I´ve spent over two months in Medellin now, hounding this very inquiry.

Its probably not in the top-rated Lonely Planet hostels - surrogate frat-houses dotting the globe. Its probably not in the key tourist destinations linked by a bus which, for some unknown reason, is modeled after a San Franciso trolley car. Its definitely not is the posh disco ghetto of Zona Rosa, where drunk bipolar bachelorettes spill tears and drinks with names like ¨Russian Cocaine¨ on their over-priced breasts, waiting for someone to come along and just love them.

It might be somewhere in the hole-in-the-wall cafe down a dark alley, where a plate of bandeja paisa can be had at any hour while unimpressive hookers and half-wit pimps mill around looking bored casting neon shadows on the asphalt. It might be in the stairwell on the top floor of an apartment building sharing boxed wine with friends and feeling immortal as the city lights sleep far below. Its definitely in the people themselves, the way they reflect their surroundings through humor, song, dance, quirks, cliches, and even violence.

Carrera Barranquilla

I met Felipe about a month ago. I literally ran into him while exiting an internet cafe. He told me about his music studio next door, which explained the mysterious muffled punk drumming I´d been hearing for weeks. Felipe refined my use of explicatives and comical derrogatives in Spanish and I occasionally corrected his English. In no time we were having jam sessions with Steve of pure improv sweetness which lasted for hours and left us all feeling high.

Steve, Felipe, and me jamming

Felipe's studio is a definite social hub. Everyday on the concrete third floor balcony you can meet adolescent punk wanna-bes slugging aguardiente and bearded chain-smoking metal heads who don´t realize that they are too old to be wearing leather pants and Slayer t-shirts, pretending to have some sort of unholy arrangment with Satan. It was in this way that I met another Felipe, who falls into neither category.

Felipe (part deux) is a mathematician who studies algeabraic geometry at the National University. We went to his spot, Niez Bar, and talked of fractals, the golden ration, the idea of a grand unified theory, and the fourth dimension. Felipe knows his shit.

Me, Deisy, Felipe (to the second power), Grisly, and The Paisa at Niez

He also taught me how to stay out all night in a city which, from the outside, appears to be fast asleep by 11pm most everynight. It was a relevant bit of knowledge considering I´d just come down with a mean bout of insomnia which kept me awake until well past dawn following and endless chain of links into esoteric reading material on the internet. The internet gets a weird as you want it to. The night life in Medellin, as it turns out, does too.

Negotiating a nocturnal Medellin involves, first, avoiding very specific streets which become hostile when the sun sets and, second, meeting with the gang at Niez Bar. Niez is the ultimate dive bar. It doesn´t even have a sign. The same crowd of five or ten regulars are there everynight laughing loudly on the porch as 1990´s ¨alternative¨ music videos gush from the TV. The doors close between midnight and two, at which point the festivities continue inside or everyone walks a few blocks to a taxi carwash which sells pastries and beer.

Around two, Livido gets going. Livido is the polar opposite of Zona Rosa. You go with someone who knows what their doing to a non-descript door in a residential block on the farside of Jardin Botanico. You knock. Someone peeps out and you feel like you´re on the threshold of a 1920s speakeasy. The guy decides you´re alright and in you go, into the concrete belly of what looks like a squatted mortuary. The hep latenight crowd of Medellin is there, dancing strangely to music which is gritty, beat-heavy, and seems to have originated somewhere in Eastern Europe. A cloud of ganja smoke looms in the air as couples engage in every phase of copulation in a dark room, away from the flashing lights. You think for a moment...maybe this is it. The Nexus.

A few nights later Deisy, Felipe (squared), and I met up at Niez for a rock show. The band played covers from the ´90s, including both ¨100%¨ and ¨Diamond Sea¨ by Sonic Youth. It was blissful. Grisly, one of the regulars, gave me a bracelet as we talked on the stairs so I would never forget her. Her name, she told me, came from Grisly Adams. Her mother had watched the movie and, thinking Grisly was the name of the female protagonist, named her daughter accordingly. Only years later did she realize that Grisly was the name of the bear, a fact which Grisly laughs about to this day.

Deisy and me

Strangely enough, I´ve also found ample evidence of the soul of the city in the house of a a fellow foreigner - Amu from Germany. Amu lives ten floors above me with two Colombian roommates, Julian and Santiago. Good ole once-cuarenta-y-tres, walls painted the vibrant red-yellow-blue of the Colombian flag and always a crowd of travelers talking, strumming guitars, playing poker in the living room. Every aspect of the house is oriented towards hosting guests from couchsurfing.com - a gaggle of girls from Peru, bearded men from Belgium, bright-eyed Italian women, gringos, euros, whoever. Everynight there is someone visiting and staying for a while. The atmosphere is always festive and a meal is always cooking. Amu enjoys a pure, uncomplicated appreciation for life and other people which is selfless, infectious, and inspiring.

Today I said goodbye to all of them, the people who have in so little time impressed so much upon the way I consider the world. My quixotic love affair with Medellin and all of Colombia is over, as I fly out tomorrow just after noon. Like Vonnegut once wrote: ¨Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.¨

Because the great thing about this life is that our experiences will always be with us.

For just a moment,
I was a part
of the soul
of the city.

Now the soul
of the city,

its a part of me, too.

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written by  chaddeal on April 28, 2009 from Medellin, Colombia
from the travel blog: The Great Pan-American Synchronistic Cycle Extravaganza Unlimited
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Hey man, you always will be with us.. you are my friend.. its nice to know you.. take care of you

written by  Steve on April 30, 2009

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hey chad.. see this.. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rNL9aNND_A&feature=related

written by  Steve on May 22, 2009

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