MEDELLIN MOVES ON
City transcends notorious past
“We’re lucky — Roberto’s in town and will see us.” With these words from an English-speaking guide in the front passenger seat, four young backpackers and myself careen off in a van driven by a large, tattooed, silent gent through the crazy noon-hour streets of Medellin. Our destination? A house serving as a quasi-museum dedicated to Pablo Escobar, run by his older brother Roberto.
Given the widespread popularity of the Pablo Escobar-inspired Netflix series Narcos, and the more recent addition of the 74-episode Le Patron Del Mal (The Boss of Evil), I’m surprised only five paying guests ($40 Cdn) would be received by Roberto Escobar this day. As the guide explains from the front passenger seat, while we wither under the glare of the driver in the rear-view mirror, Roberto tires easily. The former accountant for the Medellin cartel is 69 years old and hasn’t fully recovered from a letter bomb that nearly killed him in prison in 1993, only weeks after Pablo was killed on a Medellin rooftop.
Roberto is an endearing, gracious host. Looking relaxed, he walks us through his house (he also has a ranch in Manizales) and his life, starting as a championship bicycle racer. He shows us Pablo’s childhood photos, a sports car, a motorcycle, wanted posters and much more. One room has a hiding place, another has bullet holes from robbery attempts.
His message is one of regret: the violence of his brother Pablo started with the basic instinct of protecting one’s family, then quickly spiralled out of control, grew a life of its own. Now, Roberto Escobar claims that he donates a portion of the tour money to drug prevention and rehab programs. He voices disapproval of all drugs and alcohol, except medical marijuana. He laughs and shrugs as if to say, “Would I be doing this?” when a backpacker asks him if he knew where any money was hidden.
But he bristles when I ask if it’s true that Pablo had betrayed the M-19 guerrillas as depicted in Narcos. “No,” Roberto says through the interpreter. “Pablo was always a man of the people. He gave away billions of dollars to the poor. Hundreds of thousands marched in his honour in Medellin when he died.” Then, Roberto expresses regret that so many had died because of the cartel’s actions.
As we head out to see Pablo Escobar’s grave, the guide points at a blasted-out building and says that it will finally be torn down, the last one of the Medellin cartel era. Indeed, it’s time for Medellin to move on.
Central to Medellin’s resurgence is Colombia’s only Metro railway, a wonderfully efficient system that whizzes throughout the City of Eternal Spring, connecting with a series of gondolas and escalators that have reached out to the notorious hillside barrios. Not only is the transit safe and inexpensive, many of the hillside stations feature gleaming community centres and libraries. The power of the drug gangs, left-wing guerrillas and far-right militias continues to erode in and around Medellin, which is Colombia’s second largest city with a population of about 2.7 million.
A choice and perfectly safe destination via the Metro is Parque Arvi, a stunning 16,000 hectares high above Medellin, featuring more than 80 km of paths through pine-scented cloud forests, with wonderful views. Rental bikes are also available. The gondola costs about $2 for tourists and provides a glimpse of life on the hillside. It’s fine to get off before the park at various stops during daylight, but it’s not recommended to wander too far or venture there after dark.
Another hillside attraction is Cerro Nutibara, which celebrates the local Paisa culture. There’s a modest museum, great views and many fine food stalls with fresh fruit and traditional fare such as skewered meats, tripe stews and lots of carbs: rice, beans, plantains. Picante sauces and salsas are recommended to spice up the rather bland fare.
My favourite of Medellin’s many museums and galleries during my 17-day visit is the Museo de Antioquia, located downtown and easily accessible by Metro. Housed in a gorgeous 1930s Art Deco building, the museum features some 100 works by native son Fernando Botero. Aside from his signature paintings and statues of fullbodied folks dating back decades, there are also Botero’s more recent pieces featuring Pablo Escobar. Did Medellin’s two most-famous sons meet? Roberto Escobar claims Pablo commis- sioned some works from Botero, but is hazy on the details.
The Museo has a lovely terrace that serves lunch and drinks overlooking Plaza de Botero, which features several large Botero works. In fact, they’re so popular that the private parts of some of the figures have been rubbed shiny. Fear not, it’s all in good taste and only to impart good luck. Apparently it works as I arrived home with most of my faculties.
Many visitors to Medellin stay in the lively Poblado area. Around Parque Lleras there are windy, leafy, hilly streets packed with open-air restaurants, cool shops and night spots. It’s kind of like blending up the best of Vancouver’s Commercial Drive, Main Street and the Granville nightclub strip and tossing it on to the North Shore. Accommodations range from backpacker dorms for $15 to luxury hotels starting at $90. This area is safe to wander day and night and is a 15-minute walk or $4 taxi ride to the Metro.
Parts of Medellin, which is the fashion capital of Latin America, are decidedly upscale. I visit a mall one day in search of an ATM and feel that I’m at Oakridge in Vancouver. Many of the stores are familiar and the shoppers and staff alike are well-dressed. Some cast bemused glances at a gent in camouflage shorts and hiking boots; I don’t notice until I look in the mirror. A highlight is going with friends in the early evening to public squares in Envigado and Sabaneta, both accessible by Metro. Families gather to gossip with the neighbours, kids run wild, music blares, meat sizzles on food-vendor grills. Laughter and smiles abound. This is the real Medellin, the real Colombia.
Is the Medellin resurgence real? Only time will tell. But I’m left with one image: one day on the crowded Metro, I notice a rough-looking young teen rise suddenly from her seat — and offer it to a mother with a babe in arms. I believe Medellin has a bright future.