Pablo Escobar

To those of you who in the past been complaining about my posts running too long: Fuck Off And Read Something From The New Age Section.

Here comes a novel: we´re picked up outisde the Pit-Stop hostel in a white minibus, we´re in Medellín, not far from the zona rosa. We´re going for the Pablo Escobar-tour.

The driver has a standard joke, he opens his cooling bag, filled with sodas and beers, looks at us, “I´m sorry, no cocaine”.

There´s an english guy in the seat next to us, he looks like he´s been up all night with white powder, he´s been waiting all his life to come to Medellín and walk in the footsteps of the Capo De Capos. He gets kind of starstruck when he meets Pablos brother Roberto; half blind, half deaf, after an enemy planted a makeshift bomb in his car.

Roberto likes the girls. We get a couple of minutes with him and he gets a young swedish lady to walk up to him and he talks more about how he´s gonna take her on a submarine trip, then on an airplane,  and then on a spaceship, then he does about his famous brother.

Roberto lives on the upper floor. Downstairs is the Escobar museum. It´s all kind of sad. We´re wallowed around like a group of sheeps. Looking at bulletholes, looking at pictures of Pablo and family. Visiting the cemetary, everybody hovers over his gravestone, me included.

We mill outside the house of Pablos last showdown with the reinforced police. We take pictures of the roof where he got shot.

Our guide is conflicted about doing the tour, her parents would kill her if they knew she says, everybody wants to get it out of sight out of mind. But she sees it as an important part of both Medellín and Colombias history; if nothing else, to get visitors to spread the word that the city famous for its cartels isn´t the almost civil war-torned streets of the early 90´s anymore.

So this is me spreading the word.

I guess this wasn´t so long after all.

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