Where am I?

I just got back from a lovely Sunday evening performance in the park... a dowdy drag queen, beloved by her people, puts on a raunchy spectacle every week in the Plaza Bolivar just a few blocks from my place. The unlikely celebrity performed surrounded by a ring of fans including families, gay couples, and pot-smoking teenagers. The comedian told bawdy jokes and ranted on in political satire; this week her target was the church. All this in the shadow of the Catedral Metropolitana (the building which boasts more bricks than any other in the world), in a country where more than 95% of the population adheres to Christianity. This seemingly contradicting situation is typical as I endeavor to better understand the city I live in.

El centro, the downtown area where I live, is a cluster of sky scrapers in the middle of the expanse of Medellin. During the day it is this thumping thriving organism composed of colorful people in constant motion; selling, yelling, bustling and hustling. At night it largely clears out as most of the paisas working in the city live in the outlying wealthy suburbs, or in the poorer neighborhoods that climb up the mountains that border the city on the east and west. It's dirty and gritty and rife with poverty and desolates. My tour of the neighborhood included what streets to avoid after dark, where the prostitutes are, where the tranny prostitutes are, where people sell and buy drugs, where thieves lurk etc.

photo credit: Andres Alarcon

With that being a grim reality, there is also a shiny side to that dirty peso. Medellin boasts the only Metro system in Colombia, and probably the cheapest one I've ever been on (under 75c for a ride) which shadows the river and connects the city north to south. A few blocks from my apartment is the metro stop of Parque Berrio which hosts several large bronze statues by beloved Colombian artist Fernando Botero. The Museo de Antioquia, situated across from Parque Berrio displays a collection of contemporary Colombian art including many by Medellin-native Botero, which I enjoyed free of charge as a holiday treat from the governement. Another holiday treat put on by the city is the majestic festival of lights which lasts until January. Along the river the festival is a sort of combination between a light show and a carnival. I enjoyed micheladas (iced beer with lime, rock salt and hot chile sauce) and fried potatoes on a stick while watching the trippy laser light show on a impressive fountain, set to the music of Shakira.

Take the metro north and you will find yourself in the upper-class neighborhood of El Poblado, with fancy restaurants clustered around plazas, boutiques lining shaded streets and trendy bars and nightclubs thumping the night away. I went there at night to meet up with a couple Canadian girls I had met and ended up taking on the night with a raucous crew of Colombians and Brazilians. The Colombians proudly led us to a fancy shopping mall, which housed a club inside. Complete with velvet ropes, the bouncer informed us it was full, that you had to have a reservation, until someone called someone inside who came outside and eventually we were ushered into a large, dark, thumping discoteca. Fog machines, lasers, big screen TVs, bottle service and a typically South American mix of American Top 40, reaggaton and salsa. Not exactly my ideal venue but I'm not going to lie, I was stoked when Jay Z's ''New York'' came on and danced 'til 4 in the morning.

Take the metro south and you can get off and use your same metro ticket to ride a gondola (called a metrocable) up staggering heights into the barrios that perch above the city, like the favelas of Rio. Historically the poorest neighborhoods in Medellin, the metrocable was constructed in 2004 to help connect the isolated communities to the city center. The metrocable is part of a larger plan implemented by the government to bring opportunity to the lower classes after the wake of destruction caused by the drug wars of the late '90. Since drug lord Pablo Escobar's death in 1993, the crime rate has dropped dramatically and Medellin has sought to reinvent itself through a building boom of parks, housing, schools, libraries and new public transportation.

An impressive reminder of this effort is the Biblioteca Espana, a looming set of three black buildings that stand in stark contrast to the dilapidated stack of homes made of stucco or brick that make up the historically poor and dangerous barrio of Santo Domingo, high above the center of Medellin. Constructed in 2005, the library and community center is more than just a much needed public facility in a densely populated area, it is a point of pride for the impoverished neighborhood and a symbol of change for the entire city.

Access to the city center, the Biblioteca Espana, and influx of tourists that arrive on the metrocable for the breathtaking views of the city and the Aburra valley, have helped transform the barrio into a thriving community. I spent my Sunday afternoon there, watching children playing, women gossiping, old men playing chess, and young couples flirting. I leafed through books at the library, ate arepas (a typical colombian fried cornmeal patty) and sipped coca cola out of a glass bottle while taking in the expanse of the city I now call home.