What should I avoid in Medellin?

The one risk that matters in Medellín is scopolamine, which locals call burundanga, a tasteless powder that ends up in a drink or on a stick of gum and leaves the victim waking 12 hours later with an emptied bank account. The US Embassy in Bogotá issued a security alert in January 2024 after a run of druggings tied to dating apps in the city, so meet a Tinder or Bumble match at a busy cafe on Vía Primavera, never at your Airbnb, and carry your own beer back from the bar. Paisas have a phrase for this, no dar papaya, which means don't hand anyone the opportunity. TTDI rates Medellín's solo-traveler safety at 4.5/10 (see the TTDI Solo-Safety Index), and a night out in El Poblado is where a first-timer is most likely to feel why.

Parque Lleras is the square every hostel sends you to, and it is the most overrated block in the city. Reggaeton thumps from four bars at once, hawkers push gum and cocaine at the same table, and a cocktail tends to cost double what it does on La 70 in Laureles, so go there instead. Skip the Pablo Escobar tours, too: plenty of Paisas lost family in the 1980s and 1990s, the Edificio Mónaco was demolished in February 2019, and the guides mostly sell myth beside a grave in Itagüí. The Museo Casa de la Memoria near Parque Bicentenario covers the same years with the victims' own recordings, and entry is free. Comuna 13 is still worth it, mind you, but arrive before 10am: by noon the outdoor escalators in San Javier are shoulder to shoulder, the air smells of fried empanadas and spray paint, and every second doorway sells the same michelada.

El Centro works in daylight. Give Plaza Botero and the Museum of Antioquia two hours on a weekday morning, when the bronze Botero figures are still cool to the touch and the juice carts smell of lulo and mango, and plan to be out by 5pm, because the blocks around Parque de Bolívar and the Metropolitan Cathedral of Medellín empty quickly after dark and phone snatching from passing motorbikes is the standing complaint there. The airport catches people before any of that, though: José María Córdova sits in Rionegro, roughly 40 minutes from El Poblado through the Túnel de Oriente, and men in the arrivals hall will offer a private car at whatever price they think you'll pay. Walk past them to the white taxis outside, which currently run on a posted fixed fare of about COP 120,000, close to US$38 at the October 12 rate of 3,190 pesos to the dollar. The airport bus to San Diego mall costs a fraction of that, but it is a poor choice with luggage after a red-eye.

Two smaller mistakes spoil first days. The first is ordering bandeja paisa for dinner after a long flight: it is a platter of red beans, rice, ground beef, chorizo, crisp chicharrón, a fried egg, sweet plantain, avocado and an arepa that might run past 1,500 calories, so order it at lunch at Mondongo's on Calle 10 in El Poblado and split it between two. The second is trusting the 'eternal spring' slogan. October and November are among the wettest months, and at 6am on October 13 the city sat at 18.9°C in heavy drizzle with 99% humidity. Afternoon storms can suspend the Metrocable up to Parque Arví, so ride it before noon and carry a rain jacket. Keep Guatapé off day one, and off Sundays and holiday Mondays, when the two-hour road from Terminal del Norte clogs and the queue for El Peñol's 700-odd steps stretches down the rock.