The barrio of Laureles in the Colombian city of Medellín is, apparently, well worth a visit. Funkier than its posher neighbour El Poblado, it offers its 120,000 residents a vibrant nightlife along the strip known as La 70 – “where every bar and restaurant floor can turn into a dance floor with the right song”. If that sounds too exhausting, there are countless coffee shops and yoga studios along the tree-lined streets and no shortage of parks, while the area’s growing population of digital nomads contribute to its burgeoning restaurant scene but haven’t yet crowded out the traditional fruit-sellers who push their carts along the circular avenues. And if the name Medellín conjures up images of scary cocaine cartels, don’t worry: Laureles is generally regarded as safe by international standards.
I owe most of this valuable information to the list of the “coolest neighbourhoods on the planet right now” published by Time Out this week, on which Laureles occupies the number-one spot. But before you pack your bags for Colombia, why not consider Time Out’s second-coolest place: Smithfield.
Yes, Smithfield. The concrete, brick and glass mausoleum of early-21st-century mediocrity where oversized lightstands – the products of some sort of architect’s Leni Riefenstahl cheese dream – loom like aliens over a wan straggle of “developer-led” grey boxes.
Watch as unfortunate travellers pick their way in bewilderment across the litter-strewn square, from the cluttered car park at the top to the deserted playground at the foot, with not much of anything in between
You don’t have to have travelled the world to know Smithfield is not the second-coolest place on the planet. It’s not even the second-coolest place in Dublin 7. It has a couple of points of mild interest. The Cobblestone pub, at the top of what is officially named but is never called Smithfield Plaza, is ground zero for the current Irish trad boom. The Light House cinema is a pleasure to visit for its diverse menu of international film and its nice cakes. Apart from that, Smithfield is a lifeless array of soulless blocks interspersed with a few relics of old Victorian decency and pockmarks of long-term dereliction (some of the grimmest of which are brought to you courtesy of the Courts Service, one of the square’s most prominent tenants).
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A cafe or two, a pizzeria and a few budget hotels, all dotted across a cavernous, soulless space the size of a couple of football pitches, do not make what Time Out describes as a place “where tradition and activism meet, where long-standing stalwarts coexist alongside exciting new ventures”.
Pity the unfortunate travellers who arrive in search of the “once-empty spaces filled with independent bars, vegan-friendly restaurants, artisanal cafes and sourdough pizza shops – deeming [sic] the area a must-visit for anyone swayed by no-frills, post-industrial charm”. Watch as they pick their way in bewilderment across the litter-strewn square, from the cluttered car park at the top to the deserted playground at the foot, with not much of anything in between.
This nonsense has been going on for a while. In 2020, Phibsborough was named the 27th coolest place, with Time Out citing such wonders of the modern world as the Hut pub and the brutal(ist) Phibsborough shopping centre. In 2019 Stoneybatter got a nod, and in 2021 it was Dublin 8. All these contiguous areas are within a 15-minute walk of each other, although Time Out pays scant attention to the borders between them. One of the joys of Smithfield, apparently, is gazing at the deer in the Phoenix Park, which is definitely not in Smithfield.
Stoneybatter, Smithfield, Phibsborough and Dublin 8 are some of the oldest parts of the city, and they’re certainly not without interest or charm, as Luke McManus’s excellent recent documentary, North Circular, attests. But there’s something very strange going on here. Is Time Out engaged in a surreal multiannual joke at Dublin’s expense? That would be rather wonderful. Sadly the answer is probably more banal.
Having morphed from an old-school going-out-magazine publisher into a digital-media company targeting the citybreak audience, Time Out needs to keep its Google search rankings high. The easiest way to do that is by repeating the same wearisome recitation: sourdough pizza, third-wave coffee, craft beer, vintage markets. Throw in a few perfunctory invocations of earthy “local spirit” and send out the press release. All the better if other media then recycle the prepackaged story for clicks on their own article (and, yes, guilty as charged).
The only mystery remaining is why any of this digital slurry needs to be generated by an actual human being any more, but presumably they’re working on that. Meanwhile, if you head to Laureles in search of all that vibrant nightlife and old-school charm, don’t be surprised if it turns out to be a one-pump petrol station with a mangy dog scratching its arse outside.
