Nice Americans

Soon all the bags were on the top of the jeep and all eleven of us were squashed into the back. Not long after we set off we were off-road and a couple of times I was almost pitched forward right into Marina who was sitting opposite. Soon we realised that the three people on their own, Marina, Alex, and me, had recently continued their trips without their significant other: in my case my wife, Marina's case her English husband, who had just gone home, and in Alex's case his new girlfriend. The Lonely Hearts Trek, we decided.

Finally we arrived at the place where the trek began and sat down at the restaurant for lunch. A group who had just finished were also having lunch but they all looked pretty fresh, leading us to believe that the trek was going to be pretty easy, though they claimed otherwise, saying that the second day in particular was a killer. On the wall a map also showed the profile of the trek, so I could see that the total distance to our destination was only 20km and the total ascent, including a few ups-and-downs, was only about 1600m. I was glad again that I had gone for the five-day option since to do that over six days was madness, in fact five still seemed pretty crazy. The return trip was about 40km and 2000m total ascent, which I've done in a single day on a few walks among Scotland's Munros. They were difficult days at the time and I was much less fit now, but surely we could have taken one day up, one day at the site, and one day down? Oh well, plenty of time to look at the scenery. And take photos.

Our guide, Castro (who did not speak English) told us that the jeep track we had travelled on to get there was part of a road network built by the Tayrona people, who had also built the Ciudad Perdida. The Tayrona civilisation was very early by South American standards, and so the ruins we were seeking are also very old by South American standards, building having begun in the 9th Century, some 650 years before Machu Picchu. Finally something in the Americas that is actually quite old by European or Asian standards!

The lunch was quite nice and rather large, and as a bonus beer was much cheaper than I expected at the end of a several hour jeep ride along an ancient Tayrona road. We speculated on how much the price of beer would rise with our altitude and some people abstained because of the trek ahead, but I knew it would be dead easy so I wasn't bothered and had a few.

After lunch we set off and the pace was predictably slow. After what seemed like only ten minutes, and it can't literally have been much more, we stopped at a deep slow part in the river we had been following. I couldn't believe we were stopping so soon after the start, but I hadn't yet settled into how easy we were going to take it. The Three Young Americans had been promised jumping spots by Castro, they told us, and sure enough found the deepest place and jumped in. I gathered that there were going to be a lot more stops like this and instantly regretted saving a tiny bit of space by bringing my very tight, hotpants-style swimming trunks, usually only worn under a wetsuit, instead of sensible baggy shorts-style ones. I had thought we had to bring swimming stuff "just in case" we felt like a dip, not because we'll be stopping every fifteen minutes for one. I wouldn't like to wear them under normal circumstances, but with the extra up-to 14kg I really didn't want to. But my choices were to sit at the side while everyone else had great fun splashing around in the beautifully pure and cool water, or else make a joke about my hotpants and get in.

Cooling off

Not long after we stopped again, this time for some very nice fruit, and I had begun to accept that it was going to be slow and I wasn't going to get the kind of exercise I had been hoping would kick-start my weight-loss plan! When we set off again, the TYA had already gone ahead, so I took the opportunity to put on a burst of speed and catch up with them. They were making quite a good pace, which I was able to keep up with quite easily, but soon Matt fell behind, and then Colin. It was just me and Jake now, and he was really setting a good pace. My heart was thumping and I was getting a great workout – probably for the first time in over a year. For a while I kept pace with young Jake, but it had already been mentioned that he was a semi-professional cyclist, so there was no way I was going to be able keep up with him if he kept going, so after a short time I started to tire and fall behind. At the next bend he was waiting for me. How you feeling? he asked, seeming quite concerned. I'm sure what he was seeing was a fat old guy with a purple face, working way over his limit, rather than the recently very fit, Munroist I knew myself to be. After all he was only 21, so I must have looked ancient. I told him I felt great, but his concern remained, though he was satisfied I wasn't quite ready for a heart attack and shot off into the distance, leaving me now quite tired, but feeling much better than I had walking at the snails' pace we had been doing before. At the next fruit stop, our reward was a very long wait, where we were encouraged to take photos of the lovely green view. Already lazy (or just unfit I suppose) people had resorted to mulas to carry them up the incline.

Lazy people

The TYA were constantly bantering with each other, the way young people do: it was mostly gibberish and in-jokes, but quite harmless. I soon noticed that they were actually being really nice to each other – as well as everyone else – the whole time; they often checked that the others were feeling great, or at least good, and they even went as far as being really polite and well-mannered to each other. Now this might not sound so strange to some people, but in Britain, Scotland in particular I believe, and therein Glasgow in particular, friends, particularly young guys, just don't treat each other like that: you express your close bond by constantly taking the piss out of each other and saying cruel things; the closer you are the more brutal you are permitted – and expected – to be. So one of the first acts in getting to know someone is usually some gentle teasing, leading to some remorseless slagging if you really hit it off. When I thought about it, I remembered that there are simply different social rules in each culture, so that we all value this exchange of pleasantries in different ways: at one end of the spectrum you have the Americans and at the other, perhaps, Mediterranean culture, British somewhere in between. I wondered how this overuse - from a Scottish perspective - of pleasantries would be seen by my Greek friends, who had actually been offended once because I was being so polite, as they saw it, in their company; their attitude was "we are friends so you don't need to ask and you don't need to say thank you; just take – of course you can have whatever you want". As far as they were concerned my automatic, ingrained, politeness was actually rude, as if questioning the bond of friendship. It's similar in Glasgow: if you are anything less than merciless, it means you are putting a distance between you and your friends. It's possible this attitude is where a minor cultural misunderstanding came from: after sitting among the boys' chit-chat for a few minutes, Jamie piped up that he just couldn't believe them and all day he had felt like he was in an American sit-com. Following his lead, I said that I knew what he meant because I used to think that American actors were all really bad, until I met some Americans, when I realised that they are all really like that. At this point the three Americans looked extremely upset and offended, as if I had just slapped them out of the blue. Matt said Wow I wish I knew some really good put-downs for Scottish people… hey don't you guys still wear skirts? and I felt really awful. I hadn't meant it, but I had apparently really hurt them.

Green

Anyone knows me is aware that I generally do not have much time for the Americans. Mostly this sentiment is political: after all in recent history they elected Bush twice, Iraq, and as a country continue to behave very badly on the world stage. Of course I feel the same way about the English for Thatcher and the Scottish for Blair. Obviously I have never applied this at an individual level: everyone is different and may not be someone aligned with the national characteristic I despise so much. The big difference is that, even taking them individually, I rarely meet an American I like: their opinions are usually so very different from mine – they usually seem ultra-conservative – that it doesn't often happen, and the biggest problem of all is that they don't seem to be able to criticise their own state and become very defensive if someone else does. This I cannot understand or tolerate: I am more than happy to acknowledge defects in Scotland and the UK. When I have expressed these opinions to friends in the past they have often responded, but forget about America - don't you think that Americans are just so nice? and until this trip I had always responded in the negative. However that is exactly what these three guys were: they were really nice. Clearly I had never met the right Americans before, or perhaps my travelling had made me more open-minded, who knows? Aside from being so damned nice-and-polite they were also pretty critical of America, not just Bush, but America the state. I was very impressed. Socially, though, I must admit that I still find Americans very strange and somehow really different from most other people on the planet. However, strange is no reason to hate anyone, so here it was: these three young Americans had changed my mind about Americans. And by the way, Alex, who was not part of their group of three, was also really nice though much quieter, which wasn't hard considering how loud they were! However there remains a paradox: if the USA is a country of such nice people, then how could they have voted in Bush twice, or so many of them go off to murder innocent Iraqi children, or indeed any other non-white people whose country dares slightly obstruct their all-powerful global dominance? I genuinely don't get it.

Anyway, after my teasing insult I tried to explain that it was a friendly thing to do where I come from, and sure enough they took it onboard and for the rest of the tour I was peppered with playful insults, though they were far too polite to say any of the really obvious cruel things I so deserved. Or maybe they just didn't like me enough.

First night's dinner table

First night's bedroom

The first night's accommodation was very nice and the view was astounding before the sun went down. After the sun went down the stars were astounding. The food was also really good, and there was plenty of it. They had told us the accommodation was going to be basic, but this was obviously the standard spiel that they need to give everyone, even people who haven't been travelling for months, because all of us were really happy. At dinner Melissa proved that she was half Chinese when I brought my camera out. Apparently it's really obvious to some people, but I just didn't see it – until her "Chinese salute". After dinner Castro tied together Jake and Gemma in what I guess was an ice-breaking exercise, though he claimed it was a puzzle they could solve by getting out of it. We were all pretty sure it was impossible and he never provided a solution. And neither Jake not Gemma are the sort of people who need ice-breakers!

OK, Mel, now I believe you're half Chinese

Bondage

We were too slow arriving so all the beer was gone by the time we arrived, though we were told the price it would have been, and it was still reasonably cheap despite having increased since ground level. Luckily the TYA had some rum and were willing to share. Otherwise, how would I have slept through the mystery snorer?

written by  The Happy Couple on January 8, 2010 from Ciudad Perdida, Colombia
from the travel blog: Michael's Lonely post-Honeymoon
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