Olympic Medellín

The Olympic Games were a distraction, a massive one. In fact, Seb Coe should probably be on the phone to the city of Medellín to personally apologise for the lack of attention backpackers, particularly British ones, gave to the city during the first few days of the event.

Olympic fever - Murray wins gold!

We watched the opening ceremony in Salento, before arriving in the rather aptly named Medellín ((pronounced Med-i-geene, I'm playing with words here!). To say I was bursting with pride that afternoon in a small bar packed with Colombians would be an understatement. I was jumping with pride, laughing with pride and goosebumping with pride!

I’ve not been on British soil in eleven months and it was like receiving a big hug from everyone at home. Danny Boyle and La Reina (the Queen) – I salute you! And who knew Mr. Bean enjoyed such international fame? The Colombians certainly loved that part of the ceremony the most.

A message to the people above in the cable car

Our time in Medellín (which was, until quite recently, the drug and murder capital of the world) was splashed with Olympic sport and hurried sight-seeing that the time difference between us and London allowed.

Medellín is, in many ways, two different cities in one - and a place that faces far more nuanced challenges than its tarnished reputation implies.

Soaring high above the favela 

On the one hand, it is a city of beautiful, young socialites. The women here are simply stunning, and a night out in the Zona Rosa is enough to make even the staunchest objector consider the benefits of towering, white stilettos and plastic surgery.

Beyond la vida loca, Medellín offers a new and speedy metro system, drinkable water (hurrah!), police officers on every street corner and designer shopping malls too (the scene of only the occasional gang shoot out these days).

But then there’s the rest. Medellín is famous around the world for its involvement in the drug trade, for the violence that this illegal export inspired, and for guerrillas who have kidnapped more than just a few foreigners.

Generally speaking, those days are over. The Medellín of today is a much safer and more welcoming place than it was in Pablo Escobar’s heyday. That said, the city remains haunted by its past and seems uncertain of its new identity after the violence that has only recently come to an end.

Favelas squeezed together

And then there are the issues all too common in the developing world: unemployment, lack of access to healthcare and education, and high poverty levels. In fact, 47% of Colombia’s population falls below the poverty line.

This fracas, between old and new, poverty and glamour, hit me when we travelled on the gleaming silver cable car up across the favelas (cobbled together communities) to the national park.

There is barely space to hang out the weekly wash and the buildings are falling apart in their tiny, muddled rows, patched together with whatever is at hand. Every roof has huge bricks holding it down; some have car doors and old paint pots too.

One minute we were walking through the favela area, watching men selling bags of fruit out of a rusted wheel barrows and the next we were arriving at the Parque Arvi where families were dressed in their Sunday best - with sky-scraper heels (this is Colombia!) and designer labels to boot.

Of course, what unites these people is their heartfelt "Bienvenidos a Colombia" (welcome to Colombia) and delight that tourists are venturing to their country after so many years of turmoil.

After exploring the conflict of Medellín, it was back to some Olympic Medallin’!