Judging begins

I rise at 7:00. And have a shower to wake myself up properly. Then an eye-opener of rum. The perfect breakfast drink. With enough cola to really kickstart the day.

I slept surprisingly well. Seeing as the disco went on until about 4:00.

Not feeling hungry, I just have a coffee for breakfast. I sit with Chris and Noelle Phillips, a Canadian judge. We have a pleasant chat. That gets me in the mood for some heavy-duty judging.

My judging partners today Carlos Estrada and David Montes, both Columbians. I’m table captain.

We kick off with English Porter/Stout and American Porter/Stout A couple of good ones and some real stinkers. Nothing new there.

Irish Red Ale/Scottish Export comes next. Now here’s a first. One of the Irish Reds isn’t rubbish. Unlike all the other ones I've judged. And I’ve judged dozens of them. The Exports are all shit. I'm guessing none of the brewers has tried a Scottish-brewed version. Now surprise there, really. Most people in the UK haven’t either.

We’re getting through the beers at a reasonable pace. Always a plus, that.

I’ve had some of my Lulu books sent over to sell. I was worried about them arriving on time. No need. They got to Medellin last Friday. But haven’t been delivered yet. Currently stuck in customs. Brilliant.

We're quite late going for lunch. I don't eat that much of mine. And it’s not even that big a meal. I do eat most of the soup but almost none of the rice. 

We had twelve beers this morning and have another twelve this afternoon. Which isn't too crazy. We finish at 17:20. Quite late, considering the small number of beers.

We're supposed to be walking to the Barrica brewpub at 17:30. That's too early for me.  Seeing as I’ve only just finished judging. And no-one will be there on time, this being South America.

Chris messages me and suggests leaving at 18:40. Sounds good to me. Should be about when everyone else goes.

I don't take my wallet with me after yesterday's experience. I just take my credit card in one of my lower shorts' pockets.

On the way down, some bloke starts pestering me with football shirts. I tell him to fuck off. Rather rudely. Which is unlike me. I’m usually very nice. Saturday’s experience has changed me.

Unexpectedly, lots of judges are already in Barrica when we arrive. So much so, that we have trouble finding seats. It's also loud. Very loud. Far too fucking loud. Quite pleasant salsa music, but the volume makes conversation all but impossible. We move outside where conversing is less of a struggle.

I have an American Pale Ale. Which is fine. The food is tortilla chips with various gunk on the top. I eat it very unenthusiastically. And leave a good chunk of it for Chris.

The owner comes around with his favourite rum and pours us a shot each. It's very good. Man, I love Colombian rum. I get a second shot. 

The DJ and another are accompanying the recorded music with percussion. Unfortunately, the bloke on the cowbell can’t keep time. I find his continual missing of the beat irritating almost to the point of physical pain.

Chris suggests that we decant to Metropole, which is just down the street. Where I get myself a rather nice Double IPA. Wonderfully hoppy and not cloying at all. It’s much quieter, too. Without music, other than that drifting down the street from Barrica.

Around 22:00, Chris suggests we have a nightcap on the way back. The uphill walk makes me realise that it's time for bed. I skip the nightcap and return to the hotel. Only pausing to buy a bottle of rum.

I have a shot or two of hotel whisky and then crash out. It's only just 23:00. Meaning I can get a good 8 hours kip.



Barrica Cervecería
Cl. 9 #43B 22, 
El Poblado, 
Medellín, 
Antioquia.
https://www.barricacerveceria.com/


Metropole Beer Lab
Cra 43C #9 - 03, 
El Poblado, 
Medellín, 
Antioquia.
 

Medellin rambling

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/