In early December of 2022, I went to, and spent the better part of 4 months in Medellin, Colombia. Medellin, the city of eternal spring, is a metaphor for rebirth.
Disclaimer: Focusing this post on Medellin rather than Colombia as a country is due only to the fact that it's where my time was spent.
With a population that's among the most dense in the world, the people of Medellin appreciate and utilize their shared space well. Intuitively navigating to avoid conflict as they traverse bustling streets and variable social interactions.
Things here just seem to flow.
I went to Medellin with the intention to focus on writing, and did almost anything but.
I'd become interested in understanding and evolving a concept on the use of parallel play in social sustainability that had been plaguing my thoughts for some months already.
This city seemed to be bursting with the opportunity to play in parallel.
So instead of write, I walked and talked my way through 4 months in Medellin.
I cooked more than I ate, and I made connections with people and places I'd never before imagined possible.
Over a decade ago I spent a summer in El Salvador, and over the years that have followed, I've thought of, and intended to, return. Much to my chagrin, I have thus far failed to do so.
Instead, I've returned to Nicaragua time and time again. A decent country to visit, Nicaragua is FAR from being my "favorite" country, if I were even able to name one.
I have loved many places, but no country - no city - has captured my heart quite like Medellin.
I recognized a quality in Medellin that I remembered fondly from El Salvador all those years ago.
A feeling of seguridad and bienvenidos.
I felt safe and welcome.
I saw the remnants - artifacts and attitudes - of a war since past. While there were people who lived through it, many were born after it.
Generational traumas had an obvious impact on local behaviors and attitudes, but also served as a reminder not to take any moment; and relationship or opportunity for granted.
The faces and voices of Salvadorans and the Paisa people reflected memories of traumatic events. Their concerns were similar to those of my own community in the States.:
"Be careful," they say. Words of caution for a possible generic threat. USAmericans, Salvadorans, Colombians. Seemingly everyone.
If everyone was concerned for my safety, I couldn't help but wonder, from whom ought I to take caution?
But that quality I mentioned before, this was not it.
The quality was not merely a superficial reflection of my personal experience, but in the interactions I had with the Salvadoran and Paisa people I came to know.
Paisa, the people of Medellin and its surrounding department- Antioquia (similar to a state or Province), are famously kind; deserving anything but the unfortunate, resonating, reputation leftover from a drug war which ended nearly three decades ago.
When inquired about my experience in their respective countries, both the Salvadoran and Paisa reaction seemed to express a curious fusion of relief and gratitude. This reaction expressed that their expectations, like my own, were being exceeded.
Their expectations, specifically, of my perspective of their countries, cultures, and experience.
The Salvadoran and Paisa people had lived through wars that ended long before I arrived, but they were well aware of the reputation that persisted.
The Salvadoran and Paisa people will continue to live with the traumas of these conflicts for generations, and their expressions of self will reflect the suffering they have, and continue to, endure.
I hadn't considered traveling to Medellin until just a few months before I left, and by the time I arrived, I had few expectations.
For better or worse, I don't often plan or do in-depth research prior to traveling. And so, my expectations tend to be limited and fairly low.
This is my modus operandi, my MO. Just go, and find out when I get there.
It's important to note that my mother's sister, my Aunt Susan suggested that I go to Medellin. I recognize my fortune in having such a curious, open-minded, and supportive family.
A nephew on my Uncle's side (my mom's sister's husband's sister's son) is half Colombian. Raised in NYC, he had moved to Medellin a couple years prior to my arrival, and his brother and sister-in-law would join him by January, 2023.
According to our shared aunt, Topher loved Medellin. We knew each other as children, so I reached out for advice on where I should stay, looking for a hostel or an airbnb..
In March of 2022, just a few months before the seed of Medellin was planted in my mind, my friend David and I traveled to Nicaragua, where we met Claudia.
Claudia, David, and I became fast and close friends, a common feature among people "like us."
You can listen to a conversation we recorded with her while in Managua, Nicaragua here.
I messaged Claudia, wanting to gauge her interest in joining me in Medellin, and without hesitation, she was in.
Originally from the UK, Claudia has been traveling and working as a digital nomad since before "digital nomad" was a thing. Spanish is just one of her 6 languages, and so I knew that my hope to immerse myself in the language and culture would not easily be let down.
And it wasn't. I spent 4 months in Colombia, only leaving the country once for a visa run to Panama.
Before we even had flights into the country, Claudia and I booked a month in an airbnb. We thought it a good idea to spend our first week in a hostel in a different neighborhood than our airbnb, just to make sure we'd chosen well.
We had.
Neither the hostel nor the airbnb disappointed, both of which Claudia found. Claudia left Medellin after a month, at the beginning of January, and I continued to extend the airbnb, staying for a total of 4.
Early December to early April. I returned to the States to attend to an unfinished project I'd left behind.
Our first week in Yolo Hostel, is where we met our roommate, Alexis.
From Argentina, Alexis became like a brother. Tall and fair skin, we were easily amused when locals on the street mistook him for a gringo, only to be surprised and disappointed by his Argentinian accent.
Argentinians, I was told, are notoriously frugal.
When I left Colombia 4 months later to spend a few months in the States, I asked my landlords (now, my Colombian family) to store a duffel bag for me. They obliged, happy for the insurance that I'd be returning, to visit in the very least. Along with the bag and the family, I left several close friends, my Paisa boyfriend, and a piece of my heart in this unsuspecting city.
Each felt like a security deposit, a promise to return to Medellin, the city that stole my heart.
I wonder, however, if it was Medellin or simply its timing in my life that scooped me up.
Would I have felt the same at any other time, or in any other place? Or was I simply, and finally, prepared to uproot and be set free?
Am I merely an unhoused homing pigeon, in search of my roost?
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