my peace of mind. And it was.
The London-born owner has a goldmine on his hands, and he works
hard as hell to make it great. Five top chefs supply breakfast, lunch and
dinner, with limited snacks (tho a heavenly 5pm brownie option), and lots of
cheap beer. There is a small pool, but it’s the giant hammocks, including one
that swings, overlooking the immense valley below – with a view of Santa Marta
and the ocean on clear days – that gets the most attention. Jeeploads of
tourists arrive for the day, which during our stay, happened to be hoards of
loud, garbage-tossing Israelis. The Israeli invasion, as some called it, come
to take advantage of the photo opps and jungle tours, including a zipline,
climbing wall and canopy staircase. But mostly they come for the hammocks.
Aiden was in heaven. I think he would be happy staying only
here for the rest of our stay. This was clear one day as I emerged from the
cabana to see Aiden, sprawled on the hammock giving a lesson on Greek mythology
to a pile of young gals from Australia and Canada. “You should be on the Ellen
show,” one told him. To which he replied, “You just need to read Percy Jackson’s
Greek Heroes AND Greek mythology.” Happy and pumped, he told me later, “I made
a bunch of friends today, mom!”
This was good news in one way, as Aiden was still convinced
there were no children his age living in Colombia; and in Medellin it was true
we saw few families with kids his age. But the exposure to a backpacking
culture – all much older than he -- is not exactly the kind of interaction I
aspire to for my impressionable son. For example, learning to play Cards
Against Humanity isn’t exactly what I had in mind for new, cultural
experiences. But feeling safe, knowing Aiden is comfortable enough to explore
and be independent, and finally having him shut up already about all the things
he’s going to do the very day and week we get back to Santa Fe was sweet relief
indeed. Plus, the owner and staff were so good to us it was hard not to fall in
love with the place.
It was during this time I did a typical, crazy and
completely impractical Zélie thing and I, uh, bought a VW van. Yep, right here
in Colombia, via the internet, sight unseen. In fact, I still haven’t seen it
as I’m having it delivered to a friend in Cuenca, Ecuador while I figured out
the next move. I couldn’t help myself, and I had a serious pusher who kept
telling me what a deal it was, and how I needed to think about this brief time
with my son that would soon pass and he may never speak to me again, etc. etc.
Unless, perhaps, I bought this van. So I was weak and thrilled at the same
time, logistics be damned. Plus, for anyone who knows me, it’s been a dream of
mine for about my entire life. A real live VW van with two beds and room for
dogs. I was in heaven. Now I just have to be in the same country with said van.
And with said dogs. Oh my. If it were up to me, I’d stay on in Colombia for the
summer exploring more of the country, and maybe heading further south. But
Aiden has been promised a summer in Santa Fe, and I already have some serious
money paid for summer camps back in the land of enchantment. I’ve never been
known for choosing the easiest path on anything or any place, and this one is certainly
no exception. But oh, the thrill of living your dreams can’t be beat. Buy the
van and the rest will come, I say. Make it so. Please.
p.s. Any suggestions on this car/location predicament and
what to do next are more than welcome. The Darian Gap is keeping me awake at
night.
Moving north toward - and above - the coast. Case Elemento, above Minca, Colombia.
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| They knew I was coming |
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| Aiden in the Jungle |
