A month in Medellin was a bland medley of work, exercise, relaxation, and sleep, with dashes of pornography, alcoholism, violence, cocaine, prostitution, tragedy, and infidelity. I hope it goes without saying that I was more often witness than participant, but I’m going to remain vague lest I implicate myself or the people I now call friends any further. Regardless, it was both spectacularly boring and uniquely memorable.

I avoided hostels, opting for three AirBnB apartments instead, which limited my social circle but benefited my spanish. I made some good friends nonetheless, and always had someone to share a beer with when I wanted it - which was often. I was hoping to recharge, and ready myself for a final push through central America. It wasn’t exactly the restful month I thought it might be, but I left anxious to travel.

There were plenty of highlights, including a challenging day of mountain biking, an excellent museum, and some ordinary things like movies (Deadpool!) and good food. But after a month, I can officially say that I prefer Bogota, which seems to make me something of an anomaly. Still, it’s easy to imagine myself spending more time in Medellin. I took a taxi to the airport and narrowly caught my flight to Panama. I looked out the airplane window and bid farewell to South America.