I rise just after 7. No trouble getting up in the morning when you travel west.
I head to reception before breakfast. I have an important request.
“Can you move me to a quieter room?”
“Which room are you in?”
“402.”
“You’re already on the quiet side of the hotel.”
Fuck me. I wonder what the noisy side is like?
Quite a different breakfast. No buffet, for once. There are five options. At least, for free. I go for a bowl of fruit, healthy bastard that I am. With a milky coffee. Which sets me up nicely for the day.
After breakfast I bump into Chris. Always good to see him. we arrange to go to Barrica brewpub at 13:00.
I drop by the nearest convenience store. But it's shut. Fuck. I'll have to go back later. The walk back up the hill, though short, is steep enough to be quite annoying. I hate hills so much.
Back in my room, I see on the internet that the convenience store opens at 11:00. I was there at 10:50. I laze in my room for a while before returning to the shop. Where they have what I was looking for: Medellin rum. Which I know from my time in Cartagena is dead good. I get a bottle of the 8-year-old. What luck that they sell it here in Medellin.
I bump into Chris on the way back. He's still waiting to check in. He suggests that we go to the Barrica brewpub in 15 minutes. Which is fine by me.
It's about a 10-minute walk there. All downhill. Several people pester us on the way. One bloke trying to flog a Colombian football shirt gets right in my face. It takes ages to brush him off. A couple of minutes later, when Chris asks me to check the route on my phone, I realise why he was so close and persistent: he nicked my phone. The cunt.
Before drinking, we drop by a nearby restaurant to get some food to eat in the brewpub. It's a flat bread with a lump of cheese in it. Quite nice. Chris tells me that it’s typically Colombian.
Not the best start to my stay. Though a nice 9% ABV Stout makes me feel a little better. As it always does. I’d take a photo of it. Except some cunt nicked my phone.
There was supposed to be a judges’ event here. No-one else has come. So far. Until we are leaving and a group of four other judges arrive. How’s that for timing?
The walk back isn’t much fun. Not just on account of the vibes. It’s all uphill. Not all that steep, at the start. But a good kilometre, all uphill. A rise of 60 metres. I take it pretty slowly.
I laze around in my room for a while. With some Medellin rum for company. It makes me feel a little better. I try not to get too annoyed about the phone. It was pretty old and, realistically, pretty much worthless. It’s just the inconvenience and the loss of photographs.
The welcome dinner is downstairs in the hotel. Which is pretty handy. Me being a lazy git and all. I don’t really feel like walking around the streets of Medellin just now.
They have a decent IPA on draught. Into which I get stuck. Chatting with Shweta, Chris and others. There are plenty of judges that I know. Mike Hall I only saw a couple of weeks ago in Brussels.
There isn't really a meal. Just snacky bits of food. Which I can't be arsed to eat. Maybe stress is affecting my appetite. Or I’m just knacked. It could be that.
I don't stay up too late. It's a fairly early start tomorrow. And it’s been quite an annoying day.
Outside the disco is in full swing. They’re playing some cumbia today. Dead cool music. Fuck me, I recognise this number. A really good one. Though I would prefer to be lying here in silence.
Medellin rum is my sleepy-time chum. With a musical accompaniment of salsa.
Barrica Cervecería
Cl. 9 #43B 22,
El Poblado,
Medellín,
Antioquia.
https://www.barricacerveceria.com/