I'd been walking through streets covered in the most amazing graffiti for hours, knowing that this all started as a substitute for violence and bloodshed. There were stories on the walls and I got to hear them. How amazing was that, and how lucky was I?
At one point the narrow streets opened up into a bigger square, where we stopped for a break. We got to witness the famous escalators, given to the people as a mean to help them out of poverty. The poor people living on the steep hills now had a way of making it down to the city, making getting a decent job a realistic opportunity for them for the first time in their lives. It was so inspiring witnessing how the city of Medellin really cares for its people, wanting to inspire them to break away from the city's infamous, dark past, and then watching the people giving back. It was a beautiful, sunny day; all around there was laughter, and there I stood in the middle of it all, knowing that this was once the most dangerous neighbourhood in Medellin. You couldn't have felt it if you tried.
A group of teenage boys entered the square. They rolled out a mat, put music on their speakers and started break dancing. They danced one by one, or in small groups. An inspired about five year old spontaneously entered the mat, copying the boys' moves as best as he could. The teenagers laughingly cheered him on, allowing him to be part of their show, and the crowd cheered with them. There was such a relaxed and inviting atmosphere. Once again I had to remind myself where I was and how amazing it was that I got to be a part of this moment. There are lots of reasons why I love to travel, but small yet significant moments such as this one is truly a huge one.
The people of Medellin want to talk about their past, but yet they don't. They want to talk about how far they've come. They know how to celebrate even the smallest of victories, for they are still carrying all of their losses with them every day, and they are probably the nicest, most welcoming people I have ever met. They see the fact that tourists are now finally coming to the country as a proof of the successful transformation Colombia has been through, and their gratefulness shows. It kind of makes you just wanting to stay there, and to tell everyone you know to go there too.
On Plaza San Antonio in Medellin stand two birds made by the famous Colombian artist Fernando Botero. One is broken and the other one whole. The birds are known as the "birds of peace". The first one was blown up by a bomb that killed 23 people on a concert in 1995, and the second then placed next to it in 2000. One marks Medellin's past, dark and violent, but the other one reflects the present, with Medellin being the modern and innovative city that it is today. The man who told me this story, a Medellin native, spoke with passion, and I pressed my nails into my palms as a way of begging my eyes not to tear up. "You are here, that means you are all a part of Medellin's future" he told his group of listeners. Never have I felt more grateful to be part of anything.
In Medellin they take what was once bad and dangerous and replace it with something good instead; something that represents hope, and it seems to be working. It's so easy, but so beautiful at the same time. I feel like I could learn a lot from the people of Medellin, and if I remember only parts of it I will still have left Medellin a better person. And that's enough.
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