City of Flowers, Part I

Medellin has a multitude of nicknames (the most popular of which is City of Eternal Spring, though Heather and I would change that to City of Eternal Bellingham-style Summer.) Running a close second is City of Flowers – La Ciudad de las Flores. On Thursday, we received our first installment. The school organized a field trip to the Botanical Gardens in downtown Medellin. The Gardens are situated in a large park, parts of which are open air while other areas are covered, similar to a giant, high-ceilinged greenhouse. We arrived on the first day of a flower competition. While there were dozens, if not hundreds, of types of flowers, the main draw were the orchids, of which there were many varieties (I am being somewhat vague in quantity here only because I am not a flower buff and really have no idea how many types of orchids exist, much less how many were present for our viewing pleasure).

What was much more incredible to me was the number of people who showed up to see the flowers. Literally thousands crowded the grounds, all pressing to get a view of the blooms. Once in prime position, many would force out a digital camera to snap a shot of the red or magenta or pinkish blossom. We were in the grounds for at least two hours, and the stream of people was constant. In North America, this type of show wouldn’t draw a fraction of the crowds present here.

After exiting the exhibition proper, we were spit out into capitalism heaven. With no way to escape but to follow the throngs, we along with everyone else ran a gauntlet of vendors – selling flowers, beer, jewelry, paperweights, “I love Medellin!” T-shirts, food, rainsticks, and a multitude of other various and extraneous nic-nackery. And then, once through the maze of vendors, we entered another area of the gardens and did it all over again. And again. I felt as if I was a pig at the Clinton County 4-H Fairgrounds, traveling from my holding pen to the showing arena, with various gates opening and closing in front of me, no idea where I am going, only forward, forward, and wait, I am not in the fairgrounds, I am in a shopping mall, and the mall is in Las Vegas, but gates are still opening and closing as I wind my way through, never sure if my destination is around the corner or far far away.

We finally burst though the last gate and drained into the parking lot, thoroughly exhausted from the ordeal but equally enlightened by this amazing culture that truly loves its art, but, as is the world over, loves its shopping too.