Where is the money, Poblado?
Lunch on day 2 of Medellin, Columbia was admittedly gluttonous and a walk up the hill around the city’s wealthiest neighborhood – Poblado, south of Medellin, helped us burn a tenth of what we ate. The remaining sat comfortably on the most uncomfortable places of our bodies.
Historically and according to the locals, Poblado is where the city’s wealthy fled to when Escobar’s antics were at their peek and made themselves a paradise away from the drugs, sex and violence. Something similar to the British making Delhi the new Indian capital when they could not get their act right in Calcutta.
While the British had their reasons, I fail to understand why the Columbian crème-de-la-crème would want to do that? People pay $ 10 a month to watch that shit on Netflix. There are ongoing video content wars with billion-dollar war chests because of what Narcos did to Hollywood studios and the general suckers for entertainment (us). Here you are with the front row seats of Spanish gladiatorial arena and you what do you do? Run away? For what? Probably for apartments with big terraces and malls with not-so-big discounts.
Shame on you, the Richie Richs of Medellin.
Seen in the pic above, walking with me in a white shirt, is my fellow traveller and erstwhile jackfruit co-picker. While we both searched for bullet-studded walls, abandoned buildings and bags stuffed with dollars buried with a headstone saying dig me dig me, all we found was a headstone with the name Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria. Guess we were looking in the wrong places at the wrong time.
We came back with no stashed cash - only memories of exceptional Spanish music and some unexceptional room service.