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When I got back to Medellin, I went to the Hotel Gran Caribe. Although the city is covered with graffitti, across from the hotel there was a literal "milk products factory" (the name of the place you don't want to go in my book). The building was all white, and the wall around it was all white with no graffiti, and they had some pretty decent security check point for the people entering the "Colanta Milk Products Factory" where they were almost certainly processing coca paste rather than milk. That was across the street from the hotel. Next to the hotel was another business called, "CIA: Infractur de Transitos."
Clearly I had arrived in the place where it is no secret that the CIA buys the Colanta cocaine and then does the "infractur de transitos" with shipping it the USA.
Outer pre-anal buzzer now.
While at that hotel, I did not seek any prostitutes because my dick was sore from the teeth of that other person in "Cartagena."
