Medellin is the most relaxing place I’ve ever visited. Located in a narrow river valley in the mountains of Colombia, it has the vibe of a beach town that I’ve always dreamed of but never really been able to find. 

Every place I’ve been, in Latin America, claims to have a relaxed culture. But since most places I like to visit are Big cities, there is really a limit to how relaxed life there really can be when there is so much going on. 

In Medellin I found out what this promise is all about. It is a smaller city, there are lots of people but they seem to have a lot of time to relax and enjoy the beautiful nature that surrounds them. 

The food is delicious. Each meal left me feeling satisfied and feeling as if I was healthier for having eaten it. 

Everywhere you look there are men riding motor bikes in shorts and t shirts. People are allowed to smoke marijuana in public and its common to see bars operate under tents, on street corners, serving hundreds of people alcohol without any license, as music blasts from a car or a large speaker.

About Tracey Parker

My name is Tracey Parker. I’m a middle aged gay American Male and I’ve been digital nomading after living in Mexico City, for 6 years. I use what I learned living in Mexico City to inspire really cool trips to other Latin American Cities and these travel guidelines are my way of showing off how I’m always able to put together great trips on the spot without much planning. Read on for personal stories of what I did in Bogotá and tips and guidelines for how you can put together a really fun trip on the fly. I try to share my guidelines and stay away from lists of ‘top ten’ places because things are changing quickly and lists like that don’t age well.

Santiago

The only time I ever jump on Grindr is when I’m new to a city and I haven’t found anything to grab on to yet. My second night, in Medellin, I met a young man named Santiago. If I had a type, it would be Santiago. Someone 23 years old, skinny, who manages to be comfortable enough with his sexuality to be feminine yet confident enough to express his masculinity and not fall into a gay cliche. He had just graduated from college and he had landed a dream job through ‘personal connections.’ Being with Santiago gave me a feeling of how much was possible in life at such a young age.

We agreed that he’d come over to my airbnb after he got off work. I told him I’d go to Metro Poblado to meet him. He got there early. I wasn’t expecting this. A Mexico City guy would have arrived one hour late if he arrived at all. So I put on my shoes, shorts, a polo, and a hoodie. I also put on a necklace that I bought in Huanchaco of Labradorite and Cornelian. I had stopped wearing it because I could feel the cornelian was making me aggressive and horny, but I had a feeling that would come in handy tonight.

Now I had something to grab onto.

I opened my door and a thousand lights shown down on me giving the impression that I was on stage. I hadn’t yet gotten used to the unique kind of beauty that exists in Colombia. 

It was rush hour, it was already dark, and a steady crowd walked casually to the Metro, down sidewalks lined with trees and over small rivers, on wooden bridges, made with tree branches. Soon we’d all cross over an enormous concrete pedestrian bridge that crossed a highway and in the middle, a large river and a new modernized Metro.

The bridge was divided into two sides and crowds flowed in both directions, underneath of us the water flowed north, to the Caribbean. 

I met Santiago and he was way different from what I had imagined. He was tall, and his style of dress seemed very gothic and 90’s alternative to me. I had noticed this was popular in Medellin. But he was coming from work, so he expressed this aesthetic in a very elevated way. What drove me crazy was two round circular piercings on his lip and some in his ear. He looked too cool for me.

I knew everybody was looking at me as a lost tourist, and now they heard me talking Spanish to this beautiful local boy. 

“Who’s lost now cabrones?” I thought in my aggressive Mexican Spanglish. 

I led Santiago back to my house, only this time I was an expert in the neighborhood. He told me about his day.

We got to my Airbnb and I offered him a drink. The pervious Airbnb guests had left half a bottle of Bacardi and I had half an unopened bottle of coke leftover from lunch. I had ordered a beer and saved the complimentary bottle of soda for later. I filled two glasses with ice and made 2 strong rum and cokes with one of the limes that I had bought in the afternoon. 

We sat on my balcony. I could tell he didn’t want to jump into bed, but the conversation wasn’t flowing freely yet either. As I was sitting down to join Santiago, on the balcony, I caught a glimpse of another beautiful young Colombian on the balcony next door. Santiago couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see me. He was being nosy. 

Was this really happening? If you had told me that I’d spend my second night in Medellin on my balcony, alone, listening to two young Colombian boys flirt over drinks on a balcony next door I’d have believed you. I’d have enjoyed it too. Being in the position I was, and having a sexy admirer was a welcome bonus. 

I can’t deny that I was nervous though. I was going to need another drink and we didn’t have any Coke left (not that kind :)). I’d have to improvise something with the lime, the rum, water, and the sugar by the coffee maker.

My glance hopped from Santiago, to his slender body that bent so sharply at his waist and at his legs which opened widely below. His shoulders leaned back confidently and his skinny chest stuck out as if he were the one who had invited me over. 

My shoulders were hunched over, my legs were crossed, I was wondering if my neighbor was still watching us and how much he could hear.

Fumas mota? I asked him. 

No he responded. 

I threw back my rum. It hit me hard. I hadn’t eaten anything all afternoon. 

And suddenly I decided to copy Santiago and relax in typical Medellin style, in an environment that seemed to bend over backwards to accommodate the people who lived there. 

He was more aggressive and more direct on Grindr. He left nothing to chance. He was a bottom, and he loved having his ass eaten, he told me. But now he was ignoring my bare foot as it lifted his black trousers up along his shins.

He was waiting for me to make the first move, and he was playing hard to get. I decided to give my initiative and impatience a break and see if he would take the lead. I knew he wouldn’t. The beautiful ones rarely do. But I was getting the feeling that Santiago had more to offer me than his elusive butt hole. I wanted to put the pace of the evening in one of the nearby rivers and just let it flow at the pace of Medellin.

We made a little small talk but with Santiago there wasn’t much to get to know. He was a young man on the up, and I was relishing in the feeling of being included in such a fortunate period in somebody else’s life.

Later, we spent about an hour 69ing each other, coming up for air only occasionally. In my bedroom Santiago took control like I had remembered on Grindr. I was laying down with my head resting on two pillows, Santiago hovered over me on his knees and elbows. He placed his fresh clean rear end over my face while he sucked me off. 

It seemed like sometimes he forgot that I had to breathe and I had to remind him by uttering muffled cries for a little space. He giggled and gagged as we played around with each others bodies unconsciously thanks to the rum, or my gracious hosting or to Medellin’s laid back, take it as it comes vibe.

When we were getting dressed I commented on his enormous, thick, uncut, trimmed cock. I would have loved for him to have put it anywhere inside of me but at this point I knew it wasn’t something he was interested in exploring. 

I watched him get dressed. I loved the intimacy of watching a man put himself back together after allowing me to tear him apart. 

He opened up his man purse to get something. Inside of it was a wad of money. Not a huge wad, but enough for him to buy whatever he wanted that day. I wan’t used to being with guys with handbags, especially handbags with wads of money inside of them. I was more used to them asking me for S5 or 20MX or $0.25 USD for bus fare. An amount I knew any of them could have found on the floor, or in the couch, or in their left shoe, but asked me for instead.

Something inside of me felt that I owed them at least that for having shared themselves with me, someone they barely knew. Santiago’s independence was sexy. it made me forget that he was a boy, with a beautiful horse cock that he had no idea how to use. 

It was enough to make me think of him all through the night and the following day. He texted me, and I texted him back. We each left an hour in between reading and response. We seemed to be synchronize in some way, while also being decades apart. 

By the time the weekend came we both ghosted each other. 

I could have chase after him if I needed to. Maybe a part of him even wanted me to. But Medellin had other ideas for me. 

Sauna Cruising – Gay Bathhouse

Google Maps Link

I visited this bathhouse my first weekend in Medellín. I went on a Saturday night and there was a great crowd. It is multi levels. It has a wet and dry sauna, pool, jacuzzi, and upstairs there is a dark room maze as well as an outdoor rooftop smoking area which serves as a marijuana smokers heaven.

The smoking area is half guys in towels and the other half in street clothes who seem to just be there for the weed . . . although as the night progresses they all seemed to make it to the dark room.

Upstairs was a very straight acting, urban, baggy jeans vibe, downstairs was more gay. Dark room was, well, I couldn’t say to be honest. It was hot.

I loved how everybody shared the space and did their own thing and I especially loved how everybody fucked everybody.

Getting to and From Sauna Cruising

One thing that I want to mention is that this sauna is on the other end of what is currently a gigantic homeless encampment in Medellin. Weirdly, the encampment is located squarely on the main zocalo and next to the Metropolitan Cathedral of Medellin. This used to be the center of town and it’s changed a lot. I always like to visit the main square of all latin American cities I go to, and my trip to this one actually scared me when I showed up.

The pictures I took were mainly of the church. I didn’t capture the atmosphere of the place because once I realized the reality of where I was I thought it was a bad idea to walk around snapping pictures with my phone.

It is 10 times more scary at night.

All this being said, I had no problem getting an Uber to pick me up and drive me through all of it. We arrived to Sauna Cruising and there were security (several handsome men chatting and playing cars outside all night), and attendants who took care of parking the motorcycles, which many of the patrons arrived on.

The harder part was getting an Uber to pick me up. I anticipated this and luckily I didn’t leave the club before a car was outside waiting for me. Instead I got dressed, and went upstairs to the outside rooftop party where many of my red and glassy eyed friends were still seated and chatting with with soft music in the background.

I hung out with them and watched as Uber driver after Uber driver rejected my request for a ride home.

Finally one seemed to be coming to pick me up so I said goodbye to everyone and went downstairs. When I was outside there was a handsome young man on a motorcycle who began talking to me. It seemed like he was working for a local app, similar to uber, that arranged rides on motorcycles. I wished I had asked him the name.

He asked me what goes on inside of this club.

“Is it a club with women?” he asked me.

“No.” I responded. “Men.”

He seemed confused and non confused at the same time. He definitely wasn’t uncomfortable.

This conversation left me feeling like I had discovered something truly underground and that’s what I love about Sauna Cruising. While I didn’t make it back a second time, I really wish I had. The underground nature of it made it worth the uncomfortable ride there.

Guayabal – My Neighborhood – The Pace of Medellín

Maybe if I hadn’t become so comfortable and begun to feel so at home in my neighborhood I would have followed up with Santiago to make me feel good again. But my neighborhood in Medellin was so comfortable, I would often not want to leave.

I found an airbnb that was cheaper than the rest in Guayabal. My instincts told me to say out of Laureles and Poblado, which are the Roma and Condessa of Medellin. It turns out my instincts were correct. I would have been comfortable in Laureles, but El Poblado gave me the creeps. It is exactly like a beach town in the middle of a city. All the business are focused on foreigners who want to party like Colombians. Loud clubs and hustlers (not the good kind) on every corner trying relentlessly (like a social media app) to get your attention and trick you in to doing something, normally giving them your money.

Guayabal was located on the other side of the river from Metro Poblado. It bursts with local life. My favorite part was La Biblioteca just behind where I was living. Medellin built a system of libraries during its rejuvenation period. The libraries have parks next to them and they have become sites where locals can smoke marijuana freely out in the open. Similar to what I write about in Mexico City.

The park behind my neighborhood had a grassy knoll next to the library that filled up with students and other potheads every afternoon. We stayed there all through the night or until it began to rain. I loved going to there with no expectations other than to relax, watch the people, watch the small planes take off at the local airport next door, and watch whatever planets or stars I could see in the sky.

Mateo – Is Medellin Safe For Gay Travellers?

“ if you follow your desire to these magical countries you will find sex, and all the self discovery, risk, vulnerability, and institutional neglect associated with it.” – Tracey Parker

After meeting Santiago and feeling how he enjoyed my company and my body, I really didn’t have much interest in stalking anybody else on Grindr for a while. Somehow what Santiago and I did together made me feel comfortable and at home in Medellin. It made me realize how effective sex can be at making you feel connected when you’re really not. This can be a bad thing if you’re in a toxic relationship, but when you’re traveling to a foreign country that you did no research on, it helps a lot.

The following week, I kept myself busy with writing in the morning and museums, malls, plazas and cafes in the afternoon. When the following weekend arrived it came on by surprise. In Medellin, like most places, the energy changes from weekday to weekend. Your favorite places that you are enjoying and that make you feel like you’ve found your place here, may close. Suddenly it’s like I just arrived all over again. 

So I found myself on Grindr again on Saturday night. I checked Santiago’s account and saw that he had not logged on since the night we met. Interesting, but I couldn’t really conclude anything from that. 

I got a message from a cute young man named Mateo. He was close by, a dude from the neighborhood. He knew of the park that I loved to go to to smoke weed. He wanted to come to my house and hookup. 

He started sending me naked pictures of his penis. I had told him I was a bottom. He looked like he was one too but he told me he was a vers/top. He had a beautiful penis, and a beautiful body. He didn’t ask for pictures of me. 

Something wasn’t giving me the same confidence that I got with Santiago. Perhaps it was that I had been here for 2 weeks and I was having a ball all on my own. 

We went back and forth talking and I still wasn’t comfortable inviting him to my house. Nor was I uninterested enough to block him or tell him I wasn’t interested. I came up with a middle ground. I suggested we go to the library park to smoke some weed and parchar.

Parchar means to hang out. I’ve only heard it in Colombia, and to be honest I’ve only heard it in a gay context. But from what I gather, it means to hang out among friends. In the gay context, sex is implied, but if Colombian men are interested in parchando, it means they want to build up some chemistry either before or during the encounter. 

He agreed. This was exactly what I had concluded that Parchar meant. 2 dudes meeting up at the neighborhood park for a little marijuana and seeing where it went from there.

He asked for an amount of time to Orginizar. It means get ready in Colombia. 

I got to the park 30 minutes late, set down my thin cloth picnic blanket (one of my most lasting Amazon Purchases) , rolled up my sweater, lay down, and stared at the giant mountains that were filled with lights halfway up and then went dark after that. This confetti of mountain lights always filled me up with energy and is one of the things that makes Medellin so special. 

I realized that I didn’t care whether or not Mateo showed up. I even left my phone at home to avoid having to deal with any last minute shenanigans that are obligatory in Mexico, and quite common in Colombia.  

Mexican men make it so hard to meet up with them, but in my experience, they were worth the trouble. Afterall, after 6 years of collective experiences dating, fucking, befriending, and yes, waiting on Mexican men, I was content to just sit on my picnic blanket and let Mateo do whatever Mateo was going to do. I wasn’t looking for him. He had the typical look of all the young paisas who hung out in this park. Baseball hat, oversized t shirt with some cool design on the back, long jeans or basketball shorts. I was the only gringo in the park, so I figured I’d let him find me. 

I remembered the terror I used to feel waiting on men. I knew I didn’t have whatever was necessary to handle the rejection associated with them not coming. 

I heard my name from behind me. I turned around and saw Mateo. He was cuter, flashier, than in his photos. He asked if we could move over to the pavement. He then pulled up his big oversize t-shirt to show me that he didn’t have on any underwear, he also showed me his cut up abs, his translucent skin, and the top of his hairy bush of thick black hair, just like in the pictures he sent me earlier of his cock. 

He didn’t want the ants to bite him so we moved away from the grass. 

Suddenly it registered that this guy was different from the normal guy who liked me. He was way cooler than Santiago, or any of the other weird outcasts who prefer older outcasts twice their age for whatever reason they do it. 

He was a cool kid. He reminded me of myself when I was 20. He told me he had gone out to a party with his friends last night and that they did ketamine. I think he expected me to say, wow, ketamine, you’re so cool, can you help me get some??

Instead I just let the comment sit there. 

Meeting a stranger takes cooperation from both sides. It takes a high level of engagement from both parties. You can be polkite, but not engaged, and the entire thing will never take off. I realize now that this was my plan from the beginning, and I was executing it brilliantly. 

We found a spot to sit down over by the parking lot. We sat on a curb. It was a little too well lit for my taste. We were kind of a spectacle. My whiteness, our age gap, all told a story that I think everybody already thought they knew. Everybody but me. And I didn’t like that. I wanted them to be just in the dark as I was. I felt uncomfortable there. 

Mateo immediately pulled out a rolled blunt and we began to smoke. We talked but nobody was saying anything. Whatever it is between two people to lead them to meetup with one another, wasn’t there for us. Even if it’s supposedly just for sex, there is still something that brought two people together. It’s never just the dick pic. But whatever it was was missing for us. 

I was attracted to him, but he wasn’t flirting with me at all. 

He told me that he needed to buy some more weed and that he could take me into nearby Barrio Antioquia where we both could buy some. He hinted that we’d go there in a bit. 

I nodded but knew that I wouldn’t. 

We smoked and smoked and smoked, blew out plumes of smoke like all the other guys smoking in the park. This much weed in the United States would have given me a panic attack, but the weed here isn’t very strong, so they make up for it with volume. 

Neither of us was asking the other questions anymore. None of the ones we had asked one another had gone anywhere. We sat in silence, and perhaps in disappointment. A curiousness stil bubbled underneath it all. 

Suddenly Mateo ruined everything. 

“Are you staying alone, or are you staying with a friend,” he asked me. 

The quick answer was that I’m staying alone, but after this much weed there were no quick answers. I stared back at him, right into his eyes. He looked away. 

He would periodically look back at me, waiting for an answer. The fact that he couldn’t let it evaporate up into the mountains of Medellin just like so many other of our failed questions told me everything. . 

I pictured myself in my airbnb, spread eagle on my bed, completely naked, there were two gangsters beside me, one with a phone and the other talking to me as I calmly gave him the codes that allowed him to deposit all of my money into his bank account. Mateo was outside on the balcony playing lookout. 

I thought of the sadness and panic I felt back in Mexico City when I realized I had been a victim of a pickpocketer. The regret of wishing I had buttoned my back pocket, or not even used it, or chased the guy who I thought picked my pocket, or fell to the ground when I realized something was not right. 

I remember walking back to the area several times looking for my discarded wallet and not finding it. 

There is a deep emotional response to being a victim. I had felt it. Perhaps Matro had not. But I wasn’t going to let it happen this time. 

Each time he looked back into my eyes, my eyes met him, and asked him, 

“Now What?”

____The End _____

There are dozens of youtube videos warning heterosexual tourists about Scopolamine and the hundreds of cases on Heterosexual tourists falling victim to it at the hands of female Colombian prostitutes and their partners in crime. I’m not going to explain this any further. 

The first warning I received about this that was directed directly to me, was from a Colombian man in Bogota. I decided to return to Medellin a second time and when I do I like to spend a few days in Bogota on either side of my time in Medellin. I was chatting up an older man at a live sex show at Cabinas de Las 63. He heard I was headed to Medellin and he warned me about the young guys there. 

He told me that there were so many young guys in Medellin who would have sex with older tourists and then after the act of sex, the police would barge in, claim the young men were minors, and try to get a bribe in order to make the situation disappear. 

This dance between sexual activity, and small-time criminals who take advantage of those who engage in sexual activity is as old as sexual activity itself. We never really worked through these conflicting instincts in the United States. 

Thanks so gay authors like Edmund White and his peers, I know about how petty crime and police corruption went alongside all the hot sex that happened in New York City in the 60’s and 70’s. 

AIDS interrupted all of this. Americans overreacted to the AIDS crisis the same way we overreacted to COVID and now gay men don’t have sex anymore. 

Sure, I know we still do, but not like in other cultures. If you don’t believe me, go to Cine Savoy, in Mexico City on a weekday afternoon. Go to Camino Verde in Ciudad Universataria after classes let out. Go to Funny Sex Shop on Sunday evenings. Then tell me where in the United States anything like this is happening. 

While America usually overreacts to problems, Latin America usually doesn’t react at all. Gay sex didn’t stop in response to AIDS in Mexico. There was a response, but like so much in Latin America, it is not well documented. The New York of the past still lives on in Mexico and in Colombia, and Peru, and perhaps other places. Each has its own version.. Each has a corresponding array of criminals who seek to take advantage of this space which is governed by no laws or no cultural constraints. It is still a free zone where anything can happen. 

In Colombia the criminal element seems to be more prevalent than in Mexico. At least From what I can see. You have to watch out. You have to be careful. Each person has to decide how they will do that. As always, it helps if you’re not starving for it, and unfortunately most Americans are. 

If you follow the advice of well meaning naysayers, from the peanut gallery, you will avoid it altogether, masked, quarantined, and alone. But if you follow your desire to these magical countries you will find sex, and all the self discovery, risk, vulnerability, and institutional neglect associated with it. 

Los Miradores

Wherever you are in Medellin, you are always in the shadows of the large mountains that surround the city. At night they are lit up with lights and they are really breathtaking. 

There are several Miradores (observation points) that have become famous places for the people of Medellin to hang out, listen to music, and ride bikes. 

Motorcycle Culture

The bikers are the celebrities of Los Miradores. Next year I want to begin writing Fiction instead of just recounting my own stories. I really want to write a story about meeting a Colombian Chakal who takes me up to los miradores and . . . stay tuned.

Food The Biggest Surprise in Medellin

Medellin is the only place I’ve been, in all my life, where the food made me feel healthier after I ate it. Bottom Left: Breakfast. Chorizo, eggs, rice and beans, and arepa. Most lunch places served the same type of foods with plenty of room for creative customizations of each restaurant. 

Meat Based Places served your choice of grilled beef or chicken, often times with creamy mushroom or other types of savory sauces. These proteins were accompanied by a small portion of French fries, salad (lettuce based, or alternatively carrot or beet based), rice, egg, and a sweet plantain. Seafood places were accompanied by a smashed fried plantain (patacones), coconut rice, and salad. 

All lunches were served with a first course of fish soup (which was way more tastier than it sounds), or kidney beans, which did wonders for my digestion. 

The food in Medellin was the biggest surprise.

Gay Cruising

Once I realized I was in my final days in Medellin I begin worrying that if I kept going with the flow I’d miss out on something. I hadn’t met many gay people so I wan’t able to ask anyone about cruising. 

Everybody told me that there was cruising on top of one of the hills where people like to hike on the weekends. I was doubtful. I doubted that the queens would want to climb all the way up a mountain to do something that they could do at the bottom. 

I ended up going to one of those cruising map websites and found that there were a few places in my neighborhood. I set out one afternoon and found some really low key but beautiful parks. I found a little action at a few of the places. Not Mexico City levels, but after all, I was still learning the scene here. 

One day I was on the Metro and we were all squeezed in, like sardines, reaching up to hold on to the bars to keep from falling. There was a young guy beside me with the typical look I realized most guys in Medellin have. Tall, light skinned, long limbed, with a curly mullet haircut and piercings. 

He looked like a student. Slowly but consistently, we rode the tides of the metro, inching closer and closer to one another until we ‘anciently’ were pressing our warm sweaty bodies up against one another as the trains doors opened and closed letting more and more people on and pushing us closer and closer together. 

We never exchanged glances, but I’ll remember him. The guy who the cruising gods of Medellin chose to be the one to send me the message that yes, guero, we do this here.

Museums

In the middle of my trip, I met another guy on Grindr, and decided to meet up with him in public. We decided to meet at the Library Park, by my house, where everybody gathers to smoke weed and hang out with friends.

We chatted over a huge blunt. I asked him if he liked Museums and he flat out said, no.

This threw me off. That never happened in Mexico City. That was my opener with guys in Mexico City and they always were able to tell me their favorite museum and talk about recent exhibitions that have attended.

Medellín isn’t that the of city, however, they still have enough museums to keep you busy no matter if your trip is short or long. Here are some that I was lucky enough to find out about, and there were more beyond this.

Museo de Antioquia

Museo de Arte Moderno de Medellín

El Castillo

Casa Museo Pedro Nel Gomez

Communa 13

Communa 13 feels a little over touristy for my taste. While I loved the hillside barrios of Medellin, this one felt like it was a fake one, and it reminded me of the Truman Show. I came here early on in my trip, because everybody was telling me to go there. The benefit is that I discovered what a hillside barrio looks and feels like in a safe environment and it gave me the confidence to go up into some others that are not touristy. To this end, I highly recommend Communa 13.

El Poblado & Laureles

Most advice I read, before arriving in Medellín, suggested that I stay in El Poblado or Laureles. I’m really glad I stayed in El Guyabal instead. If you insist on staying in one of these neighborhoods, I strongly recommend Laurels over El Poblado.

El Poblado

El Poblado is just too touristified. Street hustlers are constantly approaching you asking you to buy whatever crap they’re trying to sell. They have no tact and they are blatantly aggressive. I did end up finding a coffee shop called El Pergamino. I went there and occasionally had to deal with this street element. It was slightly annoying. If I had stayed there I would have hated it.

The other thing is the food. The food is bad quality and overpriced. Food in the local neighborhoods is so much better.

Laureles

Laureles has more of a quiet wealthy neighborhood vibe. The food is about the same as El Poblado. The cafes are great but you really misss out on the authentic Medellin food that you’ll get in other neighborhoods.

I’m not saying avoid these neighborhoods all together. I probably went to one or the other every day for an afternoon coffee. But I think you miss out if you stay there.