Medellín

Since we’d arrived at 3.30am and couldn’t check in until 3pm we decided we would crack on in Medellín and start seeing some stuff. So, after drinking a cappuccino through a straw (we don’t know why) we booked a tour to Comuna 13. 

At one point Comuna 13 was known as one of the most dangerous places in the world, mainly due to its location and drug trafficking. Now it is pretty much a tourist attraction and the community there use this a means for income. It has a lot a very tacky shops, which people were dusting by slapping random objects with a tea towel (is that even a thing?!) and a dancing man who contorts his shoulder in ways that can only be described as “vomit inducing”. 

Our guide was a lovely, softly spoken young lady called Natalia, who seemed to think that calling everyone “darlings” and “sweeties” was the norm in western culture;

“This way sweeties, off we go!”

Lyvette; “Is she speaking Spanish or does she keep calling us sweeties?!”

“So, darlings we’ll get off the train at the next stop. Follow me sweeties!”

“No that’s not Spanish.”

And off we went (Lyvette swinging her pink kids water bottle) following the lovely Natalia around Comuna 13 and being her sweeties…

Then suddenly she yelled and pointed; “watch out sweeties, there is dog SHIT over there my darlings!!” And that was it. Her sweet demeanour had changed when confronting the dog shit situation and I loved it! It cracked us.

Note: I believe all sweeties avoided said dog shit.

The following day we did a Pablo Escobar tour with a young man who clearly hated his job. And Pablo Escobar (which is completely understandable). But it did make us wonder why on earth he was doing this job. Lyvette also met a lady (another actual adult) who had the same pink drinks bottle as her. Myself, Gemma (and seemingly) the woman’s husband couldn’t fathom it. 

Why? How? Why?

Then, whilst taking a picture of the pink bottle besties, the husband piped up; 

“I’m just taking a photo of the women with their bottles designed for toddlers! Do any of you kids want ice cream?”

Lyvette and her new mate were well happy.

That evening Lyvette and I decided we’d check out the bar scene. And we quickly realised how peachy Colombian arses are. The girls had such round behinds it was hard not to stare.

Lyvette; “I think I have the flattest arse in Colombia.”

It seems she wasn’t incorrect.

As I nursed my mammoth glass of (horrible) wine we spent the time watching Colombian music videos in bars with excessively loud music (it’s not just a Salento thing). All of the videos involved a hot man and woman in sexy outfits looking like they were doing perfume commercials. And the men all had dimples. This is a thing; men have dimples, girls peachy bootys.

The next bar offered free shots so we succumbed. Two tequilas later and we were sat in a room with music so loud my eardrums shattered on the spot. Then a song played with the lyrics: “I’ll put my d**k in your p***y without rubber or plastic” and after falling off our chairs we quickly evacuated the building and went two doors down to a Steakhouse come pub.

This particular location was right on the square so we continued people watching. We noticed two young Colombian girls (with perky bums) wearing matching outfits in the Steakhouse. The Twinnies were holding hands with some older men and then a couple minutes later they held hands with different men. Then the men left and they went behind the bar (did they work here?). Then they left and came back with toothbrushes. Then they chatted up the DJ. Then they seemed to chat up each other. Were they working? Was this a job? What job even is that?! What was happening?

Then a woman strutted past, down the Main Street with full wrap around sunglasses on (it was dark), a black fur coat and knee high boots followed by a camera crew.

“This is the weirdest steakhouse I’ve ever been in,” Lyvette announced. And we took our flat arses and headed back to our accommodation.

Only we didn’t quite make it.

We were a block away when we heard singing (loud of course). Upon further investigation we found the noise to be coming from a shop (the guy inside was dusting aka slapping some objects with a tea towel) with a group of Costa Ricans sat outside. So we joined them. They didn’t speak English so it was time for me to practice my Spanish. When I told them I lived in “Nueva Zelanda” they were so gobsmacked they almost fell off their chairs. It was like I’d appeared from a different planet. Lyvette decided it was because New Zealand isn’t on all of the maps, but I’m not sure that’s a thing!

For hours we sat outside the shop drinking beers and singing (very badly) and dancing (even worse). They, being South American could move their hips. We, being, well, us, could not. Papa Chole (the papa of the group) kept slapping my leg and telling me to take my shoes off (we still don’t know why) but I obliged and can safely say that didn’t make me any better. 2am and we decided we should really get some sleep before our 6am get up for the days tour so we said our goodbyes and off we went.

Guatape

No sooner than our heads touched the pillows we were back up ready for a tour to Guatape. Gemma was fresh as a daisy after many hours of sleep. Bitch. And off we all went, the 4 of us; myself, Lyvette, Gemma and Lyvette’s pink baby bottle. The first stop was El Peñon de Guatape, which is a rock with 708 steps up to top. The views were lovely but it turns out that at the top it was flying ant day. They were gross. So we came back down to the tacky vendors at the bottom.

This seems to be a thing here, you have something beautiful and then next to it Colombia has to add some bright tacky buildings to jazz it up or a vile neon sign or similar that screams ‘Blackpool’ vibes and we can’t understand why they feel this is necessary (because it’s not). It was the same at Comuna 13.

We then headed into Guatape town itself which was fabulous. Quaint, colourful and cute. We highly recommend. It’s renowned for its incredibly bright, 3D-style wall reliefs known as zócalos. These raised artistic panels decorate nearly every building in the town, usually portraying the inhabitants occupation. 

The guide stopped us outside the church;

“Look. It’s a church. If you’re religious you’ll like it.” And he carried on walking. We all looked at each other. Really? What an informative piece of information (it was a nice church tbf).

Guatape was lovely, I’d recommend a night or two there rather than just a day trip, however you take what you can get when you have time restraints. 

We arrived back in Medellin and had a rather (kinda) fancy tea. Now, so far, we’ve not been overly impressed with Colombian food, it’s all very deep fried and lots of meat. It’s fine, but it’s nothing special (is our experience so far). It ain’t got nothing on India. The great thing is that everything comes with avocado (except street food). Our fancy meal was delicious local cuisine though. Gemma even got a plate with a whole banana on it. We ate our food and then ventured back to the local shop to see if our favourite Costa Ricans were around for a sing song.

They were.

Cue another very late night of broken Spanish, dancing and drinking Aguardiente (the local shot). At 2am the shop shut. At 3am we were still outside it, dancing. At 4.15am we crawled into bed. At 6.15am our alarms went off informing us it was time to head to the airport for a domestic flight to Santa Marta (and then Minca).

It had been a big few days of tours and very limited sleep but it didn’t dampen our spirits. It was time for us to take our flat arses and Lyvette’s pink bottle to the hills of Minca for a couple of days and escape city life…