The fascination of 'forbidden' countries
It's dawn, and I'm wandering through a poor neighborhood on the outskirts of Medellín, tragically known for Pablo Escobar's drug cartel. I enjoy the breeze after a day of intense heat. There are no streetlights, and only the moonlight allows me to see in the dim light, which is punctuated by the zigzagging headlights of a car. It plays loud music and approaches slowly, staggering over the road's numerous potholes.
"Are you lost? Do you need something? Do you want a ride?" they ask. I appreciate their kindness, but decline. I explain the purpose of the trip. They laugh as if I'm crazy, suggest I take care of myself, and continue on their way.
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To sign
Visao
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