The Astounding Travel Adventures of a Miraculous Fellow

I’ve Died and Gone to Medellín
June 19, 2008, 2:33 pm
Filed under: Do You Feel Panamá?

Ok gang, strap yourselves in, this is where shit gets really interesting…

So, I’m partying in a Colombian rainforest, when one of the 7 gorgeous Colombian girls I’m with comes over and asks me a question in Spanish.  This is when the living nightmare begins: I realize I am completely and totally incapable of speaking Spanish in this mind state.  I try my damnedest to say something clever like:

  • “I’d be doing a lot better if you were sitting in my lap”
  • “Maybe it’s the psychedelic drugs I consumed, but you look like an angel”
  • “Galileo was wrong – the planets don’t revolve around the Sun, but rather they revolve around your supple bosom.”

Alas, all I can come up with in my present state of Spanish is something along the lines of:

“Cows are blue.  However, I’d prefer coffee.”   

So, as you can probably guess, my relationship with these goddesses was merely cordial.  I did manage to talk to one in Spanish for awhile, so that made me feel slightly better, and she probably felt all warm and fuzzy because she was nice to the retarded American kid. All in all though, it was quite the experience.  There was techno music and crazy lights bumping and glaring, all the while we’re sitting in the forest, trying not to think that we were breaking just about every rule that they tell American tourists to follow while in Colombia. That, and that I probably looked like the most foreign person on Earth, because of my shimmering blond hair, my dashing blue eyes, and the fact that I was the only person who was dumb enough to be wearing shorts in the mountains at night.  However, the Paisas (women from Medellín) made it all alright. 

So, a little about the Paisas.  Three simple words can describe them: Oh. My. God.  Or maybe this is more appropriate: “Oh my!” (Statement of pleasant surprise) and “God?” (Questioning the fact that, most likely, the female resurrection of the Lord Almighty just walked past).  

Me and my buddy Patrick got here to Medellín on Friday night, were picked up by a Colombian friend, Felipe, and we were off.  After dining on a giant plate of fried pig meats while overlooking the entire city, and polishing off a bottle of Aguardiente (Colombian fire water) we went to Felipe’s house where he was letting us stay.  “House,” however, is an understatement.  He let us into the penthouse apartment of a 12 story building overlooking the whole city, and I nearly broke into tears thinking how much the 14 Paisas I was bringing home that night were going to enjoy this view.
So, then we hit the bars in a place called Parque Lleras.  This place was unlike anywhere I have ever seen in my life.  The scores of bars, clubs, and untz untz discotecas were packed to the rafters with amazing Paisas.  I fell in love so many times, that now, I feel I have no more love to give…(God that was poetic – a single teardrop just rolled down my cheek). Next, we made our way to a place called Oz, whose name is so incredibly apt.  There was no wizard in this Oz, but in his place there was a club 75% full of probably the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.  The other 23% were just simply really cute, while the final 2% of homely women had been imported from elsewhere to keep clubs ego slightly grounded, so as to avoid a perfect 100% ratio of hotties.  At this club, I met “La Mujer Mas Guapa del Mundo” (The Hottest Woman on Earth) and chatted to her for awhile until I had a wet daydream.  Then I proceeded to drink more Aguardiente and stare at gorgeous Colombians until I went cross-eyed.

But, alas, no hanky panky for this guy.  Paisas are not as loosely-moraled as their Cartagenan counterparts, but were unbelievably friendly, and seemed genuinely disappointed when we said we were only there for a few days.  Fret not, my goddesslike, soon-to-be concubines, I shall return!  And, like Pablo Escobar in the 1980s, I will dominate this city, but instead of using violence and drugs, I will instead use blond hair, blue eyes, broken Spanish, and…well…maybe drugs too.

So, that’s Medellín.  This place is unreal.  There’s no violence, the coke doesn’t fall from the sky, I haven’t been kidnapped, and no car bombs have blown my ass from the rest of my body.  I’m pretty f’ing serious about coming back here; this is one of the greatest cities I have ever visited.  

But, don’t tell anyone.  I don’t want this little secret to be spoiled…at least until my Paisa free agent harem workers have inked their lifetime contracts to toil in my new brothel: Wheelandville.

And that, my friends, concludes my summer in Latin America.  I feel I have done all I can this time around.  I partied with Manuel Noriega’s nephew, was on Panamanian television, was urinated on by a monkey, danced with legions of hookers until they found out I was broke, and of course done psychedelic drugs surrounded by Goddesses in a Colombian jungle.  The latter, of course, each of you is free to utilize when someone tries to one-up you in a game of “So I knew this crazy guy once who did…”

Ciao.  Adios.   Saludos de Colombia. 


2 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Silly rabbit, trix are not for Colombians…we are much smarter than that 🙂

Comment by J Graham

Great post! I wish I died and woke up living in Medellin!

Comment by Ambrose Santiago

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