I’ve only been to Guatape once so far, but according to Enrique I’ve never actually seen it. He made this comment at the town bar where we were drinking a few beers and it came on the heels of an equally aggressive comment. “Well,” he said to the man next to us, “Matt here doesn’t even know how to swim.”

I hate to admit it, but in part, Enrique was right. Dan and I hadn’t done much– we climbed the big rock, rented a boat, took pictures of the church – but in retrospect, we wouldn’t have done anything if it wasn’t for a man named Rodolfo who was born in Guatape and lived there, on and off, for the better part of his life. We first met Rodolfo walking out of our favorite restaurant in Guatape called Vaso d’ Leche or Glass o’ Milk.

I like the restaurant because it serves a badass trout. It was a summer afternoon and he approached to ask us if we wanted to buy drugs. We said no but took up his offer of a boat tour, which, in retrospect, was about the best decision we made all week.

The tour started on the waterfront known intimately in Guatape as el malecon. What makes Guatape such a perfect region to explore by boat, and what is apparent from one look at a Guatape photo, is its expansive network of water inlets and passageways, sprinkled haphazardly among islands and fingers of dark green land.

It is Guatape’s waterways that draw weekend Colombians out from the city of Medellin (only 1.5 hours away) for jetski rentals, booze cruises, paddle boats, and swimming. If there is an activity invented in this world that is, in any shape or way related to the water, it would be fare to say that the enthusiastic local entrepreneurs of Guatape offer it at a fair hourly rate.

Guatape’s second claim to fame, though its not heavily promoted for obvious reasons (which is to say it’s something of a touchy subject) is that it was once home to the notorious drug kingpin himself Pablo Escobar. Escobar used his earnings to buy up land and homes in the lake region and several minutes into our tour, Rodolfo drove us by several which, from the water, looked like no more than nice farm houses. That is, until we reached the main showpiece of Escobar’s fortune: a compound of soccer fields, discos, parking lots, and a spectacular waterfront home which was bombed out by the Cali cartel in 1992. “Come,” Rodolfo said. “We go have a look.”

After docking the boat on a soft bed of sand, we walked past the numerous No Trespassing signs until we reached the villa of the worlds most famous drug lord which, although desecrated, still retains a sense of shape and glory. “This was bedroom,” Rodolfo said standing in a blown-out tiled piazza. “This was living room. Here was kitchen.” A dark tunnel in the basement was only one of Escobar’s many escape routes, some of which fed directly into the bottom of the lake where Pablo would suit up in scuba gear and evade authorities or visiting cartels, quite literally under their very noses.

Escobar’s half-destroyed ranch emits an odd dynamic, quite representative in reality, of him as an individual. There were many who hated him, and many that loved him. It is rumored that the government of Penol, the region Escobar was most adored, is set to be bringing the house to life again as a tourist attraction. The national government, as you might imagine, isn’t quite so thrilled. 

In due time, Rudolfo would show us the majority of Guatape and Penol on his own. There was the big rock which stands out like a sore thumb from the aquatic and relatively low-impact landscape. Guatape itself is a quaint and cuddly town: the kind, which, if it were a child, would have pinchable cheeks.

There are a small handful of restaurants, cafes, and pool halls as well as an overwhelming amount of domestic shops. Not that it’s the most common thing in the world, but if, on your visit, you happen to find yourself in need of fresh cuts of steak or wrenches or computer monitors, you can most certainly find them in Guatape. The neighborhood’s coolest street has a name: Los Recuerdos. Around Christmastime, the locals light it up with all sorts of decoration and as the sun sets, it comes alive with a never-ending series of blinking and strobing old-world charm.

Everyone knows each other in Guatape and the looks you get as a foreigner can sometimes resemble those reserved for leprosy patients. “It’s OK,” I wanted to tell the little kids. “You can touch.”

We went for a jog early in the morning and were met with blank stares as if to say, “boy, those two must really be in a rush.” The surrounding landscape is hilly and lush with, so as not to forget exactly what country you’re in, military personal scattered at various checkpoints in camouflage attire. Not unlike any small-town feel, Guatape takes a sense of comfort and nestles it up in a warm blanket.

Take a while to get your food at the restaurant? Life moves at a slower pace and each of Guatape’s 7,000 residents seem to prefer it that way.

Our hotel, Hotel El Castillo (also suggested by Rodolfo) was located in the center of town and run by a woman named Sylvia of about fifty years who lived in the back. She was a gracious host and charged around $9/night. Other accommodations ranged from El Cristalino ($5/night) to some other one ($160/night). The taxis (they’re actually Vietnam-style tuktuks or motorcycles with carriages) can be a bit of a rip-off the moment they figure out you’re a tourist, charging around $5 for trips in and out of town. Otherwise, almost everything is walkable.