Tag: Medellin

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Colombia Medellin

The house where Escobar died

A complaint Colombians commonly make about tourists is that their only reference to the country is Pablo Escobar and narco trafficking. What about the biodiversity, the music, dance, cuisine, amability, they might note. 

Indeed, a surefire way to pierce a budding friendship with a Colombian is to respond with Escobar when they ask what you know about the country. The gripping but often factually lazy Narco netflix show made things worse. 

Upon arriving to the country you quickly learn that the subject is taboo. Something not to bring up unless prompted. Any tentative enquiries heavily caveated.

The hush-hush imbues you with a guilty feeling of wanting to find more. What’s taboo is tempting. 

After all Escobar was an intriguing character – someone whose face graced the cover of Forbes magazine. The 7th richest man in the world. The collection of hippos, football matches with professional footballers, piñatas overflowing with U.S dollars. The sheer audacity. His greed. The Robin Hood myth, the evil cloaked in charm.

A robin hood villain?

Indeed, his perception as a Robin Hood hero that took from the rich to give to the poor still persists. One afternoon after hopping into an Uber my grizzled driver turned to me and without prompting exclaimed, ‘Escobar was a hero’. I nodded along politely as the elderly driver expounded on his genius and all the good things he had done for the city. ‘A genius’, he told me, ‘and he sure did much more for us than the crowd in charge …’

Over his life Escobar funded many projects to aid the poor. This generosity helped propel him to win a congress seat in 1982. 

However his philanthropic endeavours were more than offset by his blood-thirsty ruthlessness. As well as fellow rivals, his victims included government officials, police, and civilians. Most notoriously, the cartel placed a bomb aboard an aeroplane in an attempt to kill an alleged informant, resulting in the death of 110 people.

the house where escobar died
Botero’s portrayal of the assassination of Escobar. Photo taken in the Museo de Antioquia

Amid rising bloodshed, a massive manhunt sought his capture. On the same day in 1991 that the new Colombian constitution outlawed extradition, Escobar surrendered. He was jailed in a self-built luxurious prison known as La Catedral, where he could enjoy a private nightclub, sauna, waterfall, and football pitch as well as take advantage of the time’s latest technology, including telephones, computers and fax machines, to communicate with his crime empire.

Pablo Escobar’s death

Pablo Escobar died on a rooftop in the Los Olivos neighbourhood in Laureles, Medellin on December 2nd 1993.

His death came 16 months following his escape from from La Catedral. After he tortured and murdered two of his associates, the authorities wanted to incarcerate him in a more traditional prison, prompting his flight.

On December 2nd, the Colombian task force specifically created to find him intercepted a call he made to his son from the Los Olivos neighbourhood in Laureles. The call immediately identified his hiding place. Only hours before he was celebrating his 44th birthday, reputedly gorging on cake, wine, and marijuana.

The hunting party surrounded the house while others stormed through the door. Alerted, Escobar and his bodyguard stumbled out a back window onto an orange-tiled roof. They were met with a barrage of gunfire, and both fell from shots to their heads — Escobar with one that entered his right ear and killed him instantly.

The house where escobar died
Members of the task force pose in front of Escobar’s body

It is still debated as to who was responsible for the shot that killed Escobar – the task force claim it was their men, the rival vigilantes Los Pepes, led by Don Berna (and future instigator to a Medellin Christmas tradition), say they contributed , while Escobar’s family have insisted that he took his own life.

A visit to the house where Escobar died

By chance I discovered that the house was only a five minute walk from where I had been staying in Laureles, one of the more popular neighbourhoods for expats. In fact I had jogged past the house a number of times without knowing its significance. 

Sensitive to the preference of the locals, I had been reluctant to participate in any narco-tourism. However, its close location, I felt, gave me an excuse…

It’s a quiet and leafy middle class neighbourhood. When I turn up, the streets are empty apart from the odd elderly person shuffling along. Away from the traffic you can hear the sound of the rushing river opposite the house.

There’s nothing in the vicinity to signal its significance. To be sure I check Google, which solemnly marks the locations as  ‘casa donde se escondía Pablo Escobar’, the house where Escobar hid. I notice the orange tiled roof where Escobar is said to have scrambled across. 

the house where escobar died
My photo of the house where Escobar hid

Its anonymity is the intencional there are no signs, no memorials, no kitschy museums. It’s simply a run-of-the mill Medellin suburban house. I sheepishly take a photo. An old man lounging on balcony of the adjacent building exchanges eye contact as if to shame me and would be tourists.

The next day, a Saturday morning, I turn up again. This time there’s already a yellow taxi. A Latin American man stands gleefully in front of the house, arms aloft, directing the taxi driver to take photo after photo. Another yellow taxi pulls up. A shier European hops out, not sure what he’s supposed to look at, his taxi driver points to the roof. I walk on.

Medellin today, a city transformed

Today the city once known as the ‘murder capital of the world’, Medellin, is much safer. The murder rate has plummeted, falling from 350 per 100,000 inhabitants in 1992 to 10.2 per 100,000 in 2022, placing it just above Florida (10.15) and just below Fresno in California (10.6) in the United States rankings. 

It’s become a haven for back-packers and digital nomads, wanting to take advantage of the temperate climate. 1,4 million international tourists visited in the city in 2022. A tourist report showing the growth in popularity, noted that prior to 2010 there were only five hostels in the city catering to tourists – before the pandemic this number had risen to over 150.

Part of the improvement has been attributed to an unofficial agreement between drug traffickers and security services.

Peace is good for business, a drug trafficker told France 24, in a news article released in 2022. As long as they keep the streets peaceful, the police turn a blind eye to their lucrative illegal dealings, the gang-member said.

Another factor behind the improvement has been the employment of “urban acupuncture”, a tactic that employs urban design to solve social problems. In some of the deprived neighbourhoods that snake up the hills of Medellin, the authorities built cable cars to enable residents reach other parts of the city. The increased accessibility helped the locals find jobs, and feel more part of the city. Elsewhere, there was greater investment in the provision of basic services – particularly libraries and schools. 

The house where escobar died
Paisas look out at the city from the cable car

Indeed a change to the Colombian constitution in 1991 (the same constitution that outlawed extradition) devolved more power to municipal authorities, which laid the groundwork for creative local governments to experiment in social initiatives. In 2013, Medellin was named the world’s most innovative city on the back of its civic spaces, libraries, and art galleries, as well as its infrastructure, including escalator and cable car to improve accessibility.

The relationship between Medellin and narco-traffic

Dealing with the narco-traffic past has been a tricky balancing act for Medellin. On one hand, it’s been important to look to the future and not to romanticise its tortured past, whereas on the other hand it’s vital to confront its history so that mistakes aren’t repeated. Education rather than ignorance. The results have been mixed.

The Museo Casa de la Memoria (the memory house museum) is an excellent example of how to confront past trauma and to commemorate victims. It doesn’t glorify the perpetrators but ensures those that paid with their lives have a legacy. It’s somewhere you could spend a whole day perusing all the extensively resources.

Generally, it’s rare that you come across Escobar’s image and while narco tours happen they are hush hush and tend to be run informally. In general, the tourist industry has not exploited the renown of Escobar and his cartel, despite an obvious financial incentive.

His famous finca, the Hacienda Napoles, was turned into a theme park (read about my visit here) and tour guides aren’t allowed to mention his name explicitly, using the ‘old owner’ as code. It contains a memorial museum that dramatically condemns his atrocities. However, despite these attempts, the theme park’s grandeur and popularity have become, at least indirectly, a tribute to the mob boss’s eccentricity.

In contrast to the house where he died, Pablo’s mansion in El Poblado was demolished in 2019. The mayor at the time said, ‘this symbol, which is a symbol of illegality, of evil, will be brought to the ground’. Burying its past and / or reinventing the future?

However, the site of his downfall survives, albeit in relative anonymity. A contradiction perhaps? Or maybe its survival serves as a reminder of his demise and the resilience of the city.

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Colombia Medellin

What I wish I knew about Medellin

illuminated city during night time
Photo by Clive Kim on Pexels.com

Marcus

After spending four fantastic months in Colombia’s second city from October to the end of January, I learned a lot. Here’s what I wish I knew about Medellin sooner:

Reading addresses is easy

A typical address will look like this: Calle 8 # 43A – 89.

The first number indicates the street the address is on, the second indicates the cross street, and the third number indicates, in metres, how far the address is from the cross-street. The example above shows the address is on Calle 8, the cross street is Carrera 43A, from which the destination is 89 metres away. It’s very precise.

Drivers don’t respect zebra crossings

Traffic rules are advisory rather than mandatory. Nowhere is this more dangerous than when you attempt to negotiate a zebra crossing (marked sidewalk). Most of the time drivers ignore your right of way: the oncoming car is more likely to speed up than slowdown.

You’ll also notice that drivers will pass red-lights if they ‘perceive’ that there is no other traffic, much like how a cyclist might treat traffic lights in western Europe. Caution advised. 

It has one of the best climates in the world.

Medellin lives up to its moniker as the city of eternal spring (La Ciudad de la Eterna Primavera). It’s consistently warm without getting too hot or humid, averaging 22.5 degrees across the year.  Watch out for the rainy season – October to December – when an umbrella becomes essential.

Another advantage of living in such a mountainous region is that you can choose your climate depending on your preference. Increase your altitude if looking for cooler climes (for example Santa Elena on the outskirts of Medellin) or Santa Fe De Antioquia for something warmer (the former capital).

Avoid getting taxis at rush hour

It’s called the hora pico (the peak hour), although it lasts more than an hour, extending from 5pm to 8pm. The hour between 6pm to 7pm is the worst, when the roads come to a standstill.

The traffic can be so bad that I would travel early to avoid it, preferring to spend the extra time in a cafe or bar, rather than sit in traffic. Another option is to take the metro, which despite being full of people at rush hour, doesn’t suffer from delays:

The metro is very comprehensive and safe

The metro covers most of the city. It’s clean, reliable and affordable. The locals are justifiably proud (Bogota, with worse traffic, doesn’t have a metro). A single ticket, which allows you to switch to other lines, costs just under 3,000 pesos. Best to get a loadable metro card (costs 10,000 pesos) at one of the stations.

Stay in Laureles

Most travellers stay in El Poblado. It’s where you’ll find most of the nightlife, back-packing hostels and a great selection of restaurants and cafes. However, if looking for a more authentic, relaxed and affordable experience better to go for Laureles. It’s probably safer than Poblado and also counts on excellent restaurants and cafes

If looking for a Spanish school, use Mr. Fox school in the heart of Laureles. The teachers are great, it’s affordable and the flexible scheduling gives you plenty of time to fit in other activities, such as remote working / tourism.

Learn Spanish in person or online with Mr. Fox

Take advantage of menu del dias

Traditionally lunch is the most important meal whereas dinner tends to be more of a snack. Eat like a local by availing of the affordable menu del dia at lunchtime.

The menu can be found in the majority of the restaurants, normally a board outside will advertise that day’s specials. The fare varies but typically you’ll get a soup, a main meal – often rice, salad, and meat – often accompanied with beans and plantain – usually for about 15,000 pesos. Some places will offer coffee and a small desert too.

My favourite place was Salud Pan in Laureles, which offers healthy and delicious food, with great vegetarian options.

Avoid narco-traffic chat

To its credit for the most part Medellín does not try to exploit its murky past in narco-traffic and paramilitarism, despite an interest among tourists. Images of Pablo Escobar are rare and narco tours are hard to find.

In general it’s a taboo subject (see my post on how Medellin deals with its murky past), with locals preferring to look to the future and concentrate on the positive aspects of the city. If wanting to engage positively with the subject, a tour of Comuna 13 and a visit to the Museo Casa de la Memoria are good suggestions.

Paisa is a distinct identity. 

People from Medellin will often describe themselves as Paisa first before Colombian. Paisas are fiercely proud of their identity, which includes an attachment to their land, family and cuisine. The Paisa region encompases the departments of Antioquia (Medellin’s department), Caldas, Risaralda and Quindío.

Find out more about Colombian identity, including the Paisas, in my post about the history and origin of the people.

Get a collectivo to and from the airport

The collectivo to and from the airport is much cheaper than a taxi, costing 20,000 pesos as opposed to up to 100,000 pesos. It’s very safe and leaves regularly. On the way to the airport, the collectivo departs from near Exposiciones metro station and the San Diego Centro Comercial (mall). Buses also leave nearby for a cheaper cost (13,000 pesos).

At the airport, the collectivo departs right beside arrivals (simply ask if in doubt).

Don’t slam doors

This is an odd one but Colombians treat car doors very gently. My more assertive approach, which I’d employed all my life without comment, was perceived as aggressive and rude. Gently closing the door (or suavecito as one driver requested) is the way to go.

Embrace the street food

Empanadas, arepas, palitos de queso..the mouth waters. While the street food doesn’t have the renown of Peru’s or Mexico’s, it’s so rich and delicious. It’s economical and easy to find – every street will have stalls or holes in the walls, while most grocery shops will offer a selection. A perfect evening snack after you’ve filled up on a menu del dia at lunchtime.

Say gracias (instead of no gracias)

It’s inevitable that you will be approached by people trying to sell you all manner of things from lollypops (for some reason very popular) to full-day tours. This is especially the case if staying in a tourist spot such as El Poblado. At times it can get a little annoying. However the best response, assuming you’re not interested, is a simple “gracias” – firm but empathetic. Responding with “no gracias” is considered rude.

It’s easy to extend a tourist visa

Most tourist visas last for 90 days from the day of your arrival (marked in your passport). It’s easy to extend for another 90 days. It can be completed online and the cost is free. There’s a step by step guide provided by this blog. Best to do it about two weeks before your visa is due to expire.

Tinto means coffee (not red wine)

When you’re offered a tinto to accompany your breakfast arepa and eggs, it’s not the alcoholic variety. Instead it’s the Colombian term for coffee, usually the bland instant stuff that is most common (despite producing some of the world’s best coffee beans). See my post on visiting Colombia’s coffee region,

Do you have any further tips or questions? Post a comment below

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Colombia

The history of Santa Fe de Antioquia

history of santa fe de antioquia

Santa Fe de Antioquia is a captivating colonial town that makes a perfect day-trip from Medellin. It is the region’s oldest settlement, founded by Jorge Robledo in 1541 on the banks of the river Cauca, and was once the capital of Antioquia. It oozes history.

The history of Santa Fe de Antioquia

It’s said time stopped when the region’s capital shifted southward from Santa Fe to Medellin in 1826. Indeed the town centre looks much as it did in the 19th century. The town is characterised by narrow cobbled streets with single story white-washed houses, many of which front peaceful courtyards. Attractive carved woodwork adorns the doors and windows along with antioquian brickwork. There are historic churches and charming plazas.

The heart of the town is the Plaza Bolivia (formerly Plaza Mayor) with its impressive white cathedral. As I arrive in the later afternoon, it’s alive with activity despite the heat. With a considerably lower elevation (555m) to Medellin, Santa Fe can be hot and sticky.

The mainly Colombian tourists amble about and relax below the wooden balconies that surround the square, enjoying the piping vallenato music. I check into my hotel, Caseron del Parque, a mansion built in 1601 directly opposite the cathedral, where the Spanish governors used to stay.

history of santa fe de antioquia iglesia santa barbara
The elegant baroque church of Santa Barbara

Two blocks away, I stumble upon the Iglesia de Santa Barbara, an elegant brick baroque church topped with swirling scrolls. Its three arched wooden doors are wide open, no doubt to help cool down the worshipers. Built by the Jesuits in the 18th century, the poet Julio Vives Guerra called it the ‘grandmother of Antioquian churches’.

A further block away, the streets are empty, allowing you to fully appreciate the preserved colonial architecture tranquilly, transporting you back in time.

Jorge Robledo, the founder of Santa Fe de Antioquia

Robledo was a Spanish conquistador that made his mark in Antioquia. Born of noble origin in Spain, he played a role in the conquest of modern day Guatemala and Peru as well as joining the hunt for the elusive El Dorado. In addition to establishing Santa Fe in 1541, Robledo was involved in the founding of Cali and Popayan, where he was later made mayor. See my post on the history and origin of modern day Colombia to find out more.

His end was not so glorious. He was sentenced to beheading by fellow conquistador, Sebastian de Belalcazar, following a dispute over control of the conquered territories. Yet, Robledo is still celebrated in the town: his statue, atop a plint buttressed by a two statuses – one representing a spanish-american woman and the other an indigenous woman – lies in Parque de La Chinca, itself named after the Virgin of Chiquinquirá, patron saint of Colombia. 

Jorge Robledo flanked by two impressions of colonial era women

Robledo gives his name to the town’s best hotel, Mariscal Robledo, an attractive colonial style building also off Parque de la Chinca. The spacious rooms include antiques.

The Puente de Occidente

During the 19th century, Medellin and many parts of Antioquia were isolated and cut off from the sea by the Cauca river, limiting the opportunities to trade. The state government offered generous concessions in order to improve the infrastructure. One such result was the construction of the Puente de Occidente, originally the longest suspension bridge in the Americas when it was completed in 1895.

The local engineer in charge – Jose Maria Villa – earned his stripes as part of the team that designed the Brooklyn Bridge, which employed a similar system. In 1978 the bridge was declared a national monument. It’s a 45 minute, mainly uninteresting, walk from town so you’re better off paying for a 30,000 peso round trip. The driver will wait as you walk across.

View of the Puente de Occidente

Juan del Corral, the dictator of Antioquia

Santa Fe de Antioquia has a number of museums. Its best is the Museo Juan del Corral, a preserved colonial mansion on Calle de la Amargura. It’s a well curated collection of objects that show the history of the towns and region from the pre-colonial period up to and beyond Colombia’s independence. The house across the street was the home of the museum’s namesake Juan del Corral, a local hero.

Statue of Juan del Corral in the Plaza Bolivia

Juan del Corral is considered a Colombian patriot and was an important figure in the nation’s push for independence.

At the turn of the 19th century, discontent at Spanish rule grew stronger, particularly relating to new taxes. When Napoleon installed his own brother as the new Spanish king in 1808, many of the colonies refused to recognise the new ruler. As if like dominoes, Colombian regions declared their independence.

After an uprising in Bogota in 1810, del Corral was appointed as the Antioquia’s representative for a newly established autonomous body to replace Spanish rule. In 1813, when Antioquia feared an invasion from the Spanish, he was named the dictator of the free state of Antioquia to prepare the region’s defence. In the same year, del Corral proclaimed the declaration of independence to consolidate the state’s rupture from Spain:

That the State of Antioquia ignores Fernando VII as its king and any other authority that does not emanate directly from the People, or its Representatives, completely breaking the political union of dependency with the Metropolis and remaining forever separated from the Crown and Government of Spain

One of his most important contributions was his proposal of the liberation of children of slaves, which was passed by the Antioquian legislature two weeks after his death in 1814, aged 35.

The Fiesta de Los Diablitos

Unfortunately I was about a week too late for the town’s most popular festival, the Fiesta de los Diablitos (the party of the little devils). It occurs during the last week of each year, a tradition dating back to 1653 when the landowners wanted to give the slaves a day of rest. The slaves would dress up as Spaniards with colourful costumes, make-up and extravagant hair-styles (unfortunately I assume the devils refers to the slaves rather than the Spanish landowners).

The celebration continues today and it includes musical performances, dances, parades and a beauty contest (see my post on the origin of Miss Universe). The participants still dress up wearing clay masks that have been hand-painted by local artists.

How to get there

There are buses every hour from Medellin, departing from the Terminal del Norte. The journey lasts about an hour and a half and costs 14,000 pesos.

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Colombia

Trip to Doradal: Santorini and Escobar’s Hacienda Napoles

Marcus

A weekend exploring the Santorini inspired neighbourhood in Doradal, Antioquia, and the nearby Hacienda Napoles, a theme park cum zoo and formerly Pablo Escobar’s infamous finca.

The journey to Doradal

The North Terminal bus station in Medellin overwhelms. The concourse throbs with animation. Ticket booths stretch on endlessly, each run by different companies. 42 I count. Transoriente is the one we need, I eventually work out.

“A ticket to Doradal please?”

We’re told we can either run to the autopista (main road) to catch the departing bus. Or wait two hours. We take the leisurely approach. The station is labyrinthine like, eventually we find a crook on the third level to nurse a coffee.

The bus journey drags on. The winding mountainous terrain means only one lane on each side and before long we’re stuck behind a truck ferrying hay. We crawl from the cooler andean climes to stickier and hotter weather. The passing valleys and jungle like hills dense with forked trees soften the delay.

Doradal and Santorini

Dropped onto a dusty urban road, Doradal’s main thoroughfare. The heat contrasts with balmy Medellin. Nothing grecian. In fact, it’s typically Colombian. Topless locals buzz around their motorbikes. An almost empty restaurant sits across the road where the wafts from the basted rotisserie chickens mixes with petrol smells from the nearby garage. Trucks rumble by.

Turns out the Greek inspired village – Santorini – is a 5 minute climb up the hill. It’s a world away. 

All of a sudden you’re immersed in cubic whites, transported across the Atlantic to the Aegean Sea. Potted geraniums adorn the cottages and bougainvillaea drapes across doorways. Marine blue shutters contrast against the whitewashed walls.

The open plaza is the heart of Santorini and boasts a greek orthodox style church.  The maverick architect true to his inspiration. The warm climate adds to the mystique. Unfortunately there’s no beach nearby to cool you down. A Colombian flag flutters from the blue domed tower overlooking the plaza, incongruous to its surroundings.

Tourists – almost entirely Colombian – mill around determined to try to capture this novelty, taking turns to pose for photos. The classic collective action problem arises, the more photographers, the worse and less original the shot.

The eating options are paltry and unfortunately Greek cuisine is not part of the deal. No gyros or moussaka to be found. Dining in the terraza of Hotel Aldea at least allows you to soak up the atmosphere. I’m fleetingly brought back to my teenage family holiday to Greece. The rest of the evening is spent ambling along the winding cobblestone alleys.

Built in the beginning of the 1980s, the origin of ‘Santorini’ is a mystery. The rumour is that Pablo Escobar, with his ranch nearby, had a hand behind it. The audacity of the endeavour fits with his vanity.

Yes its kitsch and odd, but there’s something warming about people being able to experience a semi authentic greek island village in the heart of Colombia. I remember that most Colombians I’ve met haven’t had the opportunity to leave the country, let alone visit Greece.

Hacienda Napoles

The next day, it’s five minutes by car from Doradal to the Hacienda’s roadside entrance and a further five minutes inland across the rolling hills to the theme park’s official entrance. 

Pablo Escobar’s most lavish finca, he acquired it in 1978 and quickly set to work, ostentatiously constructing, among other extravagances,  seven swimming pools, 27 artificial lakes, a landing strip, a botanical garden, and an exotic zoo. It regularly hosted the cartel’s leaders for business and pleasure. 

After the assassination of Rodrigo Lara Bonilla in 1984, Escobar was forced to flee Colombia and the hacienda began to fall into disrepair. Following a legal struggle with Escobar’s family after his death in 1993, it passed to state ownership, and was later converted into a theme park by a private company. The park in many ways is emblematic of the rise and fall of the drug-leader. 

Hacienda Nápoles is so enormous and sprawling that you wouldn’t get far walking in the blazing heat. The advice to hire a guide to ferry us around the main sights in a golf-buggy is gratefully received. 

As we trundle along the dirt-track, our guide begins to explain its chequered past. For so-called political reasons, he can’t directly use Escobar’s name. Reminiscent of Harry Potter’s, ‘he who must not be named’, my guide uses ‘el dueno antiguo’ (or previous owner) as code. 

First stop is to see the iconic hippos. The only survivors from the original private zoo. They thrived on the myriad of lakes and plentiful grassland, the numbers multiplied so much that they are said to have colonised parts of the nearby Magdalena river and authorities are striving to control the population of the ‘invasive species’. 

The remaining hippos, those still in the park at least, languidly bask in front of us, without care in the world. Afterwards, we see lions, tigers, pumas, elephants and more.

Pablo’s son was obsessed with dinosaurs as a child (a characteristic my childhood self happened to share with him). While my parents indulged me with furry toys and dinosaur encyclopaedias. Escobar built his son life size replicas that still stalk the grounds. We play around the renovated sculptures and explore the Jurassic theme park, built by the new owners, seemingly deciding to run with the original idea.

Next is the plaza de toros or bullring. Another of the outlandish constructions of the Escobar era. We’re told performers from around the world, including Julio Iglesias, would come to entertain Pablo and his guests. It’s since been turned into a tribute to all things related to Africa. A curious hotchpotch of exhibits, including tribal drawings dating from the colonial period and an eccentric list of Africa’s most famous people, at least, the exhibition is somewhat well-intentioned.

The final stop is the museo of memoria where dramatic condemnations of Escobar’s actions are interweaved with some of the few remaining antiques from his finca, such as old cars and the famous portal, on which is mounted a replica of the first plane used to smuggle cocaine. My guide tells me you’ve haven’t come to Hacienda Napoles if you don’t get a picture in front. I oblige.

As I smile in front of the camera, I can’t help but think Escobar would have been proud of what has come of this bizarre and extravagant theme park.

Further information:

  • Bus ticket from North Terminal in Medellin to Doradal (Transoriente): 34,000 CUP; 4 – 5 hours depending on traffic
  • Motor taxi to and from Hacienda Napoles: 15,000 – 20,000 CUP x2
  • Basic entrance ticket “salvaje” to Hacienda Naples: 54,500 CUP
  • Motor taxi guide of Hacienda Napoles: 60,000 CUP

Categories
Colombia

The murky background behind one of Medellin’s Christmas traditions, the Alborada

la alborada mecellin

Marcus

I’ve started this blog to share my experiences while travelling during my sabbatical. Focus on travel, food, drink, and history.

It started with a bang. Soon the valley and hills were alight. Colourful fireworks danced and weaved around the sky, shooting up from around the valley. Families and friends gathered on balconies to watch the show. Thunderous noises bellowed from all directions. A constant racket. Medellin was on fire, figuratively.

I had been warned in advance that the 30th would be different and it certainly was memorable.

Each year on the ultimate night of November, all the comunas of Medellin light up with fireworks to ring in December and the Christmas season, in a tradition known as La Alborada. It’s a custom that’s since spread to other Colombian cities.

Little did I know that its origins lie in the murky past of narco traffickers and paramilitaries. Medellin is a city in which history can feel like yesterday. A city that is modern and vibrant but with a foot dragging in the past.

Aqui la navidad no llega, estalla

Here Christmas doesn’t arrive, it explodes

MeDEllin SAYING

The origin story of the Alborada

At midnight on the 30th of November 2003 Medellin woke up in a panic. Initially the citizens didn’t know whether the flashes were fireworks or bullets. Had the city returned to violence? The authorities didn’t know what was going on either.

Ostensibly it was supposed to be a celebration of the laying down of arms by the paramilitaries – a show prepared and executed by the paramilitaries themselves. A spectacle to mark the end of abnormal times – when the state had to turn to private armies in order to do their dirty work. But in reality it was a dramatic display of power from Don Berna, the paramilitary leader, to show who really called the shots in the city.

Don Berna’s paramilitaries

At the turn of the 21st century, a paramilitary organisation named the Block Cacique Nutibara led by Don Berna was established to try to take back control of the north eastern communes in the city which were ridden by guerillas and narco traffickers. 

In sweeping and bloody military operations, paramilitary groups – that is groups operating outside of the law – worked hand in hand with the military to exterminate the criminal enterprises that controlled vast swathes in the city. One such operation named Orion, which led to the pacification of Comuna 13, resulted in 88 deaths, 12 cases of torture and the disappearance of 92 people.

A year later, the paramilitary group, which maintained control of about 10 comunas, agreed to give up their arms as a means to transition to peacetime. Ostensibly to celebrate and mark the occasion, their leader, Don Berna, ordered the purchase of all the fireworks possible in the city. Five days later they met to light their loot in a number of the city’s comunas.

In fact the fireworks were a statement of the territories in which Don Berna would maintain his power and control. His organisation – the Nutibara – would function as a sweeping criminal enterprise focused on narco-trafficking. His control of the city was so complete that during his time the murder rate actually decreased.

The Don, probably the most renowned Medellin crime leader since Pablo Escobar, was later captured for violating the terms of his agreement and in 2008 he was extradited to the United States where he is serving a 31 year sentence for drug trafficking.

The celebration today

Although with Berna locked up thousands of miles away from the city, the tradition in Medellin has continued to grow in popularity, despite the authorities efforts to discourage it, and has become a firm fixture in the city’s Christmas calendar, as well as in other parts of Colombia.

billboard warns against the alborada
A billboard tries to discourage participation in La Alborada: “what do you celebrate if others die?: fireworks can kill them!”

Many people I talked to resented the night – not due to its origin – in fact its background seemed to be little known – but due to the tremendous noise and its traumatic effect on animals, including cats and dogs, and birds that fall from the sky disorientated by the racket. Animal rights groups campaign every year against it.

The final words are left to Juan Mosquera Restrepo, journalist, scriptwriter and director, who eloquently lamented the celebration’s significance:

A sadness called Medellín has just attacked me. It was like this: detonations in the distance and I wonder, out loud, “is that gunpowder or a bullet?” Then I say to myself, in a low voice: “Damn it, that phrase is from here.” There are phrases that hurt to have learned in your city

Some of the information for this blog was sourced from an infobae article published in 2018.