Medellin

I´ve never seen a city like Medellin. A brick wonderland, cupped by a big, green valley where the slum barrios rise up on all sides of the wealthy central area, completly flaunting the way these things are usually organized. It´s the second biggest city in Colombia, and my Lonely Planet guide tells me it used to be the world´s cocaine trafficking capital. Kind of makes you wonder which lucky metropolis stole it´s crown.

Fernando Botero is from here. He´s a Colombian artist whose work you´ve no doubt seen without realizing it- his signature is obesity. Obese people, obese dogs, obese horses, even obese oranges and teapots in a world where everything is pleasantly plump. He donated a forest of fatness to the city in the form of massive bronze statues, and on our first day in the city we wandered through them en route to the Museo de Antioquia, chuckling at the tiny penis of the big, fat Roman soldier and the bizarre, round woman crouched with lion´s paws and cherub wings sprouting from her back.

We spent last night eating and drinking in the student district. Medellin has three major universities and five smaller schools, so there´s a lot of smart, young people roaming the streets. Courtney and I were delighted to find a plaza where a real, live botellon- a whole passel of folks drinking beer out of plastic cups, playing music and straight hangin´. It took us back to our own college days in Madrid and sank into the scene with relish.

The four of us cut quite a distinctive figure. So it was no surprise when a skinny guy in a wheelchair and his buddy wanted to take pictures of us on their camera phone- irritating, but not surprising. It wasn´t until a dude on a motercycle pulled up yelling excitedly that we realized the gimp had snatched my purse, right from underneath Erik and I´s legs. Devil!

The boys took off in the direction the dirty thieves had headed to frisk the crap out of our bewheeled friend while Court and I stared at each other. I slapped the side of my head over and over. Had I really just forgotten the first rule of botellon- watch out for thievery? My camera, my debit card, my money, Pat´s guidebook, Erik´s sunglasses... gone. Our knights in shining armor came back pissed and empty handed and a few minutes later the kid had the nerve to wheel back onto the plaza!

Mad fit to spit, I sicced two Colombian police officers on them and watched with ambivalent feelings as the kid got frisked for the second time in ten minutes. He´d already handed off the bag to his dirtbag friends, though, and the cops came back empty handed. Nothing to do about it, file a report at the station tomorrow. Which means that so far in my month in Colombia I´ve been jacked by foam-wielding ten year olds and a parapelegic.

Sigh. So I am heartbroken to inform my gentle readers that for the moment, Pura Caitlin must cease being a photo blog and become instead a mere blog. That was my third camera lost/injured/departed on this crazy Latin American ride and for the moment I can´t stomach paying for another photo taking machine. Truly, a blow to photojournalism and the art world in general. I guess I´ll just have to play with words for a little while. It all happens for a reason, right?