At Medellín’s Parque Norte, on a sunny Saturday afternoon Breakfest Festival was getting underway. Set against backdrop of mountains and dreamy synthpop, crowds were splayed out on coffee bag pillows, hammocks and wooden lawn chairs. The crowd was taking awhile to get moving, picnicking on water bottles filled with vodka and cans of Miller Genuine Draft, two beverages so not Colombian that it took watching a girl salsa step with that distinct one-two hip swoosh while eating a choripán (sausage and bun) to remember where I was.