September 30, 2026 by Cassandra Johnson
I was not going to get anything done in Medellin. Not on that day. Maybe, I don’t remember it correctly. Maybe I just did not get as much done as I had pictured I would. It felt like such a non-starter. I could not really concentrate in my hostel. There was not enough room in the coworking spaces, not as much as I wanted, to be able to kick back and just spend a few hours like I had in Starbucks or other coffee shops (making purchases to support). I was reminded that indy coffee shops from Mexico throughout Colombia for me were sometimes hit or miss, depending on how busy and accessible they were. They may opt for something seemingly appealing for tourism and leave me hard pressed for the things I needed like seating and an outlet for a couple of hours. I learned to really appreciate some and feel bad for not being able to frequent many and equally bad for not being able to both enjoy the ambience and get my work done.
The kindler, gentler mix seemed to be Juan Valdez. As soon as I hit Colombia, I was able to escape to Juan Valdez on the upper floor of the airport to avoid people assertively asking where I needed to travel to next. Hotel or hostel? Juan Valdez, small and large, all in spots, malls, separate spots within themselves, next to and across from Starbucks. I am reminded how I became so accustomed to palito de queso and arepa de queso and mocha, getting used to Americanos (since they were the cheapest) and settling up behind my computer, picking up or starting a translator with no boss and only the time crunch of a 2 to 18 hour turnaround time. I wanted to plan it all way better. I wanted to work better.
That day in Medellin was not that day.