A Tale of Two Cities

Reputations don’t change. Especially the bad ones. 

Let me share a tale of two cities. For now, two un-named cities, though these are two places that I’ve been to recently.  Please, try to imagine these places; try to understand how you would feel visiting each of these cities. Think about what you may assume about the people, the feelings you may have if you were on the ground. Whether the city is a place that you, too, would like to visit. And analyze your images, metacognate. Are your mental images bright or dark? Loud or quiet? What kind of people are in it? What expressions do they have? Are you comfortable or on edge? Where are your hands—in your pockets, or swinging free? Are you walking fast or slow? This exercise, I hope, will help you understand the mental whiplash I felt when getting excited for, planning, and then going on my most recent trip.

Our first city has a downtown filled with modern skyscrapers, paned with glass, overlooking the world-famous beaches. And when I say world-famous beaches, often this city is synonymous with the idea of a relaxing beach vacation by day. But there’s more to the city than that. It’s known for its clubs, as well, though locals will tell you to watch the bar tender as they pour, and never drink your drink if it’s left your hand, for fear that someone may have drugged it in a lapse of focus. The clubs will be playing your stereotypical club remixes of songs, with boosted bass, a lack of any sort of melody. Overall, this music is rather heartless, evoking little emotion and little dancing except for the ubiquitous “frat flick” and a smug expression. With the city’s large Latin immigrant population, there is certainly Latin nightlife, though it’s harder to come by. 

Downtown is very gray and white. Most buildings are glass and steel and look sleek and modern, but undeniably soulless, cookie cutter, non-descript. The downtown, though largely clean, has a noticeable homelessness problem, and makeshift lean-tos are a common sight. Downtown is rather small, and not a place to be at night. Rather, you should reserve your nighttime activities to a neighborhood next to downtown. Many, though, do not live downtown, or even close. They live in suburbs surrounding the city from all sides, often taking hours to get to work in the morning. One story houses on a grid of numbered streets define the suburbs, where restaurants and shops are common on major streets. Though, moving north from downtown, you hit a neighborhood that’s notoriously a no-go zone. Walking the streets here, in the middle of the day, with the sun oppressively beating down on you, you get a weird feeling. One close to isolation—there’s not many people on the streets, and those who are, you feel you can’t trust them. The sidewalks, where they exist, are often in disrepair. Everyone has a fence around their front yards. As you walk past broken windows and damaged walls and un-artful graffiti tags, you wonder not just what’s happened there, but a scarier thought: what will happen next? Continuing to move north, you enter a neighborhood that, nowadays, is filled with genuine, beautiful and meaningful street art that reveals the struggle those in the area have been through. It is now filled with luxury shopping, and one of the only two Joe’s Pizzas outside of New York City. The area is a haven for the city’s historically less seen, its minorities, to present themselves as a worthwhile addition to the culture. 

Let’s jump to the second city, now. 

This city is situated in a mountain valley, leading it to be very long and thin. Though, as it’s in the mountains, there’s no beach, tourists come here partly because of the beautiful mix of jungle and mountains that the surrounding nature offers. This city has one of the most beautiful, unique skylines I’ve ever seen. Though most buildings are “cookie cutter” in that many look the same, it’s a special cookie cutter reserved for use only in this city. They’re these tall, skinny, red-brick apartment buildings that really catch the eye. The red brick set against the backdrop of the beautiful green mountains is a view that can only be done justice when seen in person. Like many mountain cities, the city sprawls upwards, onto the mountains in its residential areas. But unlike our first city, these aren’t suburbs. They’re lively areas, with lots of restaurants, shopping malls, and entertainment available within a short walk from anywhere. In fact, everywhere in the city I saw felt like a “downtown.”

Though the iconic skyline is what you will see first, out of the window of a plane, what is completely unavoidable in the city is greenery. Every street is lined with trees, and in the area that best makes a claim at being “downtown,” if you turn down the right street, you’ll end up in a jungle. Unlike our first city, this city is in touch with nature, and sees coexistence with green spaces a necessity for a happy, healthy life.

Much like our first city, a once crime-riddled neighborhood but ten years ago, has been transformed. Snaking up the mountainside, an open-air market lasts several kilometers, with vibrant, colorful street art portraying the soul of the so-called “City of Eternal Spring.” Street musicians, break dancers, food stalls, drink carts, and a wealth of vendors selling everything from modern, colorful art to soccer jerseys, tacky shirts to magnets, under a sea of flags and open-air decorations. 

At night, downtown changes. Of course. Clubs have promoters, offering you a free shot for going in, though we didn’t partake… You hear the mix of all the music coming from the clubs, a heartwarming mix of salsa, vallenato, cumbia, all singing about love and loss, about love for people, love for the world, love for the country. Loss of friends, of lovers, and of a country that once was. Unlike the club music in our first city, these inspiring beats don’t require a serious alcohol intake to enjoy. You’ll find couples of all ages passionately improvising on a centuries-old choreography of steps with smiles on their faces.

And yes, you step into the main square, day or night, and within seconds, a boy about my age will come up to you with a bag of drugs, offering to sell you. If you say no, he’ll request a “tip” for being out there, though telling them no twice or three times is enough to get them to go away. Girls on the street stand in suggestive clothing, eying up all passing guys. Downtown is certainly not free of problems, but the problems it does have pose little threat to your security. It’s those who wish to partake in such…activities…that bear the risk of negative consequences, and refusing to partake usually just takes a glance in the other direction, and at its worst, three nos until you’re left alone. In fact, police arbitrarily “arresting” foreigners on bogus grounds, only to demand a bribe to be set free is the greatest threat to a visitor’s security. 

So, what do you think about these cities? How have you let yourself read these descriptions?

Now, let me bias you. The first of these cities is Miami, Florida, and the second is in Colombia. Not only one in Colombia, but it’s Medellín—the home of the Medellín Cartel: Pablo Escobar’s most infamous, most violent, most corrupt cartel, responsible for, under Escobar’s unilateral command, the deaths of tens of thousands. And that bag of drugs? That’s pure, Colombian cocaine. With this bias, I invite you to reread my descriptions of these cities.

How did your perception of each change? Did your previous bias, your preconceptions about either of these places change how you saw them? Is the way in which you see Miami at all better, and that in which you see Medellín worse?

This is the “Colombia Trap.” It is true. Colombia had an awful 80s and 90s, as a result of letting near infinite wealth in the hands of a corrupt, maniacal drug kingpin have unchecked power over all affairs in the country. But the death of Escobar was a concrete moment when the scourge of the country, the source of all its problems, was no longer there, and with it, the country changed. At first slowly, and then, all at once. Take Comuna 13, for example—that vibrant street market in Medellín. A once violent neighborhood turned into the go-to tourist spot within the span of a couple of years? Only a country that has suffered the past of Colombia could make that change that quickly and that resoundingly. 

And I’m not saying that Miami is a scary, ugly, soulless city. It’s far from it, in fact. And same goes for Medellín—it’s far from being a “perfect” city. But nothing I said was false. I slanted my descriptions in ways to emphasize the surprises, the contrasts that I felt on the ground following my return to my temporary home, Miami, after a weekend in Colombia. 

It's hard to admit, but reputations don’t change. Especially the bad ones. Colombia can change, but what the world thinks about Colombia doesn’t. And that’s why people told me to watch out for kidnappings and warned me against going in the first place. But on my first day in the country, enjoying my lunch, looking out at the green streets and happy passers-by, I said to my friends that in twenty years, this country will be the new tourist hotspot, the new trendy internet fad. 

But for now, they attract noticeably fewer tourists than its neighbors Peru and Brazil. And for what? Because one maniacal man ruined the country for nine years though his lasting impacts having been mostly removed? Colombia doesn’t get tourists because it’s unsafe. They don’t get tourists because people think it’s unsafe. 

I can only help the country by spreading the truth. By sharing the beauty, the total transformation that has occurred, and by sharing my stories from this country that I grew to love in such a short time. So for the rest of this, albeit short, chapter in my catalog of stories, read it through this lens. Through this positive lens. Imagine my descriptions as being bright, colorful, and full of music and smiling faces. Because that’s how it felt. Not gray and cloudy, with silence in the background, dilapidated buildings on either side of me, and with frowning people all around. Please, for my sake as much as theirs, try to reform your preconceptions of Colombia, and you will understand why my time there brought me so much joy.