Friday, January 2, 2015

Medellin and the house that would keep me

Traveling is often an uncomfortable situation in which you bounce from hostel to hostel, cursing the demonish snores emitting from the top bunk, and having to pack and unpack and repack your backpack at each location.
Once in a while, you need a bit of a respite from this discomfort. I found my oasis in Medellin at Hostel Antiguo- a dangerously beautiful hostel with more in common to a boutique hotel than a hostel. It was so nice. And clean. And quiet.
And this pristine, quiet location dug its claws in and kept me there, for more than a week.
In that week, I did absolutely nothing. A bit of cooking, oozing from sofa to sofa, and downloading movies.

Eventually, I got around to a bit of exploring around Medellin and discovered that I loved it.

Medellin is nicknamed the city of the eternal spring, a nomenclature derived from its year round mild climate ranging from mid 70s to 80s. Before my fateful discovery of Hostel Antiguo, I stayed in the yuppie neighborhood of Plobado, the city's urban hub of restaurants, bars, and shops, frequented by Colombia´s nouveau riche.

Just twenty years ago, Medellin was named the most dangerous city in the world. Pablo Escobar transformed the town into the largest cocaine producing region in the world. Posing as a modern day Robin Hood, Escobar used his enormous wealth to build churches, schools, and hospitals, providing many impoverished communities with jobs running drug cartels. And despite the infamous bombings which Escobar unleashed during his days of power, many people in Medellin still refer to him affectionately, as El Patron.




In addition to the incredible weather, the location is beautiful. Situated in a lush valley surrounded by verdant mountains, the city is connected by a fluid above-ground metro system, similar to Vancouver's sky train.
There's a great sense of social awareness in Medellin and the city possesses a vibrant culture with an emphasis on education. Today, despite the poverty which still plagues the city, a decided spirit of optimism has taken root.


After a week of relaxing in the loveliness of Medellin, I finally had to tear myself way and begin an interminable 30 hour bus ride to Quito, which ended up being just as awful as it sounds. 

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