If you’ve been watching my channel for a while, there’s a good chance you’ve been doing what every serious Colombia-researcher does: you’re not just watching me. You’re watching everybody.

You want the full picture. The real picture. The “what do groceries actually cost, what does renting actually feel like, why does everyone keep saying Medellín is magical, and what’s the catch?” picture.

So while I was up in Medellín, I reached out to a guy I knew a lot of you would recognize: Andrew from Medellín Buzz.

Andrew’s story is the kind that sounds like a movie script until you realize it’s real life. He’s Colombian, but he was raised in the United States. And in his early 20s, he found out he wasn’t actually a U.S. citizen. The result?

He was deported to Colombia.

Back to a country that—emotionally, culturally, socially—felt foreign. He landed in Bogotá with basically nothing. And over the last 15 years, he turned that “nothing” into a full ecosystem: a YouTube channel, real estate, rentals, a company that helps foreigners buy property, and now property management for owners who live abroad.

In other words: Andrew didn’t just “move to Colombia.”
Colombia forced a reset—and he built an empire in the reset.

So we met up in a park in Medellín and talked about what people actually want to know:

How does Colombia really work as a life base when you’re a foreigner? What’s better—Bogotá or Medellín? How far does your money go? How do you find an apartment? What’s surprisingly great… and what’s annoyingly real?

Let’s break down the big takeaways.

One of the reasons this conversation is so useful is that Andrew and I represent two “Colombia archetypes” that a lot of you fall into:

We’ve both lived most of our adult lives in the U.S. We’re both “middle-aged guys” by internet standards. But we’ve landed in different cities—and that reveals something important:

Colombia isn’t one lifestyle. It’s multiple lifestyles packed into one country.

Andrew did six months in Bogotá, discovered Medellín, and never fully went back—except for concerts, the food scene, and festivals.

Me? I’ve been in Bogotá the whole time, living in a quieter neighborhood pocket (Santa Bárbara in Usaquén) where you can actually sleep at night… and still be minutes away from the chaos when you want it.

That contrast matters, because “moving to Colombia” means nothing unless you choose your version of Colombia.

Andrew dropped one of the most Colombia-specific rental hacks there is:

If you want an apartment, especially in Medellín, walk the neighborhood you like, look for Se Arrienda signs, and talk to the portero (the building security/doorman).

Why?

Because the best rentals are the ones where you can talk to the owner directly and avoid the agency hoops.

And the hoops are real—especially if you’re new.

Colombia loves paperwork and guarantees. If you’re fresh off the plane, renting can feel “almost impossible” without help. This is why people use relocation services, co-signers, or landlords who are specifically comfortable renting to foreigners.

Andrew’s advantage now is that he’s been here 15 years, owns apartments, has a business—so he’s basically already “approved” by Colombia.

But early on? Different story.

Takeaway: Colombia isn’t hard once you’re established, but it can be surprisingly annoying when you’re brand new. Plan accordingly.

This is where the conversation got fun.

I asked Andrew to compare his Colombia apartment to what something similar would cost in the U.S.

He used Greensboro, North Carolina as his reference—already a cheaper American city.

And that’s the moment where people start doing the “what if” math.

Because the point isn’t just cheaper rent.

The point is: the same income buys you a totally different life.

Andrew gave a breakdown that matches what a lot of long-term expats experience:

Me? I can live closer to $1,500-ish if I’m not dining out constantly—but Bogotá’s food scene is a trap in the best way, and “dining out” can easily add another $1,000 because the city is ridiculous with restaurants.

Takeaway: Colombia is affordable at multiple levels. But your city, your family setup, and your habits decide what “affordable” means.

This was one of the most interesting parts of the conversation, and it wasn’t about rent.

It was about how people live.

I mentioned something I’ve noticed in Bogotá: you’ll see people in their 70s and 80s walking everywhere—moving better than many older Americans because they’ve lived a life of daily movement.

Andrew took it deeper with a cultural point that hits hard:

In the U.S., aging often means isolation—sometimes even being sent to a home once your kids are busy and life gets complicated. In Colombia, it’s far more common for older parents to stay connected and involved.

Then he shared what happened with his own parents:

They moved back to Colombia to help with the baby. They sold everything in the U.S. They arrived overweight, stressed, on blood pressure meds.

A year and a half later?

They walk everywhere. They know neighbors. His mom reduced her blood pressure medication. His dad—who was basically retired and inactive in the U.S.—now helps run their property management operation and says he feels “full of life.”

That’s not a tourism pitch. That’s a lifestyle shift.

Takeaway: Colombia isn’t just cheaper. It’s socially wired in a way that can make life feel fuller—especially as you get older.

Andrew explained the most underrated difference between U.S. healthcare and Colombia’s private care experience:

In the U.S.: waiting room → nurse → exam room → wait again → rushed doctor → leave → surprise bill later.

In Colombia (often): you’re called to a door, you enter the exam room, and the doctor is already there. You talk as long as needed. The doctor isn’t trying to eject you—because the system isn’t built around “how fast can I rotate patients.”

And here’s the detail expats always mention:

You often end up with your doctor on WhatsApp.

You can actually message follow-ups. Ask questions. Adjust treatment. You feel like a human, not a number.

Plus, the cost difference is obvious:
No $500 monthly premiums. No weird “what insurance didn’t cover” bills showing up later. Much lower out-of-pocket costs.

Takeaway: Colombia’s healthcare experience is one of the biggest “quality of life upgrades” for many expats—especially when you use the private system.

To keep it honest, we talked about the stuff that drives people crazy:

Andrew also mentioned something small but painfully real: the nonstop carrier spam—texts, calls, promos—where you block one number and they call from another like it’s a hydra.

None of these are dealbreakers, but they’re the kinds of daily friction you only learn by living here.

This part hit because it’s so specific—and so true for a lot of Americans.

Andrew said something I’ve felt too: in the U.S., people often hope they don’t have to interact. Elevator rides are silent. Life can feel isolated by default.

In Colombia? You start to want the interaction. You actually enjoy saying hello. People are warm. Social life is built into the culture, not scheduled three weeks in advance.

And when you combine that with lower cost of living, something changes:

You can afford to fail.
You can try projects.
You can breathe.

That’s a huge mental health unlock—especially for creators and entrepreneurs.

This is basically the cheat code people come for.

Andrew said it plainly: if you can make U.S. dollars (remote work, YouTube, clients abroad, anything) and live in Colombia spending pesos, your lifestyle expands fast.

Not only can you live well—you can actually save and invest.

He even mentioned something that surprises newcomers: local investment opportunities can be strong, and the fear people have (“it’s a different country, I don’t know if I should invest”) often fades once they understand how the system works.

Takeaway: Colombia can be a lifestyle upgrade, but it becomes a wealth-building upgrade when your income is foreign.

Andrew made one of the clearest comparisons I’ve heard:

In the U.S., violence can be random. Wrong place, wrong time—concert, grocery store, anywhere.

In Colombia, crime is more often opportunistic. Someone sees a phone, sees a bag, sees a chance.

It doesn’t mean you should be careless. It means you need street smarts and awareness. And the golden rule still stands:

Don’t resist.

Andrew’s been here 15 years and hasn’t been robbed or pickpocketed. That doesn’t mean it can’t happen. It means Colombia rewards people who learn the rhythm.

We laughed about Colombian food because it always becomes a comment-war topic.

Andrew’s honest take: traditional plates can feel repetitive (rice, beans, patacones, protein), especially if you’re coming from the American “pick two sides from fifteen” universe.

But he also made the important point: Medellín has exploded with international food. Variety is increasing fast.

My take? Colombian food is built on nostalgia. The best versions are often homemade. And yes, there are two ingredients: salt and nostalgia.

Also: if you don’t eat avocado with everything, Colombia will eventually revoke your membership.

Andrew mentioned a small detail that’s actually huge:

Dogs.

In Colombia you’ll see people holding a leash that isn’t attached to the dog… and somehow the dog is just chill. Social. Friendly. Part of the street.

Dogs are welcomed in malls, shops, sometimes even grocery stores. Some malls have little green dog zones like it’s normal infrastructure.

It’s such a small thing, but it reflects a bigger reality:

Colombia is a social culture. Even the dogs got the memo.

Andrew explained why he created Medellín Living:

Foreigners want to buy property, but local agents often don’t understand foreign expectations—communication speed, cultural questions, banking questions, risk concerns, property process differences.

So he built a bridge:

That’s a recurring theme: people who succeed long-term in Colombia often do it by identifying the “culture gap”… and building something that solves it.