Medellin, Colombia: How ‘the most dangerous city on Earth’ got a makeover
Twenty-five years ago, Time magazine dubbed Colombia’s Medellin “the most dangerous city on Earth”. Drug lords lived like princes, judges and policeman were regularly assassinated, paramilitaries invaded neighbourhoods and ordinary people disappeared overnight without trace. Even 10 years ago, Medellin was a “bad-ass town”. Violence reigned, civil society had been destroyed and no one seemed to know how to put Medellin back together again.
Fast-forward to the present, and Medellin is a delightful place of law-abiding entrepreneurial folk. With an economy that is among the fastest-growing on the continent, it is one of the great success stories of Latin America.
Boston water park in Medellin is popular with local families. 
One of Fernando Botero’s 23 famous bronze statues that visitors can see at Plazoleta de las Esculturas. 
Fernando Botero is Latin America’s most famous artist, and Medellin’s most famous son. This museum is dedicated to him. 
Buskers entertain the crowds on Junin St in Medellin’s central city. 
A bicycle rental service in Cisneros Square (Park of Lights) – just another option locals have to njoy the great outdoors in Medellin. 
The Explore Park in Medellin. 
Medellin’s excellent transport system – Metrocable – carries passengers above the rooftops and congested lanes of the city in glass pods 
Pueblito Paisa in Nutibara Hill, Medellin shows what a traditional Colombian township looks like. 
Young guys having fun in front of the Metrocable station in Santo Domingo. This barrio, once the stomping ground of infamous cocaine king Pablo Escobar, is a lot more family orientated and less threatening these days,. 
There’s plenty to see and do on the streets of Pueblito Paisa in Nutibara Hill in Medellin city.
In 2013, Medellin was hailed as “the most innovative city in the world” by the Urban Land Institute, brimming with creative ideas for urban living, like the eco-arbol, a treelike structure that acts as an air-purifier, and the spectacular Orquideorama for growing orchids. In Barefoot Park, where passers-by are encouraged to discard their shoes to wriggle their toes in pebbles, mud, and soft grass before finally soaking their feet in pools of water, I asked my guide, Julian, what had happened, how Medellin had gone from gangs and gunfire to Zen-like experiences for bare feet.
“Public transport,” he said. It was a moment before I realised he was serious. “Don’t laugh,” he chided me. “The metro was the beginning of all the good stuff. It was like a bridge to a different world. We suddenly realised that things could change. It was the beginning of a revolution in Medellin.”
