Opening Scene
When the group gathers, their expressions say everything: part excitement, part hesitation.
The guide pauses before starting, fully aware that the story he carries is both deeply personal and globally repackaged.
He knows that for some, this tour is just another box to tick.
For others, it's an attempt to grasp the lingering wounds the city still holds.
As he begins, he hopes they’ll look past the crime-myth veneer and recognize the human cost behind the narrative they’ve come to consume.
It’s a reminder that every place has layers and the deepest ones rarely make it into the brochure.
Origin
From bullet holes to guided tours
In Medellín, the scars of violence led to something unexpected. Around 2006, the so-called "narco-tours" began to pop up. Initially, they aimed to be a live history lesson, showing the social impact of the drug trade on neighborhoods and the transformation of what was once the most dangerous city in the world.
The initial goal was to educate visitors about Colombia's complex and painful past. They wanted people to grasp the trauma. But, over time, international curiosity shifted focus.
The image of Pablo Escobar, fueled by TV series and documentaries, became a kind of tourist magnet. Did you know that the interest in this figure has turned the city into a stage? The thin line between remembering history and creating a spectacle started to blur.
What started as a way to help understand a nation's pain, has it simply become a script for entertainment for the global audience?
The Phenomenon
Medellín now draws thousands of visitors every year, many seeking that "narco-history." Can you believe that what began as small, informal tours is now a multimillion-dollar industry? It attracts travelers from every continent, looking to understand the past.
Companies now offer highly varied experiences. These range from strolls through the vibrant street art of Comuna 13 to exclusive visits to Escobar's former properties, his grave, and even his old private zoo. What do you think travelers are truly looking for in these spots?
What makes Medellín's narco-tourism unique is its dual narrative. One part sells the dramatic myth, but the other seeks redemption and remembrance. The very streets that once saw violence now thrive on tourism, murals, and guided debates on memory and morality.
According to El Espectador, Medellín received around 270,000 foreign visitors in 2017, and a significant number showed interest in the so-called “narco-tours” related to Pablo Escobar. Medellín, once one of the world’s most dangerous cities, now actively markets its transformation.
What the World Says
There's a fascinating consensus: many believe that Medellín's recovery is one of the most remarkable urban recoveries we've seen recently.
Supporters of these tours have a strong argument: they say the tours help dismantle stereotypes. International media, like The Guardian, have highlighted Medellín as an example of how a city "refuses to be defined by its past."
The local government itself sees tourism as a key driver for its new identity. Thousands of visitors are drawn by cultural and social projects. This proves the city is not just surviving, but thriving.
For many guides, the goal isn't to glorify Escobar but to confront history to ensure it's never repeated. As one guide put it: "If people come for the myth, they leave understanding the cost of it." That's a powerful message, don't you think?
The Dark Side
Medellín. The name itself conjures up images of reinvention and vibrant life. But a darker shadow remains: the infamous legacy of Pablo Escobar. This is where the debate begins: Are "narco-tours" a form of redemption, or just a painful commercialization of tragedy?
For many people who live in the city, the commercialization of this history feels like a wound being reopened solely for profit. They see visitors who “come, take photos with Escobar’s face, and leave,” as one resident put it. The narrative sold to outsiders highlights the legend, not the community or the suffering that shaped it. And it raises a difficult question: when narco figures become aspirational icons, what message does that send to new generations?
Critics are vocal, arguing that these tours risk turning collective trauma into simple merchandise. Picture this: Tourists posing for selfies next to bullet-riddled walls. Souvenir shops selling T-shirts where Escobar’s image is treated like a pop icon. Is this respectful tourism?
📌Curiosities
Hacienda Nápoles has transformed into a theme park and zoo that now attracts more than 500,000 visitors per year.
The Mónaco Building was demolished in 2019 to prevent any form of glorification of Escobar.
Parque Inflexión features a memorial mural marked with 46,000 bullet holes, each representing a victim.
At its peak, Hacienda Nápoles housed more than 1,500 illegal exotic animals before it was seized by the state.
In 2025, a mural in the Buenos Aires neighborhood was removed as part of efforts to curb narco-tourism in Medellín.
What remains, then, is an ethical dilemma: how do you honor a city’s scars without turning them into souvenirs? Medellín tells its story through murals, tours, and memories but can history truly survive the gaze of those who come to consume it.