September 4, 2023 – Biking The Americas Act IV

Once the most violent city in the world, the home of the notorious Medellin Cartel, led by Pablo Escobar. Once the city dominated by left wing guerilla groups the FARC, ELN and EPL. Once the city dominated by the military operations and right wing paramilitaries. Once the city where nobody would dare go on holiday.

Things have changed. Okay so it’s not a bed of roses and whilst there’s a lingering negative reputation, it’s actually quite safe to visit Medellin and enjoy the unique culture. Unfortunately, this means I don’t have a scary story to share with you.

Instead, let’s share some happy hip hop. Oh go on give it a chance. You were young once, remember? It’s certainly not worse than ‘shang a lang’

Let me explain further my reason for this video from Comuna 13.

Comuna 13 was once the most notorious area of the most notorious Medellin. The district is strategically located on the road to the coast where all the cocaine travelled and it’s always been a key location for the bad guys.

When the army eventually cleared out the guerilla groups from Comuna 13 in a series of questionable military operations culminating in ‘Operation Orion’ on 16th October 2002, there was much anger and disenchantment, particularly amongst young people. Not least because right wing paramilitaries assisted the army in the disappearance of many family members. Whilst there’s no denying that crime was brought under control, Comuna 13 was still a cauldron of frustration and hate against authority and government.

That’s where hip hop and rap comes in. For the last 20 years it’s been an important outlet for young people, a way of expressing their anger, frustrations and hopes. And I do mean important. So I thought a short video was appropriate.

Oh, I know there will be someone out there saying ‘shang a lang’ would also be appropriate in these circumstances, quoting the words ‘we sang ‘shang a lang as we ran with the gang’. Well I will give you the ‘gang’ reference but in my case for the prosecution I will refer to the next line ‘doin’ doo wop be dooby do ay’. That’s just not going to cut it in Comuna 13!

Talking of Comuna 13, here’s the place. Once the most violent place on earth. It actually looks quite nice in the sunshine though I do I appreciate that comment is very subjective.

Now for some culture and art – we’ve got to try and raise the intelligence quotient of this blog now and again. Please stay with me though I do appreciate it’s hard for some 😄

Wall art is another important means of expression in Comuna 13 and this is an example by Chota_13. You can follow her on Instagram if you’re so inclined. Yup, you’re probably not so inclined but nobody said my efforts to bring culture to this blog was going to be easy.

So what does this wall art represent. Basically, it means you are in charge of what’s inside you’. Please note how I’m keeping my explanation simple. I’m either catering for my audience or I’m at my own limit. 😀. I will let you decide. Namaste.

Here’s some more wall art. Probably the most important wall art in Comuna 13.

This mural is representative of ‘Operation Orion’ (mentioned above) and it’s full of symbolisms representing the army (camouflage), the right wing paramilitaries (ace of spades), families hiding at home (eye in window) ….. Okay that’s enough. You’re now sitting there bored thinking, let’s get back to stories of Susan falling off the bike.

How about a photo of an escalator? Does that make it more interesting for you?

A series of such outdoor escalators were installed in Comuna 13 to improve accessibility. They also provided an easy way by which lardy tourists could visit. Hence, Comuna 13 going from ‘gang hell’ to ‘tourist hell’. That’s progress I suppose?

Finally, a photo of us. That day was our wedding anniversary and I treated Susan to deep fried shrimps and beer at the Bogota Beer Company in Medellin. What a guy I am!

I thought I would also share another photo taken on our wedding anniversary. This time it’s 2014 whilst cycling across Canada.

Her only treat that day was a whole mars bar to herself. So, as you can see, despite all the hardships of motorcycling in Colombia, Susan looks a lot happier this time. I could possibly say, she’s never had it so good!

Finally, finally, I can’t leave you wanting more. So here’s some more.

Just bringing young people and energy into your lives. And as me and my young hip hop homies say ‘hang loose’.

The 254 miles from Monteria to Medellin looked straightforward enough. Unfortunately, when it comes to roads, nothing is straight in Colombia and our motorcycling is extremely tough. Whilst the scenery is stunning, we have no photos for there’s no laybys, no photo stops, no opportunity. It’s all about making progress. It’s not a holiday.

The sting in the tail for this ride was the ‘Monstrous Mountains of Medellin’ after 150 miles, just when we were looking forward to the finish. 16,500 feet of ascent and 11,000 feet of descent before we entered the multi lane carraigeway that cuts through the city. It’s a bit like driving into Glasgow I thought 🙂

It was dusk and I was already at the limits of my endurance and, like the rest of the country, there’s no lane discipline, no consideration for others and absolutely no road sense. That may be a sweeping statement but it’s 100% true!

I have worked out the outside lane is probably the safest to progress. Inside lane is for carts, donkeys, banana sellers, stationary buses and those lost to this world. Middle four lanes were just a cacophony of crisscrossing vehicle madness.

Even in my optimum choice of outside lane, motorcycles would pass us on the offside, inches from the central concrete barrier. If I moved too far to the outside to stop these crazy overtakes then a car would squeeze alongside me in my lane. It’s not for the faint hearted. You must keep moving fast. Keep making progress.

As we approached a road toll station the six lanes divided into 12. It became a stationary sea of thousands of motorcycles, cars and gigantic trucks. As we waited in a mayhem of a queue, trying to edge our way to the motorcycle lane, a gigantic truck rear ended us. Now I won’t exaggerate, it was more of a kiss, a nudge than a hit. The bike jumped forwards a little and I managed to keep it upright. I was reassured that Susan wasn’t going to hit the ground this time. We were so tightly packed with vehicles all around she would likely roll onto a car bonnet.

Susan kept calm, said we were okay, it’s fine, let’s keep going. There it was again that angel in my head, I mean my intercom, cutting through my ranting and raving at the truck driver. I’m not sure the truck driver could hear a word I said and not even sure he knew he had hit us from his lofty cab position in the fading light. So we moved on. This was not a place to stop and assesses the situation. This was a time to get out of the bloody situation! So we did. We kept making progress.

Eight hours and 50 minutes after our departure from Monteria with only 50 minutes of breaks, we reached our destination. You will be tired of hearing about how tired we were but we were. We were tired.

No ‘first class bell boy’ this time to help us with the luggage from the underground car park. Only me. You see we have a fair division of work – Susan sorts out the check-in and I do everything else. Susan says it’s fair and who am I to doubt her judgement?

Once the panniers were in the room and without getting changed I went out on the Friday night streets of Medellin in search of beer and water. It’s so so hot walking in heavy motorcycle goretex trousers and boots in 30c. However, I have come to realise over the years I unparalleled stamina if beer is my goal.

Our hotel was in the middle of a nightlife hotspot and it was jumping with bars, music and party time people. I had swapped road mayhem for night life mayhem. I’m quite sure people looking at me thought I was dressed up for some wierd club scene. Then again, perhaps they really just saw an old man desperately looking for beer.

There were police everywhere and none of them knew where I could get beer. Friendly and nice to the desperate old man but they lacked beer intelligence. I was on my own. No help from my brothers in arms.

Eventually I stumbled on a grocer shop, bought beer and water then walked 20 minutes up a steep hill to get back to the hotel. As I crawled into our room dragging the carrier bag of beer and water I was greeted by Susan refreshed after a nice shower. I told you this division of labour worked out well!

That night dinner was a takeaway Domino’s pizza. Oh I know, half way across the world and it’s Domino’s pizza. However, we were busted. Again. And needs must.