Photos are by the author unless otherwise noted.

UPDATE: In 2000, Mr. Botero gave to Colombia artwork valued at more than $100 million, including 200 of his own works and scores of pieces by Chagall, Picasso and Dalí from his private collection. The works are now on display in the Botero Museum in Bogotá and the Museum of Antioquia in Medellín. (Washington Post, September 15, 2023). He died today in Monaco at age 91.

I don’t recall where I first learned that Medellín Colombia celebrated a flower festival every August. Last June, I found a description online and decided the Feria was a perfect combination of my love of flowers and of travel in Latin America. I have been to the capital, Bogotá, with its stunning gold museum, and to the enchanting coastal  city of Cartagena several times. Like my home city of Cuernavaca Mexico, Medellín, in a mountain valley, shares the same slogan “La Ciudad de la Eterna Primavera,” City of Eternal Spring.  It is the second largest city in Colombia after Bogotá, (note that Colombia is spelled with an O not a U) and with over 2 1/2 million people, it is more than twice the size of Cuernavaca. It’s population is compressed into a narrow valley in the Andes, so large parts of the population live in condo towers that climb up the hillside. The upper reaches are served by a funicular.

I found limited airfare choices from Mexico City to Medellín since I avoid multiple layovers, ungodly departure times, and red-eyes. All Copa Airlines flights layover in Panama with brief connection times, and their connections worked for me. I was delighted to discover that the connecting flights board on the same concourse as arrivals eliminating racing through a strange airport. .

I booked seven nights at the Four Points Sheraton due to its location, amenities, and membership in a group I could earn points with. I was all set in the air and on the ground for the Feria dates of August 8 to 15. On July 23, I went back online to print the program for the Feria, shocked to discover the dates had been changed to a week earlier, July 28 to August 7. I had to scramble to change my dates and get the same flight times, the best available leaving  July 28 returning August 3,  paying only a 78 dollar penalty. I assumed one week would be enough, but I was out of luck with my hotel booking with nothing open for the new dates. After another search online I chose the Hotel Charlee because it was in the favored Poblado district recommended in numerous articles. The photos on booking.com showed a small pool and a nice looking suite.

Once in Medellín I inquired about the inconvenient change in dates with some program events still unconfirmed. Someone told me it was political. Evidently the Feria organizers had an unexpected dispute with the municipal authorities on financing and venue arrangements. It reminded me of an interview I once had while researching an article in Rio de Janeiro. An official, speaking of problems in his city asked me: “What is the world’s oldest profession?” His reply: “The Bible says when God created the world everything was in chaos, which proves the politicians were there first.” Luckily, I missed only a few events, so the politicians didn’t ruin my trip.

The Poblado area of Medellín is noted for its numerous pedestrian streets lined with bars, dance clubs, restaurants, shops, banks, and most of the tourist infrastructure a traveler needs, but the cultural center is downtown, too far to walk. The Charlee Hotel turned out to be a 3 ½-star hotel posing as 5-star. My suite included a large comfortable living room but had almost no light, making it useless at night. The tiny pool closed at 3 pm because that’s when the adjacent bar opened. Breakfast was superb and included in my booking. Best of all, the reception staff were sensational, extremely friendly and incredibly helpful. On two occasions, when I asked the bellman where best to get a taxi and an ATM, they took me by the arm and walked me two blocks to my destination. I arrived at the hotel about 7 pm and needed dinner since the flight from Panama to Medellín offered only two bags of junk food. The hotel restaurant at night was a bit gloomy and uninviting. The bellman, Jorge, escorted me walking several blocks, reading menus outside restaurants until I finally found one I liked, undistinguished, but without the raucous music blaring inside most venues.

The next morning, after a filling breakfast buffet with eggs to order, I was anxious to start at the Jardín Botánico. By distance it should have taken 15 minutes, but abominable traffic and slow stop lights made it almost half an hour. Taxis are inexpensive by dollar standards with fares across town costing five to six dollars (20 to 25 thousand pesos ,4950 pesos to the dollar). The garden hours are listed as open daily from 9 am, but the guard at the entrance said it was closed and would not open until August 2, my last day in the city. I was stunned to think the garden would close during the first five days of the feria. Evidently the date change delayed mounting the many exhibits and stands for the flower show. Disappointed, where could I go next?

The online program said that floral exhibits could be found in some malls including Plaza Santa Fe. I am not a shopper and I don’t like malls, but Santa Fe did have an impressive display, carpeting a large area on the ground floor with mostly petunias and mums with a garish sculpture in the middle.

Passing up the shops, I too a few photos, and then took a cab to the Plaza Botero in the city center. (Some plazas are outdoor municipal spaces and some are commercial shopping sites).  Artist and sculptor Fernando Botero (1932) is a native of Medellín, now living in Monaco. His delightful pieces are shown in museums world-wide. The city has mounted 23 enormous bronze sculptures in the plaza. The midday sun beats down on the unshaded plaza and scores of people make it hard to get good photos. Pictured here are Colombian Woman, Eve, Adam, Cat, Rape of Europa, and Man on Horseback. See Botero’s biography and more photos on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fernando_Botero.

After admiring the bronzes, I found a hole-in-the wall cafe for a fast-food lunch. Timing was perfect for the next tourist challenge: a public bathroom. One can always be guaranteed to find one in a museum, and adjacent to the plaza is the Museo de Antioquía, on everyone’s list of what to do in Medellín. The small collection of pre-Columbian artifacts and colonial era ceramics on the first floor and the permanent collection on the second-floor are of just passing interest. But the third floor is a knockout, entirely devoted to Botero with a collection of 119 paintings and sculptures, as impressive as the 123 pieces he donated to the Botero Museum in Bogotá. Alas, the sign says no photos are permitted on the third floor. But a beautiful mural, ” Scene with a Horseman,” is on the second floor. Botero painted the fresco for a bank in 1960 and the museum acquired it after the bank closed.

From the museum, I returned to the hotel. The pool was already closed but I was too tired for a swim anyway and opted for a siesta before sorting and editing the day’s photos.

For dinner I wanted seafood and a receptionist recommended Pesqueira, three blocks away, but she erred on the street so I didn’t find it until the next night on a parallel street.  But on the recommended street I found Mar y Fuego, an attractive restaurant with a nice garden where I enjoyed a huge Cazuela de Mariscos, a seafood stew teeming with shrimp, fish, mussels, and squid.

My third day was a Sunday and a cab driver had confirmed the receptionist recommendation of  El Pueblito Paisa, a reconstructed colonial village where I might see floral displays. “Sunday in the park,” one can expect crowds in most cities, and this was no exception. The buildings are now commercial stores and there were no flowers, but I enjoyed mixing with the locals. A quartet played tropical music in a small park, and soon after a folkloric concert began in the village square.

The tropical music was contagious and had  the audience dancing and clapping. Despite the square being a venue for subsequent concerts during the week, there were no chairs for listeners. One could sit on a curb in the hot sun or stand under the shaded overhang of the surrounding shops. My weak knees can handle walking but not standing, so I lasted only about 40 minutes, but it was an enjoyable experience.

The dining places at the Pueblito were overcrowded, and I knew I could find a food court at a mall. The San Diego Plaza was the Feria site for a bonsai exhibit, so off I went. One had to traipse all through the mall to find occasional bonsai, mostly conifers,  but some twenty year-old miniature bougainvilleas were blossoming. There was also a small orchid display.

In the food hall I discovered where the Antioquians go for Sunday lunch.  It was mobbed with local people patronizing at least 20 stands including Dunkin Donuts and Subway. It took me some time to find a vacant table to eat a sandwich.

I baked in the cab on the way back to the hotel on a hotter-than-usual afternoon with heavy traffic and long stop lights. What a relief to collapse in an airconditioned room and nap briefly before returning to sorting photos. Later I walked a few blocks to a popular restaurant, Mondongo, famous for regional food. Although I could see it was very crowded, it had already closed early to new diners, normal in many places on Sunday nights. I had seen typical plates on other menus and didn’t lament missing out. As in much of the Caribbean and northern South America, beans and rice predominate, and the local plates here add a sausage, plantains, and a fried egg, filling but not haute cuisine. I found other restaurants open nearby and chose one with a small garden and a decent menu.  

The cab driver who took me from the bonsai exhibit back to the hotel insisted I go to a mountain village where they grow the flowers for sale at shops in the city, and especially for the Feria. The folks in reception had also recommended it, so I booked the driver John Quiena for a day trip to Santa Elena on Monday. He asked for the equivalent of nine dollars an hour, so a five-hour tour cost under fifty dollars, plus a full lunch as tip. John was an Olympic level bicyclist who won a medal in the PanAmerican games in Mexico City in 1975, and competed in the Olympic games in Montreal in 1976.

The road to Santa Elena seemed to have a hundred curves and cars moved slowly behind numerous buses but, once out of the city, the drive was scenic with great views of the city below and flowering wild vines bordering the road.

It took an hour to get to the main plaza where John inquired about the fincas where they grow the flowers. A local woman overheard the conversation and wanted a ride to the area that was recommended, so we had a guide to the brief but labyrinthine drive through the campo to Finca Girasoles (sunflowers).

I just wanted to stroll the gardens and take photos but a tour group had arrived earlier and was listening to a silletero describe his role in the Feria and that of the fincas. Silleteros wear a wooden tray on their backs attached by ropes over their shoulders to their hands. The tray is filled with assorted flowers. There is a statue to the Silleteros in the main square of the village. One day during the fair, scores of them march in a parade in the city. If the day of the parade was in the program, I didn’t see it and didn’t find out until too late that it would be August 7, after my departure. I was really disappointed but not about to change my airfare again and add five more hotel nights to my stay. Later I learned that a group of Chinelos, folklorically costumed dancers from Morelos, my state in Mexico, were being sent by the Secretary of Tourism as a contribution to the fair. At least I got one silletero to pose with his floral basket.

After a long-winded talk, the silletero offered numerous typical garments for sale and it looked like this would go on interminably. So, I just slipped out and found the paths through the garden on my own. Huge tracts were planted with dahlias, petunias, and marigolds.  I saw thousands of other blossoms: cala lilies, anthuriums, musaenda and hydrangeas.   And this was just one of numerous fincas in the district.

After strolling the gardens, John and I were both hungry and he knew a restaurant campestre nearby. He aordered the typical campesino lunch and I had a fish fry with rice and plantains.

It was cool in the mountains but quite hot again when we got back to the city, so I was glad to get back to the airconditioned hotel room. After a twenty-minute snooze, I worked on notes and photos until dinner time, posting some pics on Facebook. If my memory lapses and I don’t recall where a photo was taken, I can find the description later on Facebook.  After freshening up, I walked a few blocks to Pesqueira, the seafood restaurant I couldn’t find a few days earlier. I enjoyed a large shrimp cocktail and langostinos in garlic butter, only nibbling on the huge pile of mashed plantain garnish. On the way back I stopped at the small supermarket near the hotel to stock up on more bottled water.  The hotel gifted just two small bottles the first night.

There were few other tourist venues I wanted to see but the google site “What to do in Medellín” recommended Explora, an ecological area for hiking with a small aquarium and a reptile/dinosaur exhibit. I saw enough reptiles and dinosaurs in the Natural History Museum in London to last me a lifetime, so I skipped that extra charge and paid for only the aquarium, about  nine  dollars. It was small and not very attractive with no aquatic species particularly special. And dozens of groups of school children were camped in front of most windows while a guide instructed the kids. A guard told me it was like this daily.

Afterward, I decided to try another mall recommended by a cab driver for possible flower exhibits, Tesoro, on a hill about ten minutes above my hotel. It’s another spacious, attractive commercial plaza, but there were no flowers. At least it was airconditioned with a choice of restaurants to grab a sandwich and a beverage. Back at the hotel by late afternoon, I spent an hour arranging photos and making notes, then searched online for an evening restaurant. Recommended as one of the best in the city is Carmen. I read the menu on its website and decided it wasn’t for me; too many exotic dishes with coconut milk and plantains. Next I checked out Tony Roma’s, a revolving restaurant on the 17^th floor of the Dann Carlton Hotel. The Tony Roma chain in Mexico is famous for barbecued ribs and chicken, but this one has an elaborate gourmet menu and an elegant ambiance . It’s also in the Poblado district but a bit too far to walk. I made a reservation online for opening time, 7 pm.

I arrived by cab a bit early and a bellman gave me a tour of the hotel with its attractive lobby and splendid swimming pool. I would recommend it as a good choice for travelers. I was the first person to arrive in the dining room five minutes early and couldn’t even order a drink until exactly 7 pm. A table next to mine was decorated with rose blossoms for a couple who had reserved a romantic dinner. I ordered a delicious shrimp ceviche over sliced avocado and a generous steak and ribs combination plate. The presentation was as refined as the room but, forgive me, I didn’t photograph the dishes. The photos are from the restaurant website except for the table with rose petals that is mine.

Tuesday night was a slow night with only a handful of tables occupied. I was the only diner wearing a sport coat. The romantic couple arrived for their special dinner, she dressed in jeans and a tank top and he in jeans and a shirt with a collar and buttons, about as dressed up as men seem to get in Medellin. In most other restaurants, the women were stunning in extravagant dresses showing lots of flesh and a lot of ink. They certainly lived up to Colombia’s reputation for beautiful women, but they covered up little more than the prostitutes strolling Parque Lleras near the hotel. (I investigate these scenes for sociological purposes, but I was never accosted, the curse or blessing of being old and homely?). Tattoos are popular with both genders and scruffy beards are common among the men. Back at the hotel by 9 pm, I spent the rest of the evening reading the many web news stories on the indictment and 78 felony charges of a major political figure in the States.

My last day in Medellin, Wednesday August 2: At last the Jardín Botánico would open the famous Florecer flower show. I didn’t buy my ticket online, but I had to wait only a few minutes to pay my entrance fee, 22 thousand pesos, about $4.50 US, no discount for the elderly. I expected to see a dozen or so floral exhibits, but I was gobsmacked by the enormity and diversity of the spectacle. The event is not as extensive as the Chelsea Flower Show in London, but neither is it mobbed with pushy crowds of visitors colliding and rubbing shoulders. Perhaps the crowds arrive on the weekend, but one could go from display to display at a leisurely pace with plenty of time to admire the arrangements. The artistically composed exhibits comprised thousands of orchids of many varieties, but also bromeliads, anthuriums, mums, sunflowers, roses, and more. Floral sculpures were stunning, especially an enormous bird composed of mixed flowers, but it was a challenge to get a photo with so many posing for a photo or selfie. Below are some of my favorites. Sorry for not captioning each one separately but, if you have a smart phone, you can use google lens to identify the blooms.

After about 90 minutes entranced by the spectacle, I remembered that I was in the middle of a botanical garden of over 30 acres and should see what that’s about. The walking trail is paved and meanders through what is more a park than a garden with lots of stately old trees. There are just a few floral plots from time to time and an unimpressive nursery selling potted plants. Visitors can’t buy much when they have to schlep their purchases 300 yards back to the parking lot. Unlike many public gardens I have visited, I would not recommend this one except during the Feria.

I had been on my feet for a few hours by then and was hot and tired, so I made my way back to the flower show and found a bench to rest on before cruising the the displays once more. The numerous food stands at the show offered uninspiring fast food with few shady places to sit. The Feria program mentioned some events  at Plaza San Fernando, and I knew it would be air conditioned with a food court so I headed there. The cab driver’s app gave him a wrong address for the plaza and it took nearly an hour in dreadful traffic and afternoon heat before I arrived, the fare still only about nine dollars. But a walk around the plaza indicated the program was wrong at least for that day with nothing related to flowers or Feria events. I did find a clean restaurant for a sandwich and a beverage and an ATM to withdraw enough money for my last evening, the hotel maid and porter tips, and a taxi to the airport the next day. I had looked for a group gift for reception at the hotel as a token of appreciation for all their kindness, but shops like Gucci and Subway were no help. 

Fortunately, the plaza was closer to the hotel than I realized, a brief three-dollar cab ride back.  I spent the late afternnon editing photos and went out in the evening for a meal that offered leftovers for breakfast on my 7 am flight to Panama. Other passengers got bags of veggie chips.

I had less than an hour in Panama for my connecting flight. After a stop in the restroom and a brief look in duty free (no bargains), my connection was already boarding when I got to the gate. I was content with an uneventful flight to Mexico City with an adequate meal, no line in passport control on arrival, my bag the 5^th off the carousel, and my reliable driver waiting. I was back in Cuernavaca by early afternoon. A good siesta followed by lots of catching up to do online, and it was if I had never gone away except for the wonderful memories I could post for myself and friends in a photo essay. Viva la Feria de la Flor.

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