Friday, July 15, 2011

Medellín: The Past and the Future

Medellín is probably the most beautiful city I have ever seen in my life.  The open streets filled with shade covering green trees, cool the City of Eternal Spring.  Open faced restaurants, bars, and cafes invite suburb-like comfort in the middle of an urban area.  It's hard to imagine that ten years ago this was the capital of the Colombian drug wars.  Although hostels repeatedly warn not to have a false sense of security, the brand new metro, the clean sidewalks, and green trees mixed with stylish buildings easily demonstrate the feats overcome by a new Medellín.

However, I did take a Pablo Escobar Tour that visited his grave site and the site where the world once most wanted man was shot, while hearing a brief history of the rise and fall of the most infamous Colombian.  The tour culminated with a final stop at an old safe-house for the Don.  We saw a couple of his run-down incognito cars (the government seized the fancy ones) that were re-outfitted to drop blinding smoke from below the trunk for easy getaways.  We saw a desk that had a secret compartment to store over $4 million cash and a secret closet where Escobar hid, not from the government, but from the electric company.  And we saw recent bullet holes in a painting and through a window, from when rebels attempted to kidnap and hold Escobar's brother for ransom.

The highlight of the safe-house was the guided tour by Escobar's brother, Roberto, the financial head of the Medellín Cartel's operations in the 70's, 80's, and 90's.  Clearly cash-strapped himself (thus offering tours of his house/museum), Roberto told fascinating stories of an escape from prison.  Pablo Escobar had agreed to go to jail only if he could build his own prison "for fear of assassinations."  Escbar constructed a mansion atop a jungle filled hill, much like that of the safe-house we walked through.  We also heard stories of assassinations and of the "truly modest" lifestyle of the Escobars (which modestly included private jets, Ferrari and motorcycle collections, and personal zoos).  As we left and paid for the tour, it felt real strange giving money directly to the Escobar family.
 
After taking a tour given by a prominant figure from Medellín's yesterday, we encountered the optimistic progress of the city's amazing transformation.  Medellín's famed cable cars connect one of the poorest neighborhoods to the rest of the city.  Climbing the mountain in these ski lift gondolas, we watched the favelas pass by below: slums of run-down brick buildings with clothes hanging to dry on flat and tin roofs.  By the time we reached the Santo Domingo Savio Library stop (the cable car has stops like the train line it's connected to), colorful murals lined the city streets.  Instead of amateur gang inspired graffiti, public service messages encouraged youth to not rob others.  If people from the center of Medellín are afraid to come to the poorer barrios, these messages explained, they will cut off those barrios' connection to the commercial centers of the city.
 
A winning platform for the his reelection, the mayor used a Spanish grant to build a new library in the poorest barrio of the city.  Business leaders, still hurting from lingering violence, saw improving the incomes of those most vulnerable to thuggery as the only solution to expanding the economy of Medellín (after all other resolutions had been exhausted).  Going against the everlong worldwide trend to isolate the poor, Medellín's progressive library led to the construction of cable cars that run along the main metro.  It now hosts classes for kids, workshops for adults, a community museum with a photo exhibit "from the barrio for the barrio."  
 
Our group of Gringo tourists clearly felt put out of place by the curious eyes that followed us around this poor barrio, signalling the pride the barrio takes in having created its own commercial center; it does not revolve around tourism.  The barrio started to experience growth simply by increasing its connectivity.  When I poked my head into a small apartment where a family was watching the Colombia vs Bolivia fútbol game, they invited me in to sit down on the couch and have lunch with them.  When I later sat at a street-side bar to catch the second half of the game in front of a large big-screen, I did not feel like I was in the center of a favela.  The surrounding streets offered an air of hope in one of the poorest barrios in Medellín.  If only the rest of the world could begin to adopt creatively progressive measures (like a cheap gondola instead of a pricey metro), cities could incorporate people of all classes to combat yesterday's urban problems.


Share/Bookmark

0 comments: